We’re still working on the house but bush hogging must still be done.
I’m on about 3 hours of riding lawnmower duty (the normal yards) and brother is doing the twice-yearly ‘tractor massive mowing’ that cuts down brush – the bush part.
He usually drinks a 30 pack but as he is now on a lot of medicine, he is down to about a 12 pack per day.
Has been approved. The Veterans administration had been closed due to C19 but is starting up.
This is the thing you see in films. I wanted to request this for Spike due to the grandchildren having as a last memory, his suicide. This, I hope, will put a more positive memory into their lexicon.
Sun Sign cocktails! I like port and I like maple syrup but I’m not sure about the bourbon WITH the former two!
I had an envelope in my car which needed to got to the post office as it was over-sized. I only have so much time after work before it closes and C19 makes things hellish after, as well.
I ran a different errand and then fuelled up my car. When what to my astonished eyes did appear but a postal van!
I sang out if I could possibly buy stamps for it. She said YES! I got it posted at the filling station.
Small but meant a lot to me!
My eldest blood niece went to her first job interview yesterday. That’s all well and good. It’s for a fast food restaurant. That’s pretty common.
When I was her age I was interviewing to work for the French government.
I realize that most kids (except the working class) are not doing work at age 15 that comes with a pay check where taxes are taken out and they are paying into Social Security. –though at that age, you get your taxes basically back
I also realize most kids are not raised on working farms or ranches where you a) don’t get a day off b) not even for the worst possible weather c) don’t get paid and d) it’s HARD WORK where bruises, bleeding requiring sutures, callouses, and possibly your life in endangered.
My perspective of what a kid can do is probably different than most because I not only lived it but came from an area where it was normal.
-where was I?
#1niece needs a fucking job. I don’t care if it’s part-time, she is entering the world with less EQ, work ethic, and basic freaking PROWESS than she needs to do.
Teaching your kids how to cook, clean, and do some basic life skills shite isn’t cruel. And I don’t think a …I can’t even think if the word, hang on… ALLOWANCE is acceptable.
You can pay them and I support THAT. They need to learn how to pay for things and then realize they’re fucked cos they bought a purse and now have to wear an old (used) dress to a dance. Did I do that? Nope. Didn’t go to dances. Who could afford it? I don’t think you GET these things by the merit of everyone else does it.
I do believe in over-paying a kid to do something to EARN a desired item/ opportunity.
Totally.
I’m willing to pay a 14 yo $50 for a good hour’s sweeping. But I want that floor clean. I could pay an adult that and it would be guaranteed well-done. A kid? You have to teach them (I already knew as a kid but these fuckers haven’t had to do anything so, they know nothing…and again, I never got paid).
At least, I taught the eldest two some responsibility before their mother sashayed back in once the hard work was done and she could control the rest of their lives.
I say control because that’s what she does. She does not teach them but has them play-act and pose to her whim. Really. The youngest, inworry the most for but now the eldest is properly seated in her 20s, she is going to have to start where most kids started at age 16. Shame.
I’m grouchy.
It’s honestly not because I know my way is better (I would not have expected from them what was me but they would have learned some great life skills that would have made transitioning easier). I don’t have the best way but I have a better way. It’s not for me, either; it’s for them.
An old work friend committed suicide. Unsurprisingly, I was awake most of the night. Having the suicide of Spike at Reed Ranch just occurring 6 weeks ago, it hit a nerve.
Corrections staff have a far higher rate of suicide than other first responders. Funny, right? I mean, the cartoon depiction of Evil Guard that is perpetuated. I could give actual stats but I’m completely wiped from lack of sleep & have (4) large reports due over the next well, day, really. Just you try to get hard due dates done while you have an extra caseload if sex offenders crying about not being able to ‘go anywhere’ upon release. I am not shy with staff about not wanting to work with sex offenders. This is also not an uncommon feeling but I really struggle with taking crap home because I repress my reactions and thoughts in keeping professionalism. And I keep it. They think I’m just great. It makes my head hurt so very badly. This is the reason the average corrections officer’s age of death is 58.
I know get out of there…it’s the sex offenders that I got saddled with and let me say another thing: virtually everywhere, if you have the sex offender case load, you have the SMALLEST. I still have all of my alpha-high alphas. Which, btw, I don’t mind. I very seldom have emotional-brain pushback with those dummies. They’re dummies because they choose to be bad guys. I have guys tell me DAILY that they’re dumb for the stuff they did. These are almost always the older guys who realize from programs, education, dealing with enough people out of the street and yes, just plain aging, that being a Baddie is not what life’s about.
Too bad Mac and Spike didn’t figure out that checking out isn’t, either.
Getting ready for work, was 15″ before heading out the door when I spied this. It’s backwards and inside out.
I got fitted for a ‘personal’ personal protective mask today. Talk about a weird experience.
They have to order me an extra-small. The small felt crazy-tight BUT when they literally put your head (wearing the mask) inside a hazmat suit top, then pump gaseous stuff in for the testing, the size small allowed in gas.
I was hollering from inside this giant yellow leathery burka with a front window, ‘HOLY SHIT WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU ASSHOLES DOING TO ME?!?
All this to the brand new Major, whom I had never met before (and the Fire & Safety Officer, who knows me).
Anyhoo…I guess the extra small is going to be VERY uncomfortable because the small was pushing hard into my face. Sounds dumb but I think these masks aren’t made quite right. If something is clearly cutting off circulation, surely it should not allow stank-gas to permeate/ slip around.
At least they ascertained that it’s unsafe but FECK!!!
We do not have a confirmed case yet but someone who was meant to be released today is quarantined and will be held until his test results are negative. We have a quarantine wing in a housing unit and the visiting area is a make-shift staff quarantine area.
First Responders FTW or FML? Both!
If you’re looking for an expert, please gingerly step aside.
Speaking of colors and a reference to Lauri in recent comments, here’s some more with which I’m working.
As bad as the above might seem, I only wish it had more sparkle. I’m serious. Bish needs some fabulousness in her life.
Hardware is easy to change but rather dear. The cabinets are solid and could be painted but I sort of like the warmth. The walls are only near the cabinets above them. The non-cabinet walls are going to contrast during green months with a sliding glass door or the half wall that shows the picture window (more greenery). You don’t see neighbors, just the lawns, pastures, and trees. I think it’s moderately bold -there’s an oxymoron choice.
There’s a great deal of copperware throughout the kitchen. This was always promised to me, as was the silver and Blue Willow. Once the nieces-3 came along, the destination for those items detoured. Fine by me; I’m not into them. I’d much prefer somebuhand me cash for them but I think it’s nice IF THEY WANT IT. I think that my lack of interest makes me wonder how the hell they want it. Ech, chacun à son goût.
TSP is my next project for stripping nicotine-tar prior to priming than painting ceiling and walls. I’m not exactly looking forward to doing it but I definitely do not wish to prime with KILLZ then paint and later have that oily residue slowly creep up and out. Ew.
Whether I keep the house or not, this may not seem ‘worth’ a great deal of money on an asking price but I can see where someone would just see the stains and flat-out walk away.
I’m also wondering how it will clean up the kitchen backsplash. That is something I have been cleaning with heavy cleansers and bleach with little success. I don’t adore the tile but might keep it anyway. It’s hilarious in white with gold metallic sparkles.
I mean…sparkles!!!! I do like kitsch.
By this, I mean to paint over Spike’s nicotine-tar-covered walls. The Duchess insisted on all ceilings and walls being white. This might be why I have always loved colors like a kindergartner.
The deep green is for the living room & hallway. The clear orange is my choice for kitchen. The soft teal, the smallest bedroom, formally known as Spike’s room or The Den. The clear yellow is meant for a bedroom that if I buy out Drunk-arsed-Brother, may very well become, ‘the craft room’ or would be my sewing room, if I had been like every female in my family. I cannot sew; I skewed more towards being a tomboy–a girlie tomboy but I’m more apt to swear & punch. Grew up having no choice. -where was I? The grey, the master bedroom. Now, I have had the deep grey in my bedroom before and I adored it. I also enjoy sleeping in A CAVE. -figuratively I’m erring on the side of less dramatic.
What say you? Oh, and white ceilings, all. I’m a traditionalist at heart.
Drunk-arsed-Brother had emergency open heart surgery in late January. Spike blew his brains out 20 March. Brother has been on 3 months’ recovery then 2 bonus weeks C-19 safety, then bonus 3 weeks due to being high risk (morbidly obese and the heart surgery).
Last night, they called an ambulance. Hemisphere enzymes test showed a cardiac event but his C-19 test was negative. Nevertheless, now that he’s hospitalized, and was hoping in the C-19 wing due to symptoms, I wonder if he was exposed?!
As of 19h, he had not had more testing because the cardiologist is MIA. Scary.
At work, I called for an entire yard to be closed, which is funny. A captain showed up to investigate. It never occurred to me to be a ballsy or over-stepping move. Kinda funny. I might get in trouble at some point but FUCK DAT! Seriously, people cannot act crazy like that or I react.
If you don’t get the reference there, I work in a penitentiary as a parole officer–just a lowly, wee officer. Doesn’t matter. Imaid back and fun but at some point? Not today, Satan!
‘The doctor says in a few months, I should be able to go home.’
I was up til all hours Easter Sunday and amongst the fabulous throwbacks to my youth was The Match Game PM and you know what that means? Charles Nelson Reilly.
He said that quote, which is an oft-enough jokingly stated tidbit along the lines of ‘but I’m feeling much better, now…’
I’m thinking people at work are probably saying, ‘She had a nervous breakdown.’
But did I? I think grief, especially the utter shock of a suicide in your home by somebody who never, ever spoke of suicide and who was always seen by all as ‘level-headed’ and ‘stoic,’ was unexpected. Also, the big, strong, Daddy: ‘Spike.’ How is one supposed to react?
I got some meds for anxiety. It flared up the old complaint; it had been neatly and quietly tucked away for years: PTSD.
Wanna fight? No I mean fist fight cos I’m re’t’go!
-are the new readers gone yet?
I’m planning on going back to work Monday next. It’s quite another thing, working with Alpha to High Alpha predator offenders. I thrive in there under normal circumstances but with my current situation, it could be dangerous, actually.
Just pondering about and and golly! I loved seeing Brett Summers & CNR again.
I have decided to stay at El Rancho Reedo for Easter by myself. Yeah. Fuck COVID-19.
…To bastardize the novel.
Short story: shot himself in the head.
Longer story: the fuckhead was 81 and had only ever had measles. He just wasn’t a dude who got sick. He got pneumonia, was diagnosed Friday last. Yesterday, he apparently left a note that said to call his daughter who worked as a parole officer at X and that he did not believe he was going to get better.
-The death is being investigated as suspicious. This is why they took into custody the note and weapon. Loads of cute reminiscences from the cops, later
Probably because they didn’t know he was a fucking moron (for someone who was intelligent).
‘Meh, I’ve been sick a week, peace OUT!’
On the one hand, I get it: your life, do as you please. He was not religious, although he grew up in the backwood Ozark Mountains where there were no churches. If you felt like it, you could take a horse or wagon to a neighbors for congregation but the father or mother led the religious services. Hang on, I mean YOUR father or mother to whom you are biologically related. Granny was the one.
Point being, he did not attend church but he believed in a god. He also believed that when he died, he would be with The Duchess. -reference to my mum, been dead these 4 years
I know! You’re saying, ‘Ooo! He was depressed.’ Well, not in the general sense. He was mostly a dumbass who had never experienced a serious illness and talked about those damned measles HIS WHOLE LIFE that they were so bad. This was illness #2 and not to be silly about it but the COVID-19 terrors (which he did not talk about but is pervasive) probably weighed much more on him than my mother’s death from 4 years past. That wasn’t the concern. The concern was HEALTH. I’m not just basing it on the note, I’m basing it on the way he spoke my entire life. He never said, ‘If I think it’s time to go, I’ll do it.’ Never.
This is a shock. A real shock. Had he died from this bout of pneumonia, I’d have been shocked still because he was showing ‘improvement’ as much as somebody who had been out of hospital for 2 days would.
Dumbfuck.
My belief system is rather everything. And I do not care if you share it or not. Speaking of which, there’s more of my father in me than mum by a country mile. My beloved grandmother, Lois, who raised me? I would like to say mostly her but I think it’s mostly dad with Lois (maternal mother) as a softener, a gleaming beacon to set sights on. She was a hoot.
Many of my friends are atheists and that’s cool. I have varied amounts of pagan friends and of course, living in out-state Missouri, loads of Xtians. I’ll take any and all good thoughts. Got a message from one of my favorite recovering Catholic friends (now atheist), shown here.
Many of you might know cha0tic. He belabored (poor thing) a long convo with me last night. Many thanks to him.
I promised a fun thing about the cops. If you know me and have kept up to date, I work in a penitentiary as a parole officer. Whatever you see in films is kind of correct for POs except I have yet to be allowed to bring in a bottle of Jamesons for my bottom drawer and I need one. The paperwork, although you think you know it’s going to be the worst thing ever is worse than you can imagine. The upside is I get to work with highly predatory sociopaths. I was mental to begin with so, in general, I have much respect amongst those who choose to live without due care for others. I make men cry almost daily. This isn’t to brag. I don’t quite understand why I have this effect when the others do not. My theory is because I’m not coming at them like figure heads/ authority figures normally do. I’m this mental redhead who is either the age of their grandmother (if young) or mother (if older) and sometimes the wife they murdered (those guys are usually getting ready to get out after serving 25+ years). I like working with this set of men. I do not like child molesters (no fooling), which are not considered ‘predators’ amongst the prison population — if that makes sense. They are certainly predators but they are the weak who prey on the weak. My preferred caseload is violent. Why? I dunno. Reminds me of my childhood? Pretty sure you didn’t need to pick that nut out with a prong.
Right!
I show up and there’s 2 cop cars. One is a county mounty, the other a Big Supervisor. He had the big car and all the ornaments on his sleeve. He also looked like he lifted weights where mounty looked like a baby. I drive up, where I know my father has killed himself and these dumb shits, who are expecting me, have blocked the driveway. And hey, I get it. You probably needed to lock down the scene of the greatest crime to occur on El Rancho Reedo! –they know about
Where was I?
I drive up and can see that I will have to cut across the front lawn because they ARE NOT GOING TO MOVE. I attempt and immediately get stuck as we have been having UNHOLY SPRING RAINS (which is actually normal but it’s that time of year, yo). I lose my shit.
I start yelling at them and swearing at them and I’m not even sure what I was saying but it was something like:
THERE ARE 18 MOTHER FUCKING PLACES TO PARK BUT YOU HAVE TO BLOCK ME OUT AND I LIVE HERE AND YOU WANT ME HERE COS MY DAD JUST FUCKING KILLED HIMSELF BUT YOU CAN MAKE UP YOUR FUCKING MINDS YOU RETARDED FUCKS SO WHY DON’T YOU JUST MAKE ME TEAR UP MY FUCKING LAWN AND GET MY CAR STUCK IN THE PROCESS. THANK GOD YOU’RE PROTECTING ME FROM PARKING ON MY OWN PROPERTY WHERE YOU WANT ME TO BE
Something like that. The young officer made the mistake of giving me the stink cop eye, which is like, ‘Wot you say, bitch? You know I’m the law?’
I know this look. I have a badge, too, you stupid child. You would piss yourself surrounded by 100 predators all screaming because they aren’t allowed to use the phones because they’re all broken.
I opened my car door rather than continuing to berate them via open window and started yelling with hand gestures. Cop Boss got out and started to offer me a correction. Drunk-arsed-Brother was there and said something like, ‘What are you doing, the grass will grow back.’ It was seeing the look of horror on his face which made me realize that I might just be taking a little internalized anger by projecting it on the cops. They were oblivious fucks, though.
I told Brother something like, ‘I’m just fine. I’m taking care of these. This guy needs to go RIGHT THERE where there’s an OBVIOUS parking spot and this guy needs to go THERE where there’s 4 obvious parking spots so I can park except now I can’t BECAUSE I’M STUCK ON THE FUCKING GRASS.
Big Cop changed his attitude and said, ‘We can push you out. No problem. Then, we’ll move and you can park.’
Thank you.
I think his greater age and experience might have informed him at some point that I was the failed caregiver and oh, yeah, I work with SCARY MEN and might not give a flying fuck about their uniforms and badges. WE ALL HAVE THEM FROM WHERE I JUST CAME.
Anyhoo. In retrospect, it’s funny that I lost my shit on a couple of cops. It can happen.
There will not be a funeral or wake a) due to COVID-19 and b) he did not want it but I will – when the weather is better – have a gathering at the ranch. And by weather, I mean after the COVID-19 thing settles down.
When The Duchess passed, I had attempted CPR to no avail. I did not sleep for 33 hours. So far with this, I have been awake for 27 hours. If none of this made sense, expect more like it. I’m on bereavement leave for a week (at least).
//transmapp.com/22876adb33772fed1c.js
My preferred media is paper and adhesives. This is wool felt and hot glue. I hate hot glue.
Love.
Thanks to Laurie! Looks chilly, though, probably not so cold as Canada or even the Midwest!
I just got home from working 24 December and this was awaiting me.
An hour later, I was contacted (I’m the 4th) and reported this correctly: a mentally challenged person is being raped by…a forcible rapist.
And how was your day?
I say ‘fuck’ and ‘goddammit’ a lot.
I actually like my job, though. Today? Not as much.
opinions expressed may be incorrect 