Christmas A Go-Go

The last of the packages has arrived and I would like to thank everyone for their gifts. You all rock! And I love the bag Jenny made, it's multicolored and fuzzy and a little crazy and has a book signed by Chris Baty (chrisbaty!) inside. i love it. And Clare sent me the best smelling soap, I mean the best smelling. I'm enchanted by the foot scrub. And I got a fancy jewelry box from Natalie and a Fortune Cat (mo-nee-neko?). And I got a nifty looking book from Melanie, which I started to read already. It's cool. Andy got me a fancy Kitchen Aid stand mixer. I had to make a batch of cookies immediately with my new toy and the cookies were deicious!

Christmas, of course, is not about presents but about spending time with loved ones, blah blah blah. Enough lip service. I love prezzies. Everyone does. And thank you for the wonderful ones I received this year.

Fuck it's cold!

Today the temperature in Philly rose to a balmy 22 Farenhiet. And in the morning when it was 9 degrees, there was a cheery layer of ice on my car. Grrrr. Pardon me, Brrrr.

People with broken heaters called all day. Not much we could do there but refer them to the Heater Hotline, which I'm sure was doing a blockbuster business. I had clients call because they had no food so I ran out boxes of emergency food and blankets, for good measure. It was an exciting, cold, cold, fucking cold day.

Rick called as I got home. He was on his way to clean up a gangland style triple homicide but wanted to get my mailing address first. I said, "No one has ever quite said that to me before. Thank you."

Checked out Rant Your Writing to peek in on the status of my short story, Tempus Fugit, only to see that 15 people have viewed it but not one of them could be bothered to write anything. What's up with that? Is it perfect? Must be. That's the only conclusion I can draw.

To sum: my heater is working *knock wood*, there's plenty of food in my pantry, and Andy and I are getting something in the mail from Rick, and Rate Your Writing can't actually be bothered to rate my writing.

Meanwhile, Back at the Krispy Kreme

I'm driving back from my home vivist (which went lovely) and I have to pee so bad I'm seeing yellow. There are no public bathrooms anywhere in Philadelphia so I'm pretty much screwed. I suck it in and drive to the Krispy Kreme on Cottman Ave.

Once there, I purchase a small hot tea and a doughnut because it's just not right to use the facilities and leave. Krispy Kreme has a beautiful, clean bathroom and deserve my money.

I'm drinking my tea and listening to the music. It seemed to be a Beatles version on Let It Snow. Could it really be the Beatles? Sounds like them. How come I haven't heard this before? I should try to find it. Then Feliz Navidad comes on. I just can't resist this song, it's pure joy sung by Julio Ingelsias.

At the exact moment Julio started to sing, I and this blue eyed freckled boy started singing, too. "Feliz navidad!" Then we looked at each other in embaressment. Kindred spirits, me and this freckled boy who was cutting class. I started laughing, the whole situation was too funny.

A Retraction

As Clare rightly pointed out, Andy doesn't actually celebrate Christmas and perhaps he fails to realize how important it is to me to haul in a dead (or plastic) tree annually, decorate it like the Queen of Sheba and stash prezzies underneath. It's morbid and weird but very important.

And if I happen to stumble across a tiny fiber optic tree (and it needn't be pink) suitable for placing on top a filing cabinet, it's mine! Now I have an excuse for dropping in on the Christmas decoration stores.

Nano Withdrawl and Psuedo Trees

So I have loads of free time. Never knew before. All weekend I kept wandering around thinking I ought to be doing something constructive but there was nothing! Well, only cleaning but I didn't want to do that, so it doesn't count.

After taking a few well earned vacation days from my computer, I'm rested and wanting to do something. Create. Write. Paint a room, something, anything! I now realize how much I MISS Nanowrimo. Clare calls it the post-nano blues. I've got 'em, too.

What about rewriting? Well, Chris Baty (it's one word when I say it: chrisbaty) says to let it rest a bit before rewriting. Fine. I guess I'll start rewriting those previous year novels that I never seemed to get around to rewriting.

Did do most of the prezzie hunting on the weekend. Took Andy to the mall, let him carry all the bags. And most of the purchasing. Men are handy that way. :) All that's left is to get niftly little treats to stuff in Omouse and Athene's packages. Verve's is already wrapped and waiting under the close approximation of a christmas tree, so don't bother asking.

Oh, the tree. Andy wouldn't let me put up a tree this year, the Scrooge. Says there's no room. Says he feels claustrophobic. Whiny baby. So I snidely asked if he didn't feel too claustrophobic, could I still put up decorations? Sure.

So I drapped the filing cabinet with the tree skit and set the angel on a little base made from garland. Hung some decorations around. It's a close approxiamation of a tree. I sang, "Oh, psuedo tree, of psuedo tree..." Hrothgar immediately climbed under, guarding the Cave of Christmas, as is his right and responsibilty.

I think Andy felt like a bit of a jerk for not letting me set up the tree, as he should.

50,434

I won! I won! Three time Nanowrimo winner!

And yes, we did go out and have a celebratory dinner. I wanted celebratory cocktails after dinner but Natalie did not have that kind of energy.

I would post the cute little winner's icon of the squirel with the viking helmet (two things I love together at last) but I can't be bother to figure out the bloggerbot right now. Tired. My hands ache from so typing.

While reachign 50,000 words I have not actually finished the story yet. There's lots more I haven't done and whole chapters which are only outlines that reads "Virginia goes to Miss Holz for help. Holz figures out a way to get the girls to London." Real quality literature. So, I will post the chapter I have completed. I will even post the chapters that have big chunks already written. But not tonight. Tired, I told you that already.

And now, I shall do nothing for a very long time.

Oh, got a Christmas present early. Andy took me shopping last night for new printer. It's very nice. No surprise Christmas morning, but at least I get the one I want. It's a Samsung ML 1740 laser printer. Very nice. Right, I'm meant to be doing nothing right now.

Hell is overflowing into the elevators of the Tropicana

Yesterday was Natalie's birthday. She is now 21, she informed me. "What would you like to do tonight, birthdya girl? I asked, all innocent.

"I want the pizza in Atlanic City."

:"Okay." Yes, we drove and hour and a half for PIZZA. But, to be fair, it is actually the best pizza I've ever had. Plus you get all the fun of the Boardwalk and the casinos. Speaking of which, we parked at the Trop because was close to kick-ass pizza (I don't really know the place's proper name. Something in Italian.)

Waiting on the fourth floor for the elevators, we waited for a good ten minutes, watching elevator after elevator stop, open, reveal that it is filled to the brim with people, and decide to wait for the next elevator. The next was just the same. And the next. At the point when Andy said, "We already saw that guy! He was in the last elevator," we decided to walk down the stairs. Hell was full that night so everyone had to ride the elevators in the parking structure of the Tropicana.

So, the evening in review: walking on the Boardwalk on a windy November night, pizza, funnel cake (yum), video poker which I was doing quite well at but couldn't walk away when I was winning, and nickle slots which was just like flushing five bucks of nicks down the drain. It was fun. Andy before anyone asks, Natalie made reach 45,000 before I was allowed to go out and play.

42,166!

Last night at dinner, Andy and I discussed the merits of Thor's Lesser Known Cresent Wrench. And a usefull thing it is. It can open practically anything. I, of course, think it would be pretty nifty to have Thor's Training Hammer. Sure, not powerful enough for a grown god, but a good learning tool for a godling. And in the hands of a mere mortal...Bahahaha. Yeah, I was really tired after writing all day when Andy took me out for a movie followed by pancakes at Denny's.

Saw National Treasure. It wasn't bad, had some really cool parts, but it tried so hard to be Indianna Jones that is was a little painful. And Nicolas Cage seemed to be doing an Elvis impersionation in the first half of the movie, which was creepy. Overall, worth the price of admission. It was fun.

So this wasn't the glowiest of glowing reviews, I know. There were improbable things and out and out impossible things but the pace of the movie swept you along so fast there wasn't time to think, "How the hell do these guys have a detailed knowledge of Phialdelphia? How the hell did they run from Independence Hall to City Hall in one minute? It's like ten city blocks!" But it was fluffy fun which was what I was expecting and it was not worse than Van Helsing which is what I was dreading.

Post-Turkey Blues

I ate so much yesterday I feel like I'm going to puke. Charming, I know. But the turkey...oh my god. hands down, best turkey ever! It was so succulent, so moist, the meat was practically dripping...*drool*...And everything else was pretty good, too.

I am currenlty at 39,072 words. Haven't written a word since the 3,000 word rocket pack under my chair was activated Wednesday night. Now I'll try to push through and enjoy the downhill ride.

Anything else? Just posted Chapter 6A. I know, 6A? Yeah, I already had seven finished when this one popped along and bemanded to be between 6 and 7. I'll rename in December but there's no time now. 11,000 words to go!

I Believe in Turkey Terry!

Thanksgiving, the time of year I haul out twenty pound boxes filled with waaaay too much food for a senior citizen. Only this year I had far more people asking me about turkeys than I did last year, and certainly more people wanting turkeys than I had access too. Oh no.

So I called the Red Cross. I got turkeys from them last year. Nope, no luck. Donations are down. They don't have enough for people on their list, let alone people on my list. Fine. Philadelphia Food Pantry? No. Philabundence? I saw their add in the paper asking for donations, so they must be looking for places to give all that donated food to, right? No, not interested. They don't have any turkeys to donate to my organization. Jerks. I call some of the food pantries in local churchs. No turkeys, no turkeys, no turkeys. Damn it!

The guy who normally donates turkeys and all the fixings to us is Turkey Terry (not his real name. Well, Terry is. Not the Turkey part.) He collects money from the local hospital and calls us to ask how many turkeys we need (usually 10-12) and then he shows up with enough food to a feed an army. It's wonderful!

Only this year, no call from Turkey Terry. Others in the office were afraid, but I had faith. Yep, had faith last Friday after being shot down by all the food pantries in the city. Had faith on Monday, even though he was cutting close. Real close. Turkeys have to go out on Tuesday, we're close for half the day on Wednesday. Yep, plenty of faith right until 4.30 Monday afternoon.

This morning my faith was empty, the gauge sitting on zero. Three people were on my turkey list and I couldn't find a single turkey to split among 'em. I was only counting on one turkey from T.T. So at 10 a.m. I made the bad news calls, no turkeys, no donations, no one in the city had turkeys. Everyone was very kind about it, said I worked hard for them and I was sweet to call and let them know, but I felt like crap. No turkeys?! What has the world come to? Holidays are the one time of year people actually behave like decent, compassionate human beings and GIVE, making my job a joy rather than the constant uphill battle.

And then I got a call. One of my favorite clients died. I know, I'm not suppose to have favorites, but I liked her. She had no legs, was partially blind, which was good because she couldn't really tell she was going bald, and a pacemaker. She had problems but she had spunk, real fire. The first time I visited, she yelled at me for half an hour about how social works never did her a lick of good and why would I be any different and I promise all this help with my magical "program" and she was probably the meanest old woman I ever met.

"No," I said. "I like you. You're spunky." She laughed and melted right in the palm of my hand.

The day after the election, it was on her behalf that I yelled at an HMO all morning to get her ambulance service so she could visit her cardiologist, what for the pacemaker and all. Finally, just last week, I won. Got an approval code and everything.

I'm going to miss her. But I worked hard to make the end of her life better and that matters for a lot. And I totally kickedthe HMO's money-tight ass. :)

Jule's client walked in and thought he was having a stroke. She took him to the hospital. (Don't know how he's doing yet.)

So, yeah, my day was going pretty crappy.

At noon, who roles up but Turkey Terry. Halalujah! I had faith in T.T. Never doubted the man for a minute. Okay, 4 hours, but not a minute more than that.

I burned up the phone lines calling people to deliver their turkey. Delivered on Jule's behalf, too, because she was at the hospital. And I broke my back hauling turkeys to people who can't carry one from the store to their door or don't have the money and have no one else who thinks of them on a holiday. And people invited me in, sat me down for tea and cookies and showed me photos of grandbabies and I really like my job. I do. Even sucky days can be turned around. I believe in the magic of Turkey Terry.

Oh, 36,758, by the way. No writing tonight, making the dough for rolls. Want to get a head start, just in case I kill the yeast like I did last year. I am so tired, just as a random aside.

32,826!

Sweet mother of mercy, I'm on fire!

Okay, back to writing.

Caffeine Consumed

I made a little list. So far this Novmember I have consumed:

1 peppermint flavored hot chocolate from 7-11.
2 Starbucks pumpkin Spice Lattes.
4 hot mugs of White Tea.
7 hot mugs of the Traditional Afternoon tea blend Clare gave me in 2003.
12 Swiss Miss packettes of hot chocolate and now the box is empty. :(

Via la caffeination!

28,234!

Just posted chapter four. I went back and added snipey dialogue between Virginia and Charlotte. Of course, in three and four they are still on their best behaviour. By chapter six, they are trully bitchy. And it's really fun to write snarky, bitchy dialogue, too.

By Popular Demand

Charlotte will not go blind. Fine. *exasperated sigh* But I do like the fumbling with glasses idea. She's always taking them off and her Grandmother is always telling her to put them back on. It's a teenage defiance thing. Won't wear her glasses. *Grins*

Charlotte and Virginia did have a spat yesterday, which made writing so much easier. I suspect the problem I was having was do to the fact that I was forcing these characters to get along. Basically, I said, "Here's Charlotte. She's your new best friend. Play nicely," and then shoved them together. But they don't like each other much (Virginia's bossy/rude and Charlotte complains and is a bit of stick in the mudd) and they don't on very well. At least not yet.

So, today's writing was a piece of cake. And going back to add snarky dialogue between the two? Super fun. And I suspect that I will get around to updating the Mauldy site sometime soon.

24,000!

Finally! And yes, I paused mid-sentence while typing to bring you this breaking news.

Didn't get much done last night. I was curled up in bed by 8pm. Damn cold. It's kicking my ass. Just snuffly enough to be annoying and not sleep comfortably and always tired. Not tired enough to stay home but tired enough to go to sleep two hours early. Maybe I need another day home to rest. I know, poor Mel...boo freakin' hoo.

Found a cool website on which you can Rate Your Writing. You can post and have fellow writers give criticism but the amount you get to post is directly related to the amount of other's work that you rate. Last night I posted two chapters from Nano2002, The Writer's Commune. You know, while I was dead ashamed by what I wrote in 2002, now that I reread it, I'm thinking it's not half bad. Mainly I'm amazed by how funny the characters are because I don't remember it being funny when I wrote it. Maybe the characters are actually changing the book from the inside...Oh, how Ffordian!

As for the current work, ACK! My God, these girls never want to do what I tell them. I think that the remaining chapters will be from Virginia's point of view. Writing Charlotte is too hard. After this is over, you know in December, I'll have time to go back and tease good narration out of the girl but not now. And I also think the story will flesh out nicely once Jenny can give me a hand. :) [Mel desperately pleads with Jenny: Remember, this was our idea! I only said I'd knock out the rough draft for Nanowrimo. You can't leave me on my own with this mess. Please.]

So that's where I'm at. Virginia got the girls into detention on the first night without really trying too hard, Josephine gave the scullery maids a rousing pep talk about the rights of workers, and Charlotte is always getting lost an blundering into the wrong places that I suspect she may be going blind. However, the blundering is a handy plot device and I don't think I'm going to take the blind remark seriously, even though I did spend a few minutes going, "Blind? Hmm...that'd take at least two chapters to talk about and then there'd be all this tension with Charlotte's Blind Angst...hmmm...No, can't run away from bad guys when you're blind."

Damn, I'm still thinking about Charlotte going blind. Someone needs to talk me out of it.

I guess it's funny

First off, I hit the Wall. Ack. Stalled at 18,000. Last night squeezed out about fifty words. All rubbish. I scribbled in my notebook and drew little diagrams. Then I had a revelation. Oh, and it was funny.

I explained my idea to Andy. "See, Charlotte and Virginia inhabit two totally differnet castles. Charlotte's castle is dark and mysterious, a labyrinth, and she's always lost. Virgnia's castle is orderly and designed to contain the flow of the students. One way into the dormitories. One way into the librarys. No back doors or short cuts. She sees it with perfect clarity. It's a trap. The girls are trapped in the dormitories at night. There's only one exit but you have to get past the warden. It's never pass the fire code but it's 1902. Two different castles! It's funny."

"I guess it's a little bit funny."

Hmph. I think it's very funny.

What we do agree is funny: Andy called me Miss Wrong-wrong-wrongdiddly-ongo-wrong last night night, for some reason.

"Yes," I said, "that was my maiden name. Now I'm Mrs. He-thinks-he's-so-great-knows-it-all-smarty-pants."

"So you married up."

Ha fucking ha.

But I have written 500 words today. Hopefully this is the end of the Wall.

17,318

Jumped ahead of the word count. I went home early from work yesterday, ill with a cold. Honestly. A cold. I'm all sniffy and sneezey. I didn't even get out of bed until 1om when the cat decided that being fedthat instant was the most important thing inthe world ever. Ever. Well, to him, I imagine, it is.

Went back to work this morning and three other people are out with the same damn cold. At least I did all that writing yesterday. I think I'm just going to curl up in bed tonight and try to get over this cold. It would be nice if I could breathe.

14,283!

No time for a long blog tonight. Busy writing like the wind.

I was alone in the office this morning. Everyone was at a training except Jule, Megan and myself. The secretary (you know the one) took off at nine because she wasn't feeling well. I suspect it had something to do with supervisor not being in all day. At one point Jule left, Megan left, and I was all alone. Very eerie.

The Mauldy Institute Online!

I've created a blog where you can read the freshest of my words for Nanowrimo. I totally stole the idea from Clare. I don't write in a linear fashion, so I've finished the Prologue but that's it. All the other chapters are still missing bits. I'll post the chapter as soon as they are finished and don't have great bit holes in the narrative.

7359!

Will I make todays goal of 10,000 words? Oh yes...

Jenny is, of course, light years ahead of me. I had a realization last night listening to Natalie lament her status at 3500 words. Jeny writes inhumanely fast. She's the Flash. I can't compete. And while I'm busting my hump trying to keep up with Speedy here, I'm out pacing others.

I'm doing fine. We're all doing fine. The important thing is that we are writing. Period. No matter then word count.

Peep talk over. Get back to writing!

Which alternate universe did you wake up in today?

Word Count: 6543 as of 7pm.


Some days I am absolutely convinced I'm living in the evil alternate universe. You know the one, where everyone is opposite and Spock wears the goatee. Yeah, that one.

Jenny called and wanted to know if I was sad. No. My heart is broken.

Bush is a failure as president. I can't believe 51% of the county voted for preimptive war, trillion dollar deficets, "with us or against us" foreign politics, holding people in barely humane prisons for three years without habius corpus or a lawyer, FBI searching library records, no warrants for wire taps, assault weapons on the streets, lower taxes but huge increases in spending, proposed amendments to actually restrict civil liberities, no bid contracts, vanishing stock piles of weapons, privitization of Medicare, and a man who lost all three debates in an astonishing display of grimacing and frowning.

After all, it's hard work being the president.

Okay, to be fair: we won Pennsylvania. I devoted a lot of time and money and was not disappointed. I registered many people, secured absentee ballots for them, and brought others to the polls to vote. I'm proud of the work I did and how my efforts and the efforts of others showed.

And it was prety damn exciting to be living in a swing state, knowing I was doing all I could to make my vote count.

4243 by the way

Vote! Vote! Vote! Vote!

What are you reading this for? Go vote!!

I feel good. I'm feeling confident that Pennsylvania is going for Kerry.

Andy was at the polling place at 6.55 this morning. He called at 7:02 complaining that the doors were not opened and there was a long line and should he call the news media? I said, "But my clock says it's 7:02. Give 'em a minute."

"Oh. The city hall's clock says it's fifteen after. It must be wrong. There's a lot of angry people in line who feel silly now." I assume Andy was one of them.

I passed by three seperate people holding signs that said "Honk for Kerry." And I honked. Only saw one "Honk for Bush" on the way home...and no one was honking.

Got to work. Miss Montero ran me down in her scooter and demanded that I vote before I could enter the building. "I already voted," I said, shins against the shinny chrome of her front bumper.

"Go right on in, honey." She's really very sweet but she will run you down in that scooter. Devil woman.

There a problem with the voting machines in Germantown, though. And Germantown is a poor, largely black, urban neighborhood. Mark, who lives in Germantown, said that people were calling the radio and WHYY, the local NPR station, was there covering the apparent voter disenfranchisement. Mark said they had waited an hour for the machine to work but once the news van pulled up, it was amazing how fast those machines got fixed.

The problem was apparently that the fancy new computerized voting machines were "beeping". Beeping. The story goes, the power went off during the night and the machines needed to be reset. Took over an hour to reset the machines, huh?

All our pulses were racing with election day excitement and the dispensing of social justice. Mostly, I'm impressed with the way the people who were told the machine were not working, took matter in hand and called the news media. That's amazing. The people, who thought they might be denied their vote, protested instead of sucking it up and being unhappy, and the machines were fixed. That's a great story.

I called up my clients, asking if they had voted. Most everyone had. People that needed a ride, I gave a ride. No problem.

Not that I asked (or could legally), but every single person I spoke to today said they voted for Kerry. Granted, I work with a very specific population and the Democratic Party serves their best interests, but every single one voted for Kerry. That's something.

The Magic Number of the Day

2815!

Not bad for the first night of frantic, fumbly writing. Dashed through the first chapter. I have plans on going back and filling in the bits I skipped and fleshing out the bare bones details but for a first night, I'm rather proud.

So far my main character, Virginia, has been kidnapped and then, in an effort to free herself, inadvertantly started a raging fire. Classic.

It's Oddly Freeing

Friday at work I wore a dainty little pair of silver horns all day. Everyone received a memo encouragign us to wear Halloween gear but I was the only one to actually show up in anything resembling a costume. When asked if I was a devil, I replied that my horns weren't red but silver. I was mostly likely an imp.

It was oddly freeing spending the entire day with little silver horns on your head. I recommend it.

Tonight I'm watching the original, silent Nosferatu and The Phantom of the Opera. Not the original originals, mind, just a DVD I picked up at Target.

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Nanowrimo Checklist:

My desk is clean.
Pens gathered neatly in my Mind The Gap cup.
The kitchen is sparkling...no distraction there.
All the ironing is done. Not a wrinkle in the closet.
Giganitc container of hot coco mix.
Big bowl filled with Nanowrimo...I mean Halloween candy.
Calculator at hand for counting and recounting the daily word totals.
Notebook for quickly scribling flashes of inspiration.
TV remote is hidden and the batteries removed.

Nothing left to do but write.

Clare has her own Nanowrimo blog for keeping us abreast of the lasted developements and word counts. I'll just use thie forum here.

I'm Jenny's Hero

The continuing saga of mean sister unfolded with the witty replies of Heidi and Nico:

10/27/2004 2:56:03 PM heidi (www) said:
Well mannered...hmmm typically speaking when introduced to another person, you would say hi, nice to meet you and shake hands, not just sit in a chair and continue to watch T.V..

10/27/2004 3:20:59 PM nico (www) said:
Gotta go with Heidi here. Cultured includes being polite and kind to the people you don't like, as well as to the people you do. I think what the blog that's quoted above meant to say is that it's pretentious for one person to assume that the world revolves around her or him. And there are always two sides to a story. It is pretentious to take sides if you've heard only one.As for other comments: this is clearly cliche, but those in glass houses shouldn't throw stones. Specifically, it's
prententious to criticize the grammar of others unless you use the language perfectly. Have I used the word "pretentious" enough?

To which I replied:

10/27/2004 6:44:37 PM Liarbyrd (www) said:
The point is that neither of you, Heidi and Nico, are upset that you hurt your sister's feelings and made her cry. All you can fixate on is some offense in the distant past and and continue to exact revenge despite the fact that both of you are grown women. And then use Jenny's friend's behaviour as justification for the continued torment of Jenny. Grown women don't make their sister cry for shits and giggles: spoiled brats do.

Yes, I AM very prententious. I don't try to deny it. But I do string together a coherent sentence and I think grammatically I'm all that, barring the odd typo. BTW, I wasn't critizing grammar, it was content. CONTENT. You know, content, what fills up an empty void with substance.

Meanwhile, Jenny called to tell me that I'm her hero. Cool. Good feelings all around.

Evil little sisters

Tonight's blog was nearly about my nearly seeing President Clinton and nearly metting Al Sharpton. Nearly. Both events did not occur because I decided not to take the day off work and stand around in Centre City for a politcial rally (but it would have been so cool!). And the Reverend Sharpton cancelled his rally in Germantown today, in Vernon Park. See, won't take off work to see Clinton but will skip out for a few hours when the event is just outside my window. I have a usually trouble free view of Vernon Park.

Instead it's about Jenny's very sad message waiting for me on my aswering machine, the innane blog her lil' sister wrote, the mysterious reason her big sister was "busted", and how cruel sisters can be.

The message: In a nutshell, her lil' sis humiliated her in front of the sister's friend. Jenny is furious and depressed because that is shit twelve year old do, not grown adults, and really wishes it wouldn't get her as upset as it does.

Lil' sis wrote:

Huge question in life is what DOES matter? What do you LET yourself bother you?
I'm a firm believer no one can make you feel less than you are if YOU don't let
them. Period. Simple as that.
Words are a powerful thing. I know I am over
the top at times, but I think I surround myself with those that can take it
without getting an internal urge to scream and scratch and hit and bite.

Jenny wanted me to read the blog, so I assume ther must be some special meaning to it rather than a pretensious showing of tired cliches and platitudes.

I'm not one to belittle another person's writing...Oh, wait. I am one to belittle aother's writing. As I commented in Jenny's blog, "What do you let yourself bother you?"? What the hell?!!! And it's not the people who have the internal urges to scream and kick the crap out of you, it's the big and nasty external fists flying at you that you really should worry about.

Jenny's sisters are mean to her. Mean. And not just snipey things behind her back, but flat out rude and mean in her face. So mean that I wish I was a bit less civil and could just punched 'em. Oh, and they seem to thrive on an audience. When I first met lil' sis, she gave me two good reasons why Jenny shouldn't be my friend. Such as not passing her driving test and something else trivial I can not remember right now. Do nice people try to sabotague their sister's friendships? Or belittle them infront of their own friends?

Of course, I'm far fom polite to them. Granted, I don't smile and pretend I did not notice them tear down their sister and one of my best friends. They don't like me much. Apparently I was "rude" at some point in the distant past. Now, mind you, this could be my natural social grace and charms. Meaning that I have none: I tend to be blunt and blurt out the first thing that comes into my head. Some can find this lack of refinement rude. Fine. Next time I'll go out of my way to be rude.

Jenny is by far the most talented writer I've had the pleasure of reading, let alone knowing. Her sisters are a pair of wicked bitches only rivaled by the darkest of fairtales. And fairytales always tend to have a nasty ending.

Mean sisters suck.

Clare's prezzie

Did a little Chrimbo shopping for the Clare. Got something really great, wrapped it carefully in two pastic bags and put it in the closet for safe keeping. Doesn't that cat Hrothgar immediately jump into the closet and start rubbing his face against the package like it's the greatest thing ever. I honestly do not know how that cat knows it is for Clare but he knows, oh yes. And I think we all know how Hrothgar feels about Clare. Well, at least sitting on her suitcase and neatly folded clothes. So, I'll try to get it to you as free of cat hair as possible. Sorry. Stupid cat. He's lucky he's so damn cute...

Irrate German Detector

Wednesday morning Jule and I go on a shopping run for the office. Art and craft store, buying supplies for a good-bye project for Lesa, our director. I drove, seeing as how I'm infatuated with my car and it was actually just outside the office front door and not a hell and gone walk to the parking lot.

So I'm driving. Jule's in the passenger seat. I'm driving and then she says, "How come that light says the passenger air is not on?"

I explain that Hyundai's have a sensor to detect if someone weight less than 100-120 lbs. It assumes that if the person is less than 100 lbs,it's a child and turn off. But the sensors have problems and some of the Hyundai's were recalled. Andy and i knew this when we bought the car, thinking, "Skinny minnies ain't our problem." The car always knows when Andy's in the passenger seat.

"I am not a child!" Jules shouts. "Don't I deserve an air bag? What are you doing! Don't crash now!!"

At that moment an idiot in a red van sewerves across the traffic and makes and illegal right hand turn across three more lands of the boulevard. Jerk. I honk my horn appropiately.

Jule, meanwhile, is fixated on the air bag. "I want an air bag! I want an airbag!" She's bouncing around in the seat and by some miracle, the lightgoes off, indicated that the air bag is now on.

I say, "Oh, the irrate German detector must have gone on."

The the light flickers back on. Oh crap. Instead of complaining, she reaches for the car manuel and looks up the section on the air bag, muttering all the while that in Germany there is a button to turn the air bag on and off. Stupid Germans, solving problems with simple engineering.

So it seems that one's bottom must be placed in the middle of the cushion (where the sensor and scale is) and both feet on the floor for the scale to work properly so the air bag will be on.

And then I propmised Jule that I'd write about our misadventure.

Oh, and then we had bad shrimp at lunch and she had no fortune in her cookie. I told her that god hated her and was out to get her. Cause I'm cheery like that.

Enchanted Shoes

I've come to the conclusion that the cool shoes I bought at Naturalizer with Jenny and Clare are enchanted. They're really pretty spiffy. Shiny black patent leather mary janes with a 3/4 inch kitten heel. Cool. But enchanted? Come on, seriously, Mel?

Every time I wear the shoes, I get hit on. I kid you not. Wasn't wearing anything special yesterday. Black pants, black sweater, and those shoes. I got a "damn girlfriend" in the parking lot at work and this guy came over, trying to get my number. I flashed my wedding ring and politely declined. A girl can get use to that kind of attention.

Atlantic City

Took a completely spontanious trip to AC this sunday. Won 50 cents on the video poker, didn't loose money. And when I say "won", I'm not counting the five bucks of Andy's money that I lost of nickle slot.

Due to the Union protests right outside the casinoes, the entire place was empty. we went to the Sands(ring a ding ding), whose Union was not striking. I refused to cross a picket line.

Had the best pizza ever. It's surprising. It's this little dingy joint right on the boardwalk and looks like it would stomach destryoing greasy food just like every dingy joint in the boardwalk. But the sauce is crushed tomatoes with big chunkcs of garlic. Nothing out of a can. Delicious. Oh, and that was followed by funnel cake. Yum.

And I bought a tweed hat. It's cute. Nearly bought a very nice knock-off Coach bag. It even had serial numbers on the inside, so it's a good fake,but the "leather" felt more that vinyl. The guy want $35, which was like $10 too much. And he wouldn't be talked down so I walked away. There's always more knock-offs around the corner.

Saw Shaun of the Dead. Best zombie movie I've ever seen. Dead funny, too. Question, though. In the movie, Shaun drinks a Diet Coke. Andy says that there's no such thing as Diet Coke in England because in all his experience (2 days in Oxford) he only saw Coke Light. I produced from my scrapbook a photo of Jenny drinking a Diet Coke and eating a package of gummy bears. He swears by the Coke Light, though. So Clare will need to straighten this out. What is Coke Light? Is there still Diet Coke? Enlighten us.

Yeah, that was my holiday weekend.

Welfare Office Sass

What is it with the people at the welfare office? They have to be, hands down, the rudest people I've ever spoken too. I've spent thirty minutes calling one welfare office after another, trying to find out which office covered my client's address. You see, Philly's broken down in sections. And not just by zip code, but also by street. So you can't really tell just by looking at the list in my +resource book or the blurry 10th generation photocopy of "the map."

So, the rudest people on the phone. Such sass. No one knew the answer. Rather than look it up, they hung up or told me to call another office. They act like's it their money they're giving out, coming right from their checking account, and everyone wants their money. And can you imagine the attitute a poor person who needs food stamps must get if they give me, a social worker, a COLLEGUE, that attitute.

Welfare has a lot of problems and every year they get less and less money but all this pressure does not excuse the piss poor professional quality of service from the workers there.

November is No more rhyming month

So the Andy says this morning, he says, "Next month is Nomorhymo, so you better get it out of your system now." I mouth "nomorhymo," wondering what the hell that is.

He then saunters off singing a little song, "I must stoop to reach the scoop if I wish to collect the cat poop."

No mo' rhy mo. Clever monkey. Plus, he has this unhealthy fixation with the cat and the litter box. Gross.

Later when we are in the car, he mentions that next month is Bananaramo.

Can't even think of a response to that.

Friday Night Debates

The presidential debates last night night had some interesting points. I particuallry enjoyed the way Bush demonstrated his diplomacy style by talking over Charlie Gibson, the moderator, out of turn. Because when someone says it's not your turn and to shut up, you should just keep on talking.

Also, we played spot the wire. Yesterday, Fark linked to CNN an article stating that from Bush's mic in the first debate, there was an odd sort of feedback just before Bush opened his mouth. Almost as if he was wearing a wire and was being feed answers. The Bush Administration's explination: pre-echo. That's right, pre-echo. Echoing from Bush before he even opened his mouth. It might be more plausible if they had said it was Bush's deep telepathic connection with the nation, anticipating his every words.

So last night we were looking for signs of cheating. On Bush's right ear and neck was an oddly pink and plastic looking stretch of skin that went straight down into his shirt collar. He kept ajusting his jacket, pulling it closed. andy swears hs sawthe wire at the begining ofthe debate but I counld't see anything.

Today, that link on Fark does not exist and the article on CNN does not exist either. I followed that link and read that article.

But is is on the Guardian website here. Good ol' Guardian. The reporter finds proof (from C-SPAN footage) of an oddly shaped bulked between the President's shoulder blades. Very interesting. Wanna see the photo and chime in? I don't need to say that having someone read you lines in a DEBATE is cheating and if any of these rumors are true, they must be exposed before November 2.

However, go and register your opinion of who won the debate.

Nanowrimo!

Ah, the approach of autumn and the arrival of the annual crazed quest to write a novel in a month: Nanowrimo. Of course, for this month a novel is defined as 50,000 words: a little novel, really. Practically a baby novel. A novella.

I encourage you to particiape if you've ever had the ambition to write that great novel but have never gotten around to it, shouted angrily at a movie/book/tv that you could pull a better story out of your ass, or just have nothing to do in November. Sign up now!

This year I'm running with the Virginia/Josephine/Charlotte idea. It seems like fun. I've got character steches, some plot outlines, and even a little bit if dialogue written down in a notebook. But I con't write a word of it until Nov. 1, otherwise that's cheating. So far I've been thinkning about the headers on each chapter. I want to add excerpts from "sources" about the girls once they grow up. Virginia is an archeologist, little newspaper clippings from her latest finds or no finds. Jo is going to be an infamous sufregette, so little political tirades from her. Charlotte, I was surprised to learn, becomes a "beloved children's author." Really. Then I read some of her titles, "A Young Ladies' Illustrated Primer" and "Unsuitable for Children of all ages: a Fairy Tale collection." And then it occured to me, I don't know any unsuitable fairy stories. So, I'm ready for your assistance.

The Week in Review

Let's see...Monday mornign got to work to discover a broken door, graphite power everywhere, and a computer missing. Someone broke into my office over the weekend and stole the only good machine in the place. Couldn't take the crappy computero ff my desk, took the brand new one. Monday sucked. Everyone was a bit traumatized. Oddly, nothing else was missing. Tere's no alarm inside the building, so the theif had all the time in the world but only took one computer. Couldn't even be bothered to take it's printer and mouse.

Tuesday was Hurricane Jeanne. I think by the time it got to Philly it was a "tropical depression" but trust me, it felt like a hurricane. It started raining at 2pm and did not stop until midnight. And it wasn't a nice little raining, it was end of the world, heavy heavy rain. The drive hoem took two hours from Center city. Mainly because the highway actually flooded. The water got caught between the cement devideres and flash flooded. Bang. Instant four feet of water. Luckily, I missed the exit to I-95 so I missed out on all the flooding fun. I was stuck on the city streets, as was the entire city, and the those roads were flooding too. Got home fine, just took awhile. I remember the drive to center city that way, Iwas composing this entry. I t was going to be about how Fairmont park is rather ominous in the autumn. The dark green leaves, wet with rain, the buring gold and orange, and the fog that clung to the water of the river. The road is situated soem feet above the river, so there's this steep, ro9cky drop from the edge of the road straight down to the water. The fog was curled inside the gorge, snaking alongside the road, and disapated just at eye level. It was like there was something cashing you as you drive. When you turned your hed, it disappeared into the fog. Spooky. Yeah, then it rained and rained and the entire spooky road through the park and beside the river was under water. So, in a way, it was ominous.

Wednesday, got new glasses. I tried super hard not to get a pair that looked like Andy's, because I don't want to turn into those married couples who look and dress like each other. Turns out, they look like Natalie's glasses. Reddish-brown, plastic frame. Very cool, in my opinion.

Thursday, watched the Presidential debate. John Kerry clearly smacked Bush around. The bezt was when Jon Kerry reminded Bush that Bin Laden attacked us on 9/11, not Iraq. All Bush could say was, "I know Bin Laden attacked us. I know that." No, I think it's obvious you didn't know that.

Friday, worst migrane ever. Thought my brain was going to burst out the back of my head. Went home from work early, slept until Jenny called.

Saturday, hanging out in my jim-jams.

The Priceless Handshake

Got an official looking letter in my mail box today, on letterhead and everything. The Director of the board wrote this beautiful introduciton about how back when the comics were called the funny pages, there was a guy who did amazing things at work but never got the raise he deserved. Instead, he got the "priceless handshake" from his boss.

So I'm getting excited...raises...much deserved...oh yeah, that's me!

It was an invitation to Staff Appriciation Day, Nov. 4th. Ice cream social to end the day at 3.30 pm.

The disappointment left a sticky and bitter residue in my mouth.

I deserve a raise! I've been at this job for two years and have only gotten "cost of living" increases. Actually, the last cost of living increase was recended in July because the Center doesn't havce that kind of money anymore.

It's makes me mad knowing that at PCA there are people who do exactly what I do and make SO much mor money than me. That doesn't bother me that much. It's know they get annual raises that pisses me off. PCA contracts the Center to do this social work program and PCA pays my salary. PCA can and should give annual raises to all social workers who administer their program. Priceless handshake my ass.

The W is for Warmonger

Just got off the phone with my brother, Jake. He's being "recalled" and going to Iraq at the end of the month.

"What? But you said the recall didn't apply to you!"

It didn't. Well, it didn't use to. After leaving the army, he did two years of National Guard and that completed his duty. And all that was two years ago and the recall only applied to people just getting out of the National Guard.

It seems a law was just passed that revoked any time new recruits did in the reserve, before they started their tour of duty. Like my brother, who enlisted when he was 17, did bootcamp over the summer, returned to finish high school, was in the reserve his last year of high school, and then went off to the Army after graduation. Thanks to this new law, that time in the reserve doesn't count and suddenly he "owes" the Army time.

Tell me it's not a draft.

He's leaving behind a 18 month old son, a one month old daughter, and a wife of less than six months. Jake said the worst thing was that his kids would forget him.

The worst thing is he might not come back.

I have nothing but contempt for the warmonger in the oval office.

The slowest machine in the world

Playing secretary for the moment at work, blogging on what is actually the slowest machine in the world. Even slower than the lumber dinosaur at home.

Just got the Franz Ferdinand album, at Clare's insistence, and it rocks soundly. The best album I've heard in a while. Amendment: Clare does not remember telling me to buy it but I remember her telling me it was good. Which is practically telling me to buy it.

Contrary to my last posting, Andy is a little crazy but I like him that way. I'm not shipping him off to California.

Okay, the phones are ringing. Someone has to answer them.

Fridays are pretty busy in a social service department. Everyone calls in with an emergency, it can't possibly wait for Monday, need medication today, and so on. And the first line of abuse is the person answering the phones. At least I only have to do this for an hour before the next poor slobe else takes the next shift.

If you had a super power, what would it be?

Andy has always said it would be the power to give other people super powers. Every one who hears this nods their headand thinks, "He's really clever."

In a conversation this morning, Andy finished the thought by adding, "I'd give you a new supr power every week. Then I'd build a titanium flying skull with tenacle and lasers in the eyes and you'd get to try and stop me."

Try and stop you?

"Every week. And I'd call the flying skull Fancy."

Fancy.

"Yep. What's that in the garage? Ohmigod, that's Fancy!" And then he does the crazy giggle thing that makes me wonder: when Andy does actually go insane, how will I be able to tell?

Oh, and links proided curtesy of Omouse. She's awesome with the mad hack/html skills. Me, woefully illiterate. If Omouse is reading this, I'd also like a tag board. But that can be a Christmas present.

Mel

I'm not very good at this writing everyday thing. Bad news. Need to start getting into shape for Nanowrimo. I know, it's two months off, but I'm thinking about it. Having a plan of attack is the most important thing when you dare to write a work of outstanding quality and insight, a veritable monument in literature, in a month. Okay, when you dare to commit 50k words arrange in such an order that it is coherent and resembles a story...that's pretty tough stuff.

Today...aced tickets to see Micheal Moore speak next week in Philly. Camden, actually. Just across the river in New Jerwey, it's Philly East. Tickets were only $6. Cool. I enjoy his documentaries. Mostly, I enjoy the way he speaks his mind, even when it's not popular and the entire audience at the Academy Awards is booing.

Sunday afternoon I noticed a new feature on the Andy. He's sitting in the big yellow chair in the living room, tv on, and I walk in saying something or other. He says, "I'm asleep."

"Really? You're asleep?" Andy has been known to sleep with his eyes open and hold coherent conversations. Never remembers any of it, mind you, but at the time you can't tell.

"I'm asleep," he repeats. Must be asleep.

I go to putz around the kitchen, make a little din-din and I hear him shout, "I'm asleep!"

Great, the shouting that he's asleep whilst asleep: another great feature for the Andy. And the snoring...It's a wonder I get any sleep at all. I'm always dead tired in the morning. Marriage is really cool on the whole, but some bits really suck. Mostly the bits that suck revolve around the fact that I can not share a blanket and Andy snores. Still better than a poke in the eye, though.

Another day, another great adventure.

The clip on the shifter cable was broken! So the car didn't know what gear it was in and wouldn't start because it will only start in Park.

Clark's all fixed and I can pick him up after work. Happy happy joy joy...

Mostly I'm happy because there was an actual problem and it was not user error. :) And I'm also happy that Andy and I got the warrenty and this is covered.

Okay, drama over.

Quite possibly the worst day ever.

I didn't get a chance to post last night mainly because I was tired and it takes just about five minutes too long for my computer to turn on, log on, and log in, etc.

Yesterday, at 2.30 in the afternoon, my shiny new car died. Just died. I put the key in and the ignition would not turn over. Nothing. Something similar happened to Andy a few days ago. I regret now that I told him he was crazy. But when I came out to look at the car that wouldn't start, it started for me. And I promptly forgot the incident. Until it didn't start for me. Remembering this, I left the car alone and took a little walk down the street to a shoe store. I came back 30 minutes later. Nothing. The engine would not turn over. No sounds, no clicking, nothing.

So I was stuck at the parking lot of the Bennigans, on the Boulevard in Philly. Could have been worse. At least I was not in the hood or the ghetto. (How white do I sound when I type that?)

So I called road side assit. Cancelled my home visit. Left a rambly message for my boss explaining why I stopped working at 3. And I was in tears because my brand new car with 493 miles on it is a price of crap.

The tow truck came in an hour. By 4.30 I was at the dealership, describing the problem, and severly pissed that my brand new car left me stuck at the side of the road. In a parking lot, actually. For all the oil leaks and constant repairs, my Neon never abandoned me.

So now I have a loaner with "McCafferty's Service Vehicle" emblazoned on the sides. It's rather tacky, actually. And while it is nice the dealership provided me with a loaner, I wouldn't want to advertise that the cars sold at my dealership break down. Subtly, I think, is needed.

Here's the kicker: the mechanic called. This morning the car started just fine, like yesterday never ever happened. Punk car. I've been so upset, I forgot to mention i named the car Clark. Punk ass Clark.

After convincing the mechanic that I'm not a silly woman, and yes the gear was in park, the car did not start through no fault of my own, he's going to run "tests". So we'll hear about it in a few hours.

So I've been playing around with this thing for like an hour, trying to get links to Omouse's and Athene19's kick ass blogs, respectively. It ain't working. I followed the Omouse's instructions, but to be honest, when it comes to computers and HTML, I'm like a chimpanzee poking at it with a stick. Just a lot of screaming and jumping up and down on my part.

Maybe this will work: http://omouse.blogspot.com and http://athene19.blogspot.com. Check 'em out. They're my best friendss. Ahhh...

As for my working day...went to work. Pouring rain. The drive took an extra fifteen minutes because a) first day back at school and b) no one seemed to be actually driving. I got stuck behind some woman with a car full of kids who thought it necessary to stop and say hello to everyone she saw walking down the street. It just makes me grind my teeth. And then I lay on my horn and become one of those bitchy drivers you hate, always honkinbg 'cause their mad at something. I hate being that person.

Got a manicure and a pedicure after work, so the universe balances out. How is that? Makes me feel better, so there.

I now have plans to lay in bed and finish reading Something Rotten, the latest most brillant novel by Jasper Fforde. (He claims it's his real name.) It's killing me that I don't know which book Yorrick Kaine comes from. I think I'm in the right direct, but Omouse assures me I haven't a clue. However, I did figure out who Granny Next really was, so there. Actually, I had suspicions in the last (Well of Lost Plots) book.

Okay, another day another adventure.

It seems I forgot I had a blog. So, on this loveliest of Labor days, I will do my laundry, make chili for dinner, and dust off my blog and get it into some type of presentable shape.