#palm tree removal pricing

[satreerecyclers]

How to Find the Right Tree Removal Company for Your Needs?

When you need a tree removal company, it is essential to check and follow certain norms that are given in the blog to get the best removal company.

[northerntreeservice]

What safety precautions should be taken during tree removal?

When it comes to tree removal, ensuring safety is paramount. Trees, whether they’re towering eucalyptus or slender palms, can pose significant risks during removal. This is where Northern Tree Services in Adelaide excels. With years of experience and expertise, they prioritize safety in every tree removal project. In this article, we’ll delve into the essential safety measures for tree removal,…

[reasonsforhope]

The World's Forests Are Doing Much Better Than We Think

You might be surprised to discover... that many of the world’s woodlands are in a surprisingly good condition. The destruction of tropical forests gets so much (justified) attention that we’re at risk of missing how much progress we’re making in cooler climates.

That’s a mistake. The slow recovery of temperate and polar forests won’t be enough to offset global warming, without radical reductions in carbon emissions. Even so, it’s evidence that we’re capable of reversing the damage from the oldest form of human-induced climate change — and can do the same again.

Take England. Forest coverage now is greater than at any time since the Black Death nearly 700 years ago, with some 1.33 million hectares of the country covered in woodlands. The UK as a whole has nearly three times as much forest as it did at the start of the 20th century.

That’s not by a long way the most impressive performance. China’s forests have increased by about 607,000 square kilometers since 1992, a region the size of Ukraine. The European Union has added an area equivalent to Cambodia to its woodlands, while the US and India have together planted forests that would cover Bangladesh in an unbroken canopy of leaves.

Logging in the tropics means that the world as a whole is still losing trees. Brazil alone removed enough woodland since 1992 to counteract all the growth in China, the EU and US put together. Even so, the planet’s forests as a whole may no longer be contributing to the warming of the planet. On net, they probably sucked about 200 million metric tons of carbon dioxide from the atmosphere each year between 2011 and 2020, according to a 2021 study. The CO2 taken up by trees narrowly exceeded the amount released by deforestation. That’s a drop in the ocean next to the 53.8 billion tons of greenhouse gases emitted in 2022 — but it’s a sign that not every climate indicator is pointing toward doom...

More than a quarter of Japan is covered with planted forests that in many cases are so old they’re barely recognized as such. Forest cover reached its lowest extent during World War II, when trees were felled by the million to provide fuel for a resource-poor nation’s war machine. Akita prefecture in the north of Honshu island was so denuded in the early 19th century that it needed to import firewood. These days, its lush woodlands are a major draw for tourists.

It’s a similar picture in Scandinavia and Central Europe, where the spread of forests onto unproductive agricultural land, combined with the decline of wood-based industries and better management of remaining stands, has resulted in extensive regrowth since the mid-20th century. Forests cover about 15% of Denmark, compared to 2% to 3% at the start of the 19th century.

Even tropical deforestation has slowed drastically since the 1990s, possibly because the rise of plantation timber is cutting the need to clear primary forests. Still, political incentives to turn a blind eye to logging, combined with historically high prices for products grown and mined on cleared tropical woodlands such as soybeans, palm oil and nickel, mean that recent gains are fragile.

There’s no cause for complacency in any of this. The carbon benefits from forests aren’t sufficient to offset more than a sliver of our greenhouse pollution. The idea that they’ll be sufficient to cancel out gross emissions and get the world to net zero by the middle of this century depends on extraordinarily optimistic assumptions on both sides of the equation.

Still, we should celebrate our success in slowing a pattern of human deforestation that’s been going on for nearly 100,000 years. Nothing about the damage we do to our planet is inevitable. With effort, it may even be reversible.

-via Bloomburg, January 28, 2024

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Congrats on 5k!!!

I love little off-duty tidbits about the 141. What they get up to when they’re not on a mission, what do they do for fun on base, what do they do in their private time etc.

—Count The Hours

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [Collection of what the One-Four-One do on their down-hours with their Lovers] ❞

John Price: Reading ➺

It was no secret that John liked to indulge in quiet time whenever he got the chance. Always surrounded by soldiers and hurling orders eventually got to even the most skilled Captain—he was no different even if he’d been at this for countless years. 

On the days when the silent sounds of the house were able to be appreciated for what they were: the running of the laundry, the small creak of the kitchen cabinet that needed to be oiled, and the sound of your soft humming, it was a sacred turn of events. Such mundane, and normally labeled nuisances, were an excellent backdrop for the words on the page of his book that flew from the paper. Scenes unfolded from times and places long past; everything was separate. A perfect way for the mind to unwind. 

You pass by silently as John reads, kissing his forehead when he grunts in pleasure. The man lets his fingers brush your thigh as you move off to do whatever you wish. He knew you’d join him eventually. 

Reading was good, but nothing quite beat the perfect distraction that was you. 

John flips a page and absentmindedly itches at his beard.

Simon Riley: People Watching ➺

“I bet she works in a cafe,” you mutter softly. “Look at her clothes—those are cafe clothes. Gorgeous.”

Brown eyes blink at the woman in a long skirt and a neat blouse, coffee cup in hand as she walks the ground before disappearing around a bend. 

“What are bloody ‘cafe clothes’?” Simon grunts, giving you a strange look from over his balaclava. The bench you two sit on is far removed into the trees of the park, and you smile as you lean into the man and intertwine your fingers with his, stealing his body heat. 

“I can’t explain it,” you wave your free hand as Simon chuckles lowly. “Your turn.”

“Pick one for me,” he grumbles. You point to a man dressed sharply from across the path, bending down and tying his shoe as a child plays with their mother near a picnic basket and blanket. Your lips twitch into a smile. 

“Accountant,” Simon says easily, squeezing your hand as he blinks slowly, casual with his guesses. “Child’s birthday—he’ll ‘ave to go in soon.”

“Really?” You chuff under your breath. Simon hums, vision sliding about as his thumb runs over your knuckles. “I guessed a hitman.” 

The man at your side looks down once more. “You what?”

Johnny MacTavish: Hiking ➺

The both of you are covered in dirt and sweat, lying on your backs with your packs about a foot or so away; lungs working inside of your chests as you smile like fools. 

“Remind me to let you carry me back,” you pant, chuckling as the form beside you rubs at his face—pushing back the grime. Nature is all around you two, the grass behind your bones and the open sky above your heads. Johnny and you rest for a short while on top of the hill, the wind picking up from the East but not so to an unmanageable degree. 

It had been on a whim to come out here on such short notice, but it didn’t mean that it wasn’t enjoyable. 

Johnny always made hiking trips enjoyable. 

“Aye,” he laughs. “Don’t worry, Dearie, I’ll manage.” A moment of shared smiles passes between you two—you reach out and push at his cheek teasingly.

Johnny chuckles and grabs at your wrist, bringing it back and laying a firm kiss on the palm that leaves your already hot cheeks burning. 

“Ready to keep going?” You’re asked delicately, those cobalt eyes crinkled with love. 

“Oh, if I must,” you tease. 

The man kisses you once more before standing, offering you a hand without a second thought through a gentle smirk.

Kyle Garrick: Cooking/Baking ➺

Kyle’s rolled-up sleeves are pushed back even more as he hums under his breath, the gentle jazz filling the room to mix with the scent of fresh bread and stew. You rest your head on the island table of your shared flat, watching as the man glances back at you and your arm pillow.

He chuckles. 

“You don’t have to watch, Love.”

“Want to,” you mutter, eyes soft. The man’s smile turns sheepish as he glances away.

The man adds what he needs and says over his shoulder cheekily as you blink. “Well come on then, I’ll need you to taste test. Tell me what it needs.”

You chuckle and stand, walking over and sliding up beside him as Kyle takes a spoon and brings some of the broth to your lips. Your hand cups under the utensil, sipping it down. 

You hum under your breath, glancing at him. 

“It’s delicious, Kyle,” your fingers go to steal the spoon, but it’s moved away from you swiftly with a teasing tsk of his tongue. 

“Ah, ah—it’s not done,” the man beams, kissing your cheek and putting the spoon down. “Patience, Love.” 

“C’mon,” you lean into him, looking up into his face. 

Instead, a kiss is pressed to your lips, making you melt as a hand comes to circle your waist. 

Kyle leans back, smirking as he licks his lips.

“More salt,” he mutters, pulling back and disappearing into the pantry as you gape after his tall form.

[filmsmakkari]

LA Girl Magic

warren rojas x fem!reader

Summary: Warren Rojas always dreamed of Los Angeles. The clubs, the music, and the ridiculously beautiful women.

CW: Sexual-ish content but no actual smut, a little angsty at the end. As always my (Y/N) is assumed to be black and sometimes such is implied but definitely not enough that others can't read.

June 1979

Everyone always dreamed of Los Angeles. The warmth of the Californian sun, the waves crashing against the Venice shore, the palm trees lining the streets. LA was the land of opportunity. And when you wished on Los Angeles stars, it felt like they would always come true. LA was the dream. Endless sunny days, ridiculously beautiful girls, and freedom to do and be whatever you wanted.

Los Angeles was everything for a band from Pittsburgh, where the only options were the mill or the army. So when Billy Dunne asked Warren Rojas about the possibility, Warren immediately went out and bought a van so the band would be ready to make the drive. It more or less cost him everything he had. It was crazy, but he somehow trusted it.

And boy, he couldn't have been more right.

It didn't come immediately. Weeks of phone calls that lead to nowhere. Finally meeting Teddy Price, and then being put through the wringer by him for months, a canceled tour, and being so dirt poor that he had to steal toast from restaurants. Enter Daisy Jones. Look At Us Now comes out. Sold out shows, gold records, and more drugs and women tearing at his pants than he could have ever dreamed of when he was just some skinny, curly-haired kid in Pennsylvania. The Six were living the California dream. He always said Daisy had "LA girl magic." He even tried to get Billy to write a song about it. 

It was July 1st, 1979, the LA date of the Aurora tour. For Daisy, it was the hometown show, but she had always said she didn't have anyone in LA, no parents or extended family in the whole city. So everyone in the band was surprised when she said she'd have a childhood friend coming for the show. The shock became even greater when Daisy walked into the green room laughing and smiling with (Y/N) (L/N). 

(Y/N L/N) was the "it girl" before that term was coined. A gorgeous Hollywood starlet. An Oscar winner at ten, a Vogue cover at 15,  a sold out world tour at 20, and a star on the Walk of Fame by 21. She was currently working on her sophomore album, and the world was waiting to see how she'd elevate herself further. But in the meantime, she was staying on the public's minds with her new Chanel film being aired on every TV in America, in which she played a songbird stuck in a cage next to a bottle of Coco Mademoiselle. (Y/N) had the talent that made her the critic's darling and the incredible beauty that made her desired and hated.

Warren's breath caught when he looked at her.  (Y/N)'s hair, dark like a raven's wing,  tumbled down her back in long curls. She wore a pale blue Halston jumpsuit that made her skin shimmer, and diamond jewelry added to the effect. And her eyes… oh God, those brown eyes. Warren would bet that she'd be able to finish him with just her eyes.

His cheeks slightly heated up at his thoughts as he watched her introduce herself to the band members. She approached him last, wrapping her arms around his neck, saying, "Hey, it's so nice to meet you! I'm (Y/N)."

Warren stuttered slightly, removing his hands from her waist and looking into her eyes. "I-I know."

(Y/N) chuckled. "And are you gonna tell me your name, drummer?"

"Warren!" he rushed out embarrassingly quickly. "I'm Warren Rojas."

(Y/N) smiled. "Well, it's a pleasure to meet you Warren." 

Warren loved the way his name sounded on her tongue. He wanted her to say it over and over again.  He wondered what it'd be like to hear her scream it. 

These thoughts remained on his mind as he played as hard as he could that night, knowing she was watching and wanting her to feel every beat. Warren knew that people usually didn't pay attention to the rhythm section during concerts, too interested in the lead guitar or frontman to notice the lonesome drummer in the back, but just knowing there was a chance that (Y/N) was watching him, Warren played that drumline like it was his last night on earth.

Teddy was waiting as they all walked backstage, giving the usual pats on the shoulder and congratulations. 

"Hey, Rojas," Teddy called as Warren cracked open a beer. That is the kind of performance I expect from the best drummer in rock' n roll!" Warren had never received such high praise from Teddy, and the compliment made him swell with pride.

"Hey, call it the LA girl magic," Warren said with a shrug and a smile.

Teddy furrowed his brow, "I have no idea what you're talking about, son, but if that's what made you play like that, I need you to use it every night." 

˖°🌊🎐𓇼⋆🦪₊

The afterparties in the bus were always wild, but tonight was different. The Six had just played one of their best shows of the tour, so they decided to rent out some random bar on Sunset to celebrate specially. Beautiful bodies of men and women were swaying to the sensual rhythms and blues blaring from the boombox, and there were pills and powders sprawled across the tables that could only be found on the dirtiest streets of the City of Angels. This night was on fire. 

Now, on a normal night, Warren probably would have grabbed a blonde with nice tits and a brunette with nice legs and taken them anywhere with a working lock on the door, but on this particular night, even the tightest skirts wrapped around girls just begging him to lift them around their waists and bury his face in between their thighs weren't the slightest bit tempting to him. Instead, all his attention was on a certain LA girl with dark features and the voice of an angel. 

(Y/N) and Daisy were currently standing on a table, swaying their hips in a way that could only come naturally to girls who were stumbling out of clubs like these in tight dresses and runny makeup when they were 14. All of the men stared at them hungrily. All the girls tried to emulate their movements. But none could mimic the harmonies they sang over the random guitar melody playing. Their voices were enough to bring the roof down. 

Warren was in fucking awe.

He'd gotten used to Daisy's voice. The power in it, the way she sang from deep in her belly and sounded like her voice was traveling over rocks to produce the sound. Daisy's voice was the pure essence of rock n roll.

But (Y/N)? Her voice was hauntingly beautiful. And in the teal shimmery dress she's changed into for the after party, with slits on either side, she looked like she'd come from the depths of the sea to lure men in with her siren call. Her voice was alluring but dangerous. It pierced its way through Warren's heart, and in that moment, he would've done anything she asked him to. 

"Huh," he breathed out. "LA magic."

"What was that, love?" asked the red-haired girl who'd taken it upon herself to wrap her arms around his neck and move her body against his. 

"Excuse me," said Warren, shoving her off and walking towards (Y/N). A sailor drawn to a siren, he approached the table and called her name.

(Y/N)' s eyes widened happily when she saw him. "Warren!!" She climbed down from the table and wrapped him in a tight hug. "You did so well tonight, congratulations! The drumline in "Let Me Down Easy" made the entire number- no one could have played it better!" she yelled over the loud music.

Warren exhaled and smiled. "It's just nice to know someone's listening." 

(Y/N) let out a giggle, folding her lips before turning back to the table. "Daisy-jay!" she yelled at her friend. Daisy had already found another way to occupy herself, playing some sort of game involving vodka and a chocolate bunny. "Yeah, (Y/N/N)?"

"I'll be right back! Save me a shot!" (Y/N) yelled before grabbing Warren by the wrist and dragging him outside the club. 

The pair heard Daisy yell out ",Hey! Don't have too much fun you two!"

(Y/N) exhaled a deep breath, taking a few steps forward and staring up at the sky. "It's a full moon tonight, Warren."

Warren stood beside her. "Yeah, no stars though."

They looked back at each other, brown eyes meeting brown eyes in a warm dance. 

"There are never stars here," (Y/N) said with a smile. "Something called light pollution, I think. From all the city lights everywhere."

"I love the city lights. Seeing them reminds me that we made it. That we're really here." Warren closed his eyes for a moment. "But some nights I miss the stars. Back in Pitt, I could always see hundreds of stars from my window. Started chartin' em like I was part of Apollo 11 or something," he said shyly, letting out a dry chuckle.

"That's amazing, Warren." (Y/N) smiled at him so beautifully and kindly. He knew she meant it.

"I didn't know you were from Pittsburgh," she said.

"Mmhm. Been friends with all the guys since I was a kid. But I was actually born in Botogá. Shot over to the U.S. when I was three."

"Colombia?" 

Warren nodded with a smile.

(Y/N) hummed. "I guess now's a good time to mention that I've always had a thing for foreign men. Only guys I usually like more are drummers in rock bands," she said nonchalantly, looking back at the moon.

Meanwhile, Warren felt like his heart was in his fucking ass.

He swallowed nervously. "W-well I have a thing for Hollywood girls."

"Oh, really?" she said casually. 

"Yeah," Warren said, building up his confidence. "'S part of why I chose to move here. I knew that even if the music thing worked out, I'd still be able to find a girl from the city of angels to take me to heaven." Warren pushed a stray curl behind her ear, and for the first time in the whole night, (Y/N) was the nervous one.

Warren felt the change in dynamic immediately and decided to take a risk.  He leaned in,  searching (Y/N) 's eyes for any sign of rejection. When he saw none, he closed the gap between them, seizing her lips with his in a passionate kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling the tall man downwards. He grabbed her by her waist, exposed by the slit in her dress, pulling her closer. (Y/N) let out a small moan at the feeling of his touch on her skin, and Warren took the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth, increasing the wetness accumulating between her legs.

The pair finally pulled away for air, staring deep into each other's eyes silently. 

"Do you want to see heaven, Rojas?" (Y/N) asked breathily. 

Warren's lips were swollen, and his pupils were dilated as he spoke, "I'll follow wherever you go, angel." 

(Y/N) caught his lips in a quick kiss before walking over to the phone booth and calling the taxi company. She'd never felt so much embarrassment as when she had to stifle her moans on the phone with the operator as Warren had followed her into the booth and began kissing and sucking up her arm to her shoulder and neck. Once he quickly figured out her weak spot was in between her jawline and her neck, he just continued on with the spot as if he was a starving man and her skin was his last meal. That, along with his large hands traveling up and down her body, almost caused (Y/N) to drop the phone, tear off her clothes, and sit on his lap on the dirty street corner. 

When the taxi finally arrived, (Y/N) 's embarrassment only grew as Warren pulled her to practically straddle him and stuck his tongue down her throat. She could feel the discomfort radiating from the driver. But when he started playing with her panties… well, then she said to hell with embarrassment.

It felt like they'd been in the taxi for an eternity when they finally arrived at the large house in Baldwin Hills. The lovers stumbled through the large door, fumbling with each other's clothes and sharing messy, maddening kisses as they fell on the couch. (Y/N) sat atop Warren, staring deep into his eyes. The feeling of his hands on her waist was making her feel crazy. 

"I want you inside me, Warren."

She didn't need to tell him twice.

˖°🌊🎐𓇼⋆🦪₊

January 2000

"At some point that night, I had every part of me in that woman," Warren reminisced with a chuckle. "Shit felt like joining the swim team. Shit, sorry Jules." Warren Rojas had aged handsomely. His once sleek black curly hair had grayed, and he'd developed wrinkles around his eyes. His hands were now rough and calloused from years of being a successful rock drummer who achieved many accolades before being inducted into the Rock n Roll Hall of  Fame and retiring. He was the perfect picture of a had-been rockstar, a man now in his forties, tanned from days spent sitting out on his rusty old boat in the Marina. Some people might have pitied him, but he was content. 

"I forgot who I'm talking to. I'd appreciate it if you didn't keep that part in. I think Nina would die if she had to hear about her old man like that." 

Julia, now a woman grown and the spitting image of her mother with long, straight black hair and a camera at hand, was a far cry from the child Warren had known all those years ago. 

"Hard for me too, to tell you the truth," she said with a slightly awkward laugh. "So then what happened?"

"Well I think you know, kiddo. Love. War. Band called it quits." 

"With her, I mean."

Warren tensed up a bit. "Well, I loved her. Spent eight years with her, so I think he might've loved me too," he said with a smirk. "But we wanted different things, in the end. I wanted to slow down for a bit. Buy this boat, maybe have a few kids. I wanted success in the music world, but I wanted a wife and kids to share it with. She wanted to keep going. Being an "EGOT" at 24 wasn't enough, she wanted more. I've  always loved her for that. She has so much hunger for life. She wants to live. She nearly gave it all up to settle with me, but I loved her too much to block her dreams. And I loved her enough to let her go. Met Lisa back in '89, had Nina in '94. I'm happy with my life now. I feel like everyone thinks I'm this miserable, washed up drummer, but I'm happy with the life I built for myself."

"Do you still love (Y/N)?" asked Julia.

Warren smiled a sad smile and looked at his lap. "... I'll always love that girl. I see her in everything. I watch her life in pictures now. Hear her voice on the radio. You'll probably have to cut this out too… cause of Lisa, of course… but uh…"the man trailed off, and a haze fell over his eyes as if he was seeing flashes of the past.

"You know something? That night when I first met her, after… after we finished," he shot Julia a look, "I got up to get her a cup of water, and when I looked out of her kitchen window, I saw a shooting star. I'd barely seen two stars in my time spent in the city at that point. We'd just fuckin talked about it! But after that night with her? There one was, shooting across the sky."

Warren chuckled and shook his head. "Goddamn LA Girl Magic."

[mar3ggiata]

the night of the tarantula - 2

simon riley x oc

tw: violence, death, pregnancy, mafia, miscarriage, terrorism

'Swinging by my neck from the family tree.'

'What have you done to her?'

Laswell's presence felt like a warm hug. She stormed in the interrogation room to find her precious trainee Eva tied to a chair, on the verge of tears, back hunched foreword in sorrow. 'Why the hell is she tied to the chair, for Christ's sake!' She repressed a smile, things were starting to turn for her. Laswell was protecting, more than anything she was understanding and smart. She knew why she did what she did, she had listened when she told her how things worked in Italy, she had done her research. She was smart, unlike the men in the room. And Grace. Grace was the stupidest of all.

'Untie her, now.' She demanded. Like some kind of sick joke, it was Ghost she gestured to, to go take off her handcuffs. She kept her eyes on Laswell, but saw him in her peripheral, moving towards her. She moved in the chair to show her hands. His heart ached a little, seeing her wrists red, the metal cuffs digging into her skin. You did this to yourself, Eva. It was weird, thinking about her with a different name. A different sound. He tried to avoid touching her while removing the cuffs, not to make her think he was on her side. Never again. Laswell circled the table to come close to her. She was rubbing her right wrist. He heard her whisper something to calm Eva down, along the lines of 'it's gonna be fine', or 'you're not in trouble'. He watched Eva's expression, it didn't change. She was serious and unbreakable, she wasn't scared, she wasn't worried at all. He tried to read her lips. 'I am not in contact…' she whispered, Price stepped in.

'Hey, OI!' His fist connected to the table, making the two women turn their heads. 'What do you think you're doing? You're under federal investigation Eva, do you understand that?!' He raised his voice. Eva's lips turned in a weird, sick grin, a smile? She sat silent in her chair, while Laswell was scolding the captain for being rude and unconsiderate.

Simon wanted to yell at her. He wanted to grab her chin, make her look at him and ask her why. Why? Why me, why did you do that to me? Who are you, what are you doing in this country? All you said, was it a lie? All you told me about your past, a lie? Why did you tell me, then? Why me?

The girl looked down at her hands while Laswell, his captain and the General spoke. Once he started looking at her he really could not stop. His eyes were glued to her face, her hands, her posture, he could not do any different. She looked tired, she looked pale, the dark makeup around her eyes lightly smeared on the skin below her lower lashes. She was sweating. And she didn’t look his way, why?!? Don’t you care?! Not even to look my way?

‘Okay, Eva…’ Laswell turned around, ‘… It’s not gonna be easy…’ She continued, he still didn’t take his eyes off her. ‘The past few weeks have been hard for your family in Italy, Tania, your mom…’, she pressed her palms to the table, ‘…your sister Maria and the rest of the clan, they’re suspecting an attack from the Caseranos, from Carmine.’ She explained, keeping her tone of voice low, calm and collected. This was nothing new to Eva. With the Caseranos’ leader in prison Carmine was going to step up, and what did Carmi want more than anything? Revenge. And money and control and what did he need to achieve that? That her family stopped interfering with his business, her family’s death possibly. Her, most of all he wanted her dead. For good reason.

Kate took another deep breath. Eva was sitting so tense and still on the chair Simon could swear she was made of stone. She looked like a painting. 'We have proof Italian special forces are preparing an intervention towards your family, towards their business with prostitution and migrant smuggling to be exact, which I'm sure you are familiar with.'

The words washed over Simon like icy water. Prostitution and migrant smuggling business Eva was familiar with... Who the actual fuck was this woman...

'At the same time, violence grows in the other clan, and its effects on the populations in Naples are terrifying. We would like...'

Price interrupted the woman with a cough. She resumed, but with sorrow in her eyes.

'We are offering a bargain. Either you cooperate, you work with us in Italy and you help us by infiltrating you own family, I guess, going undercover and helping with the investigation... It would lead with a trial for your mom and uncle, and sister too, along with all the associates...'

Eva slowly shook her head, a ringing in her ear making it almost impossible to make out what Laswell was saying. You don't get it...

'...And you get to stop the Caseranos too, their control over the northern neighbourhoods has become a dictatorship, people live in fear and -'

'What's the second option?' Eva asked.

Laswell's eyebrows raised, slightly shocked at her sudden request. Simon felt rage burning up in his chest, the last residues of hope for the girl long gone. She wouldn't comply.

'There would be an investigation carried out on you, Eva.' She declared, arms crossed over her chest. 'You'd be charged with participation in transnational organised crime.'

‘Dai… resta’, another kiss, wet and hot against my neck. I do my best to wiggle out his grip, giving I’m stronger than him I am soon on my feet. He protests some more, asking me to spend the night, but I’m already pulling my shirt on my body. It really is a chore, spending time with him. I liked him before, but that was what, a year ago? Now… it's work… It takes me another 15 minutes to get fully dressed and get him out of bed. The night is calm, it's warm outside. The sky looks smooth like a soft blanket, like it's shielding me from something evil coming from the outside. Swinging my legs over the window, Genny gives me a kiss goodnight. I hate every second of it. I don't like his hands, I don't like his arms, he just got a tattoo and it looks very bad. I don't like his eyes, I know he'll look at my ass while I walk away. I don't like how he tastes cause he smokes a lot with his older brother. I don't like the sound of his voice when he says that I'm his.

I jumped out the window cause his parents can't know we're together. Nobody really knows except for my mom and uncle. It was their idea. Genny was the cool kid at my school, he's a year older than me, he's 19. I've always liked him really, he's fit and he has a cool bike. Many of us have bikes, but his just looks better. Genny's brother is called Carmine, he's much worse. He's taller, he's quite big. Everyone knows he's in the clan and he's gonna be in charge on day. Their dad is the leader of their clan. They deal with the northern part of Naples, we're not really allowed to go there, like ever. They'll kill us. By 'we' I mean me and my sister Maria.

My sister never really worked for our mom, she's a normal child, she plays tennis. She's good at school. I would loooove to be as good as her, I recently found out I quiet like reading. I read this book called Fairy Oak, about two fairy sisters. I don't really have time to read these days cause I work so much. My uncle does my homework. I can't get bad grades cause my teachers are all scared of my family. I can't fail cause I'm who I am. I know it's kinda unfair, but with all the work I do for mom, I really don't have time to study…

I started working when I was really young, I think I was 10. My uncle told me he saw me playing with bullets on the kitchen floor as a baby and he knew I would be a good fit for the family. I start at 3pm. I have a route I need to follow and people to meet. They gave me money, which I have to count and then I give them drugs. I don't know a lot about cocaine, I know you snort it and it's 50euros per bag. I have pills, I have marijuana, but only on the weekend, business is slow on weekdays. Sometimes adults try to fool me, I have a knife for when that happens. I don't like hurting people, but what can I do? I mean, I go around with this backpack full of fucking drugs and I'm not even 18, I need to make sure they respect me, and not just for who my mom is… Is it wrong i even kinda like it when they’re frightened? I like how it makes me feel, you know, their fear… It's like I'm in charge, I'm the adult, I can hurt them if I want to or if they piss me off.

Anyways…

Carmine, Genny's brother, killed my brother. It happened two years ago. I don't remember much, Maria says it's cause it was traumatic for the whole family. In a shooting, he died. But I know Carmine did it. He did it so my family wouldn't have a leader, cause he was a boy and he was gonna lead after my father's passing. So, you may ask, why are you dating the brother of the kid that killed your brother? Well. I am gathering intel, as mom says. Things didn't go as expected for the Caseranos. When my brother died they thought we didn't have a leader. My mom stepped in, she was one of the first female clan leaders. I was the next in line. When it comes to revenge, people in the mafia don't mess around. Hey, maybe it's an Italian thing, we're passionate about things, family and traditions are important for us. I was in a relationship with Carmine's brother and, by visiting where they operated, what their deals were and with who, I got intel for my mom. I knew when they left their house, when their parents weren't around. How to get in, get out, where they kept money...

I found out their mom was pregnant. I found out when she was at 2 months, I waited till she was 7. A beautiful, healthy baby mafia boy. I knew the times she usually went to church alone, their dad had business to attend. I knew which car she took. They killed my brother so we wouldn't have a leader, so the name of the Dalla Rocca would be forgotten, our legacy erased.

By the time the firefighters arrived at the scene, the bomb had already destroyed the car and set fire to the shop it was parked in front of. People were trying to get Carmine's mom out. The baby's vitals were weak when they measured them in the ambulance. During the ultrasound, they didn't find a heartbeat.

I killed Carmine's brother before he was even born.

Revenge is a dance. Is to be expected, follows you like a shadow. And for us, in the Camorra, rules don't apply, only the ones we create. The law follows our wishes. We shape justice how's more convenient to us.

Once you're in, you'll never be out. You can try and escape, run and hide, pretend it doesnt exist. It does.

And it'll find you.

notes: back from the dead with this heavy thing!!! I am again studying like crazy but the story is planned out (kinda) and it will be published. everything I say about southern italian mafia organisations is researched, I do criminology and I've studied these type of organisations and the social response/legal side of it

enjoy xx

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[firespirited]

Treated myself after a medical setback: Barbie Extra Fly "June" who's currently half price on amazonFR for 18€ shipped which usually means some kind of leftover batch with some kind of flaw:

Sure enough her lower arm fell off as soon as I gently removed her from the packaging, a moulding error. That choppy beachy grown out hair-style needed a trim, the saran is slightly textured rosewood and dark brown. The paint is well aligned, screening is not UV dotting and dotting barely visible. The usual matte vs shiny mess on the legs.

She's also got some kind of residue on her face that won't come off with alcohol, I'm going to try soap next. It could be mould release or maybe some kind of hair product (?)

As usual the 'extras' and clothing aren't that interesting but I undid the ruffled sides of her beach wrap to allow a lot more space to turn it into a wrap dress.

The neon palm tree earrings are arrow headed and need cutting from the inside of her head.

She's one of the prettiest Junes they've made so far.

bonus picture: both dogs had to try the delivery box

[brickcentral]

Review: 71456 Mrs.Castillo's Turtle Van

Welcome to Dream Crafting Van, the place where you can craft your own dreams and ride your way through the world of endless imagination.

Ever since the official reveal of the LEGO DreamZzz line, this set was the one that caught my eye, and I fell in love with. There's something about this retro-looking van itself, its pastel colors and Mrs.Castillo's minifigure that makes it so nice and different.

Building was fun. The book with instructions is colorful, features art illustrations and tells a story that leads you through the building.

The set can be built in 3 different ways: just the van, build it as a turtle with a fun party mode on, with a cat-cactus, palm tree and a chest, or make it into a flying turtle submarine with a periscope and “fire” in the back.

Tortuga's Dream Craft shop is a very fun place where Mrs.Castillo mixes different items and ingredients. There are two chalkboards that show the Dream Craft items and builds. They add something extraordinary to the set. But there's no printed tiles, it's all stickers.

The minifigures are very colorful and detailed, they are: Mrs. Castillo, Mateo and Zoey. There are also 2 new figures: Z-Blob and a Grimspawn. All of them are very fun to photograph and play with. Especially if you have watched the DreamZzz episodes.

Mrs. Castillo's minifigure may look odd, but she is perfect as it is. The white hair, the print on her dress, the look of her face, they all match up perfectly and show us her personality as she is a wise and a warm hearted woman.

The hourglass is the main tool in the Dream World. It is used for Dream Crafting, but you have to be careful– the sand inside isn’t endless. You can see it even on the front of the van as an emblem.

It's a really fun set, which is both great for display and play. It has a lot of characters involved.

I would give this set a score of 9/10.

It has been released on August 1st and it's price is $47.99 and 47.99€

LEGO sent the set, but all the opinions here are my own.

Here's how I came up with the idea of the pictures:

I wanted to represent the colorful part of the Dream World, so I decided to use hard morning sunlight.

I put a piece of cardboard next to my window. On top of it, there’s a layer of artificial grass. Next, there’s a blue cardboard as a background and some props. I used barbeque skewers, wire, and Uhu Patafix to attach the objects to the wooden sticks. These sticks are pretty good to make things stable.

For one of the pictures I used a little tripod to place the turtle van on top to make it look like it’s flying. Then some editing, I had to remove the props and make the magic look real.

Find out more on the blog

Hope you enjoyed reading the review 🙂

@toy-story-yana , Community Engagement Mod

[whisperthatruns]

The Long Labors

My grandmother said it was going to be long—as long as you can hold your lineage—depending on how long you can hold your tongue—as long as your tongue can wrap around the pit—of some stolen stone fruit—as long as you can hide your pitter-patter face—glued in sun-split splinters—lengthening shadows as long as your face—longing to be mirrored back—back to your daughter your mother your grandmother—freckle by freckle—furnished forever across—the long loaming haul—                     Collapsed in a pool of spit—my mouth over papers—raccoon doctorate—luxurious loser with thin branch fingers—no meat in the palm—no muscle in the bending—the farmer in me is atrophying—the cook the factory seamstress the clerk the mother in me is pooling out—all that I come from—all that I owe to them—what is left of me—what is—me: professorial rat—book-leavened and maddened in meetings—chewing at my desk on a frozen anything—microwave spun and splattered on lessons—wondering who packaged this—who spooned this glacial sauce into this plastic hull—whose hands whose daughter does she look like me does she like dancing in the gloaming—funneled into my greedy mouth—I: daughter of long labors—I: knock-off half-price guilt—I: impossible imposter big words big words—trying to prove what—and to whom—I wait to be seated at a restaurant—a white person enters and orders from me—“I want sweet and sour chicken but without bell peppers and brown rice”—and I almost take it down—                     In the twelfth hour of night-shift overtime—my mother gobbles the air of the facility—mouth opening a cavern or a bowhead whale or a sinkhole—gobbling up its oxygen its nitrogen its argon its skin its hair dust its swirling smog—collecting time collecting benefits—her eyes so baggy they carry a leaking pack of chicken breasts—she had planned to cook tonight for us—but look at the break room clock she is out of time and now—they will surely go bad—what a waste at $1.50 a pound—she returns to her station rubs tiger balm and lavender oil along her wrists and hands—chews dried ginger to keep awake—the root of herself sharpening salivating—reapplies pink lipstick swivels the tube upward—rituals of resilience—feeds letters to machines churning intestinal noise—electricity bills and love letters and baby photos and magazines ladies who lunch will take to the salon and credit card limited-time offers and reminders from the dentist and supermarket weeklies and postcards from Oahu—“you wouldn’t believe how blue the water how restful how peaceful bring the whole family next time”—ginger chew ginger chew—                     Who made this for you—do you know the song that reminds them of home—do you know to play the radio as loud as you can and roll down the windows and smack your cheeks ten times in order to stay awake for the drive—do you know who sewed on this button—do you know the murmuring leg ache from standing all day a tree for whom—do you know who processed the letter you received today—fed it into a machine with paper cuts as wide as a river you could float in—do you know how long you can hold your urine until your 15-minute break—the roiling pressure in the abdomen the tick-tap of the feet the hands—how much to tip the gas station attendant in Jersey how the smell sticks behind both earlobes—the temperature when flipping a wok the oil burns the white paper hat measuring salt at the brim—how your impatient face resembles a slowly rotting peach—worms in the snarl—do you know the name of  your fishmonger the name of  my uncle—the times he snuck in a call to say he will be late picking up his daughter fish scales glittered to his elbows like opera gloves—do you know cuticles peeling white like flecks of cod after washing dishes—do you know the smell of nail polish remover stinging bees in your nostrils—do you know the back—how the back curls how the back bridges how the back puckers and crunches—like packed snow no one else but you will shovel out—I look up how labor is used in a sentence—“the obvious labor”—“immigrants provided a source of cheap labor”—“negotiations between labor and management”—“wants the vote of labor in the elections”—“the flood destroyed the labor of years”—“industry needs labor for production”—anthropocene capitalism gentrification—what do these words mean—and to whom—helping my mother over the sink—I snip the ends of long beans 豆角 with kitchen shears—the ends rolling away—green lizard tails—I cut away each word like a long bean—gentrificat—gentrif—gen—ge—g—glugging the g—down the drain—                     If only lying on a beach—limbs loosened like an old garden hose—if only watching the movements of our stomachs—rising and falling like baby jellyfish—our thighs waxing and waning—in bristle-rough sand if only—reading a book the pages—wrinkled and curled like a snail shell—from falling asleep against our faces—if only devouring a cloud—full of no rain no metallic muscle if—only softness if only we—went off in the softness—into the downy relaxing abyss—what is this word—vacation—my grandmother asks me chili hitting the wok like delicious dying stars—                     My grandmother said it was going to be long—going out the door always late for work—shirt inside out—said go on and bounce a howling baby (my mother/me/et al)—while skimming oxtail broth—the fat sheen of look how well we eat in this country—lest you forget it was worth it—lest you forget—the dilation of the cervix going the contractions going the grip the placenta the shit the vernix the garbled life going the soft flashlight eyes the milk the teeth the nails the hand on heart the soup coagulating on the stove—you must go—for what gleams in the dark turns to look at you—remember this—                     The work and the afterwork and the work of being perceived as not doing enough work though you are working well over enough—will this ever be enough—when is enough enough—the chorus now: not until the knots of fat—melt in this wok—not until you have nothing left but this suet—this smear of high-heat lineage—gleaming in the gloaming—and it is yours and it is mine and it is your dream daughter’s and it will last longer than you will ever believe—believe us—

Jane Wong, How to Not Be Afraid of Everything (Alice James Books, 2021)

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[olderjodijournals]

Thursday, April 1, 2004

We’re now in the process of designing and opening our store, picking color themes, logos, etc. It won’t let us use ampersands in the store title, so we’ll have to spell out the word and. Tom and I were joking about doll lots the other day and I said, “I know, I know! Since I’m a sexist even with dolls and don’t collect male dolls, why don’t I take the Ken dolls that I’m getting with the lots I won, squeeze them into Barbie dresses, then have a Ken in Drag lot!”

Friday, April 2, 2004

Day one and already there’s been divine interference with the store. Before we could get the store stocked and the “bait” incense up for auction, a huge monsoon storm rolled in and blew the power out. The kind of storm you’re not supposed to get in April of all months. Something up there does not want us to succeed, or at least not without a huge struggle. I really want this store thing to work out even if it may not be well enough to the point where he doesn’t need an outside job. It means a lot to me. Not just because it’s something I want to do, but something we want to do. In the past, he never wanted to do what I wanted to do and I never wanted to do what he wanted to do. Now we’ve finally got a mutual goal/interest where we’re not just saying we want to do this, but are actually putting our actions where our mouths are and are doing the work necessary to achieve this goal. Nothing frustrates me more than to work my ass off for nothing.

Nothing frustrates me more than liars, too. I still haven’t gotten the oil. He never sent it and obviously never intends to, so now we’re out $12 and I have to find someone else to deal with till they too, decide to rip us off. I don’t know why they would do this to me, but they have. Maybe they just have too many customers and are overwhelmed and feel there’s no better way to drive some of them away than to rip them off. Well, he’s certainly going to be in for a surprise in a couple of weeks from now. See, you can leave testimonials without them having to go through him first. At least I think you can from the looks of it. So it won’t look very good when people go to check them out and they see someone saying they’re incompetent thieves.

Anyway, the bait incense is to get the people to the store. We’re going to auction off a 50-pack starting at just a penny. You’d think it’s just got to sell at that price. If not, I’ll truly wonder about the whole thing, that’s for sure.

Tom removed some spyware from my computer that was fouling things up. They do this to keep track of where you go on the net so they can know what to try to sell you.

The palm tree doesn’t seem to be growing anymore, but it’s still alive.

Saturday, April 3, 2004

We’re having some pretty strange weather. Where it was summery just a few days ago, now it’s wintry all over again. We’ve had nothing but clouds and rain. When I got up this morning at 5:00, it was down to 70º in here. Not that I don’t like rain and pretty cloud formations, but I really wish it wouldn’t rain till August when the monsoons are supposed to be. I don’t want the people that come to see the house tracking mud in here, and worst of all, to see how our front door leaks. I figure that the longer the new people are in here before they discover the leak, the less likely they’ll be to start shit with us about it, not that we’ll stupidly give in as we did before. Meanwhile, we’re getting the house prepped and organized for Monday’s call to the realtor. I decided I’m not going to get too picky with that, though, because the people are coming to see the house, not our stuff or the few crumbs that may be on the counters. They’re seeing what’s still Tom and Jodi’s place, not the Hilton.

The bright side to the rain is that it’s put a damper on the shooters. It’d be ok if it rained tomorrow morning so that it won’t be like last Sunday was. Last Sunday’s shoot-out was totally obnoxious.

Nothing’s sold yet in our store which we got stocked yesterday with 2 dolls, 2 coins, 13 incense packs, and a handful of burners. We’re hopeful that something will sell over the weekend.

In Mary’s last letter to me, she said she didn’t know who that inmate was she asked me to look for, she just wanted to get a rise out of me. Yeah, she made me wonder, alright, if she didn’t have an obsession with criminals. Two or three letters ago she didn’t ask for one single favor. I’d still like it if this could be more of a common occurrence with her.

I worry about her. I mean, she’s just too damn naïve despite how smart she is. “All my dreams are coming true,” she told me in her last letter, pertaining to her and José one day living together in one of Maria’s two houses. First of all, dreams don’t come true for most people who aren’t in jail, so they certainly don’t come true for those who are in jail. Secondly, if she’s even still talking to José when he gets out in something like 10-20 years from now, his parole officer’s not going to go for him living with someone with a criminal record, even if she herself isn’t on probation or parole at the time.

I’ve decided that once we get settled in Oregon or wherever the hell we’re going, I’m going to not starve myself, but eat just enough to live on. Not to lose weight, since I’ve already accepted the fact that most middle-aged mammals are overweight and that’s just a fact of life, but to save even more money. I’m tired of wanting this and wanting that and having limited money to spend. I’d rather let the hunger pains from my monstrous appetite gnaw at me for a while so I can finally get some of the things I’ve been wanting for ages now, like the mannequin and some other dolls. However, if getting porcelain dolls still proves to be the same problem where we move, then I’ll no longer get those. I’m not going to play mail games as far as that goes. They’re not worth the fight and chase bullshit. There are plenty of other things to spend money on.

I finished that book about those New Mexican youths who only did a couple of years in a reformatory for killing Indians, and when I read about one of the rules in the juvenile prison, I was surprised such a rule didn’t exist at Estrella, even in Ad-Seg. The kids weren’t allowed to lie on their bunks all day. They could sit on their beds and lean against the wall, but their feet had to be planted firmly on the floor at all times. Again, because the system and its workers use every little thing they can think of as a means of controlling people, I’m surprised such a rule didn’t exist at Estrella.

It really pisses me off when people are so sure they know why others are a certain way when most of the time they’re dead wrong. Everybody’s so sure that a racist is the way they are out of fear, that a rapist is the way he is out of hate for women, that all people who try to commit suicide do it only for attention, that loners and gays were all sexually abused, and it really pisses me off. In some cases, their theories and beliefs are right on, particularly with the rapists, but everybody’s an individual and it pisses me off when they try to lump people together into one big group like that. It’s just wrong and unfair to assume one’s a certain way because somebody else may be. That’d be like saying Mary’s a hopeless, brainless loser simply because most other inmates truly are hopeless, brainless losers. No inmate I met in the time I was locked up has more potential to fly than Mary herself. She’s a million times smarter and better looking than other inmates, though to me she can still be a bit too trusting and optimistic.

Sunday, April 4, 2004

I was hoping the never-ending cloud coverage would deter the Sunday shooters, but nope. They’re going at it like crazy. You can’t even go 30 seconds without hearing a shot and these are loud shots. Sounds like car doors slamming just outside the house.

Meanwhile, as soon as I see I’m right about not getting the oil in tomorrow’s mail, I’m going to call Bob instead of email him. The cock needs to either give me the damn oil or give me a refund. Then if he still can’t get his shit together, I’ll have to find a new supplier, and I hate to have to do so because I really like his site. However, as long as I’m stuck living in a world with incompetent assholes, I’m going to have to keep moving around from supplier to supplier till I get fed up and consider giving up incense altogether as I’m on the verge of doing with porcelain dolls.

These weight-loss ads I keep getting are such BS. Especially when the skinny people they have showing off their supposed weight loss are always young people who are almost always skinny anyway. Never have I seen people my age or older in these ads showing off how skinny they are because no normal, healthy middle-aged or old person is supposed to be skinny.

Tomorrow’s the day we call the realtor. There is a chance we may have a hard time finding one willing to deal with the bank, but I think we’ll be okay. Remember, whatever’s here wants us out of here, so it wouldn’t make sense for it to do things to hinder us from getting out of here, which means it’ll probably guide us to the right realtor or influence the realtor to help get us out of here. If we’ll get the money that’s rightfully ours, I don’t know. All I do know is that we’re both looking way forward to having a house no one can take from us and saving a fortune on electricity by generating our own with solar panels. Next, we need to hope we get a successful enough business going to get Tom out of having to work out of the house so that’ll be even one more thing people can’t use against us, although it wouldn’t be as much of a crisis if they did keep laying him off or firing him because he could settle for any job, even if it was just minimum wage, making long commutes the only real issue. To keep a house like this, though, you need to make big bucks and big bucks only. To tell you the truth, I don’t know what the hell we were thinking when we took on this house. He knew he didn’t want to stay at the bank forever anyway, and most jobs simply don’t start you off at $16 an hour. As Tom himself agrees, if there was a way to fuck up and make the wrong decision when we left Phoenix, whether God was punishing us for leaving or not, we found it. We made all the wrong decisions for damn sure! Hopefully, now that we’re armed with knowledge and experience we didn’t have before, we’ll get it right this time if people could just stay out of our way and quit fucking with us.

Tuesday, April 6, 2004

I got the Florida lot yesterday because it turned out that it was sent priority mail. I kept about half of the dolls, but most of the outfits will go towards my own lot.

I called and spoke with Jeff who said he didn’t know if the oil was in yet or if Bob just plain forgot to ship it. He said he’d let him know I called and then later on Bob left a message on Tom’s phone to confirm. Supposedly, the oil was shipped yesterday or today, but I’ll believe it when I see it.

Tom emailed a realtor yesterday and explained to her that the house payments weren’t current and that he’d been having trouble communicating with the bank regarding the loan they’ve been handling. He also stated that it’s a large 1999 Palm Harbor on a 10-acre lot with a private well which will hopefully compensate for any worries she may have in dealing with the bank.

Because we’re still not sure what the bank’s going to do, we have some plans. Maybe the bank will stay out of it and let us do what needs to be done, or maybe they’re silently lying in wait, planning to pounce at the last minute. If they can’t butt out, Tom’s going to file a religious discrimination suit with HUD (this refers to when he expressed his concerns over the appropriateness of religion being dragged into the workplace). This won’t be because he thinks he can win it, but rather a delay tactic to stall the bank from interfering. If worse came to ultimate worse and we can’t find anyone brave enough to take on the bank, we’ll go to his mother to pay off what we owe, then we’ll sell it without the bank being able to do shit to us, and pay her back as soon as we can.

Around the time the unemployment checks stop, we’re going to sell the Bowflex for about $800. Fortunately, they sell like crazy, though we’ll be doing local pickup only.

I’m just so sick of God sending us one problem after another. I wish he’d just give us a break and leave us alone! But what can I do? Hurt 5 innocent people by placing spells on them for every 1 he sics on us and hope it wears on his conscious enough to lay off?

As we both agree, we’re ready to go no matter how we go, where we go, or what ends up happening. There’s just too much bad connected to this house and I’d really like a house that the freeloaders have no connection to us in. We’ve gone through way more shit here than in Phoenix, in a sense. I knew God was going to punish us for leaving Phoenix, but I never knew he’d go to such extremes! Shit, Phoenix is just a place! Still, it blows my mind that he could have done the things he had done to us and all because we just wanted to go to where there were fewer people around that were likely to hurt us, and because we simply wanted to live in peace. Just how is it that these freeloaders could make our lives a living hell when we lived with them, only to end up making it a million times more hellish for us from an hour’s distance?! It’s like they didn’t just move with us, they moved in with us. We totally went from having to live with them to having to live for them.

Anyway, I believe more so than ever before, now that we’re coming up on a whole year that my life has had to revolve around them in any way, that I’m finally free of them and that they know they’ve won and aren’t going to pull anything else on me, but still, I feel like a bit of a sitting duck here. I can’t go up to a window in front without seeing half a dozen squad cars come flying in at me.

I’m still so surprised at how anti-Jewish Arizona is. I thought that with the way it was so pro-black/Hispanic they wouldn’t hate Jews so much, but as I know from personal experience, one can dislike certain groups while they have no problem with others. Just because I don’t dig blacks, Hispanics or Arabs doesn’t mean I dislike Indians, Asians, and of course, gays.

Come moving day, which we now think will be around June 1st, an ideal time to move to a state like Oregon, a part of me is going to wish the date was April 30th of ’01 just so I could give the freeloaders and this state the satisfaction of not getting their way with me and so I could get out of the 2 years of probation I never deserved.

I told Tom I wonder if our immediate neighbors will find some reason to come and meet us like they did when we first came here and he said he doubts we’ll have any immediate neighbors. If we don’t, it won’t be that way for long. If the neighbor curse has been following me around since ’92, I doubt moving to Oregon will change that.

Wednesday, April 7, 2004

Well, we learned some information, both good and bad. When I got up yesterday morning, I knew the realtor wouldn’t be out to the house. Come the end of the day when we still hadn’t heard from her, I assumed she didn’t want to take on the bank, but when Tom got up there was an email from her. She was able to tell us a very valuable piece of information and that’s that the bank plans to auction the house on June 4th. What’s way shady about them is that they never gave us this date. They were going to simply take us by surprise and leave us with no time to pack, no place to go, and no money to go on. Tom explained to me why them auctioning the house would leave us with no money and having to run to Mom for sure, but I can’t remember every little thing he told me. It’s just too complicated and foreign to me. Writing and music are my main territories, not this shit.

The realtor asked if we’d like her to talk to some investors who may be interested in the place, which was what we were hoping for in the first place, and Tom replied by letting her know that that’d be fine. So we may hear back from her today, but probably not for a few days.

Meanwhile, Tom’s going to run to HUD to file that discrimination claim to hopefully bump up the June date just in case we can’t get out of here in time. He’ll start by filling out some online forms they have.

He’s hopeful that we’ll beat the clock and get out with some money too, and while I myself want to believe this, beating our perps is not something we’re in the habit of doing well. God wouldn’t sic so many assholes on us in the first place if he thought we could beat them as that would defeat the purpose of why he sics them on us in the first place. 

It’s looking more and more like we won’t be out of here till around the first of June, but that’s not too much longer to go. Worst case scenario we’re here till July. It’d be nice to beat the heat and the ferocious electric bills, though.

My vibes say Tom will never work again in this house, even though we’re done getting unemployment checks (an outside job).

I’ve written lots of my current story. It’s the most I’ve done this fast and is almost as long as my first story which was the longest.

We have two pages worth of stuff in our store. The stuff up for auction is doing well, but none of the ‘buy it nows’ have sold yet. Tom said it could take months for the dolls to sell, and reminded me how long Bailey was no doubt sitting in the store before I bought her.

Just as soon as I get the last of the 3 Barbie lots, I’m going to auction off what I don’t want. That’ll mount to something like 15-20 dolls, counting Barbie, Christie, Katie, Kelly and Ken, and 50+ pieces of clothing. I may add a Lea and a Midge doll to the scene. We’ll see. I’m looking forward to it either way! Barbie and company sell like crazy so it’ll be no prob.

The Bowflex is up for auction now too, starting at $250. Maybe some sucker will buy it thinking it’ll make them skinny like I thought, till they learn the hard way that you have to practically starve to lose weight and keep it off with exercise simply as an aid and not a main tool. Especially when you’re older. And maybe they’ll think it’ll smooth out their craters which, contrary to popular belief, are more of an age thing than a fat thing.

Friday, April 9, 2004

We got stood up yesterday by the realtor. She was supposed to come look at the house with her husband who’s also a realtor, but we never did hear from her. Come Monday Tom will contact a few realtors since we need to find someone who’s serious. We don’t have time to fuck around. It’s definitely not like in Phoenix where they come running the instant you call them. Meanwhile, he’s concentrating on making as much trouble for the bank as they’ve made for us through HUD. We decided that if we do get money from the house, we’re going to try to squeeze everything into a trailer and the truck. If not, we’re going to strip this place of everything we can possibly take from it, in which case we’ll get a storage bin or something to haul the appliances in.

If Bob’s telling the truth about sending the oil priority mail around the 5th, then it should be there today. Same goes for the dolls. If they are, I’ll list my lot from Sunday to Sunday.

I just want to get out of here no matter how put out we’ll be for the next few years at the new place! I feel too much like we’re in a race against time. A race against beating the next well crisis, a race against getting out before the freeloaders strike again if they have it in mind to do so.

We still don’t know if we’ll buy the land before we leave or afterward. It’d be nice to have land waiting for us when we left, but I’d also like to feel out the land before we buy it.

The 50-pack of White Shoulders didn’t get any bids. Somehow, I’m not surprised. We’re thinking of trying a variety pack with more generic scents like watermelon, chocolate, fruit and grape if it ever gets here.

Later…

I’m pleased to say that I received both my lot and the grape oil today!

We’re going to try listing more common fragrances and see if that’ll help generate traffic where the incense is concerned. I don’t know, though. Aside from selling old junk, I still worry that something up there doesn’t want us to be all that successful.

I’m keeping 21 dolls (I now have a total of 53 Barbies) and selling 23 dolls. My lot will consist of 15 Barbies, 1 Christie, 1 Katie, 2 Kens and 4 Kelly dolls, plus a few accessories and 50+ pieces of clothing. I took a shot of all the dolls and one of the clothes, too.

Saturday, April 10, 2004

Well, this is it. The realtor’s coming out Monday morning at 10:00. Our vibes and logic tell us that the house will be sold in about a week or two. I’m looking forward to finally getting out of here and moving on. I’m a little worried about the actual transition part of it, though. It’s easy moving into an apartment or to an existing house, but when you’re moving to raw land, it’s hard. It’s really hard. If there’s a delay in getting a septic tank, for example, we may have to stay in hotels for a while. If we have to be out of here before we can get the money to buy the trailer, we may have to store what little we’re taking with us in Miss Perfect’s carport or something until we get the money.

Right now we’re living solely on eBay sales.

I just fear God’s going to do what he always does and send us people to screw with us, and all kinds of obstacles and delays so we’re forced to spend money trying to fix other people’s mistakes and shell out money on account of the delays instead of putting that money towards moving on. If they have to come and test the ground, as they do in some places before putting the septic tank in, that right there could be delay number one.

Meanwhile, I’m trying not to worry about the things that can’t be changed like the renters being such an eyesore. It’s not like I could go over there and say, “Hey, we’re trying to sell our house. Think you could move your filthy houses out of here for a few weeks, and your smelly horse, and your screaming kids, and your obnoxious dogs, and your goddamn trash and trailer, too?”

I’m reading a book that Mary read and said was scary, but of course, I like these kinds of murder mysteries. I could never be just a romance writer. Gotta have some murder and mayhem mixed in with the love and sex.

The palm appears to have a new shoot coming up in the center of it that I don’t think was there before, and I woke up to find a partially unfurled leaf on the big leaf plant. It’s a huge leaf. I measured it to be 21”x12”.

The olianders are blooming again. I’m kind of going to miss seeing them grow and put the renters out of sight, but that’s ok. I’d rather plant stuff at the new place with no one in sight in the first place, in a place that should allow me much more of a selection. Out here, there are only so many different things that can stand up to the heat and the wildlife. I think I’ll try the Rose of Sharon again, for starters. And maybe get one of the fruit trees they don’t ship to Arizona or California.

Sunday, April 11, 2004

We’re not doing too well as far as auctions go, and not a damn thing in the store has sold yet. Tom feels it’s just a matter of adjusting prices and all that, but I don’t know. At least we’ll have no mortgage payment if we don’t end up being successful. I’m a person who’s not used to getting her way, so what’s one more hopeless goal?

We’re thinking we might’ve made a mistake in putting the Bowflex up as local pickup only and that maybe we should’ve built a shipping crate for it and charged the $150 shipping everyone else is charging.

My newer guitar that I got in ’90 is up for auction now too, with a starting price of $49.99.

A lot of these auctions still have several days to go, so maybe they’ll jump in and bid at the end. That’s when the action really starts on most auctions anyway.

At around noon I’ll list my large Barbie lot starting at $9.99. I also took my collection and weeded out and put together a lot of 8 that I plan to list after this one sells. I’ll probably start them at $7.99. This lot will consist of 6 Barbies, a Lea doll and a Midge doll. They won’t come with additional outfits other than what they’ll be wearing. There are 3 in bathing suits, 2 in gowns and 3 in shorter dresses. A few of these dolls will be dolls I bought, the rest from lots. So now I’m back down to having 45 Barbies.

Monday, April 12, 2004

Well, we finally made our first sale, even though it wasn’t a very profitable one. Someone bought a computer book from the store. Two of the 3 auctions that ended yesterday got bids. We put the bait doll up yesterday, along with my Barbie lot, though I still have my doubts about the other dolls selling. It looks like the Bowflex isn’t going to get any bids either, which means we’re stuck with the hassle of dismantling it and shipping it if we want it to sell.

The realtors will be here in a couple of hours. I just hope they can and will help us and will do it in an honest way and not screw us over while they’re at it.

Later…

We met with the realtors, and I am not in a great mood right now. And what is it with people driving over the corner of our fucking property?! They did that in Phoenix and they’re doing it here.

To start from the beginning, they came on time and appeared to be a very nice couple in their 40s. Ron and Amanda B are their names. The guy had a very friendly smile and the woman had the body of a 20-something-year-old. They seemed honest and didn’t waste time by getting too personal with us or discussing things not related to why we called them out. The only personal question Mandy asked was if we had kids. When Tom told her no, she said, “No wonder the house is so clean.”

They saw the inside first and were just as impressed with the layout as I was when I first saw its model. They also sympathized with us as far as the bank not giving us any information and plans to surprise us with a 30-day notice once they come to buy the house back before they remarket it.

I was only with them for a part of the outside tour. I didn’t want to get rushed by the renter’s dogs, so I went indoors. Fortunately, though, the dogs didn’t butt in. I saw them hanging around, but they ran off in the other direction. I met with them after they’d gone down Meadow Green, across the back and up the other side. That’s when they let me in on the renter’s little encroachment. I knew they’d be a problem too, but as they said, they’re renters, they don’t care. They’re not only driving over the back corner of our land, but they’ve got some strange pen with a strand of barbed wire around it on our property, and I’m like why the fuck didn’t George tell his tenants where the fucking property lines are? Better yet, the renters should’ve known better when Tom was discussing the property line with them 8 months ago when he was staking out for the fences I knew were never meant to have. What, did they figure it was okay to use some of our property since we hadn’t fenced it after all? Of course there was no problem mentioning this encroachment to them since they were out and about as always. They “say” they’ll move the pen, but I won’t believe it till I see it. It seems I’ve heard all kinds of false promises from renters before, but damn it, why is it always us that has to have shit for neighbors? Every single fucking place I’ve lived in for the last 12 years has had nothing but problem neighbors. When’s God ever going to give us a break in that department? Tom says he’s going to call George (I still have his number) and talk to him in a few days, but I don’t think it’ll do us any good. Unless we go out there and we move it ourselves, I don’t think they’re going to cooperate. Again, this is Arizona. You don’t complain against people here. I just hope it doesn’t get us shot or thrown in jail. It didn’t surprise me, though. I mean, if they’re going to use our land for their dogs, why not for other things, too? They have a whole 2½ acres of land, though, so why the fuck they need some of ours is beyond me, and why everything has to go either in front or on the side of the house that faces us is beyond me, too. What the hell’s wrong with the back or the other side?

Nothing’s going to change as far as neighbors go in Oregon. No matter what state we move to, it’ll never change. This is why I stressed to Tom that the first thing we’re doing when we get moved is fencing up the place. Seeing and hearing neighbor’s shit is one thing, but I’m through with the our-land-is-their-land shit. We never gave any neighbors anywhere any permission to use our land for vehicles, trash, animals or anything else and we never will.

God, why can’t we ever have nice quiet neighbors who own and who don’t make such a fucking mess?! Why has it always gotta be the always-home Mormons and welfare bums whose dogs are outside 24/7?

Anyway, because we didn’t list the place last June like we should’ve, there’s just not enough time for HUD to get the date bumped up because, by the time they got around to reviewing it, it’d be past the 6 weeks we got left, although they did send us a letter saying that they were going to send the bank a letter about it. There’s also not much time even if we had a buyer today, and an investor may offer us shit. We could probably sell it for $150,000 if we could get his mother to get the payments current. Either way, we’d still probably be out here between June and July. It’s looking like that’s going to end up being the case, though we may still take an investor’s offer if it’s decent enough. If we’re only going to get a few grand, then no. If we can’t get a fair amount, no matter who buys it, we won’t do any damage to the place, but we’ll gut the house of everything we can that we can possibly sell.

I don’t like the “Everybody’s moving to Oregon, what’s going on in Oregon?” comment Mandy made. Tom insists she was just making small talk, but either way, I know people will follow me wherever we go. If they’re not there waiting for me when I get there, they’ll soon follow.

It does appear that the new houses are occupied because we saw them get their trash picked up. Trash pickup is available now. We just didn’t think it was worth paying for with what little time we have left here (at least I hope it’s a little. I’m more than ready to go at this point. This house has been nothing but a curse for us). Anyway, the people have been wonderfully quiet so far, but again, that’s only so far, and it’s the difference between renters and owners. I don’t know why renters think they’re automatically obligated to make a mess and a scene, any more than I can understand why poor people think they’re supposed to, but they obviously do.

I’m a little worried about him calling George. I just don’t think he’ll cooperate since this is Arizona, after all, where it’s a sin to voice any neighborly complaints no matter how kindly it’s done. If worse came to worst, though, Tom could always go to the county and complain if he had to, though that could be putting us at risk if these people happen to have the wrong connections as they did in Phoenix. The only difference this time was that they couldn’t use race against us. However, if they’re Mormons like I think they are they could use that as a defense. Either way, I’m sure God will equip them with all kinds of ammunition and leave us totally defenseless and vulnerable to trouble.

Later…

Tom and I talked some more about our situation, and oh how good it felt to laugh after all this frustration! I’ll get to that in a minute. First, he assures me that the renters are no big deal compared to other things that are going on (well, they’re certainly no big deal compared to the blacks and Hispanics) and that George is nothing to worry about. If anything, he may be interested in investing in this place what with the way he was drooling over the well. It’s a good thing I kept his number. I knew we’d one day need it. I just thought it would be to bitch about loud music and maybe a bit of trashing dumping along the way, too.

Anyway, we nearly slipped and were laughing over it. When Ron was talking about how not being current on the payments could hurt his credit a bit, he almost said, “Hey, I don’t care. I don’t plan to ever have a mortgage again.” This wouldn’t have been a good thing to say, though, because then they wouldn’t take us as seriously and work as hard to set things straight and get us the best deal possible. That’s the reason we didn’t tell them that his mom would get us current if it came down to us needing her to do so. They’d jump at that and not bother to try to find us an investor willing to make a decent offer. We want to see what they can come up with on their own first.

Where I almost slipped was when we met up with them on the utility side of the house and Ron mentioned the renters. I nearly said to Tom, “See? I told you they’d be an issue. Who’s the psychic in this household?”

Tom says we can’t possibly have renters for neighbors where we’re going because it’s against the law to have rentals where there’s no electricity, and that helps ease my mind a bit, but there’s no law saying owners can’t be trouble, too. If it’s near us, it can definitely be trouble.

They may be Mexican and they may be slobs, but I’d say the people next to us have turned out to be the best neighbors since we’ve been here.

If a miracle happens and we get enough money, we’re going to go for this place that’s listed in Oregon that’s too good to be true. It’s only a couple of acres, but it’s got a 24” dome on it, the foundation for a house, a bathhouse, a septic and a travel trailer. I guess the owners bit off more than they could chew and had to sell out. God could never bless us like that, though, so I won’t even get my hopes up. I’m sure we either won’t get enough money or that it’ll be sold by the time we did, if we did. Still, that’d be perfect for us to start with! It’s listed at $29,000.

It’s looking like we may settle in a place near Klamath Falls which is in south-central Oregon. It’s about 2-3 hours from the coast, 20-50 miles from the California border. Klamath Falls is a little bigger than Casa Grande.

We compared the yearly weather averages to Agawam, MA and found them to be somewhat similar, although they have higher fluctuations between their lows and highs because they’re further inland than Agawam is. I don’t look forward to the cold and snow, but the bright side of it is that it should keep people indoors more often and at least I don’t have to take the bus, ride a bike or walk in it. I also like rain and woods.

We discussed another possible way of getting there which is to rent a very small U-Haul for just $80 and pull it up with the truck. We’d stay in hotels along the way. Hotels are noisy and expensive, but comfortable and convenient. As soon as we got there we’d dump our stuff in storage, drop off the U-Haul, get a trailer and begin the hunt for the land with me hopefully being able to psych out evil/good lurking about. In the midst, we’ll open a PO Box somewhere.

We can’t sell the green truck. It doesn’t have a title and has been stripped to a near skeleton of a truck, so we’re just going to leave it here.

The land, we found out, is exactly 660 x 601.

As for Mary, now that’s someone I just might see someday. If someone had told me when we first became pen pals that she’d never be in this house, my first guess would be because the freeloaders started new shit with us and drove us out, and my second guess would be that either she dumped me or I dumped her.

Speaking of Mary, she’s worried I’ll use events from her case in my book, saying that even with a different name people would know who I was referring to, so I promised her I’d not only change her name but change her case, too. I’ll have her shoot her husband in self-defense and get off. We can be cellies like we were while she’s awaiting trial, and she can even be childless, too.

She also said that the copies were for her and not for Maria like I had originally thought, but didn’t mention getting them or Haiku’s picture. Didn’t mention finishing my book either, but I guess she has.

Oh, and these pigs she’s been talking to, though what for I don’t know, say they can’t understand why someone would help her with her book without a motive. But what could I possibly have to gain? I’m actually putting myself out by helping her. It’s my ink, paper, envelopes, stamps and time, but that’s just pigs for you.

I was worried, due to so many people not putting their actions where their mouths are, that Maria wouldn’t do all the things she said she was going to do for Mary once she gets out, but Tom thinks she will take her in because she’ll want someone to cook and clean for her. This isn’t something I’d tell Mary, though. I don’t need to be the one to burst her bubble. It’ll happen on its own, in its own time. Same with her finding out that no, José isn’t ever going to get out of prison to sweep Mary off her feet and live happily ever after with her, and no, she’s not ever going to get off probation, though lifetime probation should get easier with time. In a few years, she’ll probably only have to call in once a month. I’d still run like hell if I were her.

Tuesday, April 13, 2004

I’ve begun the first of two disciplining tactics. I want to train my body to need no more than 8 hours of sleep, then in Oregon, I want to train my body to have only 1200 calories a day. These 10-hour sleeps and 2000-or-more-calorie days are ridiculous and I need to put my foot down as far as curbing these bad habits. I decided that if I’m hungry and tired – tough. It’ll be good for me to do this. I know the hunger pains are going to be a nightmare with my monstrous appetite, but I want to learn to live with it. I still can’t figure out why I need so much food. I don’t know if it’s because I do a lot or because I’m more active than the norm or what. Whatever the reason, my body needs more food and more sleep than it should and I’m going to try to get it used to a more reasonable amount. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to the constant hunger and frustration of never eating enough to fill me up, but I may be able to adapt to the 8-hour routine. I’ll probably have days where I’m more tired than others. I’ve weighed pretty much the same for a long time now, so I guess this is pretty much where I’ll stay indefinitely. I decided it’s okay if I don’t lose weight, but I don’t want to gain anymore either. As it is, the 130s is way too much for me, but if that’s where my body is settled and feels most comfortable, I’m not going to struggle to change it; just my cal intake. At 1200 cals I’ll slip down to 127, then my body will automatically maintain that as long as I don’t go pigging out. It’s a shame I won’t lose more than a few pounds for all my hunger and hard work, but at least I shouldn’t gain.

The reason for the cut in food isn’t so much about my weight as it is about saving money. I’m tired of wanting things I can’t have. I also want to put it towards the new house. The shell may only be about $14,000, but the whole thing’s going to cost around $60,000. Your average person takes home $18,000 - $24,000 a year, so that’s a few years at the very least before we can finish it. We’re going to build it in modules so we don’t have to wait years to move in. We’ll start with just a room and a bath that will eventually become a little workshop or storage area once it is all built.

We have about a dozen different auctions going right now. We even decided to auction off the small critter tubes and accessories, one lot at a time. If all goes well, there’ll be 6 lots. One will be a big lot with a little of everything. A few will consist of tubes of various kinds, connectors, small balls and small wheels. The last two will be those two Critter Trail houses I never should’ve gotten like I did through Memolink.

What’s amazing is that within an hour of him listing it, some of his old shit has gotten bids. I’m a little surprised the Barbies haven’t gotten any bids yet, but I’ll be really surprised if they don’t sell. If there was anything we put up that I have the most faith in selling, though, it’s Barbie.

Wednesday, April 14, 2004

The spider curse is back on. With the exception of those few that we saw, I’ve managed to back them off again, and even with the fact that the rain has long since washed the poison off the doors.

The good news is that we’re having more success with our auctions. Currently, we have 10 auctions with bids and 7 without, mostly because they still have a lot of time left. Due to the questions we’ve been getting about the guitar I got almost exactly 14 years ago, we still think it’ll sell even though no one’s bid on it yet. We’re thinking we’re doing better because of the store. Meaning, they may not be buying from the store like crazy, but having the store and more feedback gives them better peace of mind as far as buying from us goes. However, the more we learn about eBay, the less we understand. They seem to be buying the weirdest shit. They’re especially going after old stuff. Surprisingly, a lot of it is worthless. He got $11 yesterday for a couple of old AOL disks that have no value whatsoever.

I have my doubts that it’ll work, but to try to entice people to take some of the unwanted incense off our hands, we cut it to just $1.99 with free shipping on the 50-pack variety pack. That’ll cover shipping so we’re giving it away and not paying to give it away. God knows we’ve paid enough to give and do for others! Given the fact that we’ve got a dozen or so scents in here I don’t want anyway, I’m ok with giving it away. I’d rather that than throw it away, but if it doesn’t go by the time we leave, I will dump it. Better yet, I’ll just leave it here.

Anyway, sometime this morning someone finally bid on the Barbies, but like I said, I knew they’d go. Someone’s also bid on the first of the 6 rodent tube/accessory lot which we weren’t sure would or wouldn’t go. There are 4 bids on the Bowflex we were getting worried about. Someone emailed Tom asking if he’d be willing to ship it and he told them okay, as long as they’re willing to pay the $175 it’ll cost us to ship it. It will have to be broken down into 3 or 4 boxes. Still, I hope the winning bidder is local! We’ll find out this evening. It’s up to $305. We need every penny we can get to live on while we’re still here and for the move. I warned Mary my letters may slow down. Seeing that we paid $1200 for the Bowflex, I’d really like it if it could sell for around $600 - $800, but because this one doesn’t have the pull-down bar, it probably won’t get much over $400. Better than nothing, though.

No one seems to want porcelain dolls, so assuming the 14” Jessica doll doesn’t sell, I may relist her at just a buck or throw her in the store for $5.

Because Mary and Dave are lazy, as Tom said, and hate to deal with hassles (meaning, they’d never want to deal with doing eBay auctions), he’s going to see if he can get their old junk. They have a lot of old junk because just like with Tom, they never throw anything away. However, he’s not going to just come out and ask Miss Perfect if he can sell her old junk. Instead, he hopes that by mentioning how well old junk sells she’ll offer it to him. If she doesn’t, then maybe he’ll ask and even offer to share any profits. He regrets the stuff he dumped when cleaning out his parent’s old house. If we only knew then what we know now! At least then we could’ve gotten a little money for the time and money she and Jackie and Jim used him for.

Right now I just hope we can sell enough to keep him from having to work while we’re still here, and that we’re not here more than a couple of months if even that, and that we find a suitable place in Oregon and aren’t put out too much for too long in the beginning. The thought of having to go back to trailers, hotels and Laundromats for too long does not appeal to me. It’s fun and adventurous, yet it’s a bitch. One we shouldn’t have to resort to at our age. I swear, every time we get ahead in life, we get kicked back! Well, hopefully it’ll be a little harder for people to kick us without the hefty mortgage payment hanging over our heads to have to deal with in the midst of it all.

We love Little Guy who continues to be loads of fun, though with a couple of flaws. He’s turned into a little pisser like Little Fella was and isn’t very big. He’s small like Harry was which means he can’t go in the cage I like best.

If Bob’s alive and I don’t hear from him before we move, then we’ll end up losing touch because no mail can be forwarded when we leave and I don’t even know if our phones will work. We may be totally impossible to reach for a while and I don’t want to write to him if he may not be alive.

I know Paula’s alive and free. I called her. Not to talk, but to see if she was out and about in the free world. Sure enough, she’s just fine. I hung up as soon as she answered, though she’ll know I called. She’ll probably just assume it was a bad connection, but I don’t care. I know now I no longer wish to be friends with someone that selfish, ungrateful and unstable, and now I hope I don’t get a letter from her before we move, though people have a habit of trying to reach me right before I move. That’s what happened with Minnie and Doe and Art, but who says I have to acknowledge them? No one makes me do anything I don’t want to do and they never will again. That was one thing I promised myself nearly a year ago today when Scot called.

I’m still 130 and I intend to stay that way. I figured, ok, if I can’t lose weight, I can at least keep from gaining, so I’m watching what I eat with just one day a week off for a snack.

Later…

We got an email from someone in Sweden asking if we would ship the Barbies there. Tom checked and found that we could do it for as little as $35, but even that’s expensive. We told them we’d be willing to, but why would someone want Barbies from here? Especially when Barbie’s everywhere. Why not just bid on an auction in Sweden?

Later…

We had another sale from the store. An old computer game for $2. Meanwhile, 12 out of our 18 auctions have bids, and we have over 1000 views on all our items.

Thursday, April 15, 2004

The Bowflex sold for $355. We’d have liked a little more than that since the thing cost us $1200, but it’s better than nothing for something we don’t want to take with us and that’s 4 years old. At first we were pissed when we saw the winner was in Missouri, and I was like, eBay’s got to come up with some kind of controls we can use to automatically reject bidders we don’t want, but then we got an email from this guy saying that although he’s in Missouri, he wants it delivered to his daughter in Chandler. So Tom called and spoke to the daughter Alisha, and will be delivering it tomorrow.

The guitar now has a bid. We figured it would go because two people asked questions about it.

Today we’re going to list things like paperbacks, decorative picture frames, intercoms from 1969 that were part of some unclaimed freight, (he used to know someone who worked at a train station) and whatever else comes to mind. Maybe we’ll put up one of Critter Trail cages.

I’m a little worried about my weight. For the last couple of years, I could still get as low as 127. Once I began my diet, I expected to drop to that and stay there, but after two days of watching what I eat, I’m still 130! I wonder if this is now as low as I can go. Oh well. As long as I don’t gain.

Later…

Cool! The incense has a bid after receiving just 6 views. The guitar has another bid too, and is up to $50. When I think of how well we did at the swap meet and how well we’re doing with eBay, even if we don’t end up selling much incense, I see a money curse lifting and reversing itself slowly but surely. Still, we have so much incense that we’re contemplating adding a free 20-pack to each winning bidder and each store purchase. I guess our mistake was having the last auction be one scent and that variety is the key to selling more incense. If it turns out that the incense was merely a gateway to us selling all kinds of stuff, along with giving me something else to enjoy, that’s cool, too.

The grape incense I made has a funny smell to it. I hate when my incense doesn’t come out right. My chocolate minis don’t smell right either, nor do my short or long butter rums. From now on I’m getting them dipped anyway.

We even got paid to go get water, soda and mailers. They gave Tom a free refill (that’s being in a small town for you), the priority mailers are always free, and he got paid to fill our 5-gallon water jug. He inserted a buck to fill it, only to be spat back the dollar and an extra nickel along with the water. Not bad.

We decided that by late May we’re going to have to put our foot down if nothing’s happening with the house because we can’t afford to be here when the heat really sets in and kicks our electric bill up to $400. This means that if we don’t get a decent offer from an investor and if we don’t go to his mother for help, we’ll contact this place that pays cash for houses. The problem with that is that we’ll only get about $5,000 and will have to spend about a year making payments on our new land, but a year of paying for land is better than paying forever on a house/land package.

I just hope I like Oregon and don’t end up having any regrets! Then again, I’ve started over one too many times in my life in so many different ways, so like it or not, shitty neighbors or not, I’m staying put for at least 15 years! I’ve had it with moving and with starting this over and starting that over. I decided I’d be ok with starting over as far as our failed attempt to get things to grow like we tried to here, with the exception of a few olianders, but if for some reason we’re unable to take my indoor plants, I’m not getting new ones there. It’s just that the starting over thing gets old after a while. Sometimes I don’t mind, other times I think I ought to add a rule against it to my do-not-forgive rule.

Anyway, we’re aiming to be out of here between Memorial Day and his birthday.

We’re looking forward to online gambling there which this control freak of a state won’t allow. In fact, Arizona’s such a controlling state that you can’t even play games for points through points programs.

Friday, April 16, 2004

Tom’s now on his way to Chandler with the Bowflex which ended up getting a whopping 500 views. Then he’s going to stop at the mall to get a battery for that gorgeous Gucci watch. I was going to sell it but decided not to.

The Barbies are now up to $20. I recognize one of the usernames from other Barbie lots I’ve checked out. I even beat this person out on the Texas lot. I’m glad I bought under my username and am selling under his because then they may be hesitant to bid, figuring I’d already gone and picked the good stuff out, which is exactly what I did, although there are some dolls and clothes in more than fine condition, but that just isn’t to my tastes.

We currently have over $200 of stuff that’s going to sell, and thanks to the Bowflex, we just may make $500 or more in one week! Sure beats the old unemployment checks. If only we could sell one Bowflex a week and if only I had a never-ending supply of Barbies I didn’t want or already have!

We decided not to post things on Fridays and Saturdays. Sundays will be our usual ending day. This Sunday I’ll put up my 9-lot (I added a Kelsey doll to the lot) and run it on through till next Sunday. I’ll be putting up a cage then too, and either another small tube/accessory lot or a big giant one. The lot still has two days to go, but if it’s only going to go for a buck, I’ll just combine everything else I have. The cages will be sold separately, though.

I’ll soon be listing a small lot of videos, plus the Denise Austin video/exercise equipment.

The guitar went up a buck, but there are still no bids on the small porcelain doll. That’s one of those things where if she’s going to sell, she’ll sell at the last minute like the last two small ones I sold. She still has a couple of days to go.

We have some vintage computer items ending in 6 hours – a game and a printer.

One of the most shocking things is his ’72 calculator for handicapping. He pulled it out of a folder and decided to put it up. It got bid on within an hour and is now up to $7 with two days left.

Another amazing thing is his old voltage ohm meter. He thought he might get $10 for it, but it’s up to $28, also with two days to go.

His syntonic drums from ’82 are up to $20, his Yamaha recorder’s up a few bucks, his vibraslap is up to $11, and his cabasa is up to $8.

Still just one bid on the incense.

We put up some paperbacks yesterday. He’s got two of them up separately, then a pair of books, while I’ve got a 15-lot. I also put up 4 decorative desktop photo frames.

Just when I was amazed to have gotten down to just one week left before my period without spotting, I start spotting. Why can’t I just bleed when I’m supposed to???

The diet and schedule are going well. Tom was right when he said that eating less makes you wake up easier. You wake up quicker and feel more refreshed, though I’ve had just under 8 hours of sleep the last few days and would like a little more. Still, I’m going to hold my schedule for as long as I can and remain on the 1200-calorie diet, too. Tom’s been cutting down, too. Wednesdays are our treat days. I’ll be getting popcorn next Wednesday for sure. I do miss it! It’s my favorite snack. However, my stomach’s been less gassy since I stopped having it every day, and I also don’t miss having it get hung up in my wires.

No, the spider curse isn’t back on after all. There were two of them in here yesterday, so we’re going to have him spray the doors and hope it doesn’t turn around and rain right after he does.

Every time we think we know how we’re going to handle the move, a new idea pops up. We may not only buy the land before we leave, but we may buy the trailer here like we originally planned so we can stay for free in hotels owned by casinos. We’re going to have about 3 days and 2 nights on the road. I am both looking forward to it and not looking forward to it. I’m sure it’ll be as fun and as adventurous as it will be a hectic bitch. I just hope the winters there aren’t going to be too rough as far as the cold and snow go, though I don’t care how much it rains. I think I’ll like it, though, overall. If I was still single and having to rely on buses, then no. I really do miss trees and privacy so I think the benefits will be worth its bad points. I know Tom’s set on the idea and I’d be forever curious about what it would’ve been like if I changed my mind and decided to stay in the desert. Tom said I was welcome to do that and that he’d gladly stay around here if I wanted to, but nah. I’m tired of the intense heat and openness, and of course, there’s the issue of my feeling uncomfortable here as a Jew surrounded by all these filthy freeloaders and psycho laws.

As for the route we’re going to take, we know that if there’s one place we want to avoid, it’s the L.A. area.

Later…

Tom’s back from Chandler. It turns out that the woman’s going to ship it to that guy in Missouri, her father, I guess.

He got his wedding ring made round again for free, too. He bent it over time working on various things, probably things for his mother when she was more like our daughter than a mother/mother-in-law. I rarely wear mine because it’s still rather tight on me what with how fat I am. Plus, we live like friends, so it’s not that important to me. I think that deep down all along, he and I were searching for a damn good friend more so than anything else that would love us unconditionally. I just think we either didn’t realize this at first or maybe it was just hard to admit, especially for him. He still can’t admit he has no desire to get it on with me. I think that for as long as he lives he’ll say he really did want a kid and that he never wanted to be just friends. It’s hard for a guy to admit they have a sexual problem or no appetite at all. They think they’re crazy or something, but if he’s crazy, then so am I because I have no desire to get it on with him or with anyone else in general. At my age, it’s just not anything new and exciting, though if the young Kate Jackson materialized out of thin air and said, “Let’s do it,” you bet it’d be doing it.

While he was in the mall dealing with the watch, he stopped in Select Comfort’s store, which is where our airbed is from, and found that the 2” thick memory foam is now down to $400. Since this is less than the cost of a waterbed, we may get that and keep this bed. Especially since it comes apart and folds up so easily. His bed won’t go, though. He’ll sleep on an airbed till he gets a regular bed.

Then again, maybe not. I just had a good idea that Tom agrees is an excellent possibility. We may still take this bed but put it in his room. Then, we could maybe get two twin airbeds, build frames for them, then put them side by side in my room. That way if he does sleep in there I won’t feel his movements, though I’d still hear him snore. I personally would still like to keep our own rooms. He snores like a mother-fucker, talks in his sleep, drools like crazy, and I don’t like the male scent. I love everything else about him, just not when I’m trying to sleep.

Saturday, April 17, 2004

Today I’m rather tired. I just can’t seem to get to bed earlier. This is my third or fourth day with under 8 hours of sleep. It seems my body would rather catch up by sleeping later than by going to bed earlier, but I’m not ready to let it do that just yet. In fact, I really want to stay on this schedule until after we’ve moved. It’ll make things a lot easier. I’d like to give myself a day off, but if I do that I’ll end up sleeping till around 10:00, which would mean not being able to fall asleep till 2:00 the next night, and only getting 4 hours of sleep.

I’m down to 129, and even though I know I’ll stop losing after another pound or two, I’m going to continue with the diet because it makes me feel better. I get up at 6:00 and my 4 eating times are 9:00, noon, 3:00 and 6:00. I’m a little hungrier today than I have been, but that’s only because my weight’s dropped and it’s my body’s way of demanding it be put back. It will be put back during the move since we’ll no doubt be eating million-calorie meals at places like Denny’s and Burger King.

Hunting season is officially over, so that’s one less thing I gotta listen to.

Meanwhile, the well is scaring the shit out of me. Just totally teasing me. We’ve been having a lot of pressure problems lately, but Tom keeps checking the well and everything’s ok. It’s the filter that keeps clogging up. I still feel like we’re in a race against time. I hope to hell we get out of here before it breaks again or we have worse problems with the renters than we have!

In fact, I think we should just get the people who pay cash for houses and get out. We don’t have the 6 months to a year it’d take to get this place current and us a decent deal. Tom would have to find a job that paid as well as his last job like right now in order to do that, but even if he did, we don’t want to be here that much longer. I know I don’t. I’m totally ready to move on. At the same time, my life has been better here overall, it’s been worse and I was never really happy in this place, so why stick around until the heat pummels up our electric bill higher than we can afford? We’re not going to get a decent offer from an investor, and as Tom said, we can make the move on a few grand, so I think we ought to get out now. Mr. Optimist, though, is going to be stubborn a while longer. I know him. He’s still hoping for a better deal.

I saw that they’re still cutting across our land in back yesterday. See, I say it’s a total waste of time calling George. All it’s going to do is start trouble for us for however long we are here. Arizonans are too sensitive and too defiant for him to go complaining to, and we know George isn’t going to have the money for this place. If he did, then why isn’t the fourth rental in yet? Meanwhile, you can’t go complaining to people here and expect them to do what you want. They simply can’t handle it. Even if you’re in the right, people are like children. Meaning, the more they know something bothers you, the more they’ll do it. I personally don’t care if they cut across the damn corner anyway. It’s potential buyers who may care that I worry about. The only way to stop them is to fence the area, but God help whoever does if they do. Again, something like that will be taken personally by the renters and they’ll only do something else. Something that’s likely to be worse. I know it’s rude of them to use any parts of our land for anything, but I don’t care. We’re never anywhere near that area and we’re moving, so I don’t care. I just hope no one else does either. All I know is that I’m not going to jail or getting shot because the realtors mentioned the driveway to them.

When I think of the things we never did with the Phoenix house because of the way we were terrorized out of there (I wouldn’t have wanted to stay in such a small old house in the city anyway), and the mural that never got replaced here, the porches that never got built, the fences that never got installed, it makes me wonder if we’ll ever get to do the things we plan to do in any house we may live in. I mean, I’m glad we didn’t do these things after all since we’re only going to be here just over 4 years, but will we really get to do things with the new place, extra money or not? Tom thinks we will, but that’s just his optimism for you. Me? I’ll believe the fences and whatever else when I see them. It’s logical to say that fewer acres and more money means we should have no problem fencing, but I’d still like to see it before I go assuming it’ll happen.

Tom just came in to tell me he found a gold mine underneath the house. He forgot that he put boxes of old junk under there. There was also carpet, padding and some of that acoustic tile we threw in the bedroom windows to muffle next door’s antics in the old house.

The guitar’s now up to $56. They sure have been asking a lot of questions about it, too.

If Barbie doesn’t get more bids today, I’m going to be both surprised and disappointed.

Tom’s getting ready to go to the dump. It’s free today. He’s also going to look for whatever’s eBayable, too.

We haven’t seen Shiny in weeks. It seems shiny black cats like to disappear right before we move. I’ll bet anything that the dogs got him. We wouldn’t have been able to take him anyway, and I’m glad we never got a dog. I doubt I ever will, too. I’ve spent the last dozen years listening to other people’s dogs and I’m sure I’ll be doing that again at some point in Oregon, so I don’t need one of our own barking as well.

I’m about three-quarters of the way through with Kiss the Girls. The only thing I don’t like about it is the many references to slavery and racism connected to the black characters. Why can’t they just be black characters, period? Why is it that every time there are black characters there must be mention of slavery and racism? See, that’s what I mean when I bitch about how they don’t seem to want to move on. You don’t hear me mentioning the holocaust from time to time. I don’t expect the world to kiss my ass because I have relatives who were killed in concentration camps. Nor do I think I’m obligated to remind people of it on a regular basis. What’s done is done and that’s in the past.

Later…

I’m not going to be too happy if the Barbies don’t get any action tonight, though I won’t be surprised because we just won $8 on a ticket, and life has a way of balancing things out like that.

My feeling of sitting on a ticking time bomb proved legit just a little while ago, but thankfully, it wasn’t a multi-hundred or thousand-dollar problem!

Like I said, we’ve been having problems with the water pressure. The well kept telling us everything was ok, but I knew something was wrong. Never have we had problems with our filter clogging up like this before, so I knew somewhere, somehow, something wasn’t kosher. Tom went out to check yet again, but he didn’t have to walk all the way out to the well to find the problem. He could hear the water leaking before he even rounded the corner of the house. It was the hot water tank leaking. Tom’s first thought was that it ruptured since they do that over time. That’s what happened with the one we had in Phoenix. I knew, though, that a barely 5-year-old water tank shouldn’t be rupturing anytime soon. His next thought was that mice chewed through it. Especially since there were droppings in the insulation. He even suspected there may be mice in the walls. A few days ago I thought I heard one in the vents, so I figured he was probably right. But then when he went to investigate further, he found that the problem was just another one of the Mexican’s fuck-ups. I swear we could be here 20 more years and still be correcting their mistakes. The Mexie didn’t tighten the connection in the pipes that are right under the tank and it loosened up over time, causing poor Tom to have to crawl just under the filthy, spider and scorpion-infested edge of the house and do their damn work for them for the millionth time that should’ve been done years ago and that we paid them to do. Hopefully, though, we’ll be able to end our careers of fixing other people’s mistakes in Oregon, though I know the breakage curse will follow us there. That was on us in Phoenix too, and if it followed us here, I don’t see why it wouldn’t follow us there.

Anyway, we’re now pretty sure there aren’t any mice in the walls and that they were just hopping up there for drinks. If there were they’d be waking me up like crazy, no doubt. I’m just glad the problem was fixed quickly and didn’t need anything more than a metal hose clamp. Now, if things could just not break between now and when we get out of here it’d be wonderful!

Sunday, April 18, 2004

Sold my guitar yesterday for $63. They’re going to send us a UPS tag and UPS is going to come pick it up. They must not trust their PO.

Barbie and company sold for $32 (not great, but not bad) to the winner I beat out in the big lot from Texas. Maybe she’ll win my small lot which is going up today, too.

The small porcelain doll didn’t sell, not surprisingly, but we did get a question about it wanting to know general info. I haven’t decided yet whether or not to relist her at a cent, since I didn’t pay anything for her, throw her in the store, or try to get her to go at the moving sale.

Anyway, between his stuff and mine, we made well over $100 today. We could really get used to this, too. In fact, we set a goal of selling $500 worth of stuff a month. What he makes from whatever job he has will go towards the house.

I haven’t watched TV in months. The TV of today really sucks in general. It’s like it’s too real. All this reality shit is just too serious and too dramatic for my tastes. Life itself is real enough and serious enough and dramatic enough, so who needs to see it on TV, too? And it’s always, always the same subjects – race and childbirth, which makes no sense seeing that no one’s having kids these days. They all want to work and make money like I do. Anyway, I said I’d scream if I heard one more childbirth story, but then I decided that if I’m going to try to sell books, I better include it in some of my stories. It’s just a really popular subject for some reason. Hardly a book or a movie without it these days. It seems like it’s been that way since the ’90s. Anyway, the 70’s clothes and brown paneling may’ve sucked, but it definitely was the best for music and TV. Charlie’s Angels is so Nancy Drew-like compared to what you’ve got now.

I only slept 6 hours last night, waking up two hours before the alarm was set to go off. I woke up feeling wet and found I had the period I didn’t expect to get for another 4 days. For almost a week now I’ve been sleeping just 6-7 hours. Although I’m kind of tired, I’m amazed that I’m not much more tired than I am. I think it’s the change in diet. A good 10 hours of sleep, though, surely would be quite a refresher.

Monday, April 19, 2004

Yesterday was our biggest selling day of the week, so we’ve got quite a few packages going to the PO today. They’ve all either been paid for or money orders have been sent. The Barbies are going to Colorado, but are awaiting a money order.

We relisted a few things, including the small porcelain doll at just a buck and she’s already got a bid! So does my 9-lot of Barbies that went up yesterday.

I could’ve used another hour or two of sleep, but 9 hours is better than 6.

It looks like I may not be writing journals by hand after all, until we get set up in the new place. Laptops are pretty cheap these days and I’d love to have one so I’ll probably get one to use on the road and until we’re set up, though I’ll have to write letters by hand.

I’d hate to have a well at the new place since all they do is break. Especially if they belong to us. Tom insists, though, that with a much shallower well, we can pull up the pipes ourselves to fix things that break, whereas here, with over 700’ of pipes full of water, you need the expensive, heavy equipment to pull it all up.

I like the idea of being able to have windows open more often up there and not having to worry about blowing dust when the wind kicks up.

I also like the idea of us making more of our own decisions. With this house, I got to choose whitewash over oak, and white floors over brown, but we didn’t get to choose little things like what kind of thermostat we have and things like that. I’d prefer a digital thermostat.

It’s cooler today, but that’s good. It’ll save us money the less we have to run the AC.

This palm tree is now almost 22”! I keep putting spells on it regularly. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that you must keep regularly applying spells in order to continue getting the results you want. If it’s something that’s a one-time deal, that’s different, but since I want this tree to keep on living, I have to keep on spelling it.

Later…

Tom got a call from the realtor saying that there’s this investor who should know by Friday whether or not he’ll have enough cash to consider getting this place. I thank God for that well I hate so much. Without it we’d have no chance of getting an investor, which would leave us with the option of either getting current, miraculously finding a way high-paying job, and being stuck here another 6 months to a year till we could sell it right, or selling it to those who pay cash for houses and hope we get something for it. It’s the well they’re after and what makes it a real value. I strongly vibe this place will go to an investor, though my vibes are hit or miss when it comes to good or neutral things. It’s the bad things they’re always right on with. I know we won’t get the $135,000 like I originally vibed. What’s more than likely to happen is that an investor will split this land into 4 parcels, each 2½ acres, and then the well will be fed to the other 3 houses.

Yuck! I mean, imagine what the dog situation’s going to be like, and of course they’ll all be showering one day or doing dishes or laundry when all of a sudden the pump goes out. At least we won’t be here to deal with it and the trash and the barking and whatever else is going on around here.

I doubt next door’s going to be the least bit happy. When they first came out here, there was no one around which means they probably liked it that way or else they wouldn’t have moved here in the first place.

Anyway, I may or may not go off schedule. Nothing much is going to be happening other than that this investor may come by to check the place out on Friday, and we decided not to bother swap meeting again. Why go get sunburns when we can sell this stuff on eBay and at our moving sale? And that’s not for a couple of weeks yet, so I may not worry about my schedule for a while. Besides, I need some alone time. I love Tom dearly, but him coming in to tell me things or ask me things and breaking my train of thought when I’m trying to read or write gets old. I need some space to concentrate better. I find I do the same thing too, and jump up to tell or ask him things that I’d normally wait till I saw him for.

As for George, he’s not going to call him till he goes down the day before and checks to see if they’ve moved that weird fence they had. Assuming they haven’t, and I’m sure they won’t, he’ll call George. See, all George is going to say is, “I’ll talk to them.” So the reason we want to wait till the last minute is so that if they ask why they haven’t taken the fence down if we’re met with the usual renter defiance, Tom can tell them that he just called him. That would sound better than saying, “I called days ago, but apparently he either didn’t keep his word about mentioning it, or the renters just don’t care.”

In a few days, Tom’s also going to call Miss Perfect and let her in on what’s going on, not that I expect she’ll care much.

Either way and no matter what happens in the end, I just hope we don’t get fucked over.

I’m so sick of this waiting game and hanging in limbo like this. It’s like, we know we’re moving and we’ve got our minds set on Oregon goes, so let’s just go already!

No mail from Mary today, though I sent her a letter. I try to be consistent so she knows what’s going on. I figure she may’ve either run out of envelopes or is hesitant to send anything so close to the move, but I told her not to worry about it and that the worst that could happen is that it sits at the PO for a while and doesn’t get typed up for a few weeks to a few months.

Still 130 which is good. I decided I don’t care if I’m 20-30 overweight. I’m staying right where I’m at for as long as I can.

I don’t know if Little Guy just got startled or thought Tom was handing him food or what, but he bit him when he went to stick his fingers in the cage, nearly breaking the skin. If he does that to me, he’s going to become a baseball with me as the bat.

Earlier we made $20 on another old thing just sitting in the closet; Tom’s old vibraslap. The cabasa is the other thing to end today in a half hour. It’s at $17.

Later…

It is absolutely gorgeous out. And quiet, too. I cut the AC and opened a couple of windows on the front side of the house as well as in the bedroom. I don’t want to open any back windows and let the afternoon sun make it too warm in here.

According to the weather site, it’s 77º both here and where Mary is, though it’s 9 PM there and 48% humid while it’s just 14% humid here.

Tom finally got his 20th feedback. It’s a good thing we didn’t wait this long to open the store!

Barbie got another bid from someone I think also bid on my last lot.

The incense now has 3 bids. I’m way glad about that.

Tuesday, April 20, 2004

The incense sold to someone in Georgia for $3.25 with 4 bids, and the Barbies are over $10 now.

Today we had 3 packages going out, all musical instruments. The cabasa went to Pennsylvania, the vibraslap went to Colorado, and the electronic drums went to France.

The only other thing ending later on today is the old AOL disks. From now on, though, we decided to make our listing days Wednesdays and Sundays. It’ll make things easier at the PO that way.

Got a really good offer in the mail from Yves today which I’ll be using my business profits to get. It’ll cost $42, but I’ll be getting a lot of expensive things at a huge savings. Ordinarily, the stuff I ordered would be twice as much. The night cream I want is regularly $31, but this deal allows me to get it for $15. My second favorite perfume of theirs is regularly $21, but using the $20-off coupon they enclosed, I can get it for just a buck. Then there’s honeysuckle cologne, lavender foot cream, bamboo roll-on deodorant, and vanilla cologne. Oh, and there’s also this toning thing they’ve got that they claim 86% of the people who used it noticed dimple reduction in their skin, but I don’t think anything can reduce craters. We’ll find out, though. Yves products are really good. The freebies included are a tote bag, a cosmetic case, a glasses case, and 3 small bottles of cologne, shampoo and lotion.

Tom picked up a magazine at the local Circle K with travel trailers and mobile homes for sale at this huge place in Phoenix. We not only want a small, cheap piece of shit because we’re not going to have much money for anything bigger and better but because we only plan to use it for a few weeks at the most. We can also get a 16x12 tent at Walmart for just $70, so that way we’ll have 2 things to use till the first room/bath goes up.

Think of the money we’ll have once the house is paid for! I won’t let anyone know that, though, cuz the more you have, the more people want, though I don’t intend to ever have many friends. More friends mean more trouble and I don’t need it after all I’ve been through in my life. God only knows how much of a pest Mary will be when she gets out, even though she won’t be in the same state.

Later…

I’m quite surprised at all the questions we’re getting in regard to the stuff we’re selling. Someone just asked Tom if the small cage that’s up now has chew marks. It doesn’t, of course. The cages are practically brand new.

Amanda stopped by earlier with a form for Tom to sign releasing information to the investor. She was here and gone in a flash and didn’t even come into the house.

Barbie’s now up to 8 bids and $13.

We have nothing selling tomorrow, but the day after we have 6 things selling and so far only 2 of them have bids. I hope someone grabs them in the end.

Wednesday, April 21, 2004

As soon as he gets the money transferred into the bank since Yves doesn’t do PayPal, we’re going to order online instead. That way I’ll get the stuff faster and even save a little at the same time. There’ll be a slight change in the products I get, too.

I got pissed off at Tom earlier for contradicting himself on the rodent lots. While he was preparing the large lot he was complaining it was too big. What pissed me off was that he seemed to forget that we agreed we’d do a large lot when we found that small lots didn’t make much, so why he waited to tell me this now, beats me.

I just wish I didn’t have to spend so much time with him. I wish we could get the fuck out of here and that he could get a job not long after the move! I know we’re going to fuss and fight along the move itself and it just gets old. It really does. I love the man, but still, there’s just too much Tom S in my life right now. I get up, he’s there. I go about my daily routine, he’s there. All the more reason to be grateful I never had a kid. I can see how its constant presence would’ve driven me absolutely insane.

As for his next job, which I’m sure is still many months away, my first thought was that he’d nab a high-paying job because we wouldn’t be as desperate for money. Life seems to work that way; it’s those who need it more that don’t seem to get it. I guess that’s why it’s usually the people who aren’t financially strapped to begin with that win the lottery. It’s like God gives to those who have things and he takes from those who don’t have.

But then I thought about it some more and said, nah, he won’t make good money. God knows we want the money and have big plans for it. He’s going to do everything he can to slow down, stall and delay that house. I know he will.

A thought crossed my mind – it’s too bad Doe can’t be the one to die first because then I could probably weasel my way back into Art’s life, acting all empathetic, and get some inheritance money from him since we always got along better, but I agree with Tom – it’s not worth it. It’s not worth all the hassles and bad memories it’d only dredge up. And of course, I’d have to hear about other family members along the way, and I wouldn’t want to, nor would I care to. Lastly, he was no angel just because he wasn’t nearly as bad as his wife. He’s done some raunchy things himself and just the fact that he let her do all she did without even trying to defend me, doesn’t make him worth the bother. I shall stick to my ‘no shit from anyone, blood-related or not,’ motto I’ve had going. I’ve taken way, way more shit from all kinds of people in all kinds of places and all kinds of situations that I never should’ve. But I was too weak and too nice to put my foot down until this all changed about 6 years ago and this is the way it’s going to stay. Besides, with no mortgage and with generating our own electricity, we’ll be fine on our own.

Prime time’s coming up, so hopefully Barbie, as well as other things, will get more bids.

Tom just came in to tell me Kate’s going to be guest-starring in some police series this Friday night that he doesn’t watch that often. I’ll check it out just so I can laugh at how shitty she looks these days. It’ll be worth watching the crack mom give birth and the poor, poor blackies cry racism. I feel bad for her, though. She looks so old these days, but no one’s attractive at 55 years of age. No one.

Thursday, April 22, 2004

It is absolutely gorgeous out right now. Above normal and windy, but gorgeous. I have most of the windows open.

Tom was working on pulling up the stuff we buried down past the well that became exposed over time. He’s going to get a 3-day burn permit and burn the few piles of brush and other crap that’s out there, which you have to do when you do open fires. I knew it was a total waste of time when he sawed down that brush because I knew there’d never be fences. At least none that we put up.

Tom and I discussed the pros and cons of cold weather climates, versus staying here, and he said he didn’t care whether or not we stayed where it’s warm.

I put together a list of pros and cons and here’s what I came up with.

COLD WEATHER CONS: Don’t like cold/snow Don’t like wearing winter clothes as much as summer More rain, more leaks

COLD WEATHER PROS: Fewer spiders, smaller spiders People and dogs less likely to be outside as much Easier and cheaper to warm than to cool Trees add more privacy More rain, something I like if we can keep it out of the house Can open windows more often Less dusty Can do online gambling in OR Fewer freeloaders in OR

If I were single and relying on buses and didn’t want to use the cold as a tool to keep people indoors more often, then the decision would be a little tougher to make.

I was incredibly shocked when Tom checked and found that they did take the fence down in back. I’m amazed. Truly amazed. I guess it’s just the difference between white renters and freeloaders. Meanwhile, the investor should be out tomorrow. There are no guarantees, though, and if he does come out, he may not bother coming in the house. It isn’t the house he’ll be interested in. If he had the money, he’d be a fool not to take this place, as Tom said. There just aren’t that many welled properties out here. If he does come out tomorrow, I’m sure Tom will have to get me up so he can come while I’d normally be sleeping, but it’s worth it. I’ll be glad to deal with it and get this over with. At first I wanted to enjoy every minute I had left here with space and comfort, but now I just want to get the hell out because the sooner we do, the sooner we can get our new house going, and I’m not moving again!

My vibes are good, though. I think this may end up being an easier move than the last time. Not just because we know more now than we did then, but because we don’t have to deal with showing the house. The investor will be the one to do that once he gets everything set up. This house could easily sit empty for 6 months to a year.

We’ve been checking out this really promising site in Oregon where these people who own many parcels of land say that if you buy land from them and you don’t like it, you have up to a year to pick out something else they’ve got.

This area is said to have about 300 sunny days a year, so I’d say it’ll snow and rain less there than in MA.

Friday, April 23, 2004

We not only ordered from Yves online but were able to do it through Lucky Points. I can even get Ashton-Drake dolls through them when the time comes!

For just $2.95 shipping, I’m getting a week’s trial of this diet patch they have now which they claim is all-natural and that 93% of those who use it lose 7-10 pounds a week. They say it suppresses your appetite and boosts your metabolism. I know they can make things to suppress appetites, but I still don’t believe there’s anything we can do or take to boost our metabolism. I’m trying it more out of curiosity than anything. I still say that if they’d stop using models who are young and usually skinny anyway, I’d be more impressed. They also claim you don’t need to exercise, but I’d never stop exercising no matter what my weight was. I like the feeling of being fit, strong and agile.

Supposedly it’s to be shipped within 24 hours and I’m to receive it in a week, but I accidentally gave them a bogus email address. The one I use when getting samples to avoid spam. Tom’s worried they might get paranoid and think we’re trying to scam them and therefore help themselves to everything that’s in the account, but will keep a watch on it. I’m more worried they won’t bother to bill or send us the item, but we’ll see. If I’m meant to get it, I will. I just know that either way it won’t work because I’m middle-aged and meant to be fat, but I couldn’t resist settling my curiosity. If it were pills or drinks, I wouldn’t bother. But a patch? This I gotta see. That’ll be the day when anyone, young or old, can slap on a patch and lose weight!

Someone bought another old computer programming book from the store and someone else got 4 things from the store. It’s great that the cheap books and software are selling, but I wish Samantha would sell! I decided to auction Amelia starting at $9.99. I’m sure she’ll go that way because she’s a Paradise Galleries doll. When we get moved I’ll want to place Maria in the store. She’s really not that great of a doll.

I haven’t smelled that foul smell since we discovered and fixed the pipe problem with the water heater, so we’re thinking it was connected to that and that what I was smelling was a build-up of mold. The water tank is also at the end of the house where the smell was strongest.

Later…

I am so pissed off right now I could break a champion wrestler in half! The bank is still fucking with us. Damn them and damn God for letting this happen! No one can get information or documentation as to how much we owe. When the title company went to call to try to find out, they hung up on them. We’re still hoping the investor, who’s coming out tomorrow morning, will buy it and leave a little leftover for us to move on, but we still may have to have his mother get us current. It’s the only way to take back the ammunition that the bank has got against us. If we’re current and go to list the house normally, they can’t do shit to us, though we could end up here for several more months. What’s scary is that they can alter the numbers and say we owe way more than we do, and we have no money for lawyers in which to fight them.

Once again, nothing up there likes us. Nothing. It never ends. It never fucking ends! Everybody’s always got a hold on Tom and Jodi, but never could Tom and Jodi have a hold on others, not that we’d want to. We just want people to leave us the fuck alone! God, I wish those freeloaders were here right now! It’s times like this when I just want to mutilate everyone that’s ever fucked me, Tom or both of us over, one by one.

I tell people to just ignore me if they don’t like me, and well, I wish God would do the same. If he hates me so much then why does he even bother with me? Can anyone just not like someone and avoid them, or do they always have to screw those they hate along the way?

It’s scary that people can have such power and control over us as free adults. We don’t care that our credit’s fucked up because we intend to deal with cash only from now on, but it’s still scary to know that this cock that fired Tom, who I never even met, could so easily turn our lives upside down and fuck up our credit as he has. Meanwhile, if I wanted to do that to someone or get them thrown in jail, I wouldn’t even know where to begin. All I can do is place spells and hope they work. I would love to have 5 minutes alone, for example, with the monster Mary was with. I know beyond a doubt that I could mutilate him in minutes. He wouldn’t think I could and his underestimating me, along with my rage, would be all it’d take, regardless of size difference, and I have experience and faith in myself when it comes to fighting. I’ve been in numerous fights in my life and am sure there’s more to come. At my size, you’re gonna get provoked and jumped here and there, even if you’re heavy. Anyway, since I can’t go to the jail and ask to be alone with him in his cell for a little while, I can only resort to my spells and hope they work. On the other hand, if God’s stripped me of the power to fight back against those who have wronged me, then I don’t know if I could harm someone who’s harmed someone else. The only time I’ve been known to be able to make someone sick was when they pissed me off because of something they either did to me or Tom.

I just want to get out of here and into a place we own outright NOW. Then, once the house is built, Tom won’t have to work outside of the house so long as the business is successful. At least we won’t have a huge mortgage to worry about if he gets laid off or fired.

Either way, there’s nothing more infuriating and frustrating than being fucked over while there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it but wait until it’s over and hope they don’t get you too bad. Even when you can fight your perps, you still can’t always fight God. Meaning, we can get in a position where no one can legally fuck us over, but what I wonder is if that’ll encourage God to do other things to get at us, like sic a homicidal maniac on us. I’d like to think he could never hate us enough to do something like have a sicko like that hold us hostage in our home and torture and kill us, but he’s hated others enough to have this done to them, so why should we be an exception? I just hope to hell we are an exception because his doing other things worries me. His hold we can never break free of. We’re forever at his mercy. I was raised to believe this and I still believe it as an independent adult with a mind of her own.

It wouldn’t make sense for God or whatever to have us stuck here for several more months. Something has always wanted us out of here, so you mean now it may not let us leave? That’d make no sense. If we do get stuck here, though, at least it’s not jail, and for once - for once - it’s not the freeloaders fucking us over.

My attitude towards God was similar to how it was with my family, both in the past and the present. I would try to seek out my family’s love and acceptance in the past, and, after two years of hopeless prayers for a baby back when I wanted one, I began to pray to God to keep me from getting pregnant. I know it sounds crazy, but it was the only way I felt loved by him because I knew that no matter what, he wasn’t going to allow me a child. Then once I got into my thirties, I just didn’t give a damn anymore what they thought as long as they’d stay out of my life and leave me alone. Well, I’ve achieved that with my family, but how do I ever achieve that with God?

Later…

I’ve been working on Angel Eyes now for 6 weeks and am on page 70. I think it may be 100 pages, but can’t say for sure.

Here’s a new reason to hope the investor takes the house, though it’s not that big of a deal – another house has been pulled in in front of next door. It’s closer to Bitter Root which next door faces, so it’s the furthest one of the 3 houses over there. I’m not too thrilled about having to sit and listen to the tractors and whatever other equipment go grinding away for hours at a time while they set up, but there are worse things to have to listen to than that, so I’ll live.

Next door is really going to be unhappy, and there probably will be 2 or 3 houses dragged in here too, and then maybe George will get the fourth rental. What amazes me is that he hasn’t yet and that no houses have been put in front of us or on the north side, though the north side probably wouldn’t have stolen much privacy or peace from us.

Saturday, April 24, 2004

Huey B, the investor, came out with a Sammy Davis Jr. lookalike sidekick (a Mexican version of one anyway) and Ron, and the house is now officially in escrow. He was familiar with this house and its layout. Apparently, he set one of these models up on some other property he invested in. He definitely wants the place and was talking about plans to split it into 5 parcels, each being 2-acre lots. (poor, poor next door) It looks promising as far as getting enough money to move on. He and the realtor pointed out again how illegal it is for the bank to do what they’re doing to us by refusing to give us information, and how the bank knows they’re in the wrong (God only knows what paperwork they’ve altered), but hey, it’s Tom and Jodi so it’s ok. It’s ok to fuck us over. No problem. God will protect them. Anyway, the investor’s going to sic his lawyer on the bank to get some numbers, bogus or not. He’s going on a trip to Chicago and will be back to make the final negotiations with us on the 26th or 27th. He has agreed to allow us to stay here rent-free for a month after we strike a deal, so that’d put us out of here by June 10th at the latest. Could be sooner.

A few hours later, Huey called back to say that he thinks we owe $91,000, but Tom thinks it’s more and is worried he’s going to get his hopes up for a price that’s too low. We wonder how high he’s willing to go, but felt it wasn’t a good time to ask. All we did was stress to him that we couldn’t be put in a position where we ended up owing him money we don’t have, and he said we wouldn’t. If he knows what’s good for him, he’ll keep his word, because if he doesn’t, he’s not receiving a dime.

I expect the next few months to be quite hectic. The next step is to plan when and how to sell off the furniture. We may even do one more swap meet before we do the moving sale. We still may have to put up with people coming to see the house, too. Depends on how soon they list it. We also have to bid on the land we want and plan the move – how we’re gonna get there and all that. I’m not looking forward to the cold and snow, but I think it’ll be a worthy trade-off for the trees, privacy and fewer people hanging out and about.

If worse came to absolute worse and the investor won’t give us enough to move on, we’ll let the bank take the house when they plan to on June 2nd and we’ll gut the place of its appliances and whatever else. Rip the ceiling fans out, swipe all the blinds, and just leave the assholes with a shell of a house. Light fixtures, faceplates, you name it. It’d be work on our part and we hope it doesn’t come down to that (I’m almost positive it won’t), but will be worth it to us if it does come down to it. Like I said, I don’t think it will. This investor’s been very cooperative, and as people who give what we get, so have we. We’ll leave it clean and fully loaded as long as we don’t get screwed. Ron was saying how he and Mandy have realtor classes periodically and how they warn them about predators like Bank of America and Wells Fargo all the time. He and Mandy aren’t getting any money out of this, but they’re going to be the ones to list the houses once they’re all here and assembled.

I almost slipped again when he was mentioning how we’re getting screwed over and said, “Welcome to the story of our lives.” And then again when he said how unbelievable it all was with, “Hey this is nothing compared to being set up and thrown in jail.”

Sunday, April 25, 2004

We’re still waiting on payments for the tubes, incense, books and something else. I hope there’s money waiting for us tomorrow at the PO. Tom’s a little worried about the tube payment because it’s taken so long, but every now and then you do get someone who doesn’t pay. We’ll report them and give them negative feedback if we have to. eBay recommends waiting a while in case the payment got lost in the mail.

We’ve got some things ending in a few hours, and we’ll be listing new things, too. Barbie’s currently got 133 views while the porcelain doll only has 21. They have this new thing now that tells you how many people are watching your items. There are 4 people watching Barbie right now, so even though she’s only at $13.50 at the moment, I’m sure they’ll swoop in on her at the end. I’d like at least $18 because that’d be $2 per doll. The small cage is also at $13.50, so that’s more than half the money back on what turned out to be a very dumb buy. What’s really weird is that there’s someone watching the store. This makes no sense to us because all you could see by watching the store was whether or not an item sold.

A couple of nights ago the people in the closest house in front kind of made their presence known. It was about 10 PM when I heard a guy go “Whoa!” I was in the utility area when I heard it through the side door which has a single pane of glass in it. In the rest of the house, you couldn’t hear anything with the windows shut. With my office window open, I could hear a young girl go “Woo!” I guess they were partying or something, and of course they were in front of their place. Surprisingly, there was no music. Still no dogs either.

Yesterday we weighed the pros and cons of moving with a travel trailer versus a U-Haul and it looks like the trailer may win. We could not only get more stuff in the trailer, but we could eat cheaper too, by cooking our own food, though we will eat in restaurants sometimes. We could also pull over and use the trailer’s bathroom when we have to go, rather than have to wait till we reach rest stops. Lastly, we’d hate to get there with a U-Haul and then have a hard time finding a trailer right away so we could have something to stay in till the room/bath is up.

We’re going to make sure we don’t drive at night because the weight of the trailer’s going to push the back of the truck down a bit, making the headlights shine upwards.

It’s going to be one long-assed trip! It’ll be fun and adventurous, though hard, I’m sure. I’m just sick of this ‘starting over’ thing we seem to do too much of. I just want to find a place and stay there for at least 15-20 years.

If we end up leaving on June 10th, then that’d mean I’d have lived here exactly 12 years and 1 day.

When I made the comment to Tom about how shocked Art and Doe will be to learn we moved to Oregon, he said maybe they wouldn’t even find out and maybe they’re not even alive anymore. I said no way. If they don’t find out through his family, they’ll find out some other way. Plus, if they died, Tammy would use that as a great excuse to get to me through his family. But he says it’s possible no one will notify me so I couldn’t dispute their will. I know these sick people, though. When we move, they’ll know it, though maybe not until Christmas when Ma sends them a holiday card, and when they die, I’ll know it.

Anyway, back to more important and pleasant things. We may set up a cabin kit to live in till more of the house gets built, rather than a dome. You can only have one house on these 2-acre lots, so I don’t know if we can do that. We’ve got to make it look more like a shed.

Later…

I’m both shocked and a little bummed that the Barbies only went for $13.50. I really expected them to jump in the last hour to at least $20, but the good news is that they raided the store. They got a handful of old books and software. What’s really amazing is that the cage sold for $20.50. That’s almost as much as I paid for it! My very first porcelain doll which I stole by mail when I lived at the Vista when I first came to Arizona, sold for a buck, and so did the Denise Austin 1-2-3 Tone-Up video/exercise equipment. The other thing to sell tonight that was up for auction was software for an old pinball game Tom’s had for centuries.

We received payment for the book lot, so now that’s 3 things from the last auction we’re waiting for payments on.

Tonight we listed a Madonna laser disc, 3 old Tom Wait LPs, some hardware, the big Critter Trail cage, and my old mini keyboard.

Monday, April 26, 2004

Samantha’s been in the store for almost a whole month yet she only has 19 views. That’s pitiful.

Anyway, my keyboard already has a bid (just the opening bid), and the cage is already up to $11.

We got the tube, book lot and doll payment, so now we’re just waiting on Barbie, incense, cage and software payments.

No Mary mail today. I’d say she’s definitely hesitant to write what with the pending move. Or maybe she just hasn’t been in the mood. Because she tends to write in spurts anyway, I’m not worried about it. I’ll still keep sending letters out on Mondays as I usually do.

Huey called this morning to say he still hasn’t been able to get any info but will have it soon. See, he’s overconfident, just like Tom said. The info is not going to be easy to get, but when he does get it, will he be afraid to commit if the numbers are too high? That’s what worries us most; that he’s getting his hopes up for too low of a price.

Anyway, Tom still hasn’t called Miss Perfect because he’d kind of like to have a little more to tell her. We’re hoping this will be by tomorrow night.

Later…

Tom decided to finally break the news to Miss Perfect and company as far as us losing the house and going to Oregon. He spoke to both her and Ma. He thinks she’ll buy us an RV which is what we want more than a trailer or a U-Haul. It costs about the same as a small old used trailer – about two grand. I don’t think she’ll buy it, though, because we’ve needed so much money from her as it is since we came here.

They’ve been having their share of troubles, too. Ma had a couple more patches of skin treated that were cancerous, Dave’s father died, and Mary’s sick all the time, as usual. Our sisters are the same in that department with the only difference being that Mary’s illnesses are quite real and not made up or exaggerated. However, in light of my sister leading the pigs to our door and discovering the warrant out on me, I’m sure that’s all changed and that her problems have since been very real indeed.

I guess Huey will either call or stop by tomorrow. He has some houses selling real soon and says we’ll be paid on May 7th. I just hope he doesn’t back out on us in the end. As soon as we’re paid is when we start selling off the big things and basically getting rid of whatever we don’t want to take with us and packing the rest. We’ll probably do a weekend moving sale and whatever doesn’t sell on Saturday will be offered for free on Sunday. Once everything’s gone that we don’t want, then all that’ll be left to do at that point will be to get the RV and load it up.

We still don’t know if we’ll bid on land up front or see about talking to landowners there, let them know we’re coming, and hope to set up a meeting so they can take us to whatever land they may have. We don’t want to be committed to something sight unseen that we may not like.

Tom and I went outside and did some visual measurements of what a 2-acre property would be like. It’s really not all that small when you consider that it’s going to be in a forest. I’d hate to have a lot that small here what with how open it is and the general outdoorsy lifestyle people and dogs have here, but I think a lot that size in Oregon will be ok so long as it’s got some serious trees on it.

Again, I don’t know if I’m looking forward to the cold, but if it’ll keep neighbors from keeping barking dogs outside constantly, then it just might be worth it. They might throw them outside in the summer, but I wouldn’t think they would do that year-round. Because we’ll be able to afford to keep the house warmer than we did during the winters here since we’ll be generating our own electricity, and since I won’t have to play bus in it, the cold shouldn’t be as hard to deal with as it was back east.

I really have a feeling life will be better for us there overall. I feel so sure of it and that everything will work out there and we’ll achieve our goals, as naïve as that may sound. Perhaps it’s just wishful thinking and I should stick to my pessimistic attitude, but for the first time, I’m breaking my rule of always assuming the worst or at least nothing positive.

It’s so cool that we can move and not have to worry about moving the store, too. It automatically moves with us!

Tuesday, April 27, 2004

Here’s the latest house update, and believe me, it’s a tremendous relief! Huey came by today just after noon. Tom got me up at 11:30 with coffee which was sweet of him. I had crashed at 4:00, so I had had enough sleep.

Anyway, Huey came and stank the place up (he smokes and I could smell it on him) and we ended up signing a contract to agree to sell to him. We’ll be getting a little over 5 G’s on May 7th. Again he expressed his sympathies about the bank’s fucking us over, saying he had hoped to get us at least 15 G’s, but we got what we figured we’d get. He’s going to let us stay here for free till June 12th and he said to let him know if anything comes up and we need more time, but we think we can make the deadline without a problem. In fact, we just may clear out a few days earlier. He picked the 12th because that’s his birthday. All we have to do is leave the appliances, keep the house in the same condition, and pay the utilities. We’re not going to stiff APS in the end because that could create hassles for Huey which wouldn’t be fair. I’m not even going to put a spell on the place. I want to move and am ready to move so I see no need to curse it. It’ll be cursed enough by whatever haunts this land.

As we figured they would, the bank’s claiming we owe $102,000 when we know it’s really about $95,000. As Tom told Huey, he actually witnessed them create false documents out of thin air for all kinds of reasons during the 8 years he worked there. That’s okay, though. We have enough money to move on and will see to it that from now on we’re never again in a position where people can screw us this bad. The key is to make sure no one has a hold on anything we have. From now on we’ll buy everything outright. If we get a new vehicle, we’ll pay cash for it. If we ever have enough money for a boat, we’ll buy that in cash too, though I don’t expect we’ll ever be that rich.

One thing I can say for sure is that if someone told us the day we moved in that we wouldn’t even be here for 5 years, I wouldn’t know what to think. Had they told us that after the freeloaders popped back into our lives, I’d have thought for sure it would be because they’d end up running us out. At least the stress I’ve gone through on account of all this has been nothing compared to the stress I’ve had to endure in the past. I mean nothing. I think that as long as I don’t ever want sex or a kid again, or get thrown in jail, nothing can be that bad.

We were talking about how valuable this land will be in the future and how I had wondered if something up there was having this happen now to stiff us out of a lot of money in the future, but since we’re talking 25 years from now when Tom will be in his 70s, we’re really not losing much. In other words, why stay here and suffer just to get a little money at the end of our lives when we could have more money in the meantime without the hold on us?

Soon the surveyor’s going to come out and stake off the 5 lots. It’ll be interesting to see what this house will end up on. Not much compared to what it’s on now! They’ll also take pictures of the inside of the house. Hey, a living room with giant rats! That ought to entice buyers everywhere. Also, it’s too bad I don’t have a realistic replica of a rattlesnake for my big Chris doll to sit on the couch and hold. Wouldn’t the people just love that – seeing what would look like a real little girl with a big smile on her face as she holds her pet snake! Could’ve set her or Jade up to look like they were strangling Lady, my lifelike stuffed dog.

Almost slipped again when Tom said that the surveyors needed to watch for snakes and let him in on the fact that we have a few rattlers that like to nestle right by the door. Rattlers that were not only brave to begin with, but that get braver each year as they get to know us better and therefore not shake their rattles to warn us of their presence. This is so true, too. They probably wouldn’t strike us if we passed right by them, not that it’s a chance we’d take, so we have to really watch for them because they’re not afraid of us. They’re plenty used to us and we know it’s the same ones each year. Even the king snakes stopped slithering off at lightning speed when they see us.

Poor prairie doggies and bunnies. They’re going to miss me and this space for sure!

Some dog we’ve never seen before has been hanging around the shacks a lot. I’m sure it belongs to someone in one of the new houses.

We could practically read each other’s thoughts when Huey would mention different things. When we were talking about how fucked up some of these banks are, he told us that they asked to see that Mexican’s passport when he went to cash a check (he was born and raised here), then got into a whole spiel about how mean everyone is to blacks and Mexicans, and I was like, will you shut up! I’ve heard enough of the damn sob stories and how they’re such poor, poor abused souls. What about us and the abuse we get from them?!

Same with when he was trying to get this pig to arrest this guy who stole from him that had a felony warrant out on him. The pig said it wasn’t his job to arrest him and that it was the detective’s. I almost came out and said, “Must not have been Jewish.”

He mentioned having master keys to Redmans and Cavcos, but no Palm Harbors. Then he said he wouldn’t enter anyway without someone being here and I almost said, “Well, I should hope not if the one entering doesn’t want to be shitting teeth for a week or two.”

Anyway, I’m glad we never did get a dog or a mannequin in this house, though I probably will get the mannequin in the late summer or early fall. It’s also good that we’re not moving with mice. Not just because they stink, but because that’d be rather torturous for them. They hate traveling, but rats don’t mind.

I’m excited and a bit overwhelmed at the same time. We’ve got a lot to do in the upcoming weeks. I kind of wish I could snap my fingers and have it be a few weeks from now. Even a few months.

I told Mary not to send any mail after June 1st if she’s worried about it sitting around and then getting lost in the transition.

When Tom calls Miss Perfect in a day or so, he’s going to say we’re only getting a little over 2 Gs in hopes of encouraging them to buy the RV. He doesn’t want to call them back too soon after last speaking to them because he wants them to have time to sit and stew about it. Oh, I can imagine the stewing they must’ve done last night! We wish we could’ve been flies on the wall for damn sure.

Thursday, April 29, 2004

We sat down together earlier and mapped out some plans for the upcoming weeks. Although slim, there’s still the slight chance we may get a small old beat-up manufactured home instead of an RV and a room we build because some places don’t allow you to live in RVs and you have to have a building permit for the room. We’ll need to get that anyway, though, at some point. If we went this route, then that’d mean hauling our stuff up in a U-Haul, but I still think we’ll do the RV and room deal. We can’t live in a tent either because this is residential land and not recreational land. That’s the only thing I don’t like about it so far; that you can’t live in tents or trailers or have more than one house, but that’s also a good thing. If they could have one house per acre like they can here, that’d mean more houses in the end.

As Tom said, though, you never know if someone will complain against us if they see us living in the RV like we will half the time, but hopefully there’ll be too many trees for anyone to notice in the first place, and hopefully they see the idea of complaining like most Arizonans do – a mortal sin. I have mixed emotions about the people there being like they are here. No one wants to be complained on even if they know they deserve it, but Arizona has some of the most cold-blooded, callused people I’ve ever met. Hopefully, good or bad, I won’t have to deal with them as much as I’ve had to here. I know I’m going to love the fact that there’ll be fewer blacks there and way fewer Hispanics. According to these statistics, Arizona has a 3.1% black population and a 25% Hispanic population. Oregon has only 1.6% for blacks and 8% for Hispanics. I’m not blind to patterns of curses, though. Meaning, regardless of color or race, I know that Oregon could have one small rotten bunch in it, just one small rotten bunch, and God will see to it that they go next to us.

Anyway, the basic plan is to start auctioning off everything we think we can sell that’ll be easy enough to ship. When the house closes on the 7th and we get our money, we can bid on land so long as they’ll agree to let us exchange it if we don’t like it once we get there. The 30-day store listings end on May 13th, so we won’t list anything new after that. We’ll also end the auctions on May 23rd.

This one I’m not looking forward to as hot as I’m sure it’ll be and that’s the swap meet. We’re going to do that on May 22nd and possibly the 23rd as well. We hope to get the RV the week before the swap meet so we’ll have time to spruce it up. We’ll use it to go to the swap meet so Tom can get used to driving it.

Around the 28th of May, we’ll get a camper shell for the back of the pickup. In the midst of all this, we’ll be stripping and selling the car and the other truck.

On the 29th is when we’ll get moving boxes to pack up the last of our stuff which we plan to take with us. That should be a fraction of what we moved here with!

June 5th and 6th are when we’ll have the moving sale. Hopefully, the heat won’t deter people.

Monday, June 7th is when we hope to leave Arizona and arrive in Oregon 4 or 5 days later. If we really do leave on the 7th, then we should have just 38 days left here!

Just in case there’s a delay in anything Mary sends, I’ll tell her to stop mailing things to me on May 25th if she doesn’t want to be mailing things during the move.

Still have no idea when the surveyors will be out. I’m sure they’ll come when I’m asleep. The intense winds woke me up today. I knew I was going to get woken up any day now too, as it had been a while. I don’t expect to get much sleep in the next few months, that’s for sure!

I’m just glad we finally know some things. We know when the house will close, we know when we’ll leave, give or take a few days. All those months of wondering and not knowing were getting quite old. I don’t know what our land will be like or what our lives will be like in Oregon, but we’ll soon find out. I think it’ll be better than here. Either way, I’m getting settled and staying put this time around. I haven’t lived in any place for longer than 6 years since I was 12. I’m sick of moving. Moving to an apartment that already has plumbing and electricity is easy, but moving to raw land is hard. We’re going to have a lot of thorns to go through before we get to the roses and will be put out a lot. We’ve been there before, though, so we’ll do it again and live as college kids or poor people do without extras like dishwashers till we can one day reap the rewards from being put out like this. It’ll be worth it. I’ll just be damned if I’ll let anyone take it away from us!

It’d be nice to hear from Mary regarding not only what’s going on with us, but with her, too. She never did tell me what she thought of my last story. She wasn’t through with it when she last wrote. I noticed I don’t hear from her for a while after sending my stories. She must take her time reading them. I thought she’d just zip right through them, but it seems she likes them to last a while. It’s been a few weeks since she wrote, but she doesn’t typically go longer than a month. She’s probably just not in a writing mood lately and may be a little hesitant, like I said before, to send stuff now. By now she should know what’s going on, so she’ll probably write soon.

I haven’t sent any mail to Bob. I don’t know if the old man’s dead or laid up in the hospital, but I don’t write to people who don’t write back after a while. If he’s dead, no one’s going to tell me and there’d be nothing I could do about it anyway. If he’s in the hospital, I’ll just have to wait and see if he ever recuperates enough to write.

Paula, I don’t care to hear from. Tom said it’s human nature for those who don’t have anything that are given things not to be appreciative, yet I’d be all the more appreciative if someone cared enough to give me something when I didn’t have shit, but human nature is pretty warped. Always has been, always will be. Nonetheless, she hasn’t written for months so I stopped writing her.

Friday, April 30, 2004

My diet patch sample arrived today. It’s simple, you change patches every 3 days and you do it for 90 days or until you reach your goal, though this sample only has 2 patches. I still have my doubts that it’ll work, but I’m trying the week’s supply anyway. You’re supposed to stick them on hairless areas and change places each time you change patches. I have one on the lower right side of my stomach now. Monday I’ll place the second one on my upper arm. They don’t recommend baths or swimming with it but say you can shower with it so long as you don’t let streams of water run over it for too long.

So far I don’t have any irritation, but it doesn’t seem to be suppressing my appetite.

I could really kick myself for using the wrong email address because now they’re claiming in the letter I got in the mail with the patches (which they didn’t say online) that they’re going to automatically bill us $159 for the 90-day program. That would be fine if the sample worked and if we were settled in Oregon or wherever we’re going to be, but not now. I can’t cancel my account online because I didn’t get order numbers or anything like that emailed to me, so now I have to call on Monday and hope I can get them to cancel me. If I’m going to order it’s not going to be until and if I see this thing works and that the weight doesn’t come right back the instant I stop it, and we can afford it. Besides, I’m going to be pigging out on the road, so I wouldn’t want to start any kind of diet till after we were settled. Meanwhile, I’ve been hanging at 128. This is a little low for me, so I’ve been hungrier and stuck more.

It’s really too bad I’m not psychic enough to know what kind of job he’ll be getting, because if he were going to get a good job without anyone screwing him over in the end, we might get this 32-acre lot in Oregon for payments of $300 a month for 12 years which is nothing compared to a grand a month for 30 years. The people who end up living here, though, won’t pay nearly that much because they won’t have 10 acres with a private well like we did. I don’t think he’ll have a very good job, though.

Another few hours and that will complete one wonderful year without the freeloaders in our lives, having us do this and do that, pay this and pay that, to say nothing of controlling where we go, cutting into our schedules, and basically dictating our whole lives and how we live. Now if they can just remain out of our lives for 37 more days, then I’d say we’re home free. To have them out of our lives has been heaven, though I try not to think about them because I not only get furious at them but at God, too. They burned me viciously and got away with it while God protected them. It’s always been that way; others screw me, I pay. But not anymore. From now on I pay for my screw-ups and my screw-ups only. I will never again fall victim to anyone for any reason. I just wish my powers had developed to the point that they are now back in ’96 when they first became a problem. I won’t hesitate to use them on anyone who burns me bad enough, even if I’m made to pay in the end. Like I just said, I’ll pay for and take responsibility for my own actions. That’s fair enough. What’s not fair is for me to go to jail because of something I either really did write or was said to have written just because someone may have a problem with me, be it because I’m Jewish, short, pale, whatever, and just because they harassed me, I complained, and they couldn’t handle it.

[sparrowandbee]

The Sparrow, Chapter 11

Synopsis: Marian goes into the arena, ready to keep her promise but uncertain about her ability to survive- and what that survival would cost her and Haymitch.

1568 Words

Masterlist

-

The ground was rumbling beneath me, prompting my eyes to dart open. 

It must have been midday already, the sun was high and my skin was prickly and sunburnt. I jumped up and held as tight as I could to the sturdy trunk of the tree as it swayed beneath me, my sweaty palms grasping tightly to its rough bark, but without too much urgency. The ground was only swaying, it was barely a rumble.

The Gamemakers obviously didn’t mean to cradle me awake. I heard the booming crash of canyon rock, probably a few miles from where I was- It was all very disorienting but I wasn’t going to stick around long enough to get answers. 

Since the quaking was coming from behind me, I ran forward, knowing the route was leading me toward the cornucopia. Though I intuitively knew this was the Capitol’s way of telling us to move it along, I was still vehemently in denial that I would have to use the knife again, probably against a career this time. 

The cornucopia glowed blindingly in the sunlight, the glow reflected on the structure’s mirrored surface. 

My half-assed strategy got me this far, but I couldn’t sneak my way out of an arm-to-arm confrontation- Haymitch said it himself. My lucky streak had run out but I couldn’t quit now… I didn’t want to quit now.

I felt better than I had in weeks, I felt full and strong and the pain and bleeding were under control- the angry red sunburn didn’t even sting anymore because of the oil inside the gift.

Though we all knew how this would end, I rushed into the cornucopia anyway- I wouldn’t go down without a fight.

-

The penthouse had never been this crowded. I sat in the same spot I had before, but this time surrounded by the eccentric figures of the capital.

I took another swig of some spicy cocktail someone brought. It wasn’t bad… but anything would be welcome over having to endure this sober. 

I had remained so removed from the spectators and showmanship of the games that it gave me shivers to see their wide, colourful eyes as they ‘ooh’ed and ‘ahh’ed at the flat screen. 

That morning, they let me know this would be the last day. Soon after, the living room was already filled with all sorts of brightly coloured minglers in structured gowns and neon accessories. A migraine for breakfast.

I know my drinking isn’t the ‘right’ coping mechanism but between obnoxious fake laughter and the micro-objectification of Marian’s sleeping, bandaged body, I couldn’t get through it without a drink… or twenty-seven, if we’re counting.

Sponsors were one of the many “necessary” evils of the Games. It’s logistically impossible to win without them. It had been more years than I care to count since I hadn’t stooped to that level, but I couldn’t bear sitting static when she was giving so much, so I dove into the circus of humiliation that is the sponsor’s lounge.

A lifetime ago, I was good with people. I knew how to charm them, mingle with them, without even really trying. I don’t know where that boy went, but for the hour I had with the patterned tuxedos and pencil skirts of the Capitol, he was there. Fighting for the girl he loves again, just as he had 18 years ago.

As much as it suffocated me, it was easy to sell Marian. 

They clearly loved her already after the interview hit the sympathy points and she was smart in the arena. It was easy to root for the underdog when she had mesmerizing brown eyes and an incandescent smile. 

With just a few minutes of talking, I was sure the crowd around me would be able to finance double what I planned to send her, and they did. Almost reaching the price of Finnick Odair’s trident, I sent her everything she needed and more in the largest silver box I’d ever seen.

I’m not stupid- I knew the price that came with Finnick’s eager flock of sponsors. I knew I recognized the same vulture eyes and sinister smiles in the penthouse now.

It ate at me, but if it meant Marian would come back alive, I’d do it all again, a thousand times over. It was selfish and it was wrong- but I wouldn’t go home without her.

The liquor went down easy, glass after glass. The careers split up and started going after each other, oblivious to Marian, who still slept atop the tree, her face white with sunblock and glossy with burn cream, bandaged and full. 

With each of the remaining five tributes running to opposite corners, the game was at a standstill. 

Someone handed me a pink fizzy drink. It matched their pink gloves and eyebrows. I nodded to them in gratitude. Was there… There was glitter on their blindingly white teeth, and not from the cocktails. I chuckled to myself, in disbelief at the juxtaposition.

A person with a literally sparkling smile gave a drink while the Gamemakers sent an earthquake to kill kids in the arena. I downed the glass in one as their screams echoed throughout the penthouse. The party went quiet as the craters descended on them, it was more violent than it should have been. I had a feeling this would be the Gamemaker’s last foray. 

The recording refused to film Marian, focusing instead on the struggling District 2 girl, her lower body completely buried under the rocks. An excruciating three minutes later, she died. The camera focused on her face. 

“Poor dear,” Glitter Teeth remarked and headed to the table for a canape. 

I wanted to scream and shoo them away like the mangled abominations they are. 

Until the cameras found Marian who looked… great.

She walked towards the cornucopia as though she was merely an actress and the gashes and stained jumpsuit were just props. Sure, the sunscreen wasn’t her best look but she seemed alert, alive, which was more than I expected. The capitol goonies cheered and whistled as she rushed towards the cornucopia. 

Two more canons. Only the District 1 boy was left. They stopped the earthquake, he had one ravine left before the cornucopia. Until the mutts came.

Huge scaley, scorpion-like creatures infested the ravine quickly. The kid pulled himself out, but just barely, yelling a fighting dead man’s scream as they took nearly his entire right leg. 

The stump left a bloody trail on the orange canyon floor. Through his agony he yelled out, “Kill me, please. Please, kill me.” 

Over and over and over until he got to the cornucopia. The kid was barely lucid and completely powdered in the sandy dirt. Barely any skin was visible under the red-brown coating.

Though it pricked at my heart, as any arena death does, I knew the kid was as good as dead- and Marian was as good as home.

-

“Please, please, please,” The anguished cries echoed inside the cornucopia. Was it some sort of trick? Is a mutt trying to get me? 

If my calculations were right, the canon meant that there was only one tribute left. I would have to step outside sooner or later. 

The screams continued, varying in intensity. Okay, that felt real. 

But would it be that easy?

No, it was a career and he was messing with me- toying with his prey before the lethal pounce. 

I pulled the knife from my pack but it was far too dull and dirty to cause real damage. The cave-like space of the cornucopia was mostly empty. I crawled in further to try to find anything else that could be handy, my limp brown curls falling and sticking to the thick layers of creams on my sunburnt face. On the very back wall was a haphazardly strewn axe, its blade glinting at the sunlight streaming in from the wide mouth of the structure. 

“Help me, please. Kill me, kill me!”

The voice got louder as I moved closer to the outside. It was coming from behind the cornucopia. He wants a scenic backdrop, I thought, but I wouldn’t be the ornamentation in his victory portrait so soon. 

I turned around the cornucopia’s tail towards the voice, expecting the act to subside soon. But there was no one there.

“Here! Here!,” it called; still anguished, still (seemingly) in pain. 

I scanned the trees, but there was no one. 

I walked closer to the ravine, still on my guard in case my opponent decided to sneak up behind me.

“Please, here, please,” The words were jumbled now as if gasping for air. Soft, anguished whispers of “please, please, please,” subsided.

My brows furrowed in confusion. Was this all a mind game? Was any of it real? Could it be some sort of telepathic muttation? Would I wake up sweating, back on top of my thin comforter on an unremarkable warm August day? 

I brought the axe closer to my torso, holding it up with both hands.

A single cannon sounded.

I looked around, still unable to identify the other tribute.

It was as if the world had gone still- literally. No breeze tugged at the leaves or the pebbles. No distant bird calls or gravel crunching. 

Was that it? 

The announcer’s now familiar voice erupts across the eerily still arena- “Ladies and Gentlemen: Marian Cartwright, victor of the 68th annual Hunger Games.”

-

Next Chapter

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