The heart has its reasons

It's funny, the things that finally break you. After the last hideous year, I thought it would be losing Sophie.

But no. It's having my granddaughter pour my shampoo out on the floor of the shower stall, having a bill collector call on a bill I simply cannot pay at this time, and being apprised of the fact that my boy and DIL are leaving early tomorrow morning and returning on Monday evening, so that I will be in charge of the kids until then.

That means taking to school, soccer, etc..

I think the shampoo was what really did it.

I have no savings, no money--at least not once I pay my health insurance--no job, no job prospects, and not even life insurance. I'd die, but there's no profit in it.

La la la la life goes on.

Current Mood: lonely

Nikki and I buried Sophie this afternoon and planted a Double Delight tea rose on the grave. It was possibly the most painful thing I've had to do in my life, and I'm including the damn divorce.

She has a 100% Egyptian cotton, jaquard weave shroud and a kiss, and we plan on cherishing the rose so that the flowers are her memorial.

Current Mood: distressed

Sophie was a foundling, apparently part of a litter that some bitch or bastard dumped by the roadside. My boy found her on his way home from driver's ed. I stopped and got weaning formula on my way home, but she wouldn't take it and I was terrified she was going to die on us; she could not have been more than three or four weeks old because her eyes were that deep blue. She was in starvation mode and her eyes were too big for her little head. We ended up pouring the formula over kibble until it turned into kind of a slurry. That she ate, and even though we tried to find a good home other than ours, she came back to us.

I believe she thought I was her mother, poor lamb. She could be annoyingly timid, but we knew it was a holdover from her infancy and the abandonment. She was also incredibly squeaky and demanding. Her first names that weren't names were Squidge, Squeaker, and Wormface (because she would get on top of my TV and hang paws and tail over the front, annoying me greatly when I had the flu and was on a bad move binge.

She got bolder over the years and we were so proud. When Mouse moved up, she laid claim to Mouse, even though technically Mouse was Lily's person. Mouse was likewise smitten. My DIL is going to break the news to her because if I have to I will be gibbering.

She seemed to get sick very quickly, but I think I missed the signs. I bitterly wish I had caught them. I bitterly wish I had asked Dr Jones to put the feeding tube in last Friday.

She seemed to be doing better, at least in terms of keeping down the slurry I was feeding into the feeding tube. I was very worried about her lethargy, but when I talked to Dr Jones around fourish, I felt heartened that this lethargy was not unusual, given where she was.

At six, I gave her another feeding. She didn't keep that down, and her breathing seemed...well, odd. I let her rest, and tried again at eight, with a smaller amount. That seemed to go down without trouble, and I let her rest again until something like nine, maybe a bit later. I was very carefully to inject it very very slowly into the feeding tube, but despite this, about thirty minutes later, she vomited again. I picked her up to make sure her head was well above her stomach and the vomiting seemed to stop, but her breathing was, again, very odd.

My DIL came in around this time and Sophie raised her eyes and looked at her, so she was still tracking. More vomiting followed. Things went to hell then. Her breathing reminded me of what In read about the Cheynes-Stokes respiration and that was when I entered a state of panicked denial. (I have since gone back to read information on Cheynes-Stokes, and it appears my memory was faulty, what I hearing was probably the start of a death rattle.) I picked her up and held her, but her eyes seemed fixed. I stroked the top of her head and demanded that she hold on, "don't you dare let go!" and gathered her up and started up the stairs. I was already weeping, and my DIL heard me and sounded alarm when she called my name. I said something about thinking she was dying, and before I was all the way upstairs,n my6 boy had looked up the location of the emergency vet service. My DIL said, "Mom, let me take her, you need your shoes," and I handed Sophie to her just as Sophie's bladder let go. Since she was wrapped in towels, I had only to get some clean ones, but I couldn't tell if she was breathing. She gave one last exhalation while I was trying to feel her heart beat. Before we reached the corner of the subdivision, i think I knew she was gone, but couldn't face it yet.

It wasn't until I could feel she was growing cool on the way to the emergency vet service that I finally let myself know.

They were very kind there, closed her poor little eyes, and wrapped her up nicely with her little head and face showing so I could kiss the top of her head.

My boy and his wife - with the emphasis on his wife, since my boy is the softhearted curmudgeon - were very kind and very sweet.

Sophie is wrapped snugly and is 'sleeping' in her pet carrier until tomorrow, when we will bury her in the yard. I'n going to -plant a rose over her.

Needless to say, I am bleeding internally in ways I have only begun to discover.

I wish I'd caught it sooner. I wish we'd done the feeding tube earlier.

I saved Lily. I failed Sophie.

Resr in peace, my dear little girl.

To all who have been kind enough to leave condolences, thank you, quite honestly. My eyes feeling boiled and it's going to take a lot of booze for me to get to sleep.

I am about done with life, let me tell you. I love my kids and grandkids, but seriously, too many body blows this year.

This is me giving the finger to the universe.

Current Mood: exhausted

Sophie died in my arms at 10:12 pm CDT.

Current Mood: sad

Sophie is still in the hospital. That's about three days more than they initially quoted me for what the cost will be. I was just barely, by the skin of my teeth, going to be able to give them half of the amount due when I picked her up, and the remainder next week. Now? It seems very likely that the bill, if she is allowed to come home tomorrow, will be closer to six hundred dollars. Plus, she'll need a weekly checkup.

At present, she is better, but still not well. Her hip bones and shoulder blades, or shoulder joints, I suppose, are literally palpable; her beautiful tortoise shell fur is loose on her bones. She's still more jaundiced than I had hoped, They are force feeding her, more or less, but according to the vet, whatever Sophie's misgivings, she bears with them and doesn't fight it.

If I can't successfully get her fed using a syringe, she will have to have a feeding tube.

So, so, so, I am so relieved that she's improving I can't say, but at the same time, the back of my head has a cash register in it going ka-ching every time another new thing comes up. I hope they keep working with me, because seriously, not letting her go.

The grandzootlet is a rough and tumble tomboy in a lot of ways. She, according to her father, beats her big brother up in a showdown. Other times, she's very sweet to him. Brother tends to be a bit on the whiny side when she's bugging him, but I can't blame him. Except when he gets her stirred up and then complains.

And I'm researching sixteenth and seventeenth century Heaths and Chapmans from Hertford, Herts or, because they were surprisinly mobile. There was an article in the NEHGS Register re: Heaths, but I beliieve the author has conflated some of the emigrant Heaths with my Heaths. Simon Chapman and Mary Heath married in Digswell, Herts, and their three children were baptised there.

My apologies for not responding to individual comments; I do read them, but this week has been sort of black hole of memory and energy. I thank you nevertheless, and I am reading them and appreciate them. Thanks.

( Oh, the felinity of it.... )

Current Mood: drained

I haven't been reading this/these threads, though I have seen comments here and there about, ranging from thoughtful and intelligent to looney tunes, so I may be completely wrong about what is being argued.

Nevertheless, as a middle-aged white woman, everytime I see these discussions, I am reminded of a couple of things my friend Ardelia once discussed.

1. White women really cannot claim sisterhood with anyone Asian or anyone not Caucasian on the basis of sexism because, hello, we may experience undeniable and destructive sexism, but when it comes to race, we wear the face of privilege. Ardelia claims that when I told her that, she made me an honorary African American because in her entire life, she'd never known a white woman who got that. I told her that was because she spent her early life surrounded by Mormons, and since we had been friends for a while, could she tell me why the hell her mother had converted to LDS given, hello, institutionalized racism that insisted only white men like the Romneys could be priests?

2. Until those of us who do wear the face of privilege invest ourselves emotionally, financially and morally to fight racism, especially within ourselves, it's always going to be a harder battle than it needs to be.

3. Since I do wear the face of privilege, I often am appalled more than she is when she tells me some story about things that were said to her or around her. I am then more appalled when she indicates that passed right over her head since it wasn't egregiously obvious because nothing could be more indicative of how it is to not wear the face of privilege.

4. When I nearly had a meltdown and stroke over my SIL's stepfather's ignorance and racist bullshit, she repeated that I was an honorary black woman. I declined that because when I looked at my daughter's Bambi in the headlights eyes at the dinner table that night, I managed not to say anything that would have otherwise come out of my mouth. Now, bear in mind that in cases of ignorance of that level, I do that lady-like "I really am not comfortable hearing epithets of that nature" because to say anything else, like "STFU, asshole" opens a door that seldom is constructive. Most, but not all, assholes of that stripe are sufficiently sexist that doing the lady-like thing at least shames them into not spitting tobacco on the floor. :rolls eyes:

Over the years, I've become more sensitive to the fact that, oh, hey, magazines and movies and advertisements (in all media) and television shows (did all X Files fans fail to notice just how lily white that show was? Ditto Millenium?) are a wasteland of white faces with the rare Asian or black or Native American or Hispanic face, except as the rare background face. And interestingly, the studly bald white guy AD was a good guy, but the black guy AD was an evol part of the conspiracy. The fact that most of us don't notice this should be illuminating, but seldom is. Sure, racism is not exclusive to those who *do* wear the face of privilege; nevertheless, that privilege itself is key. I can't imagine what it is to overlook less overt disrespectful behavior because it just isn't that obvious. Ardelia is frequently surprised when she tells me about behavior that she has taken as aimed at her personally rather than racist when it seems so blatant to me, and the day in and day out experiences that form her view boggle my mind.

So what it comes down to is this:

We are all subject to unconscious, internalized racist twitches and myopia. Most of us don't want to face that. Fewer of us don't give a shit. But in my view and experience, the defensiveness exhibited by most people who claim they aren't acting on that unconscious and internalized racism means that at some level, they realize that the accusation has some merit and they tie themselves into knots attempting to insist that it's not true.

Get the fuck over it. We're all human and flawed, and denying that and denying that we are capable of bad behavior is idiotic. When we insist that everyone else is wrong--well, my mom's standard and annoying phrase was always 'Is everyone out of step but you?"

And seriously, how often does this discussion have to take place before people actually understand any of the above? Yes, I missed most of the socialization that led to a lot of the unconscious badness; nevertheless, going to public school, reading newspapers, watching TV, etc, meant that I only escaped the worst of it. Even as an honorary sister, I still have to confront it in myself every damn day of the week.

Although I admit, I am so worn out by angry, middle aged white men (Repuglicans or not) that I actually err in the opposite direction some days.

As a completely amusing and unrelated aside, btw, Ardelia apparently attended the same school at the same time as Michelle Obama. Oooooh, sez I, I get to do that six degrees, only its only two!\

In other news, I am rapidly realizing that even though I do watch profanity around the grandzootlet, I also need to watch out for impatience. Little one, while waiting for her movie to start says, "Oh, tum on!" Today, I prevented her from escaping from Mama, and she said, "Oh, gweat!" in tones of serious resignation. And despite watching the profanity, I apparently said 'Dammit' the other day, because when she dropped her cookie this morning, she said clearly, "Dammit!"

Bad Nana, no biscuit.

Current Mood: contemplative

But February certainly is.

( And somewhat spooky besides )

So, mz_bstone tagged me with five things:

Crochet

It's true that in times of stress (or while quitting smoking), I do crochet like a a crochet machine. There is no one in my family now who does not have a crocheted throw/afghan. I also, less frequently, knit. Knitting takes much more paying attention and dropping a stitch is far worse in knitting. I suppose that it serves to both calm me down and make me feel as if I'm accomplishing something.

Lily

Lily does get more press online than Sophie does, and lately, poor Lily's glaucoma has led to more mention of her, but Lily--well, Lily's original name was Lilith, primary because she came into our house, a seven week old the color of charcoal, and immediately buffaloed the two males within 24 hours. She then, later, became the Little Bitty Rat, which ended up truncated to Bitty. People who knew us back then still call her Bitty, which is funny, because she apparently approves of Lily and answers to it, more or less. Or at least as much as any cat does. Most of the time she just turns her head.

At any rate, Lily was, in essence, the Queen of the House, at least until my Boy found Sophie (dumped at about three weeks of age or so, because her eyes were still blue), and boy was she ticked off about having another female in the house. It took nearly six years before she condescended to sleep on my bed.

Grandbabies

You know you're a grandparent when you have to bite your tongue about your kids' parenting style. That's a bit unfair, but since zootlet is somewhat high maintenance (not to mention insatiably curious and fearless and incredibly stubborn), her parents have, quite rightly, learned to ignore the fits (such as when she doesn't want to go to bed). The only thing I see as wrong with this that is this: some kids really will just let go, forget their grievance, stop howling and go to sleep; some kids, after winding themselves up into tantrum and hysterics, need something to allow them to back that temper or hysteria right down. Generally, some kind of touch and reasonably calm talk will help them do it. My Boy rarely needed it; Mouse, on the other hand, needed it far more often. I joke that Zootlet is Leo rising, whereas Mouse is Leo Sun and Moon. At any rate, I do remember how it felt dealing with that kind of strong will, so I will generally come upstairs and put her back to bed (see above).

I'd have to say that all but one family member (including my parents, all but one sib, both my kids, both their spouses, and the grandbabies really do come in even; it's just that little squeaky wheels get the grease, aka closer attention.

Writing

Not so much these days, unless you count nonfiction sketching out one of the history related books on my agenda. (See below) I know that I probably will write again, and enjoy it, but we're on semi-perm hiatus these days.

Genealogy

Ah, my all purpose historical, genealogical research (aka, my version of escapism), it does live in my brain. I suppose it started out as a way to put together our three fractured generations, to find our roots, ethnic or national, and continues now as fascination with those people and their lives, which we call history, and massive irritation with lousy researchers.

That's about it. One supposes that if others wish me to play the game for them, they feel free to leave a comment. Or not.

Drive by posting, since I've had a very relaxing day and two glasses of wine. Items that cause amusement or joy:

Discussion with my son who said that Israel is bombing the shit out of Gaza right now because sure as spit, once Bush et al are gone, they're not going to get presidential defense from this side of the pond
Amusing addendum: Israel announces unilateral cease fire two days before Obama takes office.

Discussion with my son over future plans: I ask his advice and he's more than okay with me going back to school and living with them, especially if he gets his full time Guard position requiring TDY time.

Discussion with my son and DIL after the zootlet threw up on me unexpectedly and I startled her and got her out of my lap quickly while snatching after dirty towels from the laundry to catch the spew: I felt terrible because she sort of whimpered sort of half-sobbed, and they were all, oh, she's fine, the whole hurling thing was an unpleasant surprise for her.

Get together with my wonderful Zen Buddhist friend Pam. :does Snoopy dance: It was so lovely, like no time whatsoever had passed.

Get together with my other very old friend Sherry and her husband Rhyse: Above, and boy, that was a delight.

Telephone conversation with Ardelia that was deligh

Except for two glasses of wine, 'in the box' all week, go me. Strangely, while some clothing is still a warning of snugness, I think I may have actually been burning some weight chasing babies (it's the stairs) because one of my favorite sweaters suddenly appears to be longer in the arms than it ought. Maybe that's cautious hopefulness, not unlike my political state of mind.

Pelosi and Reid, no surprise, are showing their colors and it is my fervent hope that their ratings sink further into the toilet.

Hilarity ensued when Pam told me that a mutual friend, who apparently had become acquainted via the son of one of his friends with Pam's eldest stepson, has an apparent addiction to anime porn. You cannot imagine someone I would think least likely to do so. Needless to say, we are not bruiting it about here.

Pamela has a rescued dog who is about five who is a darling darling girl, and so sweet and easily made afraid, but she came and cuddled up to me after I crouched and held my hand out low and palm up. Her Cairn terrier pup, naturally, climbed completely in my lap. For someone who apparently has people problems, I must say, animals know a kindred, equal opportunity animal lover. Although my people problems tend to be either major misunderstandings or the result of betrayal or back stabbing. It's nice to be back here where I can remember untrue more often than true. :happy sigh:

Wichita is, of course, Wichita, home of David and Charles Koch who reportedly stole oil from the Osage tribe wells. (This interests me slightly because of a cold blooded murder plot against Native women who married white men, subsequently died under suspicious circumstances and left their oil rights to their husbands. If you have not read the British edition of 'The Best Democracy Money Can Buy' and you are a Wichita native who actually swallows the image of the Koch brothers as beneficent lords of the manor, you must read at least parts of it.)

Nevertheless, despite this, I can think of nowhere I am more greatly needed than right here.

And I'm not talking about my son, my DIL, or the grandbabies, I'm talking about my vote, heh.

Arbor Mist may, in fact, be what I call a pop wine, but the blackberry merlot is mighty tasty.

The pin in my wrist has now begun to hurt like holy hell, I'm six tablets into my monthly Imitrex supply, my right wrist hurts like holy hell on the radius for no apparent reason, I'm seriously having bad neck problems, and frankly, I'm just thinking that with the dislocated worker program, I need to decide if I want to do the technical expansion courses and throw caution to the winds and do the history major. Not to mention Rhyse gave me the name and number of an attorneyn who handles disability issues with the SSA and usually on a contingency basis and within six months.

I'm thinking out of the box, heh.

And just to make it clear vis a vis the first item, as far as I am concerned, Israel has lost the moral high ground long since, but when the UN specifically gives the GPS coordinates of noncombatant and civilian areas to Israel and the sites are subsequently hit by Israeli white phosphorus rounds, I am aghast and astounded that the children of the those who came to Israel after the Holocaust have no awareness that they have crossed the line and become the same as the enemy.

This is coming from a woman who had sympathy for the Mossad squads who went after the murderers of the Israeli athletes.

But hey, unilateral cease fire.

I'm thinking Obama is crazy like a fox, but my son is in wait and see mode. I hope I'm right this time, heh.

And lastly, the thing that cracks me the hell up is all the people who are seriously warm for Joe Flanigan's form and all atwitter about any proposed repeal of Don't Ask, Don't Tell as one stop loss method. Have any of them paid attention to his pre-acting career when he worked as a front man for Bush Senior?

Heh.

As my son says, Senior may have been an evil spook, but he was a mostly competent evil spook.

And when I told Pam about the apocryphal tale that dear Barbara Bush was rumored to be Aleister Crowley's love child, her jaw dropped and she said, and I quote, "Oh, my god, she looks just like him."

Bwah.

Current Mood: cheerful

( Whatever this all is.... )

Current Mood: exhausted

( Good lord, Myra, get a life )

(  The Best Democracy Money Can Buy  )

( Speaking of nicknames )

( And again with the past eight horrifying years in mind )

Current Mood: contemplative

or something.

Ever since the broken wrist earlier this year, my degenerative disc problems have escalated in a major way. Of course, packing and hauling and moving didn't help.

What all this means, of course, is more medical bills. One supposes that it may help a bit with the SocSec disability application, but all that is sort of distant and removed and having my hands literally go numb when doing any kind of work with my hands is a lot more compelling. The other night, I had this brief, violent fantasy of getting a knife and diging into the major muscle spasms, which was absurd, since it 's obviously nerve involvement. I'm taking gabapentin for the nerve pain and one supposes it is working and would be much work withoutr, but mutha, let me tell you.

I got about two thirds of the disability application filled out and will finish it when I get my little W2 forms. I'm also going to have to go to a doctor and see if they're pain Nazis or I can get something to actually give me some relief.

Cuz honestly, it makes me fairly useless.

That little grandzootlet was talking when I arrived here, but since then, listening to her Mommy and me talk, she's taken great leaps in terms of sentences. You have to listen carefully, of course, but the other day she was in the back seat as we were getting ready to go to the ex husband's house and she was calling for Daddy. Out he came and got in the front seat, and she said, "Oh, d'ere you are" clear as a bell.

I asked her where her mommy was the other day when the minx made it downstairs to my room without anyone but me being the wiser. (She'd taken her baby gate at her door down and waltzed down the stairs naked. So, when I asked, she shrugged and said, "I do' know".

Then, and this cracks me up, she is used to me singing amazing Grace because lullabies I do not has them, so I sing a song I love and by golly it works.

Three weeks later, there's a thunderstorm at night and she ends up in bed with momy and daddy and makes them lie down and close their eyes yea, verily, she sings most of the song picture perfect, to soothe them back to sleep. Today, she had her little Lilo doll with her and if I kissed her, I had to likewise kiss Lilo. Leaps and bounds, I'm telling you.

So happily on prescription drugs, as well as some over the counter, I am going to sleep. Ciao and Happy New Year.

{S Anais, for Myra, think Birmingham, a harpy and loon, and the person of whom I said, I am very glad not to be on the same side of the poind as she, although I worried that you were.

Current Mood: sore

Or other.

So, Christmas was nice. Relaxed here at home with the kids, to dinner at the ex's, which was cool because his wife and I got to talk about him. Little zootlet adores her uncles, the ex's boys by his now wife, and they adore her, although they tend to forget they're supposed to be watching her, which led to her finding Nana's purse and putting mascara on her eyelids and the bridge of her nose. At least she has some idea of where it goes. She looked like a lovely little racoon in a white dress with silver embroidery and the cutest little not quite chignon on the top of her head.

Dinner was fun, and then back home for little zootlet's nap. My boy and dil got me, huzzah, a Shakespearian insults mug, and an I Can Has Cheezburger book. You can't say they don't know me, heh. Little zootlet had loads of fun with her uncles and her grandpa and grandma, and she adores her little black mary janes which click so nicely on the hardwood and kitchen tile. Clickety click.

Mouse and her man were likewise here. She's happy, or seems to be, and he's happy and they're still getting themselves settled, but all appears to be well.

All in all, a very pleasant day.

I'm going to be looking at the possibility for filing for disability. Give what others have gone through, I know it's not going to be a walk in the park. However, in addition to the fibro and CFS, which diagnoses are still looked at askance by the SSA, I do genuinely have degenerative disc disease in my neck. Lately, I've been waking up with the first few fingers of my left hand numb; last summer, it was the right that was screwed that way. Anyone reading this who has any pointers, please feel free.

I've sent my email address to a few people in case they are having difficulties, and since I've not heard back, I'm not sure if the holidays have kept them busy or if the emails failed to reach them. If the latter, please let me know here and I'll give it another shot.

And by the way, just for you Anais, I have to say, Jesus Frog, I just saw Myra Hindley reincarnated in an online photo and nearly fell off the bed.



PS I has opened ur presents and has eated them.

Current Mood: sleepy

Or something.

A year ago today, I was thinking that another year and stock prices going up, I might be able to exercise stock options, sell stock grants and borrow against my 401K to afford a downpayment on a house. In Minnesota.

How things change, eh?

So my daughter-in-law and I were somehow talking about New Year's resolutions and wandered from our mutual not much interest in them to things we'd like to have had closure on, and that eventually led to much snickering and reaching far backward in time and yadda....

So.

( My list )

So, the grandzootlet, she is a double handful, beautiful as she can be (even with her hair in her eyes), smart as a whip, and loves to sing. Unfortunately, this means she wants Nana to sing so she can sing along. She also goes to sleep for me during some songs, and her mama called me SuperNana. Bradleybear is actually READING, and in kindergarten. Man, they push them hard these days. Little girl is smart and wilful and stubborn and is scarily similar to her auntie Mouse at the same age. No wonder Mama gets overwhelmed. Sheesh.

No job, unemployment running out at the end of January, and apparently all the work from home opportunities are shills.

Ah, well. Here's to Christmas and Auld Lang Syne.

Current Mood: contemplative

For anyone interested, I can now be reached at {firstnamelastname}@gmail.com.

Anyone who doesn't know either my first name or my last name, you can try the lj/ij email; I've changed and confirmed my email address.

Current Mood: exhausted

( Countdown )

Current Mood: exhausted

I won't relax until there's a concession speech, but right now, I'm flying a bit anyway.

Right now, it looks like I might be able to start trusting my fellow Americans again for maybe the first time in a decade.

At the moment, my life sucks so far beyond the telling of it that the reality and the telling are in different galaxies, and all I am flashing on is Bobby Kennedy and this tentative, cautious hope blooming for the first time in a decade.

There's still a helluva lot of irreparable damage from the last decade, and a lot more possibly reparable damage, and let's not forget the vengeful trogs in the current administration who can still do so much damage prior to January.

But still, irrational as it may be, there's hope.

And that's pretty damned grand.

Current Mood: hopeful

Things are falling into place. On November 20th, I will leave Minnesota and arrive in Kansas. Are there any SGA fen there who aren't friends with the Birmingham cuckoo? Quien sabe. I am going to look up real life friends, however, and reconnect; I already have four in the queue, hah.

There are a few others I am also hoping to connect with as soon as I get there. Ironically, it's too bad, but Ardelia isn't there any longer, she's in Phoenix. There are, I hope, SCA people I can get locate later, I think, as well as others.

So, we've got the election taken care of, the move scheduled, and now it's just a question of making sure Lily isn't going blind and paying the lease cracking fee. And finishing the packing.

It's funny how things go full circle.

Current Mood: contemplative

The names are changed to protect the innocent.

The company that laid me off after three years had a contract with another company for which my new sister in law works. The work they did was so uniformly bad and the documentation so horrible that her company decided to terminate the contract and do their own work. So today they had a RIP party for the company that laid me off.

Maybe that's why the stock has dropped from 12.00 in January (30.00 a year prior) to 8.75. It is evil, but I confess, I am laughing my ass off.

Current Mood: amused

Go here to vote on Sarah Palin's qualifications and spread the word. Evidently, the Repuglicans had advanced warning and have flooded it.

http://www.pbs.org/now/polls/poll-435.html