Karma and gravity are the same thing?
My Kid has been having some…interesting…luck lately.
First, his little trick bike was stolen from work, right in front of him – he wasn’t able to get outside quickly enough to prevent the theft, so he had to watch as a dude ran off with his only mode of transportation.
Honestly, I was glad to see it go as he looked like a tweaker who had lost his license when he rode it. He’d left it outside at home multiple times, but this was the final straw and it was gone, despite a good lock and chain.
So he bought a beater mountain bike off Craigslist for $60 last month. It ran, but most of the paint was gone and it looked like shit. He left it outside on several occasions and it was never stolen. I was thinking, “Wow! We live in a good neighborhood, don’t we?”
Last Monday, his day off, he was returning home with some groceries and was hit by a car a couple of blocks from home. He was fine, but the bike was trashed – bent up front wheel and the left pedal was crushed beyond all use.
The cops were called, fault was found to be with the driver (who, according to The Kid, “peeled out without looking”) info was exchanged and off he went home.
A couple of hours later, the guy in the car shows up with a brand new bike!
Wow! Faith in humanity restored!
The Kid was understandably enamored with his new ride and vowed to be extra careful. He rode it to work with no issues all week.
And then he went over to a friend’s house for a “gaming party,” and left it sitting outside the closed garage door for some unspecified amount of time when he returned home. Had he been drinking? He won’t admit it, but he did say that he walked the bike home, instead of riding it, so odds are he was sloshed.
You can see where this is going, right? Yeah, his brand new bike was stolen.
He has no one to blame but himself, as he freely admits, but how many more times does this sort of thing have to happen before he wises up and takes more responsibility for his things? How many bikes has he lost to thieves? I think the count stands at three whole bikes and assorted parts off bikes that had removable accessories.
So now he’s on Foot Patrol unless he wants to fix up a spare bike I picked up for almost nothing last Summer to keep as a spare. Idiot doesn’t even have bus fare at the moment.
Sigh. I always thought I’d be living the Empty Nest dream by now, but, at 28, my son shows no signs of growing the fuck up any time soon.
I try to stay off Facebook as much as possible these days. I don’t watch a lot of news on TV. I try not to read the newspaper in the break room at work. I listen to a radio channel that doesn’t have regular news reports.
I do all this in an effort to manage my anger.
While it’s true I’ve spent the past 8 or so years in a near-constant state of irritation, the latter half of 2016 and all of 2017 have my mad-meter pegged pretty much every waking moment.
I mean, when
Kneeling Black Athlete = OMG! He’s disrespecting the flag and the troops! and is vilified by POTUS
Rich White Pedophile = the next senator from Alabama and publicly endorsed by POTUS
the world has obviously gone batshit insane, right? Right?
I just can’t even. Each new horror, each new unhinged tweet, every word out of that stupid Huckabee woman’s mouth, every childish temper tantrum, every safety net taken away from the most vulnerable, every water source polluted, every ally turned against us, every shady bill passed in the dead of night, every executive order, proudly displayed like children’s refrigerator art, every goddamned #metoo that’s met with shock and surprise by pretty much every man alive, it all makes me so angry and sad and frustrated.
There are so many others writing so many words that I just can’t choke out in coherent order, so I’ve been silent here. There’s nothing more I can do but watch the world burn as the Rich White Dudes scramble to scoop up all the money they can before the peasants finally get a clue and start setting things on fire.
Meanwhile, as if this fucking “happy” season wasn’t already tacky enough, there’s this:
Not even gonna add a link because WTF? Evidently this is all over Instagram. Who thought this was a good idea?
Going back to my cave now…
Emotional labor is unseen. It’s the energy women spend managing other’s feelings and emotions, making people comfortable, or living up to society’s expectations… the barrage of expectations we feel from the time we’re told to be nice and polite while boys are told not to cry. It’s a thing. It’s also a weight carried by […]
I was reading a post on Quora recently. The question was posted: Who is the most reviled group throughout history? The response I read talked about the horrible things done to the Jews, and that’s a Big Deal, but so far no one has answered with “women” and that is sad and depressing. This post says what I would like to say if only I had the words…
A guy walks up to a girl in a bar. She’s laughing with her friends, engrossed in conversation. He slides in next to her to introduce himself. Offers her a drink. I’m just here to hang with my friends she says more than once. He proceeds to ask her “get to know you” questions, ignores […]
We’ve all finally settled into the new house and Spring projects are underway, hence the silence here. This is not a typical update for this here blog, but I hope you’ll bear with me until the next Rant refuses to be shouted down by the more logical part of my brain. This type of stuff can usually be found over at my fiber blog, Starting Over Designs.
Duchess has adjusted to her new home but still loathes the dog and bullies Mr. Big every time he tries to take liberties with her. She’s developed a little belly from the steady diet of good food and now controls the whole house whenever That Damned Dog isn’t around. If only she would cuddle with Mr. Big everyone would be happy.
The Kid finally got a job! He starts late next week or early the next working in a brand new Thai Fusion restaurant in Eugene. He’s thrilled to finally have a direction and I’m thrilled that I might finally be able to have some peace and solitude on the rare occasion I’m actually home and able to relax.
Soapapalooza 2017 is underway! The Sweatshop Girls have a table at a new wool processing mill in Halsey and we need more Spring/Summer items to keep it stocked so the Sweatshop is in full production, mixing up our secret soap formulas as fast as we can. The house smells like a French bordello, but we can’t complain when everything is running so smoothly. I, of course, am using the Royal “We” in this case, as the other Sweatshop Girls are elbow deep with their own projects, but we’ll get together soon for a Dye Day if we can ever sync up our schedules.
In addition to the soap making, I’ve been sewing up Bowl Buddies, which kinda defy description until you use one and then you wonder how you ever lived without them. The darned things sell almost as fast as I can make them, so I don’t have a picture for you today, but I’ll update after I sew up the next batch. They’re all over the internet and I first saw them at a craft show, but never dreamed I’d ever waste my time on something so silly, yet here we are, about 100 sold and still in demand.
What they are is a square potholder with a cupped middle – you put your leftovers into a bowl, the bowl into the Bowl Buddy, the whole shebang into the microwave for re-heating and when you take the bowl out of the microwave you don’t burn yourself. Works great for cold stuff, too. I even sewed up a few for Awana in the shape of the trays her favorite microwave meals come in.
I know, right? I was fine using a dish towel for years! Who needs another Thing to Wash? Well, I’m here to tell you these things are amazing and I use them all the time. There are a lot of them out there, and many of them are crap – made in huge numbers with cheap materials and poor workmanship, all thin and saggy. Now, I don’t want to talk down about other crafters, but some of the shit I’ve seen at the craft shows just boggles the mind! How will Mr, and Mrs Average Citizen ever develop respect for handcrafts when much of what they see is complete and utter garbage? Gives us all a bad name and that makes me mad.
Nope. Not gonna rant about that today.
Sabu is loving her fenced yard, gleefully barking at everyone who walks by. There’s one raised bed in the yard and I’d love to add another for gardening this year, but time and $$ are short so it may just be pots on the porch this year, flowers and herbs only until I can get some space set up for veggies.
Work is crazy this time of year, and I better get back to it, so I’ll sign off for now…
Well, it’s happened again. I never mean to act upon my more “save the world one cat at a time” impulses, but here we are again.
Last Summer, this lovely little creature started hanging out on Roman’s second-storey deck:
Poor thing was being harassed by the neighborhood cats and was taking refuge behind Roman’s BBQ that sits on the deck – we would hear them late at night thumping around. She wore no collar and seemed hungry, so I fed her and made friends. I then discovered she was covered with fleas so I bought some flea stuff from the vet and put it on. She disappeared for a couple of weeks but then showed up with a flea collar and a fancy pearl-rope collar with a silver charm that reads “Duchess.”
Okie-dokie! She has a home (later surmised to be the neighbors downstairs in the adjacent building) and maybe they’re taking care of her now. She would come to see me on occasion, but it appeared she had a home.
Flash forward to this Winter and she was all over me any time I went over there, seeming to be cold and always hungry. Roman’s building doesn’t allow pets, and I hadn’t moved yet, so I did what I could for her, hoping it would be enough. She was clearly living outside all the time, and because of the fleas she had no real undercoat to keep her warm. I was angry, but what can you do?
Last week was the final straw – she was starving for food and attention and covered with fleas again. Clearly her people were no longer interested in taking care of her. I know the building where they live allows pets, but for whatever reason they were leaving this TINY cat outside to fend for herself and I just couldn’t bear it any more. A catnapping was orchestrated (after proper flea treatment for Duchess, Mr. Big and Sabu) and she came home with me on Sunday afternoon. Roman was not at all sure about my little caper, but I told him that I would bring her back if her people missed her, which I am (almost) sure I’ll be able to do…Maybe…
She accepted the ride in the cat carrier well enough, with hardly any howling and when we arrived home I put it on the floor so Sabu and Mr. Big could see her but she would be protected. Mr. Big had made friends at the trailer park, so I knew he wouldn’t be a problem, but it turns out Duchess loathes and despises dogs – the volume of the growling and hissing were amazing considering she weighs maybe five pounds. She was quickly re-located to my bedroom where the door was shut and I let her out of the carrier.
She was not at all nervous, hopped right out and started looking for food – always a good sign. The bedroom door has a gap at the bottom of 1.5″ and Nosy the Dog had her face all up in there, desperate to see the new arrival, which set Duchess off on a hissing, growling rant all over again. All-righty-then! I left her alone to do some Stuff and repeatedly shooed the dog away from the door.
Before long, Mr. Big was laying down in front of the door, front paws in the gap, purring, chirping and calling softly to Duchess, who replied with hisses and growls. It was a sight to see! You may recall that Mr. Big is a very large cat – haven’t taken him in to be weighed, but he’s pushing 20 pounds for sure. To see him prostrating himself like that was hilarious and I’ll admit to laughing out loud and calling Juan to come see the spectacle.
That first night was rough – Sabu slept outside the bedroom door, whining every now and then, convinced my face would be eaten off by this strange cat I’d allowed into her house. Mr. Big would occasionally whisper plaintively for his new Lady Love to “please, baby please, baby please,” open the door, to which she replied with more growls and hissing.
The three of them kept it up all.night.long. Sabu and Mr. Big were obviously tired after their vigil, but Duchess, having slept perched on the corner of the bed nearest the door, was feeling quite perky and ready for breakfast. I closed the door and let her be alone while I was at work.
After work I devised a way to prop the door open for the cats while keeping the dog out and let Mr. Big into the room. I was hoping Duchess would come out from under the bed and maybe even leave the bedroom, but it was not to be. Mr. Big went in and started his wooing afresh. There was a lot of this –
Mr. Big was so sincere with his lovely words, trying to gently coax her out from under the bed with sweet nothings and promises to be the Perfect Gentleman if only she would come out and let him shower her with his love.* He tried every trick in his arsenal, chirping, meowing softly, flopping over on his side to show how non-threatening he was, pushing his paws under the edge of the bed so she could see he was hiding nothing, playing with the edges of the rug, everything he could think of to impress a potential lover and playmate. Duchess responded with growling and hisses and there was no-fucking-way she was ever going to come out while he was there.
I left them to it for three hours. He didn’t give up. Neither did she.
And with that I shooed Mr. Big out, closed the door and got ready for bed. As soon as the door was shut she was ready to play and be petted, like there was no threat in the world. She’s really a very lovey and snuggly cat – something Mr. Big is not at all interested in being, and it’s my hope that she’ll be a good Lap Cat like my old Siamese was because I miss that kind of furry attention. Time will tell.
And now we’re a two-cat house again. Shhhh…nobody needs to know about this, ‘k?
*Mr. Big is neutered. I’m assuming Duchess is spayed as she’s never had kittens in the months I’ve known her.