July 1, 2000

"Massive Renovations"

Massive renovations, that's what we've got in store here. If I'm not so chatty here, it's because behind the scenes, things are being torn down, and moved, or removed to make room. The websites are being compressed into smaller space. All of my old journal entries are being preserved, but with most of the pictures missing. You'll have to pardon all those blank squares. Text doesn't take nearly the room that pictures do, so pictures go. The newer entries will remain as they are. Some of the pages that have to be removed will most likely be transferred at some later date to freebie sites, (Such as the pictorial tours of Arizona, funky cactus pages and what not!)

Actually, you might like the streamlined version better. There won't be so much voluminous stuff to wade through!

 

July 2, 2000

"You Are That Moment"

If there is a moment of regretting, then let it be done with equanimity. Lay down those heavy things and turn to face yourself. Touching hands to hands in the mirror, you know you've done what you could. Let the rest fall as useless. Embrace the truth: You are not your deeds, you are not your possessions. You are the doer of those deeds. You are that moment when thought and action come together. But you are not your thoughts, either. You are the one who thinks those things. Let them be unfettered and free. JAL, 7-1- 00

 

July 3, 2000

"Its Own Speed"

I woke near midnight with thrashing. My legs jumped rapidly, tossed by what I do not know. I couldn't lay like that any longer. Is it weariness from scrubbing out that thick syrupy mess that formed hidden underneath the kitchen cabinet? A couple of weeks ago, Laura found a cracked bottle of maple syrup on the shelf. She cleaned up the mess and forgot about it. A couple of days ago, Julia called me into the kitchen, all alarmed. A strange molasses like goo was near the edge of the cabinet. I assumed it had been something spilled on the floor and missed. I wiped it up and reassured Julia. Then the odd ooze at the cabinet edge showed again. We couldn't see anything that could be causing it. Finally we pulled out the bottom drawer, and tried to look at the floor underneath the cabinet.

Apparently the maple syrup had dripped onto the floor, which is hidden by the shelves and drawers. The job of cleaning it fell to me. I stripped naked, except for my slip. I wasn't about to get my clothes dirty. It was a mess to clean up! I had to use a long tong with rags in it to reach the far end of the floor underneath the shelves. At first I used paper towels to gather as much syrup as I could, then soapy rags. My fingers cramped terribly. But it's clean now.

I took a bath, and relaxed the rest of the day. Before going to bed last night, the soft dreamy music of Loreena McKennitt provided a perfect back drop for poem inspiration:

Its Own Speed If I stood at the one white gate until time stood still . . . (It would not . . . ) But if . . . Then all the hardest riches would fall on me like a weight. Time needs rushing. Things cannot happen all at once. Let time choose its own speed. JAL, 7-2- 00

 

July 5, 2000

"Maybe Tomorrow"

Red white and blue day today, as was yesterday. The blue, well that's my mood, the red, it's ahh-h-h-h you know, THAT TIME. The white, well, maybe I don't have anything for that one. Well, maybe I do . . .

On the United States flag, the stars are white. Maybe the white can be the small stars, which I read somewhere represent optimism if a person doodles them. I can't let loose of hope that things are going to get better, that maybe those stupid doctors will find out what's wrong with Julia, that maybe all those other things we worry about won't crush us under . . .

. . . you know, this is just too depressing. I can't post this to the web today. Maybe tomorrow will be better.

 

July 6, 2000

"Yes, Tomorrow"

Today was the long awaited appointment with the neurologist. Dr Forrer took a lot of time with Julia and we know more than we knew before. She's definately had nerve damage, most likely resulting from damage to the neck. He suspects a herniated disk, but a MRI scan will reveal the full truth. He give her more potent painkillers, so the wait should be more bearable.

The little kitty we had sojourning with us has found a permanent home. We loved Bantus (Laura did give in to my name choice), but it was only a few days before Laura was blowing and sneezing. He will bring our friend Richard a lot of joy, though. Richard reports:

''Moving here has definitely NOT been traumatic (for him, anyway) and he's old enough to begin to react to one of the outside cats being in heat. I've decided to keep that appointment with the vet you had scheduled for tomorrow. Besides, he seems to think that his new role here is to be the beater-upper-of-everybody-else, hopefully the procedure will nip those tendencies in the bud. (No pun intended.) In general, however, I have to say that his inclusion here is going smoother than I anticipated.''

Bantus, not being SHY around his new playmates!

 

July 9, 2000

"Surviving Alterations"

Bantus survived his little 'alteration' with minimum wear and tear, and is now fitting well into his new household. Apparently the fisticuffs was to discover the pecking order in his new tribe of cats. I've been busy with alterations of a different sort, namely alterations to our web pages. I've streamlined both Laura's and my artwork pages, the photo album, and reached progress on other projects. For the most part those pages are better for the condensing. However, as I wade through file after file, I learn how much I have been the picture hog! I didn't realize in nearly four years of time, I'd filled up so much web space with pictures. Perhaps our pages need an entirely new home. I've heard news of websites offering 100 MB of space. But are they reliable?

I don't know.

 

July 10, 2000

"What The Answer Needs To Be"

What if we can no longer maintain ANY website? What if we have no web access at all? What if our financial state gets that bad? Such were the discussions we had today. Meanwhile we take each day at a time . . .

But what if that is the case? Will I maintain my journal if there is no possibility of readers? Granted, I don't have the large readership of some journals, but I know SOME of you are out there. Would I have the discipline to keep writing without you all? Certainly REAL writers do. I've done it sporadically in the past, and have a few tattered books to show for it. But to keep at it consistently as I've done these few years I've been online? That I don't know.

That's what I ask myself? Is it more for ego, or is it more to record my days and improve my craft? I know what the answer needs to be.

Will Not Fade Not all lost, the fevering hope. You know what needs to be done. Mark the days with a jeweled pen, the marks will not be lost. Indelible they will remain. When you are old they will not fade. JAL, 7-10-00

 

July 11, 2000

"Lots Of The Big Deep...."

Lots of the big deep decisions tonight. We're all up late at night, it's ten to eleven. That's late for us, as we're usually early to bed, early to rise types. Decisions have been made this evening, a lot of them, and nobody can sleep. Julia's pacing the floor until her medicine kicks in. She'd been howling with pain just minutes before. . Laura can't sleep because I can't sleep . . .

We have hopes of a possible home if we can't keep this one. That's promising. It would be a big yucky move, but if we have to do it, we have to do it.

That's not all the decisions around here. Back in April, when I decided to quit the sewing business because my arthritis was making it too difficult, Laura encouraged me to apply for disability. THEN Julia got her neck problems. She still hasn't heard word on when her MRI is going to be. If it is a herniated disc, there's surgery to fix it. But how much longer will we have to wait until she finally gets the surgery and recovers? Progress is moving so slowly on this, and we hate to see her suffer. She suffers so badly. We don't even know if she will get the necessary temporary disability leave from work. Meanwhile, we slide deeper into debt. I HAD decided to wait until the damn verdict on the arthritis disability, but I can't sit around, feeling like it's all my fault we're sinking into a deep morass of financial despair, an icky kind of despair that makes for many other sorts of despair . . .

. . . so Monday, I'm going to start looking for work. Do I honestly know if I CAN do it? No, but I don't honestly know I CAN'T, either, and I can't let my family down, either.

I can't feel like some fat, lazy broad sitting on her butt while everything goes to hell around me. So I'll try. I'll give it my best try, too. I've always been conscientious, so I won't fart off on the job on purpose. I can promise the employers that much.

If it turns out I can do the job, then I had no reason to be considered disabled. If I can't, then it's just that much more evidence to prove the case.

In what may be termed better news, at least all my zillion web files can find a home. I found a free web host that offers 100mg of space. Other journallers have used this host for years, so they must be reliable. I have a few pages up there, so I know I can make it work.

It's better to have all those old pages of mine up there, with all their pictures, plus the not too terribly annoying thin banner at the top, then not to be there at all. (note of May 2001, the banner wasonly a 1/4 of an inch then, not the one inch wide thing it is now.)

So take a gander at this work in progress. Warning, none of those links work, except for the artwork index. It's just a beginning.

Oh, and I did get a poem written this morning:

New Ones, And Better At last now the priming experience. You will know what power it is you have -    elemental, that, for it is more than you thought. Toss away those old ideas - (What scraps of useless litter!) new ones, and better will be yours. JAL, 7-11-00

(more 'notes from the future': oh yes, new 'ideas' and more have since indeed come my way . . .)

 

July 12, 2000

"Coming From The Big Deep...."

Progress is being made rather quickly here on our plans. Laura's son James knew of an opening for the Security Guard corporation for which he works. The position doesn't require hand dexterity, or much long hours of standing. There is only a bit of stair climbing required. It's as sedentary as I'm likely to find. Well, we needed to rush, as time is of the essence when capturing these opportunities. So off I rushed to fill out an application and have an interview. I was certain I'd flubbed up and sounded too nervous, but hopefully with James putting a good word in for me, I'll have a chance. I won't know until next week what the results are. But SOME part of me must be confident.

How do I know this? It's a mysterious process that guides my poem writing. I've told you about it earlier, at the risk of sounding high falutin' or spooky. But it's how the poems happen. I get a feeling like something in me is 'full'. It's just that vague, but a definate enough sense. I then grab a pen and a paper, and write down the words as they come. Often the result is a message I needed to hear. It gives me a clear view into what's happening in the big deep undersides of my consciousness. It would all be murky and dark down there without this odd process.

Okay, however weird this process is, it works. Today's poem rather surprised me. It's extremely optimistic. It definately suggests good things are in store. Maybe the big deep underside knows something my surface mind doesn't.

You Will Know It When You Taste It Now rise the effervescent fumes of glory. It's not what you think it is. Starver now, to the latest glories, but fuller later, to the fine wines of raptured age. There is nothing else like it. You will know this when you taste it. JAL, 7-12-00

 

July 13, 2000

"Ack."

What happened to the confidence I had yesterday? Even if it was only on those subterrain levels? It is all gone. I fear if I get the job. I fear if I don't. I finally heard from the disability people. I have an appointment to see a doctor coming up the end of this month. It's their official doctor. I don't know what he'll find. I don't know my own mind. I don't know my own body. I absolutely quiver. It's such unreasoning fear that takes away my thoughts down to the core of me. Ack.

 

July 14, 2000

"Ack Attack."

Ah yes, panic attack, and some really awful poetry . . .

And I am not the first to feel like they were falling, falling, falling . . . (It wasn't always this way and it won't always be again.) But for now, the air rushes while I fall, fall, fall. What lies below? I do not know. JAL, 7-13-00

I finally understand the earlier optimistic poem. It says 'starver now' to the glories, but 'fuller later'. The 'deep within' was telling me things are tough now, but are going to get better. Sure hope so.

Julia finally got in contact with her doctor. It will be two more weeks before she can get the appointment for the MRI. NOTE this is NOT the DAY of the appointment, just learning WHEN the appointment will be. She doesn't yet know if her doctor got the info to her employer so that she can get medical leave.

Oh, and yes,VDP finally got off his high horse and told the lawyer what percentage of the house he'd like:

TWO THIRDS!

Laura offered that if there is no nasty trial, and we settle out of court, we'll take one half, but if he wants the battle, we insist on our title given right of two thirds for us.

In those role playing games, the most powerful mages have a spell called 'Divine Intervention'. We could use some of that about now.

 

July 15, 2000

"Progress"

Oh my, is this journal turning into what some people call 'trainwreck' journals: those types in which the writer seems to go constantly from crisis to crisis? We've had a bunch of them lately. Still, I think not. I merely record what happens, and in the archives, you can find plenty of cheery entries. There will be cheery ones in the future, as well.

Yet, I think there's been signs of grace. I prayed constantly about that job. I hadn't been truthful about my arthritis and those stairs. Maybe the man I interviewed with could tell I was nervous and apt to panic in the event something goes wrong when I'm there in that huge building alone at night. The whole reason companies hire security guards in the first place! At any rate, someone else was chosen. I have to say I'm relieved. Yesterday, when Laura and I went to the health club, my knees acted up more than they ever have before. I only went 2.0 on the threadmill, which is barely beyond an amble, 1.5, and as slow as the machine goes. Constantly, more times than I could count, my jelly knee kept giving out on me. Oh yeah, I could really handle three flights of stairs three times a shift!

Let the bill collectors call. They already have begun. The three of us laughed yesterday about funny ways we could answer these people. Julia said she could feign rapt attention as they went through their spiel, and then say, as if in a trance, ''Tell me about the rabbits, I want to know about the rabbits.'' Is that from a movie??

Humor, it's what gets us through tough times, it really is. I saw this today, and it made me chuckle out loud:

Quote of the day Of the week, month??: Here's a guaranteed way to get more of what you want: want less. -Ashleigh Brilliant

Anyway, we do have some good news. Julia finally did make progress with the doctor. She has a MRI scheduled for this Tuesday - yes, only three days away!! Perhaps someone had mercy on her, hearing the sound of pain in her voice, and moved the process along for us.