Nano 2011~Chapter 3

After all was said and done, Mr. Jim's family sold his house and other people started to move in…young families mostly with bratty spoiled kids.It seemed as if he had been the glue that held the neighbourhood all together. And I missed my friend way too much. I had only known him for a few short months and I felt as if I had lost a much beloved family member…

The new people were clueless, letting their dogs and kids run amok. I would wind up being the old bag who would yell at them to “Get off my lawn!” and pump the shotgun, or be the wicked witch in the haunted house. I didn’t care. I left notes on their cars and bags of poop on their doorsteps. I picked up after my birds, I didn’t see why others couldn’t pick up after their dogs. They’d park wherever the Hell they wanted even if it was right across from my driveway so *I* couldn’t get out if I had to. They’d have all night pool parties and I hated to leave the house in case one of them got out of hand, an ijit got into the yard, and hurt my girls. I actually busted one bonehead climbing over the fence, zapping his gonads in the process because he had lost their football in my yard. The Brahma ran right up with her hackles flared and pecked his ankle HARD…when she went to spur him, I grabbed her. Then I tossed the ball over. It had some beak marks in it. Oh well. Not my problem. I told him the hot wire was always on and next time come around to the front door and ask…he limped away, grumbling, and bleeding from the chicken's bite. All his buddies were laughing at his predicament.

When the cats tried chasing my girls or snatching birds off the feeders, out came the good old green garden hose on full jet. *I* was a good neighbour. The others weren’t. I got in touch with Animal Control and he told me I was in my rights to SSS: Shoot, Shovel, Shut Up…I asked if it was applicable to the owners…he snickered, but said that was the homicide dept and not his. Dang. At least he was on my side, and issued citations left and right to the idiots. One dog, a dopey dipstick of a Designer dog (they were Mutts when I grew up) called a Dalmatian Pointer that the owners bragged that they had paid a tonne of money for insisted on chasing cars: except for mine. I stopped suddenly and he ran into the back of it. I couldn’t help it if a figment chose that very second to hop off the sidewalk and cross the street in front of me, and I didn’t want to smoosh it. Now, don’t get me wrong: I LIKE animals, well trained, well taken care of, cherished pets. Once they’re running loose, they’re predators and I refused to back down. Once again, I called the dog officer. He came out and issued a citation for an unleashed dog. In front of the “owners” he asked if I wanted to file charges for damage to my car. Slobber was the only actual damage. The blockhead of a dog was fine. And I was now on the neighbour’s shit list. If they couldn’t control their animal, it wasn’t my fault. They KNEW he roamed the neighbourhood, chased the cars, treed cats, raccoons and foxes, and stole food off grills. And they didn’t do anything. But, at the very least, he stopped chasing MY car.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t do that with my ex. I would be in jail, like that lady in Florida who ran over her cheating hubby like he was a friggin' speed bump. They caught it all on tape too! He was still being an annoying pain in the ass. He left a message on my machine that he was looking to move into a house nearby and wanted to know if I knew of any that might be for sale. I didn’t answer and deleted the message. Like I wanted him anywhere near me?! Hell, even Pluto would’ve been too close. A one-way ticket to the International Space Station might’ve been in order.

He even started following me on my walks, when I started exercising again. The first couple of times, I was crying too hard to make it even half way, curling up on one of the scattered benches or finding a convenient log. At least I could pass off the runny nose and red eyes on allergies. That was my ME time and he was NOT going to muck it up! I called the cops on my cell, but they couldn’t do anything because it was a public park. Shit! Of course, being a fat tub of lard, he didn’t get too far. Every time I saw a different animal, or heard a new birdsong, I wanted to tell Mr. Jim. And he wasn’t there. But I did it anyways. Okay…so the other walkers thought I was nuttier than the proverbial single fruitcake passed 'round the world…

One morning, before it got really and truly hot and muggy, I went for my usual walk. I had my water bottle, my eclectic music selections ranging from System of a Down, Serj Tankian, and Scars on Broadway to The Who, Apocalyptica, Iron Maiden, Three Days Grace, Deep Purple, The Moody Blues…well, you get the picture; and my cell phone and digital camera. I was putting together a scrapbook of all the things I saw when I walked and I was going to self-publish it and dedicate it to Mr. Jim. I was on the bike path heading back to the car, when I saw it: a white tailed deer with a set of antlers that would make a hunter make a wet spot, standing quietly in the small space between the bike path and the Scout Nature Trail like it had been waiting for me…Wow!! It was the first one I had seen in the park…and it was a once-in-a-life-time picture. It let me snap more photos than I thought possible for a wild animal. Other walkers flowed around me without stopping as if I was a rock in a stream. How sad for them! They didn’t even SEE the beautiful animal. It let me get so close that I had to wonder if it hadn’t been someone’s pet and released into the wild…I reached my hand out to touch the velvety nose. It snorted and flapped it’s tail before bounding off…it hadn’t moved for any of the other people rushing by and I knew who it was…my stupid ex!!!

“Gods Dammit!” I yelled.

“It was only a dumb animal.” he panted. He had obviously been trying to follow me. Depending on what I wanted to do for the day, I could make the whole bike path anytime between and hour and a half to ¾ of an hour. I was doing the fast one, which I had stopped short when I saw the deer. I put the headphones back on and started my walking again. I was able to tune him out and leave him in my dust as I continued, but he had ruined the nice feeling I had had having such a close encounter with the woodland critter.

I went straight home, hugged all my girls, and took a shower to get rid of the ex germs. I still had trouble getting over the deer acting so tame…I wondered if they got rabies…I looked it up and found out that they didn’t usually, but I wasn’t terribly reassured.

I called my boss, then settled down to work, and things went along fine. I took my lunch break, letting the girls roam the yard. I rounded them back up, and started working again. 5 o’clock came, I called into work and told her I was done for the day. I made dinner for us. The girls put themselves to bed and then it was my turn.

I had just settled in with a good book and was all comfy in front of the fan, when the phone rang. I had caller ID, but this one was an unknown #. I answered it and I could barely understand what the caller was saying. The receiver sounded like it was being passed from person to person and they were learning English from a language that didn’t even have 12 letters, let alone 20+ and the syntax and grammar were screwy too. It was a very stilted conversation reminding me of the odd crowd at Mr. Jim's funeral and I had to have them repeat themselves too many times. Finally, I got a “goodbye.” Well, at least that’s what I thought it was. I hung up wondering what the Hell had just happened, looking at the phone like it had connected me with the Twilight Zone and I was waiting for Rod Serling's voice over. I looked at the clock and realized I had been helping the ESL class for almost an hour. I was even more tired than I should’ve been, hardly able to keep my eyelids open. I turned off the light and rolled over.

I tossed and turned, flipped and spun, instead of having a restful night's sleep. I kept dreaming of that strange group from the funeral and of creatures that could’ve come right from Greek, Egyptian, Assyrian, and other ancient mythologies that were part people/part animals…

I shook the cobwebs away when the alarm went off, actually wanting to pitch the clock radio straight out the window, like a Nolan Ryan fastball. I dressed, turned on the coffee, let the girls out, then ate breakfast. Cold cereal with milk for me and layer pellets for them, with no milk, because chickens are lactose intolerant.You don't wanna know what milk does to their systems cuz it ain't pretty, neither is cleaning feathery behinds which I learnt from experience.

I really didn’t feel like doing my walk yet, so I attempted working instead. I kept looking at the clock, and after a half hour of doing nothing but drumming my fingers on the keyboard, I gave up. I got the girls back inside and instead of driving to the park, I decided to take the hidden path. It was still warm, but not stew in your own juices hot yet, and it would warm my legs up a bit for the hills that came up later.

The path was only a few 100 yards long, but it was shady and cool. I was glad I had taken a sweatshirt. I could tie it around my waist when I started sweating as I kept walking. I was near where it came out into the bike path when a hand grabbed me and yanked me into a thicket in the Big Meadow. I struggled, but couldn’t get away, the person was way too strong. I was really scared, recalling that a while back some women had been mugged when they walked. But the body of the person holding me had an almost calming aura. We hunkered down as footsteps clomped by. I caught a whiff of the Old Spice Lime cologne that my ex used…he probably bathed in the stuff. He was cursing as he blundered by. Unfortunately the cologne made my allergies act up as usual. I tried valiantly to stifle the sneeze I felt coming, but I was unable to. Dammit! I was pushed farther into the thicket and into the care of another set of arms that could’ve lifted a semi…what the Hell?! I KNEW that I was awake. I pinched myself to be sure and it hurt. The original person that had pulled me into the bushes had now gone and in exact spot was a White Tailed Deer! I wondered what drugs my mother had done in the late 60's-early 70’s to cause me to be seeing such weird shit so many years later.

The deer sproinged out of the bushes and almost landed on top of my ex. I saw the gleam of a gun in his hand as he tried to avoid the collision. How the Hell did he get that? But then I figured that one of his skanks dujour knew someone who knew someone…What he was going to do with the gun was pretty obvious. Like I had said before, I had read enough Ann Rule books…Maybe the lazy scum sucker had taken out an insurance policy on me and was trying to collect! There was sposta be no guns, bow hunting, drinking, loose dogs, etc in the park, but people ignored half of those rules…

When the deer-man came back, after what seemed to be a day or so, but was really only like a half hour, he said that I could go now safely. Well, thanks for that I said. I glanced at the person behind me, and she blinked. I saw a third eyelid, like my girls had. Okay...so she was a bird in the off season…that would explain the strong arms reasonably well: she’d need them to fly around.

I was too tempted to head right off to the packy, then call the nearest loony bin to see if they had an opening in a nice, safe, padded room.

I walked home somehow, gathered my girls, and pulled the covers over my head. This was just too much for my mind to have to deal with…

When the phone started ringing, I just let it go to the machine…I wasn’t in the mood. I finally got out of bed when I heard my boss’ frantic voice on the tape. Shit!!! I dialed my work and she was almost out of her mind. How could I tell her what had happened? SHE’D put me in the nuthouse in a second! I just told her that I saw my ex and he had a gun and I was afraid he was going to use it, so I was hiding…true enough…I was hidden under mounds of feathers, sharp beaks, wicked talons and pointy spurs.

She suggested that I call the cops. I had thought about that, but didn’t want to stir the pot too much with my ex. Especially now I knew that he was armed…I think that finally scared me…I put my sandals back on, hugged and kissed each of the girls and went straight to the PD where I swore out a formal complaint against my ex for stalking and that he was packing…Because I had seen the gun in actuality, they could pick him up if he didn’t have a permit for it. I rather doubted that he did because that would’ve cost him money. Hell, I made it easy for them too…I gave them the address of my old apartment in town!

I went home again, made sure all the windows were locked and checked the cellar for lurkers. Thankfully there was nothing but spiders, house centipedes and boxes.

I redialed work, got my boss and let her know what was up. There would be patrols a couple of times a shift to make sure I was okay.

I did a little bit of work, but I kept making mistakes because my brain was back with the deer-man and the bird-woman. When the latest job was sent back for the third time, I called in and gave up for the day.

Nano 2011~Chapter 2

He tried to reach for my hand to hold it, but I drew it back like his were armed mouse traps. I didn’t want him to touch me…EVER…again. He told me that he still loved me, and was actively looking for work. More lies. My sources said that he never left the apartment, not even for food. I didn’t even want to see what science projects were underway in the fridge. I was afraid they might attack. It took him over an HOUR to sign in 5 places! He was complaining too much. My back-up kept poking his head around the door. Well, I had promised him food after I was done.

I left the stick pen, the paper towels I sat on, and only took the plastic bag I had put the papers in. I didn’t want to contaminate the car with any microbes that I might’ve picked up. The first order of business was to feed my companion; after that, the lawyer, then the hazmat team would be called to take off my first two layers of epidermis.

It was a no contest divorce. He was getting every single thing that he put into the marriage, which was absolutely NOTHING!!! And that’s what I told the judge when we appeared before her. When my lawyer introduced my ledger into evidence, you could’ve heard a feather drop. I had to struggle to keep the smug grin off my face. He was screwed and even his public defender knew it. But to be fair, the judge ordered that he would get a month’s rent of the apartment and $1,000 for alimony for each year we were married. $10K and $1,200 rent were fine. I had it and could write out a check right there, if that would be okay? But could I have a receipt? Please?

The judge snickered, but turned it into a cough, pronounced us divorced and that it would be final in 90 days. I could’ve danced out of the court room on the ceiling. My mother decided it would behoove her to make an appearance…of course, the divorce was MY fault because I didn’t “support” my husband…if I never saw the old hag again I would be very happy. She sat her bony ass on HIS side of the courtroom: that told me everything I needed to know. She was bending his ear as I exited. I had never given HER money, except for the excessive rent she had me pay when I started working and before I moved out, and just sent 2-for-a-dollar bday/sMother’s day cards to her. As much as she had tried to make me into her milquetoast/wishy-washy/don’t make waves image growing up, it just made me more stubborn, obstinate, pigheaded, bullheaded, mulish…well, you get the picture. I would never ever BE her, NOR her little puppet any longer. I wasn’t a dumb teenager. I was 30+ years old! I knew what I was doing, where I was going, and what I wanted to do with my life.

The end!

Take it or leave it!

Don’t let the screen door hit you on the ass on the way out!

My way or the Highway!

I wrote out the "Good Frickin Riddance to Bad Rubbish" check,took the receipt and off I went on my merry little free from the sponge (no offense to sponges) way. Go me!

I had been renting a little studio apartment, and had my furniture in storage. Unfortunately, my ex got the idea that I was stalking material. He’d “hide” in his shit box of a car, which you could hear 5 miles before you saw the loud orange colour. It was his pride and joy…I STILL have no idea why. If I had ever seen him having sex with the tail pipe, it probably wouldn’t have surprised me in the least. He could be found lurking outside work, my apartment, or in the grocery store aisles. One time he even tried to follow me into a dressing room at my favourite department store! At which point I had him carted off by the local cops and slapped with a TRO. Then it was the incessant phone calls. And the letters, sometimes 2 or 3 at a time, proclaiming undying love. There was no way that he could love anyone if he didn't get the hint that I didn't wanna have anything more to do with him, the dumb-ass. I put a trap and trace on the phone, and opened the letters with white gloves and put them in Ziploc bags in a box. Security at work was informed not to let him in, and my boss was very good at staggering my hours, and having someone escort me to the garage when I left.

I finally sat down with my boss, and asked for a leave of absence. Having that dipstick following me all over was too much of a distraction, and it wasn’t really making the firm look good to have it’s name in the police blotters every other week. It was sadly given, with lotsa hugs and good lucks tossed my way by my fellow cube rats. I cleared out my closet of an office. I was waylaid by my boss who said that I could continue to work from home and would lend me a neato laptop to use. I’m amazed my eyeballs didn’t fall out and roll around on the floor…The only stipulation was that I would just have to check in at least once a day so that she would know I was okay.

Security helped my out to the car with my stuff, and there was the asshat…figured. I waved sweetly, then flipped him off. When he saw me with the muscle, he took off. I made my way back to the apartment. My ex was parked outside almost as soon as I got there. It was deffo time to relocate. I took another picture of him and Moby Orange…I had stacks. LeSigh…

I set up the laptop and since my place came with wifi, I started to look for houses, farther away from the city. There were a few I had to look up. If I didn’t know the names they were either out in West Bumblefuck or South Jesus.

I found a likely looking bedroom community that sounded interesting. It was sorta halfway between two of the big cities. That was doable. There were buses, commuter rail, and easy access to the major roads, so I didn’t have to drive into town if I didn’t want to rack up the miles on Ye Olde Tempo.

Just to keep said AssHat on his toes, I continued to act as if I was going to work. I’d run a yellow light, and he’d be stuck at the red…hehe Yeah, very juvenile of me, but it was fun.

The packing was pretty easy because there wasn’t much that I hadn’t put in storage. I had a desk, my bed, some towels, dishes, rudimentary items like that.

I put a bid in on a place which was on a dead end street off a side street off another side street. I had my trusty stack of internet directions to help me find it. It was a lovely little bungalow at the end of the street where it stopped abruptly at some woods. It needed some paint on the trim, but it would be all mine from the uneven back yard to the original piebald front door.

One of my new neighbours introduced himself, bringing over a jar of honey from his hives…mmm. He was also a pissah gardener. I had free rein to visit and we got to be very good friends. He was like the neighourhood watch all by himself. He knew who belonged, and who didn’t. And it was a good thing too…that sonuvabitch ex found me again! He put a tracker somewhere on the car…grr. But I found it and tossed it in the trash.

He parked in front of the house…I ignored him.

He knocked on the door…I ignored him.

He tried getting in…I called the cops.

I was really getting sick of it all and it was causing all sorts of health problems for me. Especially the day that it felt like a volcano went off in my head, and I was flopping around the floor like a landed fish. I was hoping that I would be found before my liver was eaten and my eyeballs were gobbled like grapes by the chickens. I called Mr. Jim. He called an ambulance for me and would look after the girls.

Well, after a lovely weekend spent in two different hospitals, numerous tests, enough blood taken to keep Elizabeth Bathory swimming lapd, and some amazingly wonderful chow, if you could believe it, I was diagnosed with a fucked up heart beat…how lovely…and I had never had any signs up until now…they stuffed a pacemaker/defibrillator in for shits and giggles. Wasn’t that nice? I would be stuck at home for 4-6 weeks, unable to drive or do much else physically…The only redeeming part of that was that I wasn’t harassed by my ex for a whole weekend. Woohoo!!

All the neighbours brought food, did some shopping, and laundry for me…It was wonderful! Except for the circumstances, I coulda been the Queen of Sheba. After a follow up exam, I was cleared to drive, and informed that I needed to build my strength back up and to lose some weight. That's where I started this story. I asked if I could just mail it somewhere with no forwarding address. Have I mentioned that doctors have no sense of humour? Running was thought of, but quickly cast aside…I don’t run ANYWHERE! Unless maybe there’s a big bear behind me, or a very cute guy in front of me. Walking was suggested as an alternative. I didn’t wanna cruise the mall at the butt crack of dawn with all the old folks. Traipsing along the main drag would get you squished like an indecisive squirrel. So I asked Mr. Jim where he walked, since I knew he did it most every day. He took me to the absolute end of our street, and showed me…Oh my Gods!! It was amazing…there was a little dirt path that went by a big meadow and there were nature paths and a 2 and a half mile bike path, which you could walk on too, if you were careful that the pedal pushers didn‘t mow you down…Wow…I didn’t even know it was there!!! It was nestled in between my new town and a neighbouring one and taken care of by both. I hugged and kissed Mr. Jim for showing me. Even though I HAD to friggin’ do it, I KNEW that I was going to like wandering there, and seeing what critters might be lurking in the “wilderness“. I wanted to figure out what lived in the area. City people nevah think of this shit. I hadn’t, so I asked Mr. Jim. He said that depending on when I went, what time of day, how many idiots let their dogs loose, and the time of year, what I might see. I headed off to the bookstore for a field guide so I could keep track. He also mysteriously added that there might be other things that wouldn’t be found in any guidebook. Bullshit! I thought, he was just trying to fake me out…Silly me…I shoulda known better. He grew up in the area. He KNEW!

I went and bought nice top-of-the-line sneakers, special excercise clothes, a pedometer, the whole deal, but the first time I tried to walk, I thought I would die three steps in…I only did 5 minutes before I wanted to call an ambulance. Mr. Jim laughed and left me gasping and panting on a bench while he continued. Almost an hour later, I was okay to go and we walked back to the house. He said that I’d do better every time. He was right there.

We walked the bike path every morning, and sometimes at night too as long as it was cool and light enough out. I enjoyed walking with him. He would point out some of the trees as we went along. I knew a maple from an oak, and that was about it from this city slicker. As we spent more time together, I could tell the various maples apart and could find sassafras, sycamore, and hemlock too. All the types of sparrows were a pain though…quick and small and didn’t oblige me by standing still long enough to me to let me look them up. There was a main entrance to the park from both towns. One side you could drive right to the big lake in the middle. We did that one time. Mr. Jim showed me where the snapping turtle hung out and not to aggravate him unless you wanted to be minus a few phalanges. Umm, no thanks…I wouldn’t wanna swim anywhere near him either. We actually saw him in totality one day, basking on one of the docks. If you had told me he had been around since the Cretaceous, I woulda believed you. He was the size of a dining room table!! Even his little brethren resembled Gamera of Japanese horror film notoriety.

I settled into a nice routine. Wake up, have coffee, and get dressed. Feed the girls. Walk with Mr.Jim. Tele-communicate with work starting about 9. Break for lunch around noon. Finish up around 5. Feed the girls again and myself and Mr. Jim three times a week. He'd bring nice veggies from his garden for me and the birds. It was actually a pretty nice/good life…except for asshat's continuing presence. I got a license to carry…pepper spray and mace. I didn't think I'd be coordinated enough to use an actual firearm, not even a peashooter.

By the start of the summer I could actually keep up with Mr. Jim. It was great to have someone to walk with. The doctor and nutritionist were happy with me, too. I lost a couple of sizes and about 20 pounds. I still had more weight to go, but I was doing alright and felt better. And I had something else to look forward too: seeing all the neat woodland creatures in their natural habitats.

Midsummer, we’d still walk, but Mr. Jim seemed like he was slowing down. I tried pressing him on his health. He slammed shut like an unhappy quahog. He was a pipe smoker, but it had never seemed to have been an issue before. One day in early August, I knocked on his door because he hadn't come over for our breakfast together. He didn’t answer and I couldn't see inside because the drapes were still drawn. We had keys to each other’s houses so I let myself in. Unfortunately, he was gone. He had died peacefully in his sleep. I broke down and cried. Then I called 911, even though there was no use. Looking and feeling like a marble statue usually equals deadles. Answering all the police questions was horrible. I felt like *I* had done something wrong, but I had only touched him to feel for a pulse in his wrist and his neck. Our neighbours came out to see what was going on. I noticed a Crow sitting in a tree nearby and a Blue Jay on the same branch...that was rather odd, I thought. They didn't usually get along. There was also a pair of Red Tailed Hawks soaring over the house calling, as the body of my dear friend was wheeled out on a gurney wearing a body bag.

His family now came out of the woodwork like flies over a nice, fresh, steaming pile of shit. As soon as the police heard that it was a natural death from the Medical Examiner and cleared the scene, they went through the house like Grant through Richmond…They had a yard sale before he was even buried! I was appalled, but I had no right to say anything: I wasn‘t a part of the family, just a close friend of Mr. Jim‘s. Even the other neighbours were aghast. They had seen Mr. Jim’s family only on Christmas, Easter, and Thanksgiving for the 30 odd years that he had lived there. The things his family considered junk were precious to me, and on Tuesdays before the trash men came, I would go dumpster diving. I got a vintage piano stool, some bird houses, and braided rugs to remember him physically. All of us were begrudgingly invited to the wake, the funeral, and the collation afterwards. I think we would've crashed anyways. His three kids did rather generic eulogies at the church that would’ve been better suited to a stranger on a bus than their own father. There was lots of tsk’ing and headshaking from the neighbourhood contingent.

Before the end of the funeral the priest asked if anyone else had anything to share. I got up to speak. I hadn't been intending to, but I felt that I HAD to, to remind his family of the wonderful man and dear friend, we had lost. My knees were clacking together, but I looked at his empty shell just lying there in his casket, and knew that it was right for me to speak, that he wouldn't have had it any other way. I had NO idea what I was going to say, but I know that every word was truly from my heart. I told about the changes he had helped make in my life from the jar of honey when I first moved into the neighbourhood from the city, generously giving his neighbours veggies from his own bountiful gardens, supporting my ill-fated attempts are gardening, up to our walks in the park and identifying the animals we saw as we went along.

When I finally looked up from the podium, there wasn’t a dry eye in the house, even from the family. Casting my gaze around, there was a flock of strangely dressed mourners in the shadows at the very back of the church. They must've come in while I was talking. They all had on reflector shades like from the 80’s so you couldn‘t see their eyes behind the lenses, floppy hats that covered most of their faces, long trench coats or capes, and a couple even had gloves on even with the humidity and warmth of the summer day.

The neighbours all came up to me and expressed their condolences for MY loss: I seemed to be the only person completely broken up about Mr. Jim’s passing. I thought I’d run out of tears. There was a couple of perfunctory nods to the actual family, who had ignored me, even at the wake the previous night. The group at the back waited until the very end to approach: they didn‘t even flick an eyeball towards his survivors, but came straight to me. The spokesman for the group reached out his hand and told me that he was “Sorry the most for the losings of such a wonderful, caring, natural person…and a void remains that must be refilled.” “Natural person?” WTF was that? I smelled wood and mulch and leaves with a twist of petshop…weird as Hell cologne. He backed away with a nod, and the whole pack left as one. I didn't know that things were going to get interesting around my home from that point on…

I made it through the graveside service, and the evil glares during the luncheon back at the church facility. Mr. Jim had wanted to be cremated, and sprinkled over his beloved park, but his family buried him in a plot that was nowhere near where any of them lived, and that wasn’t right either. I don’t know if they thought someone was gonna visit him or dig him up or what. Maybe it was going to be out of sight out of mind. I could only HOPE that he would haunt the whole bloody lot of them.

His family ripped out all his vegetable beds and threw away his compost. I snagged everything I could get my hands on and I KNOW I wasn’t the only one who crossed the street with buckets or wheelbarrows. The mature vegetables I gave away as much as I could to the food pantry, then to the neighbours and I kept a few for myself and the girls. There were tomatoes, peppers, cukes, zucchini, summer squash…too much for any one person and 4 hens to eat and I found myself wondering why.

Nano 2011

This is what my Nano for 2011 is about:

"Elizabeth Dorset is an happily divorced woman. She hates her job, but loves her new house complete with pet chickens, and a neighbour that knows the score. Her ex husband is stalking her; she can't stand her only relative, and she finds an unlikely friend in an unlikely place. And finds that sometimes love really is in your own backyard."

This is the homepage for Pond Meadow Park. http://www.pondmeadowpark.org/ Any little bit goes towards it's upkeep and if and when I get this book published, I will more than gratefully give some of the proceeds to PMP for keeping it going.

This is the trail map:

http://www.pondmeadowpark.org/assets/downloads/pond_meadow_park_map083007.pdf

I've changed the names and such to protect the innocent. ;)

So here goes, this is the first chapter of Backyard Fae (working title):

Like I was gonna do what my doctor said…so what if he’s sposta be an expert?!! What the HELL did he know about my life?! What was the worst that could happen? I dropped dead. Noone woulda missed me! ARGH!!!

Let’s go back a little bit here…I had a boring, mindless job. I am, okay, WAS, an accountant working at one of the big city firms. I got to handle thousands, millions of dollars each year; None of it my own, and it was all just on paper…pfft. That was the worst part, but not really…it was just tedious and boring as Hell. I didn’t have much of a life…an ex I couldn’t stand and I have no idea why I married him in the first place, except to get a pushy, needy mother the Hell off my back.

Hell, he wasn’t that good in bed: I wasn‘t either…he got his and left me alone on the couch. Guess it all goes back to the good girls won’t put out shit my mother indoctrinated me with growing up…that’s why I have my abhorrent Accounting Degree when I really wanted to hang out with Zahi Hawass or Howard Carter or Hiram Bingham or Heinrich Schliemann…well, you get the idea. I was NEVAH the girlie girl. Hated pink, hated ruffles, hated bows, ick…give me ripped blue jeans and a tie dyed or rock band tshirt and jesus sandals and I’m as happy as a pig in shit!

But I was told constantly that digging for dead dusty old shit wasn’t for girls…and to get a degree that I could actually use. That’s why I’m a disgruntled, disaffected, disheartened, disappointed accountant.

But at least I have my own little pied-a-tierre. It’s a little 3 bedroom Cape. I was able to sock money away for a mortgage and it was all paid off before a year was up. You'd think that I would be one, but I’m not a cat lady…I’m a chicken lady instead. The house came with a half an acre in the ‘burbs that’s all nice and fenced in. I added an electrical fence so that the varmints and the stupid neighbours’ dogs don’t help themselves to a free dinner.

I cook for me and my girls. It sucks to cook for only one…they seem quite happy. They have their own dishes with their names on ‘em. It’s not like I’m knee deep in birds though…I have a manageable flock of 4, used to be 5, mutt/barnyard mixes. No roosters/cockerels/crowing hens…some asshat complained that my little Leghorn cockerel, Rick Burleson, was making her migraines (ahem…hangovers) worse. So I left my hand raised baby boy, with a loaf of Portuguese Sweet Bread with raisins, thanks, at a petting zoo. NO! I didn’t ditch him! I asked if they would like him first and let them meet each other first. And I cried for WEEKS!

So I have a little buff Cochin/Silkie bantam, a Dark Brahma, another dippy Leghorn and an Easter Egger. And we all get along fine, until the C/S goes broody and all hell breaks loose. She becomes a flat screaming pancake and steals everyone else’s eggs to sit on…but with no rooster around, no chicks…and she goes broody every other friggin’ week…but that’s okay. The wonderful fresh, straight out of the chicken’s butt eggs make it all worthwhile…Won’t eat these birds, though. It would be like eating one of your kids…if I HAD kids, I guess. There’s nothing meaty about a Leghorn and her head is just as hollow. Wouldn’t eat the S/C mix cuz her bones, skin and meat is black…ick…they’re a delicacy in China, but no thanks. The Brahma makes an oven stuffer roaster look sickly and the E/E is good sized too.

Enough about my flock, let’s get back to me, lol…the expert/doctor/sawbones/butcher said I need to lose weight. Well, Hell! ROUND has always been a shape, hasn’t it? He says that my body mass index is 37...I told him couldn’t I wait ‘til 40 then sell? He didn’t get the joke. Sigh. Well, I AM only 5’2” and according to the height/weight charts I SHOULD be 6’7”. Bummer. I had been getting out of breath, not from smoking, thanks. NOT one of my bad habits. Jelly beans, Doritos, Yeah, definitely.Throw in meatball subs and DQ …need I say more?

So the quack tells me that I need to watch what I eat and see a dietician/nutritionist. Well fuckaduck. I watch what I eat…its spins around and around in the microwave…Insult to injury. The nutritionist looks like she needs to go to Cambodia or Somalia for a decent meal…I could play a tune on her ribs, ferchrissakes. So she has me doing a food diary…ack! I hafta write down everything I put in my mouth and how it makes me feel…hmm, let’s see annoyed that I hafta do this shit in the first place…carrot sticks will NEVER EVER replace cheese worms. If it’s whole grain, ya might as well eat the friggin box, they taste the same. At least I like veggies, and it was the winter heading into spring so I could scrounge plenty of those from the local farmers’ markets. Can’t grow anything but bread mould myself. Believe me I’ve tried everything from talking to the plants, cursing them out and crying…none of it worked. I’ve even killed an air plant, but then again, I had help because I think my ex peed in it or worse.

Speaking of socking money away, I had also saved some from doing all sorts of work in the summers growing up: cutting lawns, painting fences, planting someone else’s flowers. Never baby sat…never wanted to, couldn‘t stand the things. I even did a telephone switchboard, and a convenience store. I DID splurge every now and again, but I had a tendency to over-think what I bought and I’d return most everything. Yeah, I know I hated me too. And the store clerks cringed when they saw me coming…

Which brings me to my ex and what HE’s been up to. Which is basically not a damned thing! I busted my ass to put him through college. He “wanted to be an architect“, but he was really a professional student. He didn’t WANT to work. He enjoyed being the big man on campus. He had plenty of job offers; the school even set them up! He was just too lazy to get off his ass and do anything about them. Well, I had finally had enough. I was working 7 days a week. 40+ at the accounting firm, then I’d deliver subs, pizzas and other grub to all the munchie maniacs on Friday and Saturday nights. Sundays, I got to sleep in until a whopping 7:30 AM, then I delivered the Sunday local communist rag. Woohoo! After 10 years of that shit, I finally kicked him out. He had never been on ANY of my accounts, thankfully. I had read enough Ann Rule books and had SOME common sense. Then he had the absolute GALL to ask ME for alimony! I showed up to court with a ledger with every thin dime that he had sponged off me through the years and all of his excuses for not working. I let him have the shitty little condo that I had never liked, but I hadn’t want to spend anything on either, and was now just a roach motel, in fact I think the roaches didn‘t even wanna live with him. Actually, I stepped over a couple that were ratting him out to PETA about the conditions... He wouldn’t even move to clean the toilet, or the sink, or do dishes, or laundry, or just about anything else while I was out working my fingers to the bone. The last straw was when I heard him talking on the phone and he hung up when I poked my head into the single bedroom. No, I didn’t get to sleep there, which was fine by me. He was stupid enough to think that I’d believe that he was talking to a potential employer at 1 AM…Yeah Right…I didn’t just fall off the back of the turnip truck.

The next day I asked for a few hours off to tend to some personal business. Since I never took any time, I had more than enough prolly to walk around the world. And my boss knew that hubby was a jerk.

I came home early and found him in bed with some floozy that he had met on-line…the kind of people most found at a bowling alley, according to Sir John Gielgud in the original movie, "Arthur". He apologized up and down the line, but I took all my things, including the toilet paper, and rented a decent hotel room. I was kind enough to leave him a knife, fork, spoon, and a cereal bowl and a semi melted microwave dish that was about as flat as a corduroy road.

I went right to a lawyer whose business card I had taken when he was in for an audit…I had the divorce papers in the mail the very next day. Delivery Confirmation, Priority Overnight, Signature Needed. No way he was going to tell me that he never got them. I called him every day when I woke up, when I took a coffee break, at lunch, when I left at the end of the day, and when I got home, to have him send them back. I finally said "fuck it!", took another day off, and went to the apartment. I would have to burn my clothes and shoes, and be decontaminated by a hazmat team from the Atomic Energy Commission when I left.

There were Coney Island Whitefish schooling everywhere, cigarette butts on the tables, and it smelled like either a meth lab or there were tigers peeing on the rugs. I hadn’t even been gone two months yet! I “Cop Knocked” on the bedroom door to announce my presence. I really didn’t want to see the flavour of the month …of the day, or of the minute. He actually came out of the room. I brought a copy of the divorce papers for him to sign. I even brought a friend of my boss’ who worked in the Sheriff’s department for back up, or muscle, as the case might be. I had plenty of people that would help me out, if I asked.

He came out to the kitchen table, scratching his balls all the way…I figured he had crabs, ticks, fleas, or lice, or something worse that might cause gangrene and didn’t want to get too close. I took the papers out of a plastic bag, put down some paper towels I had brought with me for the occasion, and sat. I indicated where he was supposed to sign. He blinked at the light coming in through the open door, then at the papers. All the places he needed to sign were highlighted and had tape flags too, along with X’s next to the lines. I had to make it easy for the Neanderthal…no offense to actual Neanderthal people.

I handed him a stick pen I liberated from work. I used fountain pens because I loved how they wrote…And then the whining started. “How was he going to live? He had no money. He had no job. He was sick and couldn’t take care of himself“…I couldn’t help it if his sickness was laziness and it was terminal…I was amazed that he never hired anyone to breathe for him, or to hold his penis when he urinated, or to wipe his ass after he shit. Once again I had to ask myself what the Hell I had ever seen in him in the first place.

I could’ve lived happily, healthily, and richly as a spinster. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. My mother (here we go again) introduced us. He went to her church. I could’ve cared less about that stuff. I think he went only to hit up old ladies for money with his cons…oops, sob stories. My mother said he was nice, polite and clean…requisites for her. I drooled over the biker types, but would never have approached one without a whip and a chair and a flea collar. Brain power was the most sexy to me anyways. He really WAS nice, and polite, and he never did anything to get dirty. He was just a “vanilla” person if that makes any sense. He wasn’t for me. My mother was head over heels in love with him and wanted him in the family at all costs. I KNEW that she had given him money to take me out the first time, and he asked her every time after that. I should’ve known, but didn’t find out until much later. He pressured me to marry him after a month, saying that we were soul mates. I KNEW that was bullshit, there was NO SUCH THING, but HE was pressuring me, my mother was pressuring me…and I buckled like a tectonic plate. My mother wanted the white gown, veil deal. Jeans and a tee were what I wanted. I was out-voted. We got married in HER church with all HER friends buzzing around like flies around shit. She was the star of the show and I let her do it. I didn’t invite any of my fellow employees: I was there under protest myself.

It didn’t take too long to realize that all of his “virtues” were really shortcomings. He was nice cuz he was a bullshit artist. Polite for the same reason. Clean cuz he never friggin' worked! He’d talk a good game about all these plans that were just waiting to come up…yeah right. You could only keep me in the dark and feed me shit for so long before I remembered that I wasn’t a mushroom…

Nano 2011

I sorta started a bit ahead. Not really cheating, but not in line with all the rules. I only did because I KNEW that I was going to be a mess after the surgery, which is another post for another day...

This story I based on my walks in Pond Meadow Park and my friend, Mr. Joe, and the critters I'd see and what might happen if there was an entrance to the Land of the Fae there.

I LOVE urban fantasy, especially Charles DeLint and Jim Butcher.

I've read almost ALL of Charles DeLint's older stories except for the Fair at Emain Macha and the Riddle of the Wren, but I'll find em somehow and be able to enjoy them.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charles_de_Lint

He's a very prolific writer as you can see.

Jim Butcher, only two words apply here, Harry Dresden...My SIL got me interested in him and Sookie Stackhouse. DS even did his Halloween costume as Harry Dresden, and it was AWESOME!!! He did a really pissah job on it.
Notice the resemblence? http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/6219313-storm-front

He even made his own staff and shield bracelet:


He was trying for a good mix between TV Harry and Book Harry and did it almost all by himself. He asked for advice a couple of times and I was able to do it. Don't tell him, but I'm proud of the work he put into it and how it came out.

Now, where was I? I can only blame that informative tangent on the Oxy's...hehe.

I really LOVE walking Pond Meadow. I'd see all sortsa birdies, chipmunks all over, squirrels,both grey and red (which I didn't even know that we had)

I've even seen a Green Heron once and flushed a regular one from it's nest...Talk about a pterodactyl looking beastie with that wingspan...Yikes. And I can't forget to mention the battery sucking Great Blue Heron...it didn't matter if I had just put batteries in the camera, as soon as I tried to snap a picture of the SOB, the batteries were dead...

We also have Swans, Canada Geese, Mallard Ducks, Snapping Turtles (I think the one that almost got DS is gone by now; he was old and huge THEN) Eastern Painted Turtles, and Red Eared Sliders. I've also seen Ribbon/Garter snakes, and there's some sorta fish in the actual pond, prolly like carp or some such.

I'll hafta write more tomorrow...I hurt too much right now...

Oh what fun this year has been too...

Gods, it's been a while...pfft.

To say the very least the last two years have been a long strange trip... injury, pain, mayhem, all inclusive to say the very least.

I went back to work in March after the operation on my shoulder and the one to slap my pacemaker in...I have a lovely new scar.

Ain't it just loverly? And every 5-7 years they open it up to change the batteries...groovy eh? It doesn't take as long to do it as the first time, supposedly. That's what I've heard anyways...

I've also convinced myself to do the valve operation that I need to do...I'm not happy about it,but it needs to be done...

I've seen the Bach Doctor a couple of times, and Sasha too. I've been emailing Dr. Sasha a few times...

Michael J. Landzberg, MD

Michael Landzberg, MD, is board certified in Internal Medicine and Adult Cardiology, and is the founder and director of the Boston Adult Congenital Heart (BACH) and Pulmonary Hypertension Service. His areas of particular clinical and research expertise include novel catheter-based diagnostic and therapeutic techniques, pulmonary hypertensive disorders, and coronary arterial issues in congenital heart disease. He’s recognized as a leader in the care of adults with congenital heart disease and sits on national and international task forces and committees.

Doctor Sasha is camera shy...silly boy.

Way back in June I had a cardiac stress test, like the past two years haven't been one? sheesh.

I guess it went okay.

In July my sister and I went to the Manning Bowl in Lynn for DCI. Drum Corps International. We had a great time. I even bought a Cavaliers t. There'll be a post on that coming up.

My thyroid's still fucked up...pfft...whatevah

Later on in July I had a cardiac echo. Yays for non invasive tests! I just hadta lay there and try not to squirm when the tech was jabbing the thingee into my rib cartilage. I felt bruised all ovah.

On that same day, I also got to go sit in a little teeny clear telephone booth...I'm claustrophobic. This wonderful test was to test my lung functions. Groovy.

In August was my pacemaker appointment. That's doing well. At least something is...

Since I've been back to work, I've been working a bajillionty hours too...when I first came back, it was all I could do to just crawl up the stairs when I got home.

On a better, sorta note, I've been actually losing weight. In February I was 201, in April 199, in August 193.6 and when I just had another test it was 192. There's something to be said for running around like Mike the Headless Chicken at work...

On August 22 I had my 7th and 8th Cardiac Catheterizations...ugh. Dr. Landzberg actually did it! Wow...I couldn't believe that. He's very pleased that I'm doing it...me, not so friggin' much. AND they only give you enough anesthetic to make you loopy, not enough to put you out...it's called "twilight sleep" and I fucking HATE it! When you're little and you wake up in the middle of an operation, you don't forget it. That is WHY I don't like "twilight sleep".

They don't sew you shut anymore, they use pressure instead. The guy who they used was very good. Unfortunately I had my period again...ugh. Must be being in the hospital. Pfft. Certainly didn't help having blood thinners injected. Oh yeah. I also had radio opague dye injected. It felt like I was swallowing the sun...very odd sensation...

The good news on THAT front was that ALL of my cardiac veins and arteries were clean and clear...unfortunately, my pulmonary artery is a fucking mess. It has stenosis (a sorta traffic jam) and a bend and one of my arm vein shunts has little feeders which are gonna make the heart valve replacement shit even more of a goat fuck cuz they're gonna hafta tie em all off.

You see the pulmonary valve...that's the one that needs to be replaced. It only has 2 flaps instead of 3. The Ventricular defect was fixed with a patch twice. My right ventricle is hypertrophic...sorta like this poor guy.

Sorta overgrows itself because it has to work twice as hard.

The aorta had to be fixed with an arm vein...I'm still wondering how the Hell they were able to just snag one...still haven't figured it out.

Ooops got off on a tangent there...so sorry.

I got to have another test WooHoo! NOT!!!

This one was a VQ Scan. This was to see how the blood flow to the lungs were. It turned out NOT good. The right one is at 3/4ths and the left one is a 23% so between the two I have 100% blood flow...That was what Sasha wrote me about. Now they need to find if the surgeon wants to do ANOTHER cath to put a stent in the Pulmonary Valve BEFORE the replacement or just do it during.

I got the directions for the VQ Scan but I didn't think about WHERE it actually was. I did okay until I saw Avenue Louis Pasteur. Shit shit shit! I felt fear all the way into my genetic material. All I had to do was see the sign and the building across the street and I wanted to run for the fucking hills. We parked and did all that. Went to information and got the way we were sposta go...unfortunately it was in the building that I remembered being in, the Fagen. Now, it's been 40 fucking YEARS since I've been there and I know it's changed some, but there's no way in HELL that you can tell a grown up that had shit done to them when they were young that they still don't feel that fear that most closely resembles the primeval fear of the dark and things that go bump in the night. It's the bowel loosening, involuntary peeing oneself type of fear. We, of course, were way too early. I just broke down...I was shaking and crying...

PTSD was raising it's ugly head. Dammit!

At least the surgeon that Sasha said is going to do my surgery knows his stuff.

Sitaram Emani

He's even done a heart transplant on a young girl. And other surgeries on little itty bitty babies.

I will get to meet him on the 18th of October when I go in for the pre-op tests...On the 19th I have the surgery. I get to spend 5-7 days in the hospital...I'm gonna miss my house.

That's the news so far...pfft.

Back again...

Well my year wound up getting more interesting...

I went in for the surgery on my shoulder in October. Oh what fun...I had done Personal Torture and that helped a little but nowhere near enough.

I had some bone spurs that needed to be sanded down/planed off. Just a lovely as it sounds, put that helped a ton just to start. The next thing they found was that the labrum was torn...but the rotator cuff was fine. Thank the Gods, cuz that woulda be 4-6 months of healing...

Looks like their using swords and chopsticks doesn't it? I had three holes in the front of the shoulder and one in the back...
It's DAY surgery too! I was sent home wrapped up like a mummy with an electric ice chest, horsepills of ibuprofen and oxy's. Don't remember much of the first couple of days...wonder why?
I also had a catheter that was pumping pain meds right into the joint...arm? what arm? The REAL fun came when Ernie had to pull it out...I figured a couple of inches...God Damned Thing felt like it was a mile long! I almost blacked out from the pain, which is saying alot for me. It was like a foot long in actuality. Wished I had kept it...noone would believe it...

So I have my arm in a sling for a couple of days, living on Oxy's and Ibuprofen with my little ice chest. AND I'm sleeping in Orange Chair, which is an Orange Velvet-ish LazyBoy recliner...You can't sleep on your back or anything else, but being in the Orange Chair was a great help. Ernie was doing all the cooking.

A couple of weeks in, I can use my arm a tiny bit, but still sleep with the sling on. It's quite an adventure to do stuff with your other hand, but I did okay.

It's a weekend and I'm hearing some scurrying sounds...hmm. What could it be? I see a little grey critter run out from behind the fish tank. It's not a mouse or a rat...It's a vole...too cute. BUT if Ernie sees him, all Hell's gonna break loose. So I watch to see where it goes. Under the fish tank, under Orange chair and into the dining room and back...okay. I can do this! I grab the fish net and I scoop up the little mofo. I have him in the net and have his tail. Ernie's like what the hell are you doing?
Umm Catching a vole? Can you open the door so I can toss him out?
Out he goes to do vole stuff.

Next night I hear screaming about a mouse being in Mike's room. Mike's the biggest fucking sissy EVAH!!! Dear Gods, you'd think that he's being raped by Freddie Kreuger...So I grab the fish net again. I'm going up the stairs, vole's trying to get down the stairs. Scoop and tail and out he goes... jeeze...
Isn't he cute? Vicious looking isn't he? pfft.

So now it's time for me to do the Post Op Personal Torture. I have a date all nice and set up. The night before which is a Wed, I wasn't feeling to spiffy. I felt like my head was a volcano that was going to erupt. It was a wierd sensation...My heart would start thumping and then the volcano thing. And I was just sitting...so I went to bed in Orange Chair early...

Next morning, I feel okay...sitting at the puter trying to work on my 2010 NaNo. I figured I should just change my PT appointment and called the office.

That was a good thing too...because more fun was on the way.

I stood up, I think, to get another cup of coffee or do something...next thing I know I'm on the floor flopping around like a Magikarp.

My head is smashing against the table. Very glad I didn't break it. The table, not my head...
I can't get up! I can't move except for Flail Attack. What the Hell am I gonna do?! As far as I know Obelisk can't dial the phone, neither can Boogie or the fish...
Everything's going black...Oh fuck Oh shit what can I do? I'm still trying to get up...it ain't gonna happen.
Next thing I know, some guy is yelling in my ear "Get Up Stupid!" I still can't but the next thing I remember I'm back in my chair. Remember there's only me and the critters...there's no one else in the house and I don't recognize the voice.

I immediately call Ernie at work and tell him to get his ass the hell home like Yesterday!!!

He gets home about an hour later...I'm in Orange Chair, scared shitless...I got Obelisk back on the porch. Poor bird was all freaked out...prolly pissed that she didn't get to eat my eyeballs.

He carts me over to South Shore...I sit in a wheelchair and wait for him to park...Then we go in. I don't remember tons of stuff, like why the hell I'm there...my meds, how to spell my last name...I start to go down again...I get shoved into a wheel chair. Ernie's booking me in...the check in nurse was a holier than thou born again Cunt! Sorry but she WAS...She asked religion, not that I haven't been there before and I'm prolly one of the only of my ilk that darken their doors. Ernie answered, Witch or Wiccan or Pagan. Like a good doobie...She looks at him and says, "Well, maybe THAT's her problem."
What a fucking unprofessional thing to say! Glad I didn't hear this til later or I woulda ripped her a new asshole.

I get ECG'd and O2 and 2 IV's. They couldn't get one in the left so a Scituate paramedic did it. But they were able to get one in the right. At least it takes a shorter time for me to head off to Brigham and Womens...pfft. It's now like 2 in the after. Mike's gonna be home from school soon. So Ernie has to go. We'll meet up at B&W.

I have IV's and pads and all the other shit...jeeze. At least my O2's fine so I don't have to deal with that too...More ECG's...but no more of the volcano things...thank the Gods.

I don't remember most of the day to tellya the truth...About 5 Ernie and Mike come back, but I ain't there. I've been sent to the bowels of the place because I'm gonna have a pacemaker put in...but not JUST a pacemaker, a defibrillator pacemaker...It's about the size of my cellphone...Gods know I DID sign the paper...I remember listening to them all talking about it.

And they had to shave me again, just in case they needed to do an ablation/cath while they were there...

Unfortunately, my heart was in the right place, which in this case is the left side...where I just had surgery on my FRIGGIN SHOULDER!!! Just fucking ducky!!

Talk about Wham Bam Thank You Ma'am! I was duly processed, transported, and implanted within just a few hours...

I was back in Shapiro with the good eats and hotel room...different side this time. The next day I was gotten up and shuffled down the hall. I did okay...friggin sore though. Had a humungous bandage and IV's, but I could at least pee in the bathroom.

Landzberg the Bach doctor came by and talked to me about the valve replacement again...ick.
A bunch of interns and n00bs too...I feel like the last of my kind...

But at least everything's working okay, thank the Gods. And whomever got me back off the floor. I do rather appreciate not being carpet jerky for Mike to find...

My motto for the year is "Not goin' to Heaven in 2011".

TSUNALI TREASURY HUNT #4 Part 2

This is the last part of our Treasury Hunt. I really hope you've enjoyed seeing all the lovely items we've made.

First is HollyStorm http://www.blogger.com/www.hollystorm.etsy.com She has fabric clutches, very interesting fabric bracelets and some jewelry.

This is my fave from her shop...I'm one of those odd people who happen to LIKE the colour Orange...

I'd wear it every day too. I still have a leather bracelet I made in 72 and all of the studded bracelets I wore in my metal days in the 80's...ahem...moving right along...

Next is another wonderful person. Barbrie777 http://www.barbrie777.etsy.com/ This shop has her jewelry, and her famous EarthMotherCollection. These wonderful people can even be found at our illustrious Smithsonian Museum. She has a supply shop too, but I'm not gonna give you the addy cuz I just saw some neat goodies for ME, so there...
This is one of her people:

Isn't he just handsome?

This is her prize for the contest, some lovely lavendar sachets:
Can't you just smell that? Oh you can't? bugger...Computers should come with scratch and sniff options or smell-o-vision...

Third on this list is my alter ego, AKiwiSilkie http://www.akiwisilkie.etsy.com/ This is my mundane shop whereas HowlingCaterpillars is more on the magickal side of things.

This shop has DreamWebs, destash that have been lurking in the cellar, jewelry and other goodies.

This is my prize for the contest, a Zodiac Bottle of your choice:

Our last tsunali is Promises,Promises http://www.blogger.com/www.promisespromises.etsy.com Her shop specializes in horses of all types along with some paintings and neat scrollwork ornaments.

This one of her horses is soooo me!"Do these wings make my butt look big?"

Her prize for the contest is a set of wooden scrollsaw horse ornaments.

That's it...darn it!

It's been really fun for me introducing the NA forum folks. Hope you've enjoyed your treasury hunting...