Archive | July 2010

My Grandmother

I was going to write a post about New Beginnings because that’s the point in my life I have finally reached again with starting training on my new job next week, but my grandmother (grandma Rainy) had other plans. Her aneurysms started acting up today and she was rushed to the hospital, then was taken to another hospital where they’ll perform a bypass to place a stint in her so the acting aneurysm doesn’t kill her. It’s like Umi all over again.

The aneurysms are in her head.

She’s resting at the moment, likely sleeping last I heard because they’ve pumped her full of drugs. I’ll find out more tomorrow, I’m sure.

All I ask is for prayers right now, and I’m hoping I don’t have to make a trip up to the Phoenix area anytime soon.

Thank you.


For You

For my friend Pasha

For you
If I could

I would take away

The pain

Just to see you smile once more

And hear your laughter

If I could

I would take away

The sickness

For you
Because you’re too young
To bear its burden
I would open the skies
For you
If I could
To wash away the disease
That’s taken so many
I’ve known
And I will shed a tear
For you
Which I have
With prayers of survival
And love 
And hope

Conditions of the Heart

Love is a tricky little bitch, and the pain that goes with her can take forever to pass, if it ever does. Sometimes, I think it just lingers around for that perfect moment when your guard is down. Then … BAM! It slaps you upside the head, as if you forgot it existed and needed the reminder.

My maternal grandfather passed away in 1995, two months before my wedding where he was supposed to walk me down the aisle. There are times, even to this day, when he’ll pop into my mind and I’ll shed a tear or two. I adored my gramps, and miss his stories of courting my grandmother and singing in bed songs the likes of “down in the meadow.” There are times when my grandmother, who passed in 2003, enters my mind, and I think about all the things she taught me, like cooking. We played countless board games together and she’s the one who bought me my first typewriter when I was eight years old and taught me how to type. She’s the reason I write, and I made my first book at that same age. I smile inside when I think of her, and on occasion, I shed a tear because I miss her, spry little woman that she was.

Sometimes, calling out to one of them can help center me when I’m rushed with a memory of lost love … it just happened to me a few minutes ago. There I was, playing on the ‘net, looking at a few things, talking to people, applying for jobs. I believe the subject of food came up. I have a food blog, you know, here. I’ve been doing quite well in the keep-that-shit-out-of-my-head arena, have long since moved past the multiple emotions associated with losing love, and am in the stage of just trying to move onward with my life (I seem to be stuck here for some reason). I have no interest in dating anyone. Why? Because I know how vulnerable I am right now, and a vulnerable woman attracts the wrong sort of man. The type of man I’ve never experienced in all my life, aside from my father. That man will be punched by the Kitty if he comes near me right now. Thank God for good friends looking out for your best interests. Deni is like that too. I love my girls.

Needless to say, with the topic of food came memories.

I miss his cooking. <——THIS fucking one tiny little tidbit of thought had me bursting into tears earlier. WTF? Make it stop. Make it go away. Take away the hurt. Grandpa. I calmed down after that. It was just weird.

However, just because I burst into tears, it doesn’t necessarily mean that what I’m crying about is the thought that triggered the episode. Maybe I’m overly emotional right now because one of my “kids” started chemo today. When I say “kids,” I’m talking about kids I worked with at the school – one of my Writer’s Club kids. He’s 19. This just isn’t right. Young, energetic, 19-year-old boys aren’t supposed to get cancer! I don’t understand it, but then, I suppose there’s still a lot in this world that I don’t understand and likely never will. The logical side of my brain will make several attempts at deciphering those things, but I’ll still end up in confusion, anger and sorrow.

I’m 41, single, I have fibromyalgia and lupus, I’ve lost everything and I’m starting over in every aspect of my life. I can honestly tell you that it’s a miracle I’m still here. But why? I’ve always said that which doesn’t kill me will only make me stronger. I don’t feel very strong right now, not when my body has no energy to do minor tasks. My grandmother always said Things will always get better. Sometimes, I have trouble seeing the rainbow over the hill. Sometimes I make my best attempts at changing my latitude, but fail miserably.

I’ve seen things improve for me before. I’ve watched it as I ride the roller coaster of life with its ups and downs. There seems to be a pattern. It’s as though when I forget to be thankful, when I forget to acknowledge the steps that got me to that happy place, things begin to fall apart. That might or might not be true, but that’s what it feels like. I’ve always been the generous type, helping people when I can, however I can, and I don’t ask for anything in return. I never have. I also rarely ask for help. Me asking for help is like trying to pry a kill from a lion. It just plain isn’t going to happen unless you’re related to me, and even then, it takes me five hours to figure out the wording and get past my damn nervousness and swallow my pride so I can ask you for help. Pride is a very large piece to swallow and I usually end up choking on it for a bit. The lion might not be the best analogy, but it’s pretty accurate in my head because that’s how difficult it is for me.

That shattered heart at the top of this post? That’s where my heart is at still. I’ve lost more than I can fathom over the last year and a half – love, family, friends … I won’t even go into possessions because they really don’t matter anymore. I know life isn’t supposed to be easy. I understand hard work and hard life and the rewards that come from those things. I’ve experienced them and lost them many times, only to spring right back again. I’ve lost people to suicide, cancer, accidents, etc., yet I’m still here trudging through life, trying to find my place in a world full of selfish, arrogant people who care nothing for others or the earth beneath their feet. I sit and watch the lies spew from their mouths as everyone around them thinks they’re the cat’s meow. Yes, I just used that term. Deception is a dangerous game to play, no matter the amount of power you hold in your hands. I suck at it. Why? Because I’m actually incapable of lying, though I’ve never really understood the reason for my not having the ability. I sit and watch and try to figure out how people who play those games get anywhere in life. I have to tell you, I truly do believe in Karma. The only thing that sucks about Karma is we don’t always get to see the results. Sometimes, I hear about it, though. Sometimes, I’m given a glimpse of it in the person’s future. That one startles the hell out of me, takes about half a second, and has happened once in the last four months. It had nothing to do with me and I am not in that person’s future, but I saw their future. Karma only visits because of what you’ve set in motion by your own hand, thoughts and actions, not what anyone else has done to you. Either way, Karma gave me a glimpse before I even knew Karma would take over.

Now, if I could just get past my own shattered heart. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not all depressed like I was for most of last year. I’m actually getting there, albeit at a snail’s pace. It’s a long healing process when you lose someone you gave your heart and soul to. Even longer when they’re still alive. I’ll survive, as always. I’ll keep writing about everything, whether you read it or not. I just hope that one of my books makes it to publication before I die, and Kitty, if I die before that happens, I’ll write down the password to my laptop for you. =p

No, really, it’s okay. I’m starting to feel like this again …

Oh, and this past weekend, my friend Mishko got married and I’m so very fucking happy for her. She deserves this kind of happy. People I haven’t seen in probably 20 years were there. You can blame them for the reflection on death because we were talking about that. Yes, at a wedding reception. Hey, when you haven’t seen each other in ages, you tend to reflect on those you’ve loved and lost over the years. We lost a lot of friends. I really don’t want to lose anyone else this year. Can we stop time for a bit, please? Thanks.

*hugs* and happy thoughts to all of you. I hope your dreams come true.

Please say a prayer for my Pasha. He’s a good kid and an amazing writer. I’d like to see his name on a book cover in Barnes & Noble someday.

UPDATE: I just got a job offer today and start in two weeks, so things are definitely looking up. =)

Spiders, Scorpions and Centipedes, Oh My!

First, a little background on me:

I was born and raised in the lovely desert state of Arizona, and have spent most of my life here – about 40 of the 41 years I’ve been alive. I’ve spent most of that time in the Phoenix metro area, living in the east valley a good portion of that, and traveling all over the state. Yes, that includes down to Tucson a few times.

I moved to Tucson about two months ago. In the first two weeks, I found a scorpion in my bathroom. I screamed and ran into the kitchen. Kitty went into the bathroom and killed the scorpion, which we discovered had been maimed by Sam the cat. Go Sam! You are my kitty hero.

Just for the record, I’ve never seen a scorpion in anyone’s house…EVER.

No, I don’t have a picture of the scorpion. Why? Because that’s how frightened I am of them! I’m not thinking about taking a picture. I’m running away from the damn thing. The picture thought comes afterward, when it’s been smashed to smithereens and flushed down the toilet. I think, “Shit, I should’ve taken a picture of it.” Then I remember how close I have to be for that to happen. Yeah, so not happening. I won’t even tell you how many hours were spent in attempt to figure out how the blasted creature got in the house in some logical explanation so I could feel safe in my own bed…ENTIRELY TOO MANY!

I did just recently torture myself to find this online so you have an idea of what said scorpion looked like. This:

But more like this:

It was skinny like the second picture, but a bit more orange like the first picture. I’ve seen them before… Out. In. The. Desert! That second one is the Arizona Bark Scorpion.

Now, while all of this is going on, I’ve been killing wolf spiders for Kitty from the moment I arrived because that’s her irrational fear. It is so much so that I’m not even going to put up a photo of the wolf spider because I know she’s going to read my blog and that will freak her out (don’t click on the link, Kitty). See, I’m a good friend like that.

Moving on to current events…

Last week, I was on the phone with our friend and almost neighbor (because she lives so close) Pauline (@aspiringmama). While I was on the phone with her, I stepped outside for a smoke or two or three. Due to the recent beetle-apocalypse, I decided to turn off the porch light so beetles wouldn’t try to cover the door and walls around the door. It’s mating season for the beetles, or whatever they are, and Kitty and I have both killed several of them during their *ahem* time. No, we don’t feel remorse.

That picture doesn’t even begin to show you how many there were, but it was a difficult shot because of this…

That’s the sidewalk below the wall of the other photo. I had to step on a few to get that wall shot, which meant they could climb up my feet and legs. *shudders*

And then there was this guy around the corner…

THAT, my friends, is a four-inch long Palo Verde beetle. That’s right, I said FOUR INCHES! You know what else? Their shell is like armor. I’m not kidding. You can’t just step on this bastard and have him squish beneath your shoe. Oh no, no, no. A tennis shoe or sneakers won’t do the trick with this guy. Neither will my shoe of choice, the flip-flop. You need boots for this SOB. Thick, heavy boots. And then you have to stomp really hard and repeatedly while listening to his armor-like shell crack…LOUDLY. The nice thing about this bad boy is the fact that he doesn’t fly very well. That’s right, he has wings, but watching him flutter about makes him much less scary…until he wanders in your direction, in which you scream like I did and jump out of the way. His flying skills are severely lacking and I have to wonder what the point of the wings were if he can only lift himself a couple of feet in the air before falling (yes, falling) back to the ground and landing on his back. Every time he lands, it sounds like you slapped a bamboo stick against the concrete, his shell is that hard.

Now, back to my conversation with Pauline…

We were on the phone talking, I had the porch light off to dissuade the beetles, and I was smoking. Once in a while, I’d stomp on a beetle or two, or sweep them off the sidewalk with my flip-flop. At one point, I looked down and saw what looked to be a stick. It’s been windy as hell lately, so I didn’t think anything of it and tried to sweep it off the sidewalk with my shoe. That’s when it moved! IT MOVED! I yelped and said, “What the fuck was that?” into the phone. Of course, Pauline couldn’t see what I was talking about, so I told her what just happened. She’s not from Arizona so she had no clue, especially without seeing it. I turned on the porch light in case the little stick-like bastard decided to show itself again so I can identify my damn attacker because let me tell you, people, it was sitting within a freakin’ INCH of my foot before I’d decided to sweep it off the sidewalk! When I finally went inside, I told the kitty about it. Her eyes went wide and she asked, “You’re wearing your shoes when you go out there, right?” My brow arched as I answered, “Of course I’m wearing shoes, especially after seeing a damn scorpion out there!” (that was the second scorpion, btw, about two or three weeks after seeing the first one). Then she proceeds to tell me it could have been a centipede, and I’m all, “WHAT?!” I have to tell you all that in my 40 years of living in this state, I have NEVER seen a centipede in person and certainly not an inch from my foot. Where the fuck have I moved to, people? It’s like wild desert animal fucking kingdom out here!

So…a week goes by and I don’t see the stick-like creature again…until last night. That fucker crawled right up over the edge of the concrete and headed for me. Luckily, I am much more aware of my surroundings lately and my eyes picked him up quickly. I jumped back, he curved around and headed back to the rocks. That’s when I took this…

Yep, you betcha, that’s a goddamn centipede! Excuse me while I string enough swear words together to tie up a freakin’ calf because these guys are WORSE than scorpions! I sent that picture to Twitter with “WTF is this?!” Responses were all the same – centipede. My favorite response was from @zombotLooks like a bunch of rocks with a centipede on it. Smartass! The centipede came up onto the concrete once more, then quickly went back to the rocks. Kitty came out with her Raid can, sprayed the entire rock area I saw him in, nearly choking me in the process as I accidentally inhaled the mist due to the wind (great, I’m gonna die now), and we both went inside. Let me know if I start twitching. It should look something like thisssssssssss sss ssssss sssss.

Before Kitty went to bed, she went back out with her new can of Raid (we drained the old one) and sprayed once more for me. Before I went to bed, I decided one last smoke was in order so I could work a few things out in my head regarding my werewolf book, so out I went. I think I was outside maybe five minutes when that little multi-legged fucker who should’ve been D-E-A-D due to the amount of poison sprayed around him came up over the lip of the concrete. Luckily, I didn’t have a smoke lit at the time, so I reached inside, grabbed the Raid, and commenced firing on him. This can shot a nice long stream of oh-yes-I-will-kill-you-from-a-distance and he tried to run away…oh, he tried…but I just kept hitting him with the poisonous stream of neurotoxin. Finally, he crawled down in the crack between cement slabs and stopped moving altogether. I was victorious! YAY! I killed my oppressor, slayed the dragon…er, drowned the centipede in Raid.

I really don’t want to know what the next adventure in desert dwelling insects is going to be, but I’m praying it’s not an encounter with one of the larger wolf spiders Kitty’s told me about. I’m not sure I could save her from one that big. While I’m not really afraid of spiders, BIG ones scare the bejeezus out of me. I might pull out my 30/30 for that and end up with a hole in the wall.

When I looked outside this morning, the centipede was gone. I texted Kitty and she told me it was probably just some scavenger bugs who carried him off. Well, I certainly don’t think he walked off all by his lonesome, but I’m hoping a bird didn’t pick him up and would sense/smell the poison. If it was scavenger bugs, good riddance because he was covered in enough poison to take out a small colony.

Oh, and did I mention I had a dream and at the very end of said dream, there was a goddamn scorpion in it? Yeah. I hate this state.

UPDATE: And tonight, after posting this blog, we found a wolf spider the size of a silver dollar, luckily outside, but still! Someone call the moving company and help me find a job in Tennessee. I’m so done with this state!


I know I haven’t been blogging much lately, and I do apologize for that. In fact, this post is a day late, I think. I’ve been participating in Twitter’s Friday Flash hashtag using another blog (under my real name), and well, this last one has really blossomed into a full-scale fantasy novel. Yep, you read that correctly. Jinxie is writing a fantasy novel. Gods help me! I have a TON of research to do for my world-building before I can continue now.

Another reason I haven’t been blogging is that I’m still looking for a job. We have now reached the level of pure annoyance in the job search because no one calls for even an interview. Is there something wrong with me? My hair? Are they Googling me? Shit. That might be bad. And yes, I’ve Googled myself to see what comes up. It all depends on how exactly you type my (real) name. I honestly haven’t found anything bad, unless you count the craziness of this particular blog, which is now hard to find under my real name. Score!

So…as a diversion because I’m bored, I’m protesting Wonder Woman’s new costume with the following picture!

I hope you all had a wonderful Independence Day! Power to the People!