I'm Flat Broke, But I Don't Care, I Strut Right By With My Tail in the Air

Okay. Now I am going to tell you a long, weird story about what happened last Friday. So, there has been this BEAUTIFUL, possibly part Maine Coon cat that has been living under my neighbor's porch for a few months now. At first I wasn't sure if it didn't have a home, and just liked to lurk around our house because we love birds and squirrels and other small animals, and make a welcoming place for them, or if she needed some alone time from her family (which I understand), or what? But it was becoming clear to me that she was either lost or abandoned. One day she even sat in our backyard and cried, so I thought she was hungry, and gave her some of the cat's dry food, which she snarfed right up. I told John and he said that I shouldn't feed every animal I met. Then I tried to explain to him how food was love in my world, and I love every animal I meet...But ultimately, as much as it pains me, I had to admit that he was right. I shouldn't be feeding the BEAUTIFUL, stray, possibly Maine Coon cat, even though it was so sweet and followed me around my yard and rubbed against my legs for pets and scratches.

By Friday after work, I decided I should help the poor girl, and called the animal shelter. They said they were closing and I should call the Community Service people, and they would come and pick the cat up and bring her to the Humane Society when they opened the next morning. Cool.

So, I called the community service people, and they sent some guy out. We'll call him Chad, since the kids are saying that's the male equivalent of a Karen. Anyhoo, Chad comes over, I tell him the story, and that the cat is in the breezeway. 

Wait. Let me back track. While I was calling these people, the sweet girl kitty was lying on her back next to me, so I could rub her belly, and when the animal shelter guy talked to me, he told me to put her in a contained space. So, I picked her up and put her in the breezeway, where she FREAKED the f*ck OUT. I felt like shit. Here is this BEAUTIFUL girl all loving and trusting me, and I put her in the breezeway, and then betray her even more, by sending some Chad to pick her up against her will. She did NOT seem to appreciate the fact that I was trying to help her by getting her to a safe space. As far as she was concerned, I sold her out. I felt so bad...And still do.

Isn't she gorgeous?

 Anyway, Chad went in our mess of a breezeway with his cat carrier, and set it down in front of her, like he thinks she's going to calmly walk right into it. Huh. Then she moved, and he set it in front of her again, and she jumped over it and ran to hide behind some big pile of crap in our breeze way. Then Chad came out of our mess of a breezeway, and said that the cat doesn't seem to want to come, and he didn't want to hurt her by forcing her out. Ummmmmm. Has he ever met a cat? What cat in their right mind would calmly walk into a cat carrier? The cat carrier means you go to the vet!

I tried to be tactful (never my strong suit), and instead of asking if  he was new to the job, I asked him what he normally did when he tried to pick up a cat. He didn't give me much of an answer. Instead, he sighed and went back to the truck to get longer, thicker gloves. When he came back, he tried again, and then gave up again.

Chad came out and started saying something like, "Well, the animal shelter will tell you that a cat is an apex predator, and if you get rid of one apex predator, another one will come and fill that void..." Wut!? How the hell do you respond to that? First of all, we have lived here for 12 years and we have never had any kind of "apex predator" living in our backyard before, and second of all, what is he even talking about? Watch out! Don't make him get the cat, or bears and tigers will move into our backyard! So, I asked him if he was trying to say that we should just let the cat be feral, and not try to get her to a safe place? 

He said I should just call the humane society in the morning. I told him that I couldn't leave her in the breeze way. That's how we enter and exit our place, and she'll escape. Also, she came willingly the first time, but she's a cat, which means she's a lot smarter than I am, and she will never trust me again. So, Chad sighed and went back in. He chased her out from under the table, and she hurled herself against the screen door, and her paws got stuck on the little ledge where the screen hits the window, and he tried to use one hand to get her, and he not only must not have met a cat before, but he must be terrified of them. I suggested he use both hands to get her, and he did and she let him put her right into the cat carrier without a fight. I wish my cats could have been there to watch how a GOOD cat enters a cat carrier (the answer to that is NOT jamming every limb against the opening of the crate).

So, if that wasn't an example of  how no good deed goes unpunished, then the next little bit is a better example: Because I live in a very small college town, Chad happens to know one of my neighbors, and the next day, he was out with his wife or girlfriend and our neighbor, and some of their friends, and after a couple of beers, he started talking about some bitch (me), who made him come pick up a cat that was CLEARLY not lost, and probably just belonged to someone in the neighborhood. Wow. Apparently, Chad didn't want to do his job, and decided to create a story in his head that I just wanted to torture a poor cat that one of my neighbors owned. Why would I want to hurt a cat? I have no idea. Maybe to just make Chad's life hell? I mean, I get it. I don't always want to do my job either. I just don't blame other people because I have to do it.

I called the Animal Shelter on Monday to make sure she was okay. That's when I found out she was a female. I asked if she had a chip, and she didn't. Let this be a lesson. Get your animals chipped, so they can be returned to you if they get lost. I had to ask if they thought she had a home and was just hanging out at our house (old Chad made me paranoid about it). She said that she looked like she had been homeless for a while, since she was a little malnourished and she had some mats in her hair. So, I did feel better about it all. She said that if no one claimed her, and she got acclimated to her surroundings, they would get her spayed if she needed it, and try to get her adopted. 

If any of you are looking for the most BEAUTIFUL, and sweetest cat you will ever meet, please adopt her...And tell her I'm sorry.

So, I'll Continue to Continue to Pretend, My Life Will Never End, And Flowers Never Bend With the Rainfall

Every year I think I'm going to be better about planning my gardens. I lie to myself that I'll pay more attention to when I should start my seedlings, I will research plants more, and write down all of the plants I want to get, and maybe get all crazy and actually diagram where my perennials will come up, so I don't accidentally dig them up, thinking they're some kind of weeds. Sigh. I haven't done any of that yet. Already this year, I forgot when I planted my seedlings last year (too early), thought I had waited a few weeks later, and then realized I planted them almost to the day, the exact time I did last year. Double sigh.

So, all of my seedlings are ready to be planted right now, but with as cool as this Spring has been, I'm sure I have a month before I can get the warm weather seedlings in the ground outside. I bet I'll have to dig down a mile to keep my leggy tomatoes from flopping right over. Of course, NEXT year I'll be better about when I plant my seedlings (much later).

I did remember to keep a fence around my seedlings, since a certain Gus who thinks spinach and lettuce are delicious would wreak havoc upon them all.  This year I planted two different kinds of tomatoes (Brandy Wine and Beefsteak), Genovese Basil, kale, Mexican Torch Sunflowers, some leaf lettuce, and those little yellow flowers that are called Billy Ball Craspedia. I took a vacation day last week when it was warmer and planted broccoli, kale, and spinach outside. This weekend I plan on planting Sugar snap peas, beets, leeks, more lettuce, and arugula. It makes me so happy to play in the dirt now, and then get to eat all the organic stuff in a month or two. I also love being able to give away extra veggies and flowers to friends. Speaking of which, let me know if you want to come over and pick up some kale seedlings.

Every year without fail, some woman I don't know because she never introduces herself, walks by my front yard garden, tsks and says, "I admire your optimism..." And she walks away as I'm saying, 

"I'm only planting Spring stuff this early that can handle a frost, BITCH!" Actually, I leave the BITCH part out, because I'm neighborly like that. I'm just hoping she knows it's implied. Why does someone need to walk past my house every year and judge my gardening? Especially when there are so, so, so, many other REAL things she could be judging me on.

 Anyway, this year I am going to probably bore you with my gardening posts because I really do want to be better about remembering which flowers and veggie plants I want to buy at the best times, and not dig up perennials that I forgot I planted, and have my yard look even more extra. And this time I REALLY mean it...

Got a Wife and Kids in Baltimore, Jack, I went Out for a Ride and I Never Went Back

Since I don't think even one photo of me and my dad exists in the world, here is one of my mom and dad.

 

When you are the youngest kid in your family, nothing you remember is ever true. Your siblings will tell you that after you relate some memory that you thought really happened. "No," they will say. "That never happened". So,  all I really have are things that I thought I lived, but I was probably wrong about. That is how I will talk about my dad, through the things I thought happened, and the ways people who didn't like my dad told me they happened, and the ways people who had biases the other way told me they happened.

I was four years old in 1969, when my dad disappeared. For years, that's how I thought about it. That he was there one day, and then, poof! He was gone. When I got older, I thought that maybe he killed himself. He wasn't the happiest person who ever lived, that's for sure. So, it wasn't out of the question. Also, as a kid, it was too embarrassing to think that your dad ran away. Adults shouldn't run away from home, should they?

Even though I was very young, I think I have some actual memories of my dad. Of course, they are more likely things that someone told me happened, or maybe even something I saw on TV and my little kid brain incorporated it into my memories. These are the things I think I remember about him:

1.) I have a vague memory of going to the Superstition Mountains and being terrified. I had just seen or heard something about the Lost Dutchman, and also I was afraid of snakes. I wouldn't let my dad put me down, and he was rightfully annoyed with me.

2.) My mom went back to work at some point, and our dad watched us during her shifts. I remember him taking us to the race track, Turf Paradise, and us being so bored that we would spend hours picking up the paper betting stubs and making a little basket out of our t-shirts by rolling them around our arms, and when we had enough stubs, we'd release our t-shirts from our arms and the stubs would go flying into the air and we would start all over again. The horse racing track was way better than the dog track. All I remember of him taking us to the dog track, was the flies that were everywhere. At night our dad would take us to Sky Harbor air port, where he would watch the planes land and take off over, and over again. That was a little obvious foreshadowing, huh?

3.) I remember watching "The Wizard of Oz" and the scene where Dorothy is looking through the crystal ball at her Auntie Em, but then her picture turns into the witch, and I was so terrified that I screamed and my dad picked me up, and calmed me down.

4.) I have one last, weird memory that we're at someone's house in Scottsdale where there is an above ground swimming pool. Did we have an above ground swimming pool, or were we at someone else's house? I have no idea. Most of what I remember is a feeling. One of the other dad's at this outdoor party picked up my mom and threw her in the pool. They were laughing, but my dad was mad.

Okay, so those are the only memories I have of my dad. It still seems like a questionable amount for a four year old. Which is why I prefaced the whole thing with my little talk about memory...Or lack thereof.

How the story was told to me by both people who loved and hated my dad was that he left my poor mother with a four year old, a five year old, a six year old, and a nine year old, we were being evicted from our house, and he had run up every credit card he could get his hands on.  Eek! We moved into my Grandma Maxine's house (my dad's mother), with our Aunt Lee and her three children. All I really remember about that time is waking up to different tree shadows on the wall, and my brother falling off the top bunk bed. 

The story goes that the only way my mother wouldn't be responsible for my dad's debt was if she divorced him. It would take seven years before we could have him pronounced legally dead without a body. My mother was very Catholic and didn't believe in divorce, but my Grandma Maxine helped her with it all and even went to court with her. I hear the judge was amazed that my mom's mother-in-law would not only approve of the divorce, but actually go with her to court.

Eventually, my mom found a house in a bad part of  Phoenix where they were soon to build the Maricopa County Freeway. When I was at the end of first grade, we finally got some government funded housing in Mesa, where I was probably the happiest during my childhood. My mother died of a stroke when she was 42 and I was ten, and I was truly heartbroken about it for years and years.

Since we, or his mother, had never heard from my dad, I just assumed he was dead. Especially after I had my children, I couldn't imagine how a person could still be alive and not give a shit about what happened to their spouse and children. Alternatively, I had this very slight worry that my dad would come out of nowhere once his health was failing, or if he thought he could get money from us, and expect us to take care of him. Luckily, that didn't happened.

What did happen in 2013, was that my cousin Jo Anne was looking up her genealogy, and found my dad's obituary online. Guess where and when he died? Okay. I'll just tell you. My dad died in Hilo, Hawaii in 2009 of COPD. He smoked like a chimney when he lived with us, and I'm guessing that didn't change after he left. He is buried in the VFW cemetery in Hilo. One of these years, if I can get the money together, I'd love to go to the Big Island, mostly to ride bikes and check out the volcanoes, but if I was going to be there anyway, I wouldn't mind checking out his grave. It's the only physical thing there is of him (that I know of) after he left us.

 

Thanks to my cousin Jeff for taking this photo of my dad's grave in Hawaii.

In his obituary, it said he left two children, Bill Jr, and Ella. My brother is named Bill, but he was never a JR. I have a sister named Erin, but not Ella. My brother thinks that whomever it was who took care of him in his last years or months, just got the information wrong that he told her. Who knows what kind of  mental state he was in at the end. It's possible that he had two other children after he left us, but I did some internet searches for those names with no luck. It's also possible that he told his caretaker two names, that she then got mixed up, and totally forgot about me and my middle sister. It's sad, but he had only known me for four years when he left, and he was gone for forty years before he died.,

I've been meaning to write about this for years, because that's how I process things, but even after writing about it, I think I have a long way to go before I make peace with and/or sense of my father's story. I guess now you all know where my abandonment issues come from...The hardest part for me to process, is how he couldn't have even called to see how we were? Or maybe sent a couple of dollars in the mail whenever he had them? I'm sure he figured we wouldn't be at our Scottsdale address, since he was the reason we were being evicted, but he could have sent them to his mother. Was it shame that kept him from any kind of contact with us, or maybe it was the fear of getting caught? 

There are two things I know about him; one was that he definitely had his demons, and two was that he loved us and my mom. I did feel that back then. He was a photographer, and I believe he wanted the freedom to be brilliant at it. He also wanted to be a husband and father, but he wasn't able to do both. In the end, I have no idea if he kept up his photography. I would like to think he did. If he chose his art over his family, I hope he was able to capture incredible images. I would love to see them.

When She Talks, I Hear the Revolution, In Her Hips, There's Revolution

 

 Wow! It's the middle of April and I still haven't written my "books I read last month post". Since I'm the only person who really cares what I read last month, it's not like anyone was going to sue me because it wasn't done. BUT I actually do like going over the books I read and so, I'm going to write that all out right now, dammit. Last month I was saying how I got back into the swing of reading again, and so that meant I read SIX WHOLE BOOKS in March. I had a little theme for reading, which was National Women's History Month. Every book I read except one was written by a woman. I read the one book that was written by a man, because I didn't think to do the little theme thing yet, and I was really interested in the subject matter. Anyway, so I read six books. This is what they are and how I felt about them:

1.) "Detransition, Baby" by Torrey Peters. Torrey Peters was in the Writer's Workshop here, and I always like to point that out if I know that about an author. So, as you probably already know, I hate to be ignorant. I also don't like to be an asshole (well, most of the time anyway). So, I try to educate myself about things I don't have a lot of first-hand knowledge of. I only know a couple of trans people, and this book was great for some education, but also to read about messy relationships, no matter what gender the people are. I learned a lot, I felt a lot of feelings, and I also had some fun reading this book. I highly recommend it...Unless you are squeamish about sex and messy relationships. This book was also perfect for Women's History Month.

2.) The second book I read was the only one written by a man. It is a non-fiction book called "Killers of the Flower Moon: The Osage Murders and the Birth of the FBI", by David Grann. This was a non-fiction account of what happened in the 1920's when the land that the US government thought had no value, and therefore shoved the Osage tribe onto it after they stole the land they had previously lived on, then they suddenly found oil on that reservation. The Native Americans/First Nations people became very rich, which made white people very jealous, greedy, and homicidal. There was so much effed-up stuff surrounding this particular horrible serial killing. Then J Edgar Hoover brought in his currently forming FBI into it. I had just watched the Clint Eastwood movie about J Edgar Hoover, so it was interesting to see this version of the man. Mostly, the book was heartbreaking, and maddening, and I was very engrossed in the story and the detective work, and the travesty.

3.) Okay. By my third book, I finally settled on my read theme. I decided to read a children's book written by a woman that touched on gender norms, or the lack thereof between the two friends. I had never read "Bridge to Terabithia" by Katherine Paterson before. It was published after I fancied myself a little old for children's literature. This book was so sad, and sweet, and though it was pretty short, it packed a lot of punch... Punch like someone had just punched me in the heart and I had no choice but to cry and cry. If you haven't already, you might want to read this...And cry.

4.) By the fourth book I read last month, I had graduated from children's lit, to Young Adult lit. "The Hate U Give" by Angie Thomas was one of the best books I've read in a long, long time. I seriously read this book in a 24 hour period because I could not stop myself. Then my friend, Sarah came to visit the next day and I couldn't stop talking to her about it. The story is timely, the characters are so well written, I felt like I knew them, and wanted to take that family home with me, so I could hang out with them all the time. The subject matter was so sad, but handled very well, looking at all the different shades of gray areas in the cause. If you want to get lost in a novel, read this book and let yourself feel all of the things you need to feel.

5.) The fifth book I read was a non-fiction book called "All That She Carried: The Journey of Ashley's sack, a Black Family Keepsake", by Tiya Miles. This was a more academic look at a bag that was found at a flea market belonging to a family, passed down from their ancestor who had been sold away from her mother when she was still a young girl. Her mother had given her a bag before she left with some gifts for her, as she got marched away and sold off. The author tries to track down the family in archives, and give the reader a picture of what Ashley's life would have been like during slavery. It was VERY well written and researched. My ADHD made it hard for me, because it was written about in great detail, and my brain tends to skim when things are that detailed. I learned so much, and I was very interested in the story that rose from all that tragedy, and hate, and turned into incredible motherly love. It won all kinds of awards.

6.) The last book I read was called "Bookish Broads: Women Who Wrote Themselves into History", by Lauren Marino. At first I thought this was just going to be a quick little blurb about different women writers, but it was more than that. It spoke to the problems women have had since forever with creating/working, and being expected to devote themselves to being a wife and mother. It talked about women being forced to either use male pen names, or to just use their initials in order to sell their work and have it be taken seriously. It also introduced me to new authors, and told me incredible stories about women authors I've already read. It was the perfect way to end my Women's History Month themed books. 

So everyone, I hope you keep reading, and buying books by women writers. We will all be rewarded by reading their stories.

Look Out Honey, 'Cause I'm Using Technology

Well kids, it's been a rough Spring so far. I had a migraine for about two weeks. Some days were better than others, but it was a lot to deal with. Since I was in so much pain that I couldn't do much else, I watched some TV. I always say this, but I love TV. Not like TV was when we were growing up, where there were only four or five channels, and nobody could swear, and you had to watch commercials. I like TV the way it is now, where I can just buy the streaming services I want, I don't have to watch commercials, and there are tons of movies to watch as well as series TV.

1.) I'm sure it won't be big news to anyone but John and I are huge nerds. So, we've been happily watching the latest season of "Star Trek Discovery", which I feel has lost a bit of its punch from the first two seasons. Although, I've heard Stacy Abrams is in an episode or two, and I'm excited to see her. 

2.) We are also totally engrossed in the second season of "Picard". I was a little worried when they brought Q back, since I've always found him annoying. Of course, Q isn't half as annoying to me as Diana Troi, and she already made an appearance in the first season. So, I figured I might as well suck it up and just see where the show took us. Holy cow! am I glad I got past that initial Q appearance, because the first few episodes of this season have been so good. I'm really interested to see where they go from here.

 3.) I can watch some even cheesier stuff too. I watched "Indian Matchmaker" on Netflix. The whole first season was fascinating to me. Rich people have such different lives than I do.

 

4.) I have to say, I loved, loved, loved HBOMAX's "Somebody Somewhere". How often do you see shows where the main character is an overweight woman in her forties and she's not the butt of the show, and she's not suddenly going to lose a bunch of weight to be more attractive to men. I really did relate to Sam in this show. She lives in Kansas, which could easily have been Iowa, and she finds her friend family of lovable freaks, which is what I am always searching for, and thankfully have found in many places. I couldn't get enough of Joel. He was so sweet and spazzy and he made me fall in love with this show every episode. I hear they're doing a second season and I can't wait.

5.) I should probably put a couple of movies on here. As you know, I am never afraid to admit that I can like a mainstream feel-good hit...Especially when it has Ryan Reynolds in it. I thought "Free Guy" was a fun, escapist little movie. Sure Ryan Reynolds was just Ryan Reynolds again, but I was more than okay with that. What with pandemics and wars in the world, and with all the divide in our country, isn't nice to know that Ryan Reynolds is always going to be his charming, wise cracking self in a movie?

6.) We also watched "Death on the Nile". My mom was a big Agatha Christie fan, and so anything that is based on Agatha Christie's work, will always be nostalgic for me. This movie was rich, and pretty, and I hadn't read the book, so I didn't know who done it, until Poirot, laid it all out there in the end. Again, great escapism, greatly needed.

7.) I just this evening watched HBO's documentary about Tony Hawk. I thought it was well done. I am always interested in shows about counter movements, and skateboarding did ride right next to the punk scene, and the music in the documentary gives nods to that. I didn't know a ton about Tony Hawk before this documentary, so it was educational to me. Most of all, I could totally relate to being in my 50's and feeling all of the pain from my antics in my younger days. Sigh
 

 Okay, soooo. My migraine pain seems to be lifting a bit. I can only hope it gives me a break forever now, but if not, it's just a damn good thing that I don't mind watching shit on TV.