I have been neglecting my blog.  This is primarily due to my work schedule, but may also have something to do with the Nintendo Wii my husband and I purchased about two weeks ago.

Because I’m a masochist, I purchased Wii Fit!  Of course, I’ve pushed myself daily to get off my ass and workout, which is something I have had trouble being consistent with in the past.  I must say, I do enjoy being told on a daily basis that I’m fat and probably trip while walking (haha Wii fit, that one NEVER gets old.)

Wii fit aside, I also purchased an incredibly cute and fun game called Animal Crossing – City Folk.  I played a bit with my friend Gabe who allowed me to steal some oranges to plant in my town.  *yay* Oranges!

That’s enough of the update, I have a post on family dysfunction and funerals to make at a later date when I’m feeling more articulate.

From: acrazylady@aol.com  (I should have known better when I saw she was an AOL user, who uses AOL anymore?)

Sent: Fri 9/04/09 8:49 AM

I am glad you did. You are rude for requesting and cutting communication. I was not interested in working with you period. The truth is you don’t have any money to order. Making Big jewelry costs more. So sorry.

———-

I was checking into ordering several handmade pieces from this user, but I’m really glad I didn’t.  FYI the previous e-mail was me telling her that I’d decided to go elsewhere as she can’t seem to hold her tongue.  She was angry I took more than a day to respond to an e-mail. She replied three times on the 27th, one reply said something to the effect of “Why did you bother contacting me if you don’t reply?”  Sorry sweetie, some of us have real jobs and lives to tend to. 

I love how she assumes that I have no money because I took longer to respond to her than she’d like.  Is that supposed to be an insult?  I could think of quite a few that are better;  She could have called me fat, arrogant, hopeless, white-trash, ugly, slutty etc but Poor?  Come on, half the fricking country is poor at the moment, that isn’t an insult it’s a blanket statement.  I, unlike crazy women who flip out if you don’t e-mail back on the spot because they have nothing else to occupy their time, happen to have a good paying steady job that I can do while sitting on my ass at home.  She’s the one obviously so desperate for the cash that she can’t wait through the weekend for a reply!  Besides, how much does she think it costs to make jewelry out of clay?  Seriously?

Instead of ordering from said psychotic ebay-tard I decided to drop some money at Artbeads (because they have amazing product and don’t freak out if I get too busy to play around with some beads for a weekend.)  Artbeads is amazing, yep, so they get my money instead this week and some poor lonely catlady is out a couple hundred bucks just because she was being rude. So Sorry

Occasionally I’m served up a healthy reminder of where I live, Conservative Indiana, which is technically North of the Bible Belt, but might as well be part of it!

Tonight the reminder came not from driving past one of the many “revivals” (a service held during the week, meant to revive the spirit and keep you from backsliding into sin between Sunday services)  Nor did it come from being stuck behind a beat up pre-1990 vehicle with a bumper sticker spouting something about God knowing how many people I’ve slept with in my lifetime.  This time, the reminder came ever so humorously in the form of an edited theater sign at Carmike Cinema in Crawfordsville, IN.

Welcome to Indiana

Now, I know it’s a bit hard to see, but I assure you, the word “Basterds” has been scraped off by an employee of the theater, and the tile reads “Inglorious B”

Enjoy internet!

BTW: I did not go to see this film, instead I watched District 9, which was excellent.

Justin and I had planned a vacation to Ely, MN. It has been a long-time ambition of mine to see a bear in the wild, and we planned to spend a day hiking outside of Ely after visiting the North American Bear Center.  The master plan was to have uncle Vince house/dog sit for us as our Airabella is slightly aggressive around folks she isn’t acquainted with.  We also wanted somebody staying at the house due to a much too recent attempt at breaking in while I was sleeping on the sofa.

Life happens, or death in this matter.  No matter your tentative plans, no matter your longing desires or needs for escape, life happens. Justin’s grandpa Gleason is fighting his fourth round of Cancer.  His first cancer was in the form of a brain tumor, which was treated with radiation.  The second cancer was in his hip, which was treated with Chemotherapy, the third a cancer of the lymph nodes received another dose of radiation therapy, and finally this, cancer of the Liver.  This cancer is not one he will survive as he is now too ill to even take an IV.  The hospital was unable to install a pick, so he has no nutritional supplement, due to his illness he can barely eat.  He is very weak now, but is holding on for some reason.  I suspect he wants to see his family, most of whom have neglected to visit.

Grandpa Gleason’s death has moved from status expected to pending, and we are all sitting around helpless waiting for him to pass on. Hospice has been contacted and should be providing support within a couple of days.  Because of our need to stick around to provide aid and support to family members, attend the funeral, and take time to morn, we have had to cancel our vacation.

It feels sicking in a way, waiting for someone to die.  I feel like I shouldn’t be thinking in those terms, I should be thinking “He will pull through.” or something equally cheery, but my brain simply does not work that way.  And so here I sit, awaiting death and all the hectic family drama that goes with it.  My own grandparents save one, are deceased and so I’ve seen the worst of the vulture-like behavior greedy relatives exhibit when someone dies.  Even when my mother was ill and in the hospital, her sisters descended on our family like a pack of wolves ready to pounce on whatever prey they found,  be it family heirlooms or our emotional state.  It is my hope that this experience will not be as painful for Justin, Pat, Vince and the rest of the family.

I really hate when I’m watching a movie, enjoying myself, the experience…when all the sudden, an “eating scene” pops up. Now, most people aren’t crazy like I am, and chewing/slurping/tearing/cutting/clanking noises don’t bother them. I have an extreme aversion to these scenes in movies and on tv. I can hear the food mixing with the saliva, I can hear it being switched from side to side, digesting right there on camera. Some movies keep it fairly quiet and quick, but I’m often overcome with nausea when watching a scene that is purposefully filmed in a disgusting way. I hate when these scenes linger on, focus drawn on the disgusting sloppy, slurpy chewing and ripping noises.

Excuse me, I’m going to be sick.

The only thing worse than chewing scenes in movies or on TV is the sound of crunching, chomping popcorn in the theater.  Why do they sell popcorn in theaters?  Wouldn’t it make sense to sell something quiet to snack on?  Why can’t they sell Bananas or ice cream bars?    Popcorn is loud, smelly, and greasy, which make it one of the most offensive foods around.  I hate sitting in the theater and sliding my hand down the armrest, only to discover the lingering deposits of greasy fake butter some fuckwad has wiped there.

Sometimes it is quite obvious how unstable I am, I typically hide it well, but anyone who has ever gone to a movie with me has been witness to the inner struggle my neurosis presents when theater patrons begin rattling candy wrappers, chomping popcorn and slurping soda.  Some days, it’s all I can do to get up and go to the bathroom to prevent myself from standing up in the theater and shouting something to the effect of “Would all you morons please go to the lobby to eat before you fucking make me vomit?”

I think I’m a prime candidate for xanex.

I will never forget my first experience with a chat room.  I logged in excitedly after an online friend showed me a chat room  he had found.  (This was back in the mid 90’s so instead of the flowing glitch-free chat rooms we know today, this was a bit of hacked up code, it was more like a scrolling message board. )  I was in the room for all of 5 minutes, when someone sent me a private message asking where I was from.  When I responded “Indiana, what about you?” the user replied “you wanna cyber?”  I was only 14, and being the little prudish girl I was in those days, I closed out the window to get away.  I quickly learned that the internet was full of nothing but perverts who wanted to have cybersex with you.

I work as a community administrator for a website I won’t mention here, I spend hours each day reading through abuse reports.  I see all sorts of reports on users for cybering in private rooms and have yet to come across anything creative or inspired after being at my job for a year and a half.  I remember the long artistic cybersex sessions I would take part in out of sheer boredom. I would throw in some creative lines like “I run my fingernails down your back, digging into your skin.  I wipe the blood across your cheek and lips.”  What can I say, I was a sick kid.   The point is, the moves were thought out, they made sense and were realistic bits of fine erotic literature compared to the simplistic drivel the teens today peck out.

Last night, I came across a report that contained something similar to this:

user1: Hey bby wnna cyber?

user2: yes do me

user1: take off your clothes!!!

user2: takes off all her clothes!!!!!!

user1 : Jumps on you and humps u til u cum.

user 2 orgasm – oH BBY!

user1 : can I get ur #

user2: no.

In truth, I have no idea how old the two users were.  They could have been adults for all I know, but it’s doubtful.

Where is the detail, the creativity?  Where is the passion?  A good cybersex session should be as realistic and detailed as possible, it should be inventive and passionate.  When you are cybering, you should be able to articulate all of your deepest desires and play them out with another party, simply typing “humps you ’til you cum.” is NOT cybering, hell it barely counts as “talking dirty.”

Are we losing our passion and creativity as we evolve as a society?  How long before cybering is simply typing “I had sex with you just now” and leaving it at that?  I really do wonder what it is that is causing this generation of teenagers to be so dull and unimaginative.

Of course as a community administrator, it’s my responsability to issue bans to the users who are cybering, and I am able to do this efficiently. I recognize the danger in allowing teenagers to have sexual conversations with persons they do not know,  I am just disapointed that things seem  be getting so…vanilla.

When the world starts falling apart, it is all we can do to find something in which to lose ourselves.  Amidst all the painful moments in my life over the past couple of years, I’ve found reasons to smile, to keep moving on.  Justin has helped me through so much, though I fear in the process I’ve pulled him down a few rungs into my own personal hell, he seems happy to roast here with me giving little complaint.  

My job requires long hours spent on my sofa, stuck inside the confines of my small house.  My hands glide over plastic keys, tapping away the seconds of my life.  For hours at a time I sit in silence, not realizing I could flip on the television and drown out the tapping.  I become entranced: tap, tap, tap, tap…seconds, minutes, hours pass me by.  My eyes glass over and I realize that I’ve left myself behind somewhere forgotten.

Body filled with the toxic leftovers of the day, I find myself escaping to another world, one untouched by the negative energy of the modern age, a place I have known since childhood, loved my entire life.  When the build-up of techno-toxin is too great, I can escape here, lost in the deep sandstone canyons cool with morning mist.  I can breathe in the scents of the woods, hear the cries of rare birds and the scuffling of tiny reptile claws under the bark of ancient trees.  I love Turkey Run, as much as anyone can love a place, maybe more.

I easily drag Justin along with me, week after week.  He goes willingly, though often reminding me, “This was your idea.”  He knows that I need this escape, I think on some level, he also needs Turkey Run.

I find myself now planning yet another trek into the wooded abyss, longing to explore every path and trail.  I vow to brave high heat and humidity just to catch a breath of fresh air.  I drag with me any willing hiker into this world in hopes that they too can find themselves falling in love with Turkey Run.

The Suspension Bridge at Turkey Run

Justin and I went for our weekly Turkey Run hike, this time we brought Barry along with us.

Here he is preparing for his trek into the woods

This is Barry

We started off our hike on trail 4 which runs past the old Lusk Coal mine.  The tiny mine is now a sealed off bat habitat.  We intersected and hit a portion of trail 8, only after taking a misguided turn and winding up in the clearing of the Lusk Home…oops.

The main advantage of early morning hiking is milder temperatures, though it was still in the low 80s, and sitting at 90% humidity, the hike was bearable.  The disadvantage of early morning hikes however, is spiderwebs.  As the first people out on trail, you’re going to walk into hundreds of webs.  The easiest way to deal with this is to walk with your hiking stick out, flailing it about destroying the webs before you touch them.

Sorry little guy, you're in my way!

Of course, me being terrified of spiders, I got one on my hand and had a panic attack.  For those not in the know, I’m highly prone to losing my shit when I see spiders.

We hiked along the stream until we intersected with Trail 3’s beautiful Punchbowl at the very top of the falls.

Topside the Punchbowl Waterfall

Up here we met Charlie and his family.  This is Charlie the Vizsla, no relation to Dennis.

This is Charlie the Vizsla!

Charlie comes from the mythical city of Chicago, and apparently he really enjoys Turkey Run hikes!

After meeting Charlie and his family, we went down the trail to the bottom of the Punchbowl where we basked in the cool damp air and fine mist produced by the little waterfall.  The Punchbowl is a great cooling off point, I’m glad we came upon it when we did as we were all overheating a little bit.

Justin and Barry "cooling off" at the Punchbowl

After the Punchbowl silliness, we headed on towards Rocky Hollow, one of my favorite features at Turkey Run and a must-see on any hike through the park!  Barry put aside his slight fear of heights to walk up the ledge.  Many hikers walk through the hollow area, putting hand and foot on the rockface, which over time has caused unnatural erosion to occur.   Many are unaware of how damaging human skin and oils are to natural stone fatures.

Barry on a ledge at Rocky Hollow

After passing through this area, one final challenge awaited us, the hike down the waterfall.  The rock is slick, and the trail runs straight down the center of the small falls, making hiking in higher waters a little difficult.  We managed without accidents thankfully, though Barry did luckily talk himself out of a stunt that likely would have resulted in us having to run him to the hospital.

The trip was fun, we enjoyed having Barry along as a hiking partner, and he seemed to enjoy the experience, even though I did make the suspension bridge move a little while he was on it.

We are fortunate enough to be able to record video with our digital camera, thus recordered some of Barry’s finer moments on the hike.  Enjoy:

I’ve had this stuck in my head for weeks, it was tacked on at the end of Little Red Riding Hood, the gruesome version (Charles Perrault) in which Red does not survive the attack:

Little girls, this seems to say,
Never stop upon your way.
Never trust a stranger-friend,
No one knows how it will end.
As you’re pretty, so be wise,
Wolves may lurk in every guise.
Handsome they may be, and kind,
Gay, or charming never mind.
Now, as then, ‘tis simple truth,
Sweetest tongue has sharpest tooth.

And of course we all know that the story was about much much more than a little girl being eaten by a wolf.

I’ve had no blog views for two days, not a single one.

I have failed at blogging.

In other news, my new neighbors are obviously drunk and are standing in the street yelling at each other, it’s 3:30 in the morning.  I’m still awake of course, but the rest of the town is trying to sleep.

What kind of narcissistic neighborhood etiquette flunkie stands in the middle of the road at 3:30 in the morning and screams “woooooOOOOOOOOOoooooo Anybody awake out there?”  and “Everybody WAAAAAKE Up!”

I hope he chokes on his own vomit tonight after he passes out.