Wednesday, December 14, 2011



I just read on Twitter that George Whitman died. If you're not familiar with George Whitman then you should watch Portrait of a Bookstore as an Old Man. I posted the first part of it up yonder. John and I watched it on the Sundance channel years ago and I was completely enamoured. The short of it is this: Whitman was the owner of the Shakespeare and Company bookstore in Paris. He was just an all around odd ball and friend to artists and fabulously interesting individual. He stole a piece of my heart and I'm sad for all of us that he's no longer here on earth. He was 98.

Tuesday, November 29, 2011

If It's Good Enough For The Bovines


Bea had her final ride home and we completed this leg of our journey. We planted my little girl and my sweet-ass daddy Sunday afternoon and it was sad and cathartic and went exactly as it should have... as angry as John and I are, we're finding comfort in knowing that it all went how it was supposed to. For this, I am thankful.

For the past month my mama has been tombstone obsessed and for the past month, my sisters and I have avoided the subject like the pox. That too went as it should've, because she did such a good job on her very own. It's unique and it stands out... just like Mama and Daddy.

Yesterday, Angie and I got up at 5:30 and had breakfast with Papaw and Uncle Jimmy and then she and I took off at 7am and headed to Happy Valley, NC.
We tracked down the graves of Tom Dulla and Laura Foster, we climbed under electric fences and over cow pasture gates, we peed in a field and trespassed and got stuck in the mud. We had a blast. And we were home by lunch time.





Today, we're going to hunt for Frankie Silver's grave and see what else we can get into. I think Mama and John are tagging along too.

Goddammit, I've missed my sisters.

Friday, November 25, 2011

We lost our best good girl at 1:15 this morning. There's a gamut of emotions coursing through this tiny trailer. John and I are wrecked. Anguished and exhausted and just plain sad. We leave tomorrow morning at 4am to visit the fam-damn-ily and take our granny girl back home. I'm burying her near my daddy. Angie says we may have to do it by the light of the moon. Bea would totally approve of such criminal activity.

Send up a happy thought for me and John and the Mao. She's been my best friend for 15 years and she's been John's mistress for 11 of those. She's the cat behind Cat Day Afternoon. Second saddest day of my life, right here. It's gonna take years to get beyond this.

Sunday, November 20, 2011

Here I go plugging again: So I follow Kyra Sedgwick over on the Twitter. A few weeks ago she was tweeting about Bath Bar and since I'm a great big ol' soap and suds slut I had to go check them out. They're all natural and organic and green and they let you mix up your own concoction of fragrances. So I tried that and requested a few samples which are only a couple of dollars and I also ordered a set of travel sized Zen Milk lotion and body wash. Well, those sweet things over at Bath Bar sent me two more travel sized sets for free. Which is nice and all even if your product sucks. However, Bath Bar doesn't suck at all. In fact, this is the best stuff I have ever,ever,ever used. EVER. No joke. My fragrance concoctions weren't so great. But that's cause I always think I know what I want to smell like, but really, that stuff is best left to the professional mix-masters. Zen Milk smells so good I want to marry it. And the lotion is unreal. It's totally smoothed out my crusty-ass elbows and I swear to God it's lightened my surgery scar. It's on the pricey side, but if you sign up for their newsletter, I think you get invited to their Black Friday sale. I totally plan on wasting gas money there come this Friday.

Monday, November 14, 2011

It's easier for me to live in the now, than it is for John. This is in regards to Bea. Because I'm the primary care-giver, I have these tasks and this planned interaction with her. For John, it's like he's mourning for her while she's still here.

Beside of our bed, I've made her a bed that's comprised of a pillow and a deluxe cedar filled dog pillow on top of that and a heating pad on top of that and a blanket on top of the heating pad. This is where she spends 98% of her time. Wouldn't you?

Some days I hold it together better than John. Some days John fares better than I do. We're watching our child grow old and die. All the while we're trying to maintain some semblance of order and normalcy for the outside world. When you lose a loved one and you go through that period of deep mourning, the rest of the world tends to treat you like a pariah. Like loss is a disease. Like they're gonna catch death from you. But if you lose an animal companion and you go through a period of staggering grief... well, you can forget about the rest of the world even giving you the time of day. Take care of a sick parent or child and everyone feels bad for you and treats you like a saint -deservedly so. Take care of a sick animal with that same level of devotion and you must be a nut-job. There's a stigma involved.

It's almost 16 years to the day that my cat Elvis died. I grieved so hard that I thought I would die. And I did it entirely alone. This time around, the sadness and fear that I'm nesting like an egg is being shared with John. Most days I just plow through it. But some days I just can't hold it all in.

Last Tuesday we took Bea to the vet because she has a sizable lump in her neck/throat area. I'd noticed it a couple of days before and it got bigger the next day so we decided to have it checked out. This is what I'll say about the vet visit: It did not go well. We left without knowing any more than when we walked in the damn door. Bea had a meltdown on the table because the vet's a fucking whack job and the vet lost her composure because Bea had a meltdown. The vet never even got to feel the lump and then she acted like we were making it up. Thank God the assistant had talked with us earlier and had felt the lump herself. So, after telling us that it's not a mouth tumor, she went on to give some half-assed diagnoses that was formed without listening to a damn word I said. I told her I disagreed with her and then Bea and I left. This is what I think: the vet sees Bea and in her mind she has already formed the opinion that this cat's dying of liver disease so there's no reason to treat her for anything else that may be going on. She also said a couple of other things in the office to John after I left that sealed the deal and made me call her the "C" word a few times in the car on the way home. The lump's still there, it's not as big as it was. I'm scared to take her to another Vet because I don't want to traumatize her any further.

That's it. That's all I've got in me for now.

Wednesday, November 9, 2011



We took a ride to the Cape this weekend and I conned John into going to the Edward Gorey House. Come to find out -and I didn't know this until the next day- John thought we were going to some sea captain's house, so he was completely lost the whole time. Obviously, I'm still getting some mileage out of that one.

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

I bought a new car, y'all. It went something like this: I woke up one morning, got ready for work, and was about to walk out the door when John stumbles out of the bedroom all, "What the hell happened?!?". Come to find out we overslept by like an hour. So I called in sick and since John was supposed to take my car to get the oil changed the next day, he asked if I wanted to ride along with him to Auburn and see if they could fit us in that morning. They're very accommodating at the Honda dealership. So accommodating in fact, that they sold me a brand new CR-V for like 4K less than sticker price and even gave me 4K more for my old Fit than I was expecting. It's been a couple of weeks and I have yet to feel any buyer's remorse because: I love that fucking car. I've gone through a lot of automobiles in my life. I've wrecked a few, I've traded in a few. For the most part I've liked the ones I've owned. But I've never loved any of the cars I've owned. Until now. Whatever, folks. Life's too short to be unhappy with everything. And even if it wasn't too short, even if it was a long-ass life, why would you wanna spend it being miserable all the damn time. I'm tired of being miserable.

Here's some happy shit: my mamacita Lynn is going to Sedona next week and I'm sending with her a list of my prayers and intentions. She's going to deliver them to the Stupa for me. This is extremely exciting for me because a few years ago, she and I visited Sedona and the Stupa together and I have to tell you, the Stupa was just about the most intense thing about Sedona... and that's really saying something. I'm stoked. Not as stoked as I would be were I going to AZ too, but still pretty damned stoked.

Other pretty awesome stuff that's happened lately, I'm on a mad Tweet reply streak in regards to authors. Mary Kay Andrews, Deanna Raybourne and THE ROBERT MCCAMMON(!!!) have all replied to my tweets. Plus, Ms Cornelia Read told me I gladdened her tiny black heart after I told her I worshipped at her smart-ass altar. She really is genius. I'm reading her Invisible Boy right now. I've been on quite the roll.

In other news, we're not moving until the spring, but we are heading down for a visit in a few weeks. Bea's still not eating on her own, but she's actually healthier than she has been in a while because I'm feeding her and hydrating her. I posted a video on Twitter. Watch it and giggle and then feel really bad for me when you remember that I'm the one who has to manhandle her hateful ass three times a day every day. The boys are terrific.



I love him so much I wanna eat his face off.

Friday, September 30, 2011

Season Finale

I've decided to stop blogging for an indefinite period of time. This is something I've been thinking about doing for a while now. Ever since Daddy died. And there's so much else that's weighing on me that I feel like I'm not being very forthcoming. I think that what I want to write has become too personal and emotional for me to share in a public setting. I'm frantic with the need to express what I'm feeling. I only ever started blogging in an attempt to make it easier for my busy and far-off family to keep up with me and also because I came to love and admire my fellow bloggers. But the time has come. I am tired. So I'm going back to pen and paper journaling. At least for a little while. I'll still be tweeting occasionally over on the Twitter if anyone cares to follow the happenings there. You can find the link in the side column. I love y'all. I really do.

Monday, September 26, 2011



This is pretty much the most perfect song ever. You can disagree with me if you want, but you'd be wrong, Colonel Sanders. Also, Marcus Mumford resembles a younger, fleshier Alan Cumming. I have a ridiculous crush on Alan Cumming.





I was gonna post more stuff, but it seriously took me like an hour and a half just to blog this little bit here. And I stole 2/3 of it from other innernet jokers.

Funny stuff of the day: John called out the station owner of WINY radio for leaving news teasers on their FB page. I don't blame him, cause I hate when news stations do that crap too. It's irresponsible and manipulative. Anyway, they got into a post duel and then John told him his station was "little more than a fifty watt bulb at the end of the dial".

We've been watching Raising Hope on Netflix. I haven't laughed this much at a sitcom in forever. If you have the means, I highly recommend it.

Sunday, September 25, 2011

Tomorrow I'm back to work. So tonight I'm gonna party like an Arquette.

Not really. I'm gonna make cheese ravioli and watch Inspector Lewis on Masterpiece and maybe take an Ambien or a Valium so's I can get to sleep before midnight. Sometimes John and I go to bed at 9pm and then wind up tweeting and reading and what-noting until 2am. It's ridiculous. I read somewhere that if you want to rest well, you're not supposed to do anything in bed but sleep and have sex. While that may be true, I still think it's dumb ass. Especially if you live in a one bedroom trailer and you need a little bit of alone time. Maybe if we had another room or a decent porch. But even then, I'm pretty sure I'd have pillows and blankets within arms reach out on my porch. I think that sleep and sex thing is for people who have big, fancy-pants, intellectually stressful jobs and who have to pencil one another in for naughty time.

It's been a decent two months off. My arm feels really good. No more numb and aching. I got to spend good times with Angie and Rachel. I got to spend good times with John and the boys. I got to have forty-eleven infarctions over Bea. But we've all come a long way during this time and I feel like it was highly necessary for our development as spiritual beings who love one another.

Bea had a couple of under the weather days and we were worried that we might have to assist-feed her again. But she rallied last night and has been eating well and interacting all day. I uploaded my first youtube video today:



It's nothing special, she's just happy and high and gorgeous.

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

It's rainy here. Dreary and cool but humid all day. I say "all day" like I've been up since the crack of dawn, when infact, I only got up at 6:30am to see if the Mao had eaten (she did) and to offer her more tasty vittles (she accepted). Then I was back to bed until nearly ten. Like I was saying, it's rainy. So here's what's been going on at the Chez Shit-hole, as we call the trailer:

I went to the arm doctor yesterday and a workman's comp rep came along. She was nice as can be and we all agreed that I should return to work next week, but only for 8hrs a day. This was a huge relief to me, because the thought of going back to work for possibly 10 or 12 hours a day, the thought of just throwing myself back into my physically stressful job full steam ahead, was sort of giving me the vapors. I don't talk about my job on here because, while I don't hate the actual job itself, I do hate the way the company treats everyone as if they're non-entities. But... I am extremely grateful to have a job. I know all too well the stress and utter fear of being out of work and losing everything. I also don't talk about my job because it has so little to do with who I actually am. When I'm at work, I work my ass off, because that's just how I was raised. I want to be able to hold my own and I don't ever want to feel like someone has to pick up the slack for me. In the past, I've worked with stoners and 20 year olds and chronic whiners and bitchers. They didn't make anyone's life any easier. Most definitely not their own. So when I'm working, my main priority is to do the best I can to make sure someone else's life is easier. Pass it on, man. That's my theory. I have lots of acquaintances at work. I'll talk and socialize with anyone and everyone. But I'm also very private. If you ask me something, I'll most likely tell you what you want to know. But I'm not big on volunteering information. That's what this blog's for. I know a few people at work read it. It's not hidden. It's on my FB profile and I'm FB friends with just about everyone at my job. Also, I'm really big on holding my own counsel. Usually, if I can just write something out, then I don't need to talk about it. I'm not saying this is healthy. I'm saying it like it is.

What the hell was my point? Oh yeah, I'm going back to work and I don't have to work more than 8 hours a day.

John started Hep C treatment this past week. Basically he feels like he's got the flu. This will go on for at least 24 weeks. Ain't nobody doing cartwheels anytime soon, is what I'm getting at.

I've been trying to find a moving company that isn't going to charge me a bazillion dollars and John and I are discussing the possiblilty of holding off on the move until he's more established in his treatment. We are as conflicted and stressed as can be. I want the good fairy to swoop in and make all our decisions and appointments for us and to generally be the adult in our lives for the next couple of months. Any takers? I'll walk your dog and babysit your younguns for you. I'll fix dinner for you. But it'll have to be at your house, cause we haven't had a working oven in over three weeks. Can't even bake a damn batch of gooey, chocolatey comfort brownies. This is no effin' way to live.

Good stuff: Bea's eating like never before. She seems like her normal Bea self. I'm not doing so good with the sticking a needle in her neck and hydrating her part of it. We attempted earlier and it ended with John getting punctured in the leg. I could stick people with needles all day long. Animals... I'd rather stub my toe. Or bark my shin on a coffee table than stick a needle in an animal. Plus, they're really furry and you can't see a damn thing.



Also, spell check wouldn't work for this post. I'm usually pretty anal about my spelling. Not so much with this long-winded litany.

Saturday, September 17, 2011


We got to bring Bea home yesterday from her vet vacation. You'll notice in this picture she's flipping us off. She was hooked up to an IV for two days so you can understand her anger. Anyhow, she's home now and we're giving her fluids under the skin for the time being. How it's working is, keeping her hydrated is boosting her appetite and her all around general happiness. Her appetite is pretty damn awesome and she looks good. I mean, look at her... she's a dang rock star.



She even got a pink leg warmer! Not really, it's a bandage from the IV. Ain't nothing more sad than a cat or a baby with a bandage.

Thursday, September 15, 2011

Again With The Cat Talk

She was better, then she wasn't, then she was again, but then she totally wasn't. We took her back to the vet yesterday where she spent the night hooked up to an IV, hating us and you and the vet and the fishies in the sea. The vet is concerned that it might be liver cancer. On that happy note, we visited her this morning and she was thrilled as hell to see us. She ate three bowls of food for us and purred and snoodled with her little arm attached to an IV bag and a sticker on the door of her little kitty condo that read: "Bites!". The vet was impressed. We were ecstatic. So now, we're waiting a little while longer before we bring her home because we want to make sure her food stays down. As far as the "C" word... it can go eat a dick, cause if my cat's eating and not showing signs of pain or distress and as long as she's not shitting up a storm, well, she's not going any damn where.

Ya'll are all welcome to come visit me in the nervous hospital when the time comes. Maybe they'll let us make macaroni art together.

Saturday, September 10, 2011



Abby and Sage. Great-nieces #1 and #2. These two little things were both born since I've been living up here which kind of puts time into perspective. They're my sister Wendy's grandchildren. Wendy's responsible for a whole breed of pretty little blonde-haired, blue-eyed girls. I got caught up in it a few years ago and felt out of place and decided I should try blonde. It was okay for a minute. But every time I looked in the mirror I was a teensy bit startled.


She's still holding her own, is our Beatrice. I was able to grab a couple of decent pictures of her a little while ago when she was sunning it on the kitchen table. We don't actually eat off of that table, by the way. I just wanted to make that clear.

Friday, September 9, 2011

I'm Gonna Talk About My Cat Now

So last night I was feeding Bea and in the middle of it she puked a river. Like a literal-ass river. Projectile. Slimy and watery with tiny chunks of food and half of a hairball. I was mortified. And nauseated. Afterward, after I cleaned everything with Lysol and hot water and bleach, including Bea, I noticed that her nose was all congested and her eyes were streaming water and a whole miasma of other non-appetite conducive symptoms. So I figured she had something stuck up a nostril. I tried helping her sneeze it out, but well... let's just say, my bag of tricks was all together unproductive. It was a long night. We took her to the vet today because she's still snuffly and listless and her nose and ears were all hot and dry. I swear to god she sounded just like a little snuffed up baby. It nearly killed my soul. I cried for a while on account of I'm as attached to that cat as I am anything else on this earth and she's been right there with me for 15 years and I really don't know what I'll be if I'm not Bea's person. It'd be like having the key to my Mama's house taken away from me, or even cutting the Southern out of me. Things just ain't gonna jive no more. I'll be a wandering soul in this world. But for now that's not gonna happen. Cause Bea's not checking out on us just yet. The vet gave her a lot of fluid and said her throat is scratchy and her left nostril is clogged and sent us home with Clavamox. She perked up once we got home. Goddess bless crazy animal doctors who wield syringes full of feline Gatorade. I fed her a goodly amount of wet food and I even gave her some Greek yogurt... cause why the hell not.

Sometimes there's not enough alcohol in the world. Or at least within my reach.

Thursday, September 8, 2011

Things and Such

It's been a very book-ish time for me. Even though I'm not really plowing through them, I've been having a lot of luck finding good ones. Last week, I took off on a pilgrimage to two different Barnes and Nobles in search of Sinful by Charlotte Featherstone. I had read about it and how sort of controversial (I guess) it's supposed to be. I've tried refraining from learning too much about it while trying to glean the gist of the controversy. I didn't find it at either BN. Then I remembered that there's a Border's that's going out of business- and it also happens to be within the same area as the new Anthropologie store RAWR!. So I figured why the hell not. 70% off just about everything over at the Border's in Garden City. I got a couple of books that I'd been after for a while (Heartless by Gail Carriger and The Dark Enquiry by Deanna Raybourn) and I also found The Witch of Hebron by James Howard Kunstler which is the sequel to World Made by Hand. All for the grand total of $17. I was so stoked about my good fortune that I went ahead and ordered Sinful online. A few days go by and I finished the book I was reading and decided that I needed to read the next book in the series so I go to the library to see if it's there. Well, it wasn't. And the library is undergoing some major reconstruction so they only have one tiny room of random books. I gotta say. I effin' love tiny libraries. I like being surrounded by books. I think in bigger libraries you have to walk around too much to get to what you want. Whatever. Despite the size, I still managed to find five books that've been on my gotta read list. It was terribly satisfying. Plus, on the way out I held the door open for this older gentleman who was carrying a couple Faye Kellerman's and wearing a snazzy newsboy cap, an awesome worn-in pair of overalls and a lovely chambray shirt. Of course I had to compliment him on his choice of attire and he thanked me and told me he'd been wearing overalls for forty years because he always had a problem keeping his britches up. It totally made my day. Of course, I had to cry about it a little bit later because overalls make me think about my papaw.

All that leads me to what I'm reading now. All That Is Bitter & Sweet by Ashley Judd. It's really having a profound affect on me. Spiritually, emotionally. I'm re-thinking and taking inventory and all that stuff. I'm not sure I'm necessarily enjoying it. But I think that I need it.

Tuesday, September 6, 2011


Who the hell needs a marriage certificate when you've got matching arm scars? This is what my surgery scar looks like nearly seven weeks later. I went back to the doctor last week and he said to come back in a couple more weeks and he may release me to go back to work then. For once in my life, I kept my big, fat yap shut and didn't argue. John's scar is more than twenty years old and is the result of drug-abuse and a pair of sewing scissors. The story behind his is a lot more interesting and tell-worthy than mine.

Thursday, September 1, 2011

I Heart Moneena



Once again, Tonya was reading my mind and posted a Curb video. I have a love/hate relationship with this show. I hate to love it and I love to hate it. The marijuana episode is by far my favorite. John and I quote it all the time. Actually we can't even speak to one another without throwing a Seinfeld or Curb quote into the mix. It's pretty sad, actually.

"I'm gonna go in there and white that shit up." --Leon

Tuesday, August 30, 2011


I picked up this notebook yesterday while I was in Target. I was supposed to be buying Lysol wipes and Pine-Sol. It doesn't have a purpose yet, the notebook. I think I'm gonna stare at it until it tells me what's on it's mind. Then I'm gonna write it all down. I'm jealous of kids nowadays with their pretty notebooks. When I was a youngun it was all Garfield and Snoopy and Pac-Man. Then again, I can fill my pretty notebook with any damn thing I please and the kids have to use theirs for math and earth science. So forget I said that. Speaking of school and younguns:



A few months ago I commissioned Rachel to paint a tree picture for me. I'm very pleased and thrilled with the result. When I go back to getting paid decent wages I'm gonna get this sucker framed and up on my wall.

Monday, August 29, 2011

A Hurricane Story




This is what the world looked like Sunday evening. We survived Irene with little personal damage and managed to return home with the same number of cats as we left with. The Ternowcheks lost power but had water. We lost power and water. This morning the Ternowcheks were still powerless but with water, but we got it all back. Apparently we're one of the few because the majority of the state is without. Honestly, the no power thing didn't bother me so much as the no water thing. At least that's what I told myself anyway. Last night at 9pm we decided to make a run for civilization and wound up at Denny's in Worcester. So much for Pioneer woman.

Saturday, August 27, 2011

Hey. Guess what? We're getting a hurricane. Know what? We live in a mobile home, so we're fixin' to haul ass over to the Ternowchecks. Guess what else? We have to pack up five cats and two poop-boxes.

I am highly pissy and disrupted. I am trying not to be. I'm trying to be calm, but I live with John the wide-eyed weather freak and he is truly -TRULY- fuckin' with my chill.

Monday, August 22, 2011

I love you and you know it.



I meant to scan and post my birthday card from Mama but somehow never got around to it. Here it is now. I love it. It's the best birtday card I ever got.

Saturday, August 20, 2011





I want to be hissyfitoly's best friend. She has a shop over on the Etsy.

I swear to the lord that I'm gonna learn how to properly sew and then I'm gonna make dresses like these for myself. In the meantime, if anyone wants to buy me something for my birthday which already passed but whatever, then look no further.

No, no. Thank you.

Friday, August 19, 2011

We finally got to watch The Conspirator the other day. We've been waiting on that one since October of 2009 which is when Wendy and Angie and I were in Savannah and got to see part of it being filmed. It was pretty awesome. The filming part. The movie was good too. But watching the filming was even awesomer because they closed down a few of the streets and had straw and dirt strewn across the pavement and we got to see James McAvoy walking down the steps of an old house. Sadly, we did not get to see Robert Redford. But we did get to see his chair. It had his name on it. And we got hushed by one of the assistant directors for talking loudly while they were filming. He was extremely nice about it though. We watched for maybe a half an hour before the rain and mosquitoes drove us away. So that's my real Robert Redford story. It will of course become a little more embellished each time I tell it until before you know it, Bob and I find ourselves imbrued in an ugly custody battle over our twins, Cassidy and Sundance. He can keep his money, but them babies need their mama.

Thursday, August 18, 2011

I keep Pulitzer Prize and National Book Award winning books lying around in sight because I'm hoping that soon I'll get sick of reading schmaltzy, pulpy, bullshit fiction and decide to devour some gen-u-wine literature. If such a day does creep up on me, if the desire strikes me out of no where, I don't want to be left with my pud in one hand and a ratty copy of Madame Bovary in the other. That's why I leave the good shit lying around. Just in case.

I didn't fall asleep until nearly five this morning. I finished reading Chiefs and then became semi-obsessed with finding a copy of the 1981 mini-series. I'm working on a lead. After that I was all over the Internet and wide awake with scratchy eyes and an upset PMS/bread and butter pickle belly. Woke up around nine and threw a bean and chicken sausage soup together in the crock pot and then took a 15 minutes nap with Mae-Mae. Naps with Mae are the best because usually he's so damn spastic he won't lay for more than a minute, but when he does sleep against you, he purrs deeply and rhythmically. It's terribly soothing. Plus, he has an awesome jiggle belly. Rubbing it in a circular pattern beats any yoga I've ever tried.

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

It rained all day yesterday so there were moments of boredom which I'm sure contributed to the poor decision making. We decided we needed to make sure Aggie's flea medication is working so we cornered her on the table and...



Yowza! It was a vegetable and kitty kibble cat-astrohpe. Good news is she's flea free. Bad news is that's about fifteen bucks worth of cat food strewn across the kitchen floor.

Saturday, August 13, 2011

We had a very good day today. We spent the morning running errands. Then we ate at a new to us soul food place in Worcester called Sweet T. It was pretty damn good. The owner let us sample everything they had.

Then John sat in the car while I bought a couple of dyn-O-mite bras at Lane Bryant.

This is where a Ta-Ta picture would be if I were so inclined. However, my self-confidence is much greater if there aren't any pictures around to disprove the images in my head.

After the girls were firmly in place, we went to the movies and saw The Help. I loved it. I was nervous they were gonna cheese it up, but I wasn't disappointed at all. I must've cried on five separate occasions for about 25 different reasons. It just really struck a chord. And I've always been a fan of stories that are told from the perspective of folks that most people never think about. Of people who move in and out of the shadows of our lives and still manage to leave permanent and powerful impressions. I even cried on the way home. I'm starting to well up now just thinking about it.

I'm also extremely pre-menstrual and hopped up on red velvet cake.

Thursday, August 11, 2011

John had an appointment in Worcester with his hepatologist. I sat in the waiting room and read old issues of Harper's Bazaar and whimpered over the Fall 2010 line of Rodarte shoes. These shoes aren't shoes. They're art. They're glorious sculptures. If I owned them they'd have to be strictly art cause I sure as shit couldn't walk in them.

Seriously. Go look at them. They're beautiful.

Oh. And by the way. Netflix now has Dark Shadows on watch instantly. hoo-yeah!

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

Sometimes I leave the house and I'm okay and then 15 minutes later I wish I hadn't. I think I might have a social anxiety disorder. Whatever it is, it doesn't feel so great.

I finished The Help. I enjoyed it immensely. I stretched it out for as long as I could. Now I'm prepared to watch the movie.

It's raining buckets. I love it, but it makes the cats a little bit paranoid.

Whenever I walk by one of the boys I have to bend down and kiss their heads and sniff them. Their ears smell like a combination of musty library books and garden dirt. It's extremely comforting. John calls the scent "cat hole". But I prefer "cat cave".

Mama told me a story today about how she and Daddy were at the Subway in the Cherryville Wal-Mart and she managed to knock down the entire rack of chips with her motorized shopping cart. She said Daddy just sat there with his eyes all big and said, "Goooood God!". She tried helping them pick the chips up, but the Subway folk told her not to worry about it, that they'd take care of it. But every time she backed up she knocked over more chips and every time she pulled forward, more chips. "I couldn't move!", she said. "Those chips were in my life."

Sunday, August 7, 2011

Clip The String Chatty Kathy

I really need to change my header since it's kind of wonky and off kilter. It would seem like right now would be a perfect time to do this, being out of work and uninterested in any of the books I have in my possession. It would seem so. But it's just not the case. Maybe later. Probably later.

I've been keeping a list -to the right over there- of all the books I've read this year. I usually do this in a journal somewhere so that I can go back later if I need to remember an author or title. But I thought by doing it on the blog it would be helpful for anyone else if they're looking for something to read. Honestly though, there are a handful of books over there that I didn't actually finish yet. I haven't given up on them, I've just been distracted. The Help is one of those books. It was one of the first books I received via Paperback Swap way back in December. I totally lucked out getting it on there so I wanted to pick the perfect time to read it. Then I saw that the movie's coming out really soon and I figured I should get my ass in gear. I've read probably a third of it, and it's really good, but then I put it down for a week and read some other stuff. That's how I am. I like for the good stuff to linger. I like to suck all the fun that I possibly can out of something. I'm the cat playing with the mouse... three days after I killed it.

Cats, right? They're all really good. Even Bea's okay. The vet's office called last week to check up on her and seemed really surprised when we told them she was fine. We're still force-feeding her everyday. But it's really not as violent as it sounds. We've got a whole system down and since I still don't have a lot of mobility in my wrist and arm, John's the one who's been doing the actual feeding part. My job is to drag her out from under the bed or the chair. Again, not as violent as it sounds. Last night it rained a shit-ton and we slept with the bedroom door open so everyone could come and go. Usually we just sleep with Bea in the room because the boys... well... John likes to call them "catus interruptus". Anyway, Bea didn't sleep with us. We thought she was under the bed because she's scared of rain and usually hides. When we searched for her this morning she wasn't in any of her usual haunts. I only found her after I tried nudging a Trader Joe's bag out of my way with my toe and the bag hissed at me. Little things like that make us happy. When she finds comfortable spots. Or when she uses the scratching post. Or when she smacks one of the boys in the head if they get too close to her. Warm fuzzies abound.

Back to books. I've been reading young adult novels and romance novels. I'll do this if I want pure escapism. I read the Summoning, by Kelley Armstrong, and it was pretty decent and interesting. Ghosts and weird-o kids living at a half-way house. Anytime there are people living in a hotel or a half-way house or a boarding school or summer camp... any communal living and I am ALL OVER that shit. After that I read a pdf of a romance novel called The Perfect Wife. It was very readable. The wife in question was a bigger gal. That was refreshing. And the naked scenes were pretty spicy. Some people don't like naked scenes. I like 'em. Hotchie-Tochie!


Nanny McPhee Returns was on HBO or something this morning so we watched it again. I love Maggie Gyllenhaal's wardrobe in this movie. If I lived on a big old mucky farm in the English countryside I would dress just like this. So long as I wasn't married to Ewan MacGregor. Because if I was married to Ewan MacGregor I would have to wear dark sunglasses all of the time so as to protect myself from having to look at his frightfully frightening teeth.

But Maggie Gyllenhaal is amazing. Even when she's looking a mess she still manages to look smarter and more cosmopolitan than the rest of us.

Saturday, August 6, 2011



Sometimes I'll go off on these youtube song tangents and feel compelled to share them with both of my readers. I went on a Kris Kristofferson bender and was searching for the right song to throw up here. But Kris, while quite possibly the most bow-chicka 70+ year old man out there, just wasn't what I was searching for. And the other fellas, Waylon and Willie and all those guys... well, they always make me think about my Daddy. That was Daddy's kind of stuff. He always had an admiration for cowboys and outlaws and the like. So. I figured I'd just go with the most obvious of choices.

Wednesday, August 3, 2011


Angie and Rachel and I spent all day at Six Flags yesterday. It'd been ten plus years since I'd been on a roller coaster and half way up the first hill of Bizarro, I was wondering who the hell I was trying to kid. Today I'm hoarse from screaming my lungs out, pink-nosed from spending the day in the sun, and a little hung-over from the adrenaline crash.

We dropped my girls off at the airport at six this morning. Now, I'm forlorn and lonely for them.

Got the rest of my stitches taken out Monday, and my arm is still pretty lumpy and really sore at times. I'm outta work until the first of September. Then I guess John and I will start the whole packing up and u-haul renting and preparing ourselves for moving in with my Mama for a (pleasedearGod) short time.

Monday, August 1, 2011








Dear. God. I cannot tell you how much fun I had with those masks. The Vermont Country Store is filled to the brim with products from your childhood, $70 house dresses your granny used to buy for two dollars at the TG&Y, and a thousand samples of cheese and dips and crackers and the like. It's terribly touristy, but I have more than forgiven them for that because they have a wall of Victorian face masks.

The Green Mountain State






Saturday we went to Vermont. Our destination was the farmer's market in Brattleboro which is really unlike any farmer's market ever in this world. I took pictures of the food. But I don't think it'll do it justice. I drank a cider mimosa first thing off. Then we all shared plates of Pad Thai and black-eyed peas and rice and a curried puff pastry and whoopie pies and homemade donuts and ma'amoul and ginger lemonade and then we ate off of that for the next three meals. I'm thinking seriously hard about heading back up there next weekend and doing it all over again.

Friday, July 29, 2011




The girls is here! We went to Newport, RI yesterday and did the Cliff Walk, but not before we got semi-lost and took the long way there. I love getting lost cause you get to see new things. This time we got to see Bristol, RI which is just as quaint and pretty as a summer's day. We ate gyros at a little diner and the best damn cupcakes in the world at the bakery next door. Eventually we found Newport and the Cliff Walk. Then we got stuck in rush hour traffic on I95 and then when we thought we were in the clear we missed our exit and wound up in another traffic jam and another hour out of the way. That cupcake was completely worth it.

Today we laid low. Did some local shopping and ate leftovers and tried to rest up for tomorrow which is Vermont day. I love love love Vermont. And I love love love John cause he's coming along too and will more than likely do most of the driving.

Friday, July 22, 2011

A Post In Pictures




So I tried vlogging. I used John's iphone to record myself and I yammered on for 10 minutes. But then it wouldn't let me email a video that long. So I gave up for now. The left-handed life is terribly frustrating. Typing, texting, eating, teeth-brushing... and let's not even get into pony-tail making. The pony-tail deserves a blog post all its own.

I'm doing okay. Will post more details later. Got a semi-cast/bandage up to my armpit. Got drugs and Coca-cola and baloney in the house. All I need now is a redwood deck and a bug zapper.

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

Today was my birthday and my last day of work for a while because tomorrow I'm having the arm done. Not sure if I'll be able to blog one handed. I may have to try vlogging like Tonya.

Sunday, July 17, 2011



This is the most cleared off piece of furniture in our house.

Saturday, July 16, 2011

Sometimes shit just works out the way it's supposed to. I think I used to drive John nuts with my whole, "it'll work itself out" philosophy. In theory it's awesome, but in reality it can make you extra-super nervous waiting around on it. A month ago Angie called and said she and Rachel were planning a visit and I was excited but also disappointed that I wouldn't get to spend much time with them on account of I work a million hours. Then I go to the orthopedist and he tells me that I really need to have my arm fixed. I schedule the surgery date and the office lady gives me a choice of July 20 or 27. The 20 is the day after my birthday. The 27 is the day Angie and Rachel fly in. I say yay for the 20 because I haven't had a really kickass birthday since I turned eleven and Mama and Daddy bought me Rocker Barbie and then took me to Water World USA in Maggie Valley for the weekend. Ironically enough, when the girls get here I want to take Rachel Here. It looks like so! much! fun! My point is, all the workmans comp. stuff worked out and the date of the surgery worked out and even though I'll be down a limb, I'll get to spend all the time in the world with my suster and niece.

This being our last weekend with four arms, we've cleaned and cleaned. Because we're hermits, we don't usually give a rat's taint if there're piles of towels and blankets and books and cat leavings on every semi-level surface. This has given us the opportunity to help our home smell it's best. Which is still a shade or two below a kennel. Or a house with five cats, two litter boxes and several pairs of smelly shoes. I even scrubbed the bath tub. I grunted and sweat and Comet-ed the hell outta that tub.

John bought me a Blackberry Torch for my birthday. I'm pretty sure it's too much phone for me, but it sure is nifty-fun learning about it. What I'm reading: The Vicious Vet by M.C. Beaton. What I'm watching: Frasier and a 48 Hours Mystery about the Long Island serial killer.

Thursday, July 7, 2011

Well Hell


This is just about the coolest damn thing ever. And they're playing my second favorite U2 song.

This is my favorite U2 song:

But really that's neither here nor there. It's mostly there. If it was here I'd be sure of it.

Bea started her Milk Thistle today. I've worked 24 of the current 48 hours. I'm ready to gnaw off a foot just to get some time off.

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

Well, it's always something ain't it? Angie and Rachel are coming to visit at the end of this month. I'm very excited about this and I'm all researching fun-ass stuff to do and see. Yesterday I went to the orthopedic doctor and I'm having my arm and wrist fixed the day after my birthday. Which means I'll be out of work while my girls are here which is pretty sweet.

Still force-feeding Bea because even though she's eating a little bit, it's not nearly enough and she can't afford to lose any more weight. Also giving her supplements. And her antibiotic. And when the milk thistle arrives, I'll be shoving that down her bony little throat as well. Don't get sick on my watch, dammit. I'll get your ass well one way or another.

Monday, July 4, 2011



This is an original song written and performed by this little 16 year old Dubliner. When I was 16 I was too busy hating my parents and sleeping 20 hours a day to do anything nearly so creative.
Yesterday Bea didn't eat very much at all on her own. So I broke down and force-fed her. Probably more for my own piece of mind than necessity. It wasn't too terrible actually. When we stuck with the Friskies she was semi-okay with it. When I tried switching over to the Wellness lamb stew... gag-a-maggot. More like gag-a-Janet-John-and-Bea. Anyway, this morning Bea ate on her own! And quite a few bites. Plus, she's acting fine. Her normal pissy self with a few incidences of decency. Sort of like yours truly.

John and I were oohing and cooing over Bea yesterday when I noticed a flying bug stuck to the ceiling. One of those black cricket things with little sucker feets. "John," I said. "There's a black bug with sucker feet on the ceiling." John looked at the bug, squinted and shrugged his big shoulders. "He can stay. I got no beef with him." Reason one billion and forty-two why I love him.

Sunday, July 3, 2011

'52 Vincent



Sitting in a bed covered with catnip and bowls of smelly food beside my man and my granny lady. Listening to this song. Praise the Lords for my sister who calls me up on Sunday morning and tells me about good shit.

Saturday, July 2, 2011



such big love for these guys

Bea has what is probably liver disease. Good news is her kidneys are fine. Yay! Bad news is she's lost two pounds since January and her liver enzymes and bilirubin are elevated which is indicative of disease. The doc said that since she's drinking normally and still eating somewhat, that we should just love her and live in the now. She sent us home with antibiotics and with instructions to force feed her if she stops eating all together. Today Bea ate treats, the juice off of a can of food, a few bites of ground turkey (that I ground up myself), a few bites of lamb cat food, catnip and the juice from a can of people salmon. Meanwhile, everything else I've tried unsuccessfully feeding her (clams and clam juice, tuna and three cans of rebuffed Friskies) has been inhaled by our pigeons-in-cat-clothing. Anyway, I just ordered her some Milk Thistle. I may use that in conjunction with chanting and sacrificing a virgin. If all else fails, I've never birthed any chirrens... I'd be willing to offer up a first born at this point.

After crying for the majority of the morning, John and I took a side venture to the co-op in Willimantic to stock up on catnip and almonds dusted in organic cocoa. Driving through Willimantic with John is always a special treat because I get to hear him say things like: "Right there. That's where the cops pulled me over and made me pull down my pants before they frisked me. In the middle of February."

Friday, July 1, 2011

His Head On A Skewer


So basically all Bea wants to eat these days is Whiskas Temptation treats and the juice off of canned food. Oh, and Kraft Parmesan shaker cheese. She's driving us rat-shit, bat-shit crazy. She seems fine. She's skinny as hell, but she's also fifteen frickin' years old. Anyway, we're tired of worrying and wringing our hands over her furry little carcass so we're taking her to the vet tomorrow to see if anything's the matter with her. Other than the obvious.

On my way home from work today I pulled into the Walgreens parking lot. So there's this silver Beetle backing out of a parking space and I stop to let them out. I'm thinking about stuff and things and the car's slowly backing out and I'm like, "Jayzus, it's taking this little old lady forever." Eventually they're all the way out and I'm prepared to go about my business, only the Beetle's still backing up. Still backing. Still backing. I'm honking like mad but I can't pull around them because they arc around and slam into my drivers side door and wheel well. So I swear. Loudly and profusely. And get out of my car. But I'm the only one around to hear the swearing because the Beetle is EMPTY. Yup. Empty. As in no driver. As in, long story short, the Beetle's parking brake doesn't work and now I have a minor dent and some scratches in the Fit. I tracked down the Beetle's owner and got her info and seriously... I really wish my Daddy was around so I could tell him about Bea and my car. Daddy never tired of animal companion and effed up vehicle stories.

Saturday, June 25, 2011

What A Display

Dear Golden Corral,

While I totally love you and your delicious grilled sirloin and buttery yeast rolls, I'm extra special happy that you're miles and miles away. I am not a strong woman. I am a weak-willed yeast roll loving fat kid who'll be eating Tums hand over fist for the rest of the night.

That is all.

love and ranch dressing,

jan
They're showing Pollyanna on the Hallmark channel today. I can't tell you how much I love that movie or even how many times I've seen it. Way over a hundred. I can beyond quote it. I can act it out, gestures and facial expressions, the whole gamut. When I was a kid, I wished I lived in Harrington with it's beautifully kept homes and town greens and awesome climbing trees.

I Googled Pollyanna houses today and found this site: Hooked On Houses. It's pure House porn. If anyone tries to reach me in the next few days and winds up having to talk to John in my stead, it's probably because I'm on Hooked On Houses.

There's also an excellent Pollyanna post on this site: Sweet Sunday Mornings. The old lady playing the drums rocks my world.

Friday, June 24, 2011

Fifty Years



I can't remember ever remembering Mama and Daddy's anniversary. For years I just knew it was in June. Then for a few more years I thought it was the 18th. Then I narrowed it down to the 23rd. Up until the day before I got the tattoo I thought it was the damn 23rd. But then I snooped around in Mama's closet and found their marriage certificate and that's when I was 90% sure it was the 24th. I finally broke down and asked Mama. She confirmed. Since she was there and all I took her word for it.

They were married for 49 and a half years. Forty-nine awesome, bickering, crazy, funny, generous, kind-hearted, devoted and love-filled years. A tremendous legacy.




Monday, June 20, 2011

Because it was Father's Day weekend and because John and I are both father-less and also because Father's Day also happened to coincide with the anniversary of John's mom's death... well... as you can imagine, we tried to stay busy. As you can also probably imagine, it didn't totally work out so well. Saturday we cleaned the carpets and yelled at one another. We made up. Sunday we watched The Bad Seed on netflix and spent the rest of the day talking about how much we liked it. I haven't liked a movie that much in a great long while. I read some and cleaned some and tried to bribe a couple of cats into napping with me. I wound up napping alone and for four hours which rendered me useless for the rest of the night. Angie called and we talked about things without actually talking about the thing that she called to talk about which is, "I'm calling to check on you to make sure you haven't slit your wrists on account of it's Father's Day and we ain't got one." I read a little. A very little. I've been reading children's books because I can't be bothered by anything too taxing. John says that I probably need to see a therapist because I need to learn how to live outside of my comfort zones. I told him that's bullshit because I've been living outside of my comfort zone for years now and the prospect of settling into said zone isn't looking so promising. If that's therapy, then I'll just stick to booze and pills. Speaking of discomfort; I took John to the doctor's today because come to find out he had a dislocated rib. It's an ailment most commonly seen among athletes and those who take part in strenuous activity. John gathers he got his by blowing his nose too hard.
Sometimes everything is just too loud. It all becomes a dull roar of distraction and distortion. I want to be able to feel calm. I can't with the noise. I think that's why I run away. That's why I remove myself. Because otherwise I'll go bat-shit. People talking, music, movement and traffic and television; it's all maddening and headache inducing. And repetition, a repetitive noise or a story or phrase, will literally make me cry with anxiety. I don't know how wacked out this makes me. Considering all the circumstances, probably not so much. But it sure makes things difficult to handle.

Which reminds me of this:

John and I were watching one of those Jitterbug phone commercials the other day and the spokesperson is saying how easy it is to make calls and how if you have any questions you just have to hit some button and you'll be automatically connected to one of their "certified customer service members". So I'm all, "I think we should get one of those for Mama." And John says to the tv, "Watch out there buddy. Cause you're about to get someone certifiable on your end too." We laughed till we cried.

Saturday, June 18, 2011

I hate you Father's Day. I don't even care. I hate you so damn bad. I hate all of your cards and your stupid sports-themed gifts. I want to punch you in the face and spit in your eye. I want to key your car and let my cats eat your pet hamster. I hate your fleeting looks of pity and I hope you drown in a sea of your own self-satisfaction.

Friday, June 17, 2011



If I were to ever decide to bat for the other team it would be because of Brandi Carlile.

OR



Adele. I'm in severe awe of both of them. Like, 8th grade crushin'.

Monday, June 13, 2011

ain't nobody here but us afflicted

Before anyone freaks out, this is my back. Which, by the way, is my absolute least favorite part of my body, but I'm not photo shopping these pics cause I'm trying to keep it real and I'm posting these pictures so's folks can know what the classic Lyme Disease bull's-eye looks like.

Saturday I asked John to take a look at my back because I thought I had a bump back there and he was all, "Holy Shit!". So of course he took a picture:

and we discussed whether or not it could be Lyme or a goddamnspider bite. He called his friend Dr. Joe and asked him about it and Dr. Joe said it probably was a bite but that I would be fine until Monday.

This morning I wake up at 4:30 and get ready for work and I'm feeling like I got beat down. Seriously rough. And my back now looks like this:


I worked a few hours. Came home. Called my doctor who, of course, is out of the office for the next couple of days. The office ladies tell me to call the on-call doctor. I did. Only, the on-call doctor has no clue that he's the on-call doctor for my doctor's patients. Mind you, this phone-tag shit commenced at 10:30 in the morning and did not get even moderately resolved until 2:30. Which is when John took me to the ER and they told me I had Lyme and gave me a script for doxycycline and I was in and out of there in 45 minutes which has to be a record. I mean, if anyone out there can beat the 45 minute ER visit I want to hear their story. Cause a month ago my sister Angie and my Mama spent 15 HOURS in the ER in Wilmington. Point of all of this, my back hurts and itches and my lymph nodes hurt and even the two Scooby Doo movies I watched while waiting on the doctors to get their shit together can not make up for the fact that Lyme can go eat a dick.

Saturday, June 11, 2011

It's a coffee and pizza for breakfast day. One of those rainy Saturdays that feel like morning time all day long. I like 'em. Cause then I don't feel like the day's getting away from me and I've done nothing of value. But then I have to rebuke myself for feeling value-less because whatever I'm doing has to be purposeful or else I wouldn't be doing it. Where I am, is exactly where I'm supposed to be. There are days, moments really, when I do let life happen to me. But there are also major chunks of time when I all out rule this world. It's like my diet. And by diet I mean what I consume, not a "dieting" diet. Anyway, it's like my diet. Sure I sometimes eat pizza for breakfast, but I also eat brussels sprouts and brown rice and I haven't had a potato chip in a couple of months. Dude, that's like a three pack a day Pall-Maller going cold turkey.

Friday, June 10, 2011

I don't remember how, but a couple of months ago I floated into this guy's blog. He makes me laugh till I wheeze. Here's a sampling:

"I love internet commenters.

Sometimes I don’t even read the article. All I have to do is read the headline and I know somebody is down below pouring their heart out in five paragraphs or more.

Nothing will ever beat an Apple vs. Google article. Nothing.

And if it’s a person who writes for a website that no matter what they write a certain group of people are going to hate it, that is like WWE to me.

Then when it starts getting personal, and each person has to base they’re attacks off of the person’s username, or the comments they wrote before that. That is true art.

Internet Arguing>Real Life Arguing because safety first.

In the future I think that all hate is going to be saved just for the internet.

You see a homeless person on the street begging for change. You’re going to ignore them in real life but as soon as you get home, you’re going find that one article and let fucking loose.

You see a family buying Lucky Charms, BBQ Rib’s, and Hot Chips, and grape drink with a EBT card. That’s not healthy but you’ll keep that mouth shut, and if you come home and see a story about linking AFDC and obesity together, well you might as well call in to work tomorrow, you have got some anonymous arguing to do.

Paragraphs and opinions for days that you’ll forget you wrote the very next day, until it restarts later on that day.

Never stop though, because I really want to see what internet commenting evolves to."

It's my new favorite quote: "You might as well call into work tomorrow, you've got some anonymous arguing to do."
Stuff I did at work today:

1) Had Becca trim my bangs on the sly. She did a really good job. I'm seriously thinking about having her cut my hair from now on as they are really super cute.

2) Taught a whole flock of slack-jawed yankees the proper usage of "y'all". You know, like how it's plural not singular. They were truly confounded. Silly yankees.

3) Told Tara I'd take a kickboxing class with her tonight. Then texted her a half hour later and bailed. I've become quite the homebody. I don't feel bad about it at all. The homebody part anyway. I do hate breaking plans with people because I don't want to be perceived as a flake. Even though I sort of am.

I saw the hand and arm specialist this week and he told me I have radial tunnel syndrome. He told me to try and not move my arm like *this*. I blinked at him. He said to give it a month of trying not doing *this* and then we'll go from there.
I'm not sure where we'll go. I hear Vancouver's nice.

Wednesday, June 8, 2011

Nothing ever, ever, ever stays the same does it? Ever. I'm growing more melancholy and nostalgic by the day. The loss of our Daddy has created an emotional upheaval of epic proportions within the immediate Scronce clan and we are all desperately desperate for stability. All these years we assumed Mama was the strong one. Mostly because she told us so. But now we've found out the hard way that Daddy was the rock and the glue and without him we've all unraveled.

That being said... I am anxious to make things right. To guide and be guided in the healthiest direction. I will not give up on us.

Monday, June 6, 2011

I read this really awesome article on the yahoo homepage today about a dad in Utah who dresses in a different costume every day to wave at his teenage son's school bus. They even have a blog called Wave At The Bus. I think that's about the best thing I've heard in a great long while.

This morning I was hauling down the driveway and scanning the pond area for woodland critters and I saw this lovely lady:

She was really big. Like a couple of feet in diameter. And she was totally on a mission and even though I had to work an unholy amount of hours today, I kept thinking about her and how old and purposeful she is and it made me feel pretty okay.