something totally different

This is a tale of a cow and a goat

A cow named Dint and goat named Dont

They live in a meadow just down the road

With Maisy-Moo and a big ugly toad

Dint and Dont are real. So is Maisy-Moo The toad is not. I’m thinking of writing a little story about them and giving it to their owners as a Christmas gift. And I’m bored with myself so I thought I’d share it here.

Coyotes abound, they make an awful sound

I think they might be trying to eat Dont

But I’m not quite sure where this is going.

Anyway, feel free to laugh at me and maybe you’ll get to read the story of Dint and Dont 🙂

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Election, politics and what I learned

part one

From the beginning:

I live in the country, way out in the country, my nearest neighbor is about 800 feet from me. The deer and the antelope play. Well, no, we don’t have antelope. We do have foxes though! (I love foxes) (that’s totally irrelevant, but have you ever known me to worry about such trivialities as relevancy?)

One of my neighbors, who lives 1/2 mile up the road so she’s pretty close by, is 90 years old. I’ve mentioned her before. (Try to keep up) The farmer across the road from her checks on her every day and I try to stop in every few days too. He got elected to school board 4 years ago. At the time, my husband was working at the school. (Stick with me, this is relevant) He would often be checking on Joan when I was visiting her, so we would get to chatting about school stuff. He started bugging me to attend meetings and see for myself.

So I did. And between that and listening to my husband talk about the stuff that was being thrown out, wasted, trashed, I started to speak up.

My husband retired from Harley Davidson after 28 years. He had major surgery that year, spent a year recovering, and the next year watching MASH till I told him if he didn’t soon get a job, I’d shoot the TV. Or him. He found a part time job as a custodian at the school. He has health issues still, all of which were known to the school when he was hired, and as his health has worsened over the years, they have been aware of any physical limitations and accommodations needed. Because he had worked there for several years, eventually going full time, some things were verbally agreed to, and not put in writing – big mistake.

Do not trust an employer to stand by a verbal agreement. Never.

After several months of attending meetings and listening to the board members, I gathered my courage one night and spoke up. I said that they weren’t doing their job, they were elected as the “ABC’s” which stood for “accountability, budget and curriculum.” I said that I’d heard nothing about the budget, which was soon due, or about curriculum.

As time went on, I spoke up more often, about things like the roof leaking while we spent thousands of dollars on a “facility study” to tell us what needed to be fixed when any moron would know that if your roof is leaking, you should probably fix it. When the facilities manager asked for $60,000 for a brand new truck because it was desperately needed, according to him, because we were going to be buried in snow (we plowed twice last year) I let my friend know that we had previously outsourced plowing and that this guy, known to me as CueBall (for reasons) was lying when he said we hadn’t. When he vociferously denied that we had ever outsourced, I searched the old check registers for year back and found that indeed, we had, and brought that information to my friend. By then it was too late, the truck had been purchased, but I spoke at another meeting about what I had found and how long this research took, and stated that the board should have been the ones doing it instead of rubber stamping such a large purchase.

That put a target on the Bear’s back. They started nitpicking his job performance, calling him in on nothing and giving out no discipline. We knew it was retaliation, but we can’t prove it – as we’ve been told over and over. It all came to a head after the primary, when I secured a place on the ballot. The end result was that he was forced to retire. (We’re not through with this mess, so no details there)

After I spoke out the first time, questioning the state of the roofs and why we were finding it necessary to hire someone to do a “facilities study” to tell us to fix them, I was approached by a youngish woman who shall be known as Cathy Chaos (obviously not her real name). She represented a PAC that was looking for candidates. I agreed to meet with her, and brought my friend The Farmer. We were unsure, but decided to give this group a chance.

That was our first mistake.

We didn’t do the research we should have done on this group. I give myself some grace because I had no idea what I was doing, but the other two candidates should have known something was off. They offered to do the required paperwork, and help raise money. Yay, one less thing we have to do.

They called a meeting to introduce everyone and let us know what was happening and also to introduce the person they had chosen to run along with us. Mind you, there were 3 strong conservative Republicans running – so they chose a woman who is a transgender activist to be the fourth member of this group. Yes, you read that correctly, A transgender activist, in a town that is incredibly conservative, they thought this person would have a chance of being elected. Also, she’s a Democrat. (I suppose that went without saying)

That should have been our first red flag.. Actually, it was – but I didn’t act on my instincts. Again, I blame myself.

There were two policies up for debate at the first board meeting after our candidacies were announced. One of them dealt with bathrooms, the other with sports. Both of them were written by a far right law firm that specializes in this sort of thing, and would love to see a lawsuit reach the Supreme Court. The two guys who were up for re-election had already stated their opposition, only because of the terminology. It was a given that these policies would pass, it was 7 to 2 voting for them, and the guys both had explained their reasons for voting no.

The night before the vote, an outside group posted on Facebook that these policies would allow teachers and administrators to check a child’s genitals before allowing them to use the bathroom. This statement was totally untrue, nowhere in the policy was anything like this stated. I messaged the girl in charge of our group, aka CathyChaos, and demanded that this post be taken down. At this point, there were maybe 20 responses. She told me she hadn’t read it. I insisted it be removed. The next morning, it was still there, and now there were well over 200 responses. Again, I demanded that it be taken down, or at least that an explanation be posted saying that it was not true, that we were not the ones who were saying this, etc. She posted something but didn’t really refute the statements.

The meeting was ridiculous. The public comment period consisted of parents talking about how awful this was, the board president mentioned the Facebook post, one gentleman said he would never vote for anyone from our group.

I should have stood up then and agreed with him. The next day, I told the Farmer that I could be certain that this guy would run as a write-in candidate. Not only did he, and another guy, they ended up winning the election.

The primary was in May. PA allows school board candidates to cross file, on the premise (I believe) that school boards should be bi-partisan so it shouldn’t matter which party you’re from. (It matters) As you all know, I ended up winning on the Democrat side and getting trounced on the Republican by – you guessed it – the two write ins. After the primary, the PAC met to discuss strategy. I said, because no one was taking accountability, that we lost because of the Facebook debacle. I was told that I had lost votes because I spoke up about this truck, that the staff “Loves CueBall!” That pissed me off and made me laugh at the same time. (None of the staff can stand him)

As I had predicted, there were two write ins. Cathy Chaos and Turbo Tits wrote them off (see what I there?) as did one of the guys running for re-election. I was told “write ins never win.” (Surprise!) I was angry and they were indifferent.

I’ve never run for an office, not even in high school. But I had some ideas of what I thought we should do. Get endorsements from anyone with any political presence, get a website up and running for each of us, raise money, etc. To this day I don’t really know what the PAC did other than some postcards, knocking on doors, and putting out yard signs. And stirring up chaos.

That was all in May, the summer was pretty quiet. Things geared up in September. That will be part 2, this is quite long enough.

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Waiting

My college has gone on strike. It’s a long story, the short version is that we’ve been trying to work with the admin for three years, we’ve had no raises, the college wants ownership of intellectual property (I’ve created everything in my class except the power point slides and the exam and they all suck, so the college can have those) and a few other things that we, as faculty,aren’t willing to give up. We’ve tried negotiating and they won’t budge so it’s come to this. I expect to hear very shortly whether or not we’re actually doing this. Yes, it will screw up things for the students and I hate that part, but it’s just not sustainable the way things are going.

On top of that is the election. I’m so disgusted with the politics that I don’t even care if I win or lose or this point, I just want it over and done with. I was a poll watcher for a few hours today. The opposition was friendlier than the people on our side. One young black girl who was “helping us” is apparently a died in the wool Democrat and tried to start an argument with me4 times. After she told me how awful Republicans are, and I responded with “you guys celebrated Charlie Kirk being assassinated, don’t tell me about awful,” she responded that he said horrible things about people like her. I asked if she had watched more than a 15 second clip and she put her hand up, yelled NO and backed away. The next time she started, I said that she had shown that she wasn’t willing to listen and only wanted to browbeat me and I wasn’t going to do that. Did that stop her? Of course not. The final time, I said, “I have too much going on in my life right now for this nonsense, this is not what I came here for, I’ve told you to stop, I’m not going to argue with you.” She said she wasn’t arguing, it was a conversation. A conversation I just said I was done with so GO THE FUCK AWAY. ( I didn’t say that last part out loud.) I told the rest of the group that I was done, and left. The polls close at 8, I don’t know when we’ll get results. I can’t wait to be done with these people!

My nephew is staying with us, he left his batshit crazy soon to be ex wife because of the batshit crazy stuff and came here from Maine. I’ve been really happy to have him, honestly. In spite of the stress and bullshit caused by the soon to be ex, aka “Bitchcakes,” having him here has been a blessing. It’s been a long time since we spent time together, his mom was my best friend and I still miss her every day – she passed 33 years ago – so talking and laughing and yes, crying a bit, has been wonderful. We’ve been doing tourist type stuff, too. I’ve long wanted to do a tour of Gettysburg but some things are just not fun alone. We did the auto tour from the National Park Service last week and it was great. Highly recommend! We also did a fast trip to Maine and back – in 4 days, from Southern PA to Northern Maine, 700 miles- to attend a court hearing, which he won.

He’ll be here awhile, because, as the title says, he’s also waiting. Waiting on a date for the divorce hearing, waiting on paperwork so he can get medical leave, waiting to head South to be with his sister who is also going through a divorce, I know he’s bored, and so is the Bear, and I can’t convince either of them to learn to knit or sew or do diamond art.

I’m back in physical therapy. I’ve had trigger point injections in my upper back, another round of shots in my spine and possibly more shots in the piraformis muscles.

Apparently mine are quite tight, so there are trigger point injections for those spots too. I have PT tomorrow and will be discussing it with my therapist.

I’ve been cooking and baking like crazy. I have two guys here who love Boston Cream Pie but a whole one is a bit too much for just two people. Well. I discovered these cute little four inch cake pans on Amazon. I can make mini cakes! I’m so easy to please. 🙂

So now we wait for the election results, and the strike results, and the rest of the world to get it together so the nephew can make plans. I need a shot of brandy and a shower, Bear has made soup for supper and all I have to do is wash the dishes later

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Reading!

At one of our faculty meetings recently, the leader lost her internet in the middle of the meeting so we carried on by discussing any recent books we’d loved. I mentioned a book called Picking Cotton, by Jennifer Thompson-Cannino, and Ronald Cotton.

This book, if you haven’t read it, is amazing. It’s the story of a young white woman who was raped by a black man, and the man who went to prison for the rape. It turned out that he was actually innocent, and the amazing thing is the way he forgave his accuser.

Anyway, that led one of the members of the committee to invite to join her reading group. I’m always up for a good read, so I agreed. The first book is James by Percival Everett

I’m about a third of the way into this, it’s very interesting and sparked a good discussion yesterday. However. Right after I started this, the latest Karin Slaughter, who is one of my favorite authors, came in. I’d put this on hold the day I learned it was being published. Because it’s brand new, I wanted to read it quickly so the other people waiting for it wouldn’t have to wait forever.

Her books are quick reads but it still took me away from James. After the meeing, I realized that we’re actually meeting every week and I need to finish James by next Wednesday. I went to the library website to reserve the next book for the group and saw a message – two books I had reserved were in. Oh dear Lord. One is the latest Cormoran Strike book. I’ve been waiting for this book for months, it was just released on September 2nd, I was about peeing myself with excitement!

I went to the library and picked up the two on reserve as well as the next one for the group. If you need me, I’ll be on the porch with a book. For the next two weeks.

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Max and the Watermelon

He picked this himself. Max was my first Golden Retriever. He’s been gone for 7 years – I’m sure he’s currently showing Penny around in Heaven

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Penny

Yesterday at around 1, my friend called, frantic. Her choclate lab, Penny, was down and couldn’t get up. Penny was almost 13, her mom is 90. I grabbed the Bear and we went to help. I called our daycare/groomer/trainer to come help lifting Penny into my car so we could take her to the vet. She checked breathing and heart, said to get Penny in to the vet as soon as possible. Several frantic phone calls later, we had an appointment at 2:30.

Meanwhile, my friend’s son decided to be a total asshat. I’m so angry with him still that I can barely see straight. Penny was down, and then she got up. He pronounced it a miracle and that she was fine! No, asshole, she was NOT fine. Then he decided to argue with me and M about making her walk into the house. Penny was in heart failure, effin pick her up and carry her, you moron. M’s husband did the lifting. (M is trainer/groomer/daycare lady) Meanwhile, my 90 year old friend is falling to pieces and her son stormed off, announcing that he was obviously not needed. No, asshole, you were NOT needed.

We took Penny to the vet at 2. He did x-rays. She was in respiratory and heart failure due to fluid around her heart, there was really nothing to be done and at 13, any extraordinary measures were beyond her. Her mom made the decision to open Heaven’s door for her.

It was peaceful but horrible. I gave her so many kisses, petted her, let her know how much she was loved by so many people. And when it was over, her mom fell apart. More than she had already.

I spent the afternoon with her. Her granddaughter and another friend were there too. If you have a prayer to spare, send one up for Joan. I’m not sure how she’ll make it without her Penny – who was, quite honestly, the best dog who ever lived.

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Shot again

Tomorrow I’m getting a shot in my hip. I switched doctors after talking to my family doctor, he referred me to a different neurosurgeon and that doctor sent me to pain management as the first step to resolving my back and hip issues. I’m not thrilled with the idea of another shot, the last one in my back was an epic fail, but I’m hopeful – this guy seems to have more of a clue than my previous doctor. I loved her, and she was great, but I got the feeling she gave up on me once the last round of shots made things worse.

Fresh eyes, fresh approach, new ideas. I’m praying. If you have a minute, send one up for me – this pain is exhausting and I’m tired of myself. I’m tired of being a crabby old woman.

In other news, there really isn’t any other news. Updates will be forthcoming!

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Biting my tongue

When I was in high school, there was a family a couple of towns over whose kids went to the same high school I did. There were three girls, (I think, it’s been a few years) and one boy. The boy, we shall call Frankie because that was his name, you would have expected to be pampered and spoiled.

That was not the case. For some reason known only to him, the father used the boy as the punching bag for all his frustrations – and there were many. He was good, as so many abusers are, at putting the marks and bruises where no one noticed. Frank was good at hiding the pain, and keeping the secret – as were the sisters. Telling, back then, would have most likely left him alone with an abuser who was even angrier. Kids don’t tell – and most people don’t notice.

Frank was a character – always skiring on the edge of getting into trouble in school and always making everyone laugh. He was the kind of kid my mom would have scolded, but protected like a momma bear. If only she had known.

During our Sophomore year, we held something that would send the blue hairs into spasms today – a “slave auction.” Students volunteered to be auctioned off to other students and to be the slave of the winner for a day. (there were rules as to what you cold be made to do, we weren’t total heathens!) It was actually rather fun, especially when a popular girl would be auctioned and all the guys would fight to win her for the day. We made a TON of money – partly because Frankie and his sisters worked it so they won most of the slaves, and then resold them. Looking back, it’s not only hilarious (and if this gets your panties into a bunch, why are you here?) it was pretty ingenious. It was also the last year the auction was allowed. Thanks, Frankie. 🙂

After graduation, Frankie joined the Army and was sent to Viet Nam. Mind you, he didn’t have to go, being the only son would have exempted him. He chose to go. He died there, and he died a hero. He saved several members of his company by his actions.

I was in college. I think it was Sophomore year, my mom called and told me he had died. We were friends, nothing more, he always made me smile and in high school, that meant a lot. So I mourned the passing of a friend and went on with my life.

Years later, I worked in a sewing mill. The girl who sat beside me often spoke of the gentleman she shared coffee with at the local diner each day before work. She spoke very highly of him, thought a lot of him. One day she mentioned that she was engaged and sort of hesitantly said that the guy was Vietnamese, This was bit radical back then, not many “mixed” marriages happened in that area. I didn’t care, as long as she was happy. She said she had hesitated to tell her friend Joe, the guy from the diner, but when she did, he said, “My son died for them, I have no problem with you marrying a Vietnamese man.”

I remember sort of spinning in my chair and choking out, “what’s Joe’s last name?” She told me. I started to cry. Well, Imagine that poor girl! When I stopped crying and could put two words together, I called dear Joe every name I could think of, and told her finally exactly why I felt as I did. Yes, he was Frank’s father. The father that Frank joined the army to escape. The father who should grieve every day for sending his son to a war he didn’t have to fight, to die for people who finally cared about him like his own parent did not.

A few years ago, a beloved (by some) music teacher passed away. He was in his 90’s and practically attained sainthood, by the comments from former students. I bit my tongue. There was a day, in music class, when Frankie was acting up. I don’t remember what he was doing, but he had us all laughing and was being disruptive – as was normal for him. At one point, this teacher, after telling him to stop a few times – threatened to call his father. Frank, a teenage boy, with an image to uphold – he was a bit of a tough guy, after all – begged the teacher not to call. Again, the teacher threatened – in front of the entire class. I will never forget watching that boy, practically sobbing, begging that man to not call his father.

And the teacher called.

So when that man died, I had a hard time equating the bastard who could reduce a boy to tears, without asking why he was so terrified, and smile while he did it, to the saint he was portrayed to be.

But I bit my tongue. Why ruin the reputation of a dead old man? I’m sure God took care of that bit of business, not in my hands

And yesterday, someone posted a tribute to Frankie because it’s been 50 years since he died. That’s insane. It can’t be that long ago, but here we are. I commented that he had a rough life and it was still sad. Someone else commented that he knew Frank’s dad. Yup, he went on, and on, and on, about how badly Joe grieved the loss of his only son and how he honored him after his death.

And once again I bit my tongue.

But I’m thinking about Frankie today. And what a funny, nice, tough guy he was – and how good he was at hiding the bruises and scars, and how I wish he could have lived longer, to maybe have his own kids and treat them the way kids should be treated – with love, and not with fists.

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Grumpy and mean

well, not really mean

but definitely grumpy


My hip has been giving me grief for a couple of months. My spine doctor insists that’s the cause, that my L4 and L5 vertabrae or whatever they are are pressing on my nerves. They’re definitely standing on my nerves! It feels like someone is pushing a nail into my hip at times, and another one into the small of my back She has been singularly unhelpful about resolving this and I refuse to accept that nothing can be done except further steroid injections. The last ones were what started this whole mess.** I asked my family doctor to refer me to a different spine doctor, I got a call a week later, saw the new doctor this week and she thinks it’s actually my hips, that my spine is not as bad as I was told. We’ve scheduled a new MRI, she’s looking at the hip x-rays that were done and I have an appointment with pain management next week, so I’m hoping that something can be done. I wasn’t built for this – chronic pain is exhausting.

I bought a TENS machine. It works quite well but doesn’t address the underlying issue. I’m grateful for the amount of relief it gives, even if it doesn’t last. Of course, it might last longer if a certain dog didn’t think that pushing on me was a great idea. I don’t mean leaning, I mean PUSHING. He literally shoves me around. Even when I’m sitting down. I love him. I really do. I have no idea how to stop this behavior – nothing has worked for 7 years.

I just finished reading Mao’s America by Xi Van Fleet. This lady lived through the Cultural Revolution in China, what she has to say about events before the last election is terrifying. GIve it a read, it’s well worth it. I’m now half way (or more) through The Great Gatsby. It’s been eons since I read it, so it’s like a whole new book! I remember bits and pieces but that’s about it – and it may well have been required reading – my first degree is in English Lit – so I probably was drunk as a skunk tipsy when I read it. (Ask me sometime about reading Moby Dick in 2 nights) (AKA, Moby Douche) I’m not sure what’s next, I bought a few books by authors I’ve never heard of onlybecause they were being canceled for liking Harry Potter. If you’re not aware, J.K.Rowling is a very vocal supporter of women’s rights and speaks out about men who claim to be women invading women’s spaces. When a woman who has just been raped is denied the right to ask for a female doctor – and not a man wearing a dress and a wig – well, that’s just wrong. We’ve fought too hard for too long for women to give in to this mess.

And on top of the hip issue, I have a rash that won’t go away. I’m just going to good old Gold Bond Powder next.

At any rate, all this bs is making me crabby.

** this is my opinion, no one will substantiate it – of course

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Many things or just a few

*please excuse any typos, I’ve managed to grow my nails long for the first time in years and i’d forgotten how difficult it makes it to type. (It’s worth it)

So Maverick got over his hot spot finally. The Bear has recovered from his surgery and has been puttering about the house while waiting for the next one -he has a leaky valve that will be repaired in a few months, after the first procedure is totally healed. I’m puttering about doing my usual stuff and grumbling about it at every opportunity.

I developed a lovely rash while I was on vacation, finally went to the doctor and got some cream for it. Dear Lord, when they prescribe these creams do they not look at the patient? I am not a little woman, that tube is not gonna last for long! It is helping but I’m still itching and it’s in a place that people look at you funny if you scratch in public. Geesh. Speaking of, at the last board meeting the gentleman in front of me gave me quite the view of his butt crack. Guys, pull up your damned pants!

My reading has slowed down a bit. I just finished Shatter Me, quite a nice young adult novel which is not my norm but one tries to diversify! I also purchased two books by an author named Jennifer Carr, I never heard of her till I read a random post on Threads about how she was put on a “do not read” list because she said that one should be allowed to attend some convention even if a “problematic” author was going to be there. And then last night I ran across another author suffering the same fate because she dared to enjoy Harry Potter. (I’m about to reread those books because the stuff people are saying is stuff I just don’t remember) (For those who don’t know, this is because J.K. Rowling dared to say that a guy wearing a dress is still a guy)

Yesterday was our ladies afternoon of crafting and snacks. Only two of the four could make it but it was still fun, sometimes it’s nice to just have a couple of us together, we get a bit closer to each other that way, I think. We had cheese and cracker – Club brand has a sweet Hawaiian cracker that’s really quite tasty1 And chips and mini cream puffs and mozarella sticks, laughs and good conversation.

Today was BJ’s – as I was putting stuff in the trunk (and by the way, I bought another book. Apparently I’m incorrigible) (But at least it wasn’t yarn!) I thought, “what is hitting me?” Oh, duh, those are called raindrops. Unexpected deluge. Good times. This was after the deluge we had a couple of weeks ago, during which I got stranded at my neighbor’s house. My driveway goes down one hill, up another and in the valley is a creek. The creek overflowed and the driveway was under a good bit of water. I would have chanced it but the Bear told me to go to J’s, so I spent an hour chatting with her.

Last week she asked me to take her to a doctor appointment, and that turned into a lunch date, which became an entire afternoon out. She’s 90 years old. If she wants to go to lunch, we’re going to lunch. So we went to the Gettysburger Company, which is – duh – in Gettysburg. If you live anywhere near there, GO! They have amazing burgers. We were totally stuffed, laughed, talked, played with the baby at the next table – there is something magical about watching a 90 year old and a 7 month old interact.

Since then, my hips have been increasingly difficult. Chronic pain is something no one but those of us who endure it really understands. My pain level on a good day is a 3 or 4. Doesn’t sound that bad, right? It’s not the pain level, really, it’s that it doesn’t stop. Those rare pain free moments can make me cry with relief. So I put out a message to my family doctor and he sent a referral to a different specialist than the one I’ve been seeing, I love her but I didn’t feel like she heard me the last two times I saw her. So it’s time to get a new set of eyes on this spine of mine.

In other news, apparently good genes are racist. Dear Jebus!

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