I'm

There's this thing. A good friend adopted a kitten. Before said kitten was very old, she had to take him to her dr stabby, turned out kitteh had a congenital heart malfunction and rather than deal with it. She had him euthanized.
I kinda want to say, "You fucking bitch!" because if I had been put to sleep for having the exact same disorder... but I didn't say anything. And now this person's replacement cat has a problem... Maybe the problem is actually that an adoption, human/feline/canine isn't actually meant to be perfect or to make you appear to be perfect, that poor damn child my adoptive parents tried..  yeah, okay, I may be projecting. I don't care.
Don't give away or give up on your family, adopted, furry, human, decided, or any which way  Just don't or you'll end up at 7 a m on a Saturday trying to decide when it's appropriate to pimp slap someone for presuming it's okay to kill a cat for having the exact same thing.

Rock on

I want to get this on record before the first drop of rain hits the continental US from Hurricane Irma:

Somebody will have all their possesions blown away or demolished, and will be on tv saying, "We didn't think it would be this bad, it just kinda snuck up on us."
No it didn't.
On the list of things that cannot sneak up on you, somewhere in the top 10 is hurricanes.
My ex used to try that, when he would totally blow off my birthday, Christmas, our anniversary..."It snuck up on me babydoll, I'll get it right next year."
No, it didn't. They are fixed dates on the calendar you scum- right, back to hurricanes.
They can not sneak up on you. Even if you are a hermit in a cave with no contact at all with the outside world, at some point you are going to notice it is getting a bit weathery out, and at some point you will decide to either secure your favorite boulder and your pet rock, or ease on down the road to where it isn't as weathery.
If you don't, you'll be on CNN saying, "I thought my cave on the beach was safe from storm surge."

I WON!!

The reason I haven't blogged in almost a year was for a bet. Which means $1000 goes to the charity of my choice, so some of you will beneft. 
I don't even mind.
But someone bet me I couldn't shut up for a year, unless someone specifically asked why I wasnt blogging anymore.
Tada!!
The person who bet me owes $1k to Booby research.


So now that I'm unleashed...
MWAHAHAH 
FEAR ME!
Because I'm about to lay some truth on your asses you never even considered.
I.AM. UNLEASHED.

Congratulations, It's a Divorce!!

No, not mine. Yet. A couple I've known on fb since before they were a couple, met, married, and now barely a few years later have announced they are divorcing and she is moving back to where she was before they married. 
Hint: foreign country to the North
So, yeah, they went through a metric ton of paperwork, and bullshit to be together. And now it's ending, and I'm actually sad for them, regardless of how much I loathe the concept of marriage. I do not believe a piece of paper from any agency be it religious or government makes anyone's union more or less valid, and all it does it fuck things up if it doesn't work. But enough about the way things should be.
Thing is, nobody knew they were having trouble. I mean nobody. They told no one of thousands of friends and relatives. I applaud the hell out of that. It is really difficult to ignore the temptation to blurt out your mess to hopefully sympathetic and supportive friends. I should know. Immediately when I began having problems I shut the hell up publicly about anything to do with it. I see all these people getting fired, or having fb used as a damn witness in court, and realized I don't need that kind of hassle in addition to everything else in my life.
I do not mention my realtionship, lack or presence of, nor do I mention anything which could get me or anyone else arrested. Any illegalities are all from expired statutes of limitation or I've served the time, paid the fine, sentence discharged, thank you very much.
They said nothing. That is smart, and it is classy, because they also did not put the burden of a failing marriage on friends. Hell, when they announced it yesterday, they didn't even put the burden on each other! They each claimed/accepted blame for their own parts in it all 
Classy.
Not like most people.

The other side of the coin is those couples who let it all out, and I mean things no one else should ever know. I'm sitting there with popcorn watching my newsfeed, clicking refresh every few minutes because of my shitty connection, screaming, "WHAT HAPPENED THEN??? WHAT DID THE NEIGHBOR'S HUSBAND SAY WHEN HE FOUND ALL 3 OF YOU IN BED??? DAMN MY NET!!"

Then, there's the other couple. Married 35 years, planning an anniversary outing, and they warm the single tiny almost dead cockle of my shriveled black heart. Their love and respect for each other shines. I love these people, and what they have found with and in each other. I do not doubt a single iota for them it is truly, "Til death do us part," and it's, "As Simple As That."

But for me, it's just another excuse to eat cake. Yes, divorce cakes are huge now. Although I did not get cake for my birthday, this past Monday. Nobody thought I might want a birthday cake, much less the right cake. So shortly before midnight, I broke down and stuck a candle in a pumpkin spice minimuffin, and made my wish.

I need this one to come true.

***On the next post: a unique gift I received and hopefully a few words with its creator!**

Not What I Intended

As usual, I had something completely different in mind to post, and that went Hasta as things went haywire, yet again.

You see, there has been another suicide here.

As I was told, yesterday, a nice old guy was told by his two remaining relatives that his worsening health was more than they could handle and he would need to go into a nursing home.
"Nope," he responded, then went out to his car, picked up his .38, and shot himself in the chest.

First, what the actual fuck is with these people and killing themselves in their cars??? I no longer see a car and think it looks nice or probably gets good mileage, I wonder how many have died in it?

But it brought up Bernie, who did the same thing at New Year's, and that right on the heels of the one that still has me reeling - Nichole. My friend.

For those unaware, after over 30 years of battling, valiantly  but ultimately in vain against mental illness, the Saturday morning before Christmas my friend hanged herself. I still cannot comprehend the how and why and what about... Or Bernie who had confided that it felt like the world had forgotten him. Now this one. I simply can't... I don't know how to keep functioning as if everything is normal here right now, but everyone else here seems to be. And I know they aren't the laconic uncaring bumpkins most would see. As much as I bitch about this place, and I know I do, I also realize a large part of my misery here is all on me, totally my fault. It is gorgeous at times, peaceful, laid back, cost of living is relatively dirt cheap. Some of the people are the best you could ask, and I hate it hate it hate it hate it with a black burning passion that is unswerving, and it is all me.
I have to be near water, an ocean, any ocean, no matter what color, how cold, sultry, smelly, pure, I must be near Ocean. And I did not realize how great a part of me that  was until I became mired here through the most daunting set of circumstances combined with my own weaknesses and some epic poor choices.
But I got my boys here. Geo. BratCat. Rags. My 3 hearts.
And I met Nichole here. And I lost her here. And everything hurts all over again.

I want the chance to tell someone, anyone, everyone who is considering suicide 1 simple thing. Just this:

Everyone has had some good in their life, something, if only as a measure of how horrible you feel right now. But that 1 moment that you laughed or ran or flew, were in awe of life or love or felt sheer joy at a child's laugh... something, that 1 moment when you realized how precious it was and wouldn't have missed it for the world... think about that moment, then consider - what if there are more moments like that left for you to discover? What if there are a million?? Don't miss them for the world.

Now I will do as billions before me have done, and make something for the family, the 2 survivors. It's the end of the month so money for ingredients is a huge factor, but I'll figure something out, as always. I never know what to take for a "regular" death, whatever that is. I must have missed the Emily Post of Appropriate Mourning Foods For Family of a Suicide.

The answer is...Yes!

Let's talk about sex, baby... really. Let's talk about sex, sports, the price of watermelons, the decline of traditions in the world of stamp collecting, anything but religion.
I just lost another friend on fb, because I refused to "discuss" (read: allow someone to pontificate at me) my religious (don't have any) or spiritual (Strong) beliefs. Isn't that I don't care about spirituality of any sort, but to me, religion is far more personal than mere copulation habits.
Think about it.
You can have sex with anyone. It may suck but it can be achieved. Sex is merely something that happens to a temporary shell you inhabit at worst, but your spirit? Man, that is forever. You can't have religion or spirituality with just anyone. Try it. Walk up to a stranger in a bar, buy 'em a drink, then try to religion with them and see if an assault charge doesn't become part of the package.
And when you drop a bombshell like having your relgious belief be closer to what many presume is witchcraft, it's All Hail The Bondsman! Am I a good witch or a bad witch? Blow me. I'm both! Because everyone is both good and bad, weak and strong, so if you have to classify everyone's private beliefs (and really, that says far more about you than them) then I don't need you around. I don't mind a hearty calm or even impassioned discussion, but when judgement and mandatory classification comes into it, I'll take a pass.

So I don't talk about religion. I try not to talk politics, but have to use every opportunity to remind people:

It does not matter if you don't like Hills, suck it up buttercup, and vote Anti-TrumpChump and his Synchronized Ego Dancers!

You're on my list, and my heart valve

HAPPY CANADA DAY!!!

Dear Canada, Happy Birthday!! 
Ok, I've no idea what Canada Day is, its history, traditions, or protocols. Unlike most 'Muricans I *am* actually aware that there *are* other countries other than the ubiquitous "Them." 
I'm simply holiday impaired. My holidays are notoriously on the scale of MondaySuckethⁿ so I've fairly well blocked most thing about all holidays. I'm fine with that.
I know the 4th of July is this week, and that it is American Independence Day, well done Will Smith. 
Seriously, for the longest time I thought it celebrated the day when America moved out of England & into its own place, stopped getting an allowance, found its first job, and grabbed really crappy furniture and a booming sound system for parties. Ok, that may not be too far off the mark there. 
Regardless, my ignorance of your... bar mitzvah? No? Well, your WHATEVER SPECIAL THING DAY, shouldn't say I don't care. I do. I'm holiday impaired. 
Congratulations on your vasectomy??? Sigh....

Great booze though!!

Now, the about me stuff.
Many know I had open heart surgery (valve & double bypass) for my birthday (WHOOHOOO PARTY!! Although the birthday colonoscopy of '98 was also a blast. Literally. If you or someone you know has had one, you know what I mean) in 2014. Everything about the surgery and my recovery went swimmingly after the initial hell and if not for a friend the day after surgery I would have just let go but after that spiffy, I thought. Routine checkups showed my superhealing ability at its finest, then 2 weeks ago, I got a call from my cardiothoracic surgeon. The mechanic who installed the valve. He suddenly needed to see me 15 months ahead of schedule, and was going to drive an hour and a half to get to me, rather than having me come in.

Terror. Something is wrong with my valve. I can't go through yet another surgery right now, coming off of brain surgery and chemo and 2 rounds of cyberknife!!

I tried calling him, calling and emailing the manufacturer of my valve, got nowhere except:
"Our legal department requires we advise you to consult your doctor."
Truly not comforting at all. Wait the week in panic/terror/dread then the morning of the appointment - emergency surgery and he can't make it. Up to his elbows in someone's chest. Been there, gotcha, not quick procedures - mine was 17.5 hrs. So, reschedule for... this morning. 
But. Brat started coughing gasping choking, so no way in hell I was leaving him. I called and to my amazement got to him. 
"My baby needs me. Not going to make it and don't care, tell me whatever now so I can go do steamies and help him breathe, or send me a letter."
He clearly understood that you don't mess with a mama and sick furkid. 
"There have been some recalls of heart valves-"
"I know. The point? What am I facing?"
"Nothing, we think. I wanted to reassure you that the modifications we made to your valve-"
"WHOA. What modifications and why am I just now hearing this???"
Turns out they had told me but I was heavily sedated and have no memory of it. They realized the off-the-line valve had some problems, so he "tinkered with it before putting it in," and thinks there will be no problem with the adapted model I have. If there was going to be it would have been in the first 36 hours, he believes.
"So you scared me to death and stressed me unbelievably for 2 weeks in order to reassure me??? Nice job. I feel warm and tingly."

CLICK