I like books.


I live in a small town and enjoy writing about the inhabitants. I spend most of my time perusing through used book stores looking for that one great book that I don't have; consequently, I have rooms filled with books. I am a book addict.

Thursday, March 31, 2005

Hard Times

Man did I have a hard time getting to my blog or what? I tried about ten times and kept getting a time out thing. I guess sometimes the site just gets too busy. Well having said that and having finally got here, I'm too tired to go on. Good night

Sunday, March 20, 2005

We need a new stove, cooking stove that is. Anyway, the one I have came with my house, and I have owned this house for nearly fifteen years. The stove is probably as old as the house. The house was built in the late 40s so you get the idea.
The stove works, but it is old and scratched and the oven is off ten degrees. That isn’t bad, unless of course you don’t know it and you try to cook a pie for forty minutes at 350 degrees and you realize after an hour it isn’t cooked. So, since I have been down, and others have been cooking on my old stove, it has put the husband to shame and so he announces this morning that we are going to get a stove, he has picked it out, and there will be no discussion. I don’t pick out his tools, and so I calmly tell him no, that I will decide what stove I want and furthermore, I have a brother-in-law with connections so that we can get one with a discount. My problem is that while my husband thought he was doing a good thing, buying me a new stove, why is it that he has to be so controlling about the deal. He doesn’t cook, doesn’t even know how to light the pilot light; yet, he is going to try and force me to take the stove he chooses. I tried to remain calm as I told him over and over that I will get a stove when I am well. He begins yelling and telling me I am difficult and for me to calm down. Me calm down. I begin to feel my anger rise, but I resist the temptation to be what he has become, and I simply tell him he acting foolish and for him to calm down. Upon hearing these words he becomes insultive to me. Sometimes, verbal abuse hurts much worse than physical. I miss being single.

Saturday, March 19, 2005

Money Matters!

I’m not rich, hell; I’m not even middle class. Since the Republicans are in charge, I am fast losing footing and almost hitting the poverty level. Jobs are being sent overseas, my husbands may be next, and in all of this, I try to think positively but it just isn’t happening. We went out to eat last night, after my quick trip to the doctor for the ouch painful procedure, and while there, I cringed at the cost of the food for my husband and myself; twenty-two dollars for the both of us and with tip, well, it was more than we could afford. We did stay and we did eat, but we brought the left-overs home, and I made sure there were leftovers for his lunch today. Twenty-two dollars should feed us for a couple of days and not one meal. What does this mean? When did money lose its staying power in my bank account? I have books to buy for graduate school, an apartment to rent, gas to buy, at least two professional suits, and yes shoes. Geeze, I’m beginning to have a panic attack about money, something I haven’t done in years. Why? Because the damned republicans want to make sure no one but the rich have it made. The rest of us are like mice in a maze looking for that kernel of corn, hoping for one easy day. I’m going to take another Xanax. It will take away the brain pain.

Women Take A LOOK!

I read a book the other night by Alice Walker, Possessing The Secret of Joy. It’s a book that every one should read. In this novel, a woman’s growth from childhood to her death is logged. Her struggles with the death of her sister, the infidelity of her husband, and her inner struggle with the history of her people and the rituals that continue being performed upon the young girls of her people and others as well. Walker explores the feelings, the anthropology, and the mythology of genital mutilation. Most people shake their head and think it is only in the other countries where other people do that, but it happens right here in the USA and not just to our darker sisters, it happens to little white and black girls from progressive, rich families who are ashamed that their little ones have found the joy between their legs and in order to stop the masturbation, you got it, they whack it off. I am appalled at what I read. Go buy or check it out. Sometimes reading has to be more than entertainment; sometimes, we have to read to learn what is going on out there to our sisters. By the way, Alice Walker has written many other wonderful books as well. Check her out.

Where I Am?

I live in a very mall town in Arkansas, population 2000. It is, in fact, so small that everyone knows everyone else. I can make a phone call, get the wrong number, and the person on the other line will know me by my voice, know who I was calling and probably know if she is home or not. That’s a good thing, most of the time, but not now.
You see, I had surgery on the 8th, had a hysterectomy, total abdominal hysterectomy, and it hurt like hell. Prior to the hyst, as the medical staff so casually calls it, I was attending the university working on an English degree so that I could get into the Master’s program up north and over the river. Anyway, I plan to go back to school, this is only a small thing, I will be back in school after Spring break. Everyone in town, though, knew about my surgery. I spent three nights in hospital. One night a friend stayed, the second night my sister stayed. I have to give you a feel for my older sister. She raised me when my mom died so she is very protective of me. In the middle of the night, I feel the covers gently getting pulled off of me, she pulls out a flash light and shines on my bandages, looks at the tube collecting my urine, the other one draining blood. I hear her moan as if she has seen the worst thing in her life and she covers me back up, wipes my face with a cool washcloth, and hits the button on my morphine pump. Before I go off to lala land, I hear her on the cell, “yep, she has one of them cathers, and a tube that’s draining a lot of blood, there’s a plastic thing there too, but I didn’t touch it. I don’t know. I’m worried as can be.”
Now I’m home and people have been in and out bringing casseroles, roasts, cakes and well you know the southern thing. But each of them can tell you exactly what I had inside and outside of me because after that phone call my sister made, it spread through this town like wildfire. When people come to visit they ask all kinds of questions about the tubes and the surgery. My husband, who is not from this area, asked me how in the hell they knew what kind of drainage tubes I had. I just laughed. Yesterday, our sewer lines got backed up and a plumber came and fixed them, while, I might add, I was at the doctor’s office getting a painful procedure, and anyway, this morning, my sister calls and says, “I hear you had to have your pipes cleaned. It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours and the entire town knows about my plugged pipes. Is there a moral to this rambling? NO, but it is a slice of my life. Good or bad, it is what I live, and the people have given me a wealth of characters to write about. Until I heal enough for heavier thinking this must do.

Wednesday, March 16, 2005

Home Alone

I have been home the last week and few days mending from surgery. In this time, besides mending, I have had a lot of time to think about things. Things like the health care, politics, and religion. I have also been able to do some much-needed reading. Maybe after I am completely healed, I will have some good things to write but for now it’s just a few lines to keep me on. Soon, though, I promise great things.

Thursday, March 03, 2005

What is the deal?

Is it me, or is the entire world spinning out of control. It's probably me, but I am going to take a stab at blamming others, after all, our president will not admit fucking up by sending our troops to Iraq, nor will he admit his error in letting those troops torture and humiliate the prisoners to the point that we are no better than all those hidieous others who tortured our own soldiers, that is in wars passed. Perhaps, it has been going on forever, perhaps it is a fact of war. Get caught, get treated badly. I don't know but back to the world spinning thing. I hear the mumble of our youth, our youth, who are suppose to be enlightened, who are suppose to be cool; yet, they are making hate comments about people, who happen to be different, not different in a hair color way, but different in a sexual orientation way, different as in a racial way, different as in an economic way, and even in a degree seeking way. I expect, well I don't expect, but it doesn't surprise me when the older students have ideas that are dated; but a teenager! Come on, did we not do something in the day when we were rallying for equal rights, have we made no progress in acceptance of those who are different, and instead of frowning on the differences, embrace the differences. Are we, in fact, raising a bunch of red neck, right wing, leviticanites, and if so, what is to become of the world? What is to become of the people of the world?

No money no help?

I am going to have surgery next week; and while doing the pre-admit thing, I noticed a sign. If you don't have insurance at the time of your surgery, pay 5000 dollars. Then, there was another sign for a less amount if you don't have insurance and have made arrangments to put it on your credit card, you must pay 500 dollars. Now, I may be wrong, but I am willing to wager that a person who has no insurance has no credit card. So, if you have no insurance, no credit, and have no way of backing this surgery, do you just get sent away? I have insurance, in fact, I have two insurances. So, preadmission for me was easy; however, a woman sitting next to me, in the booth next to me that is, was trying to get admitted, and they were telling her that she could go to Little Rock. Little Rock is three hours away, the hospital is a learning hospital, probably good, but it is three hours away. The uninsured woman was in tears, and I felt awful for her. She needed surgery and couldn't get it. This is that great healthcare that all those conservative, bushwackers so proudly push in everyone's face. Our healthcare is the worst in the world. At least, in those third world countries, the hospitals from here fund care, and the doctors from here go over and provide free medical care, not that there is anything wrong with that; but in their own country, they won't let a woman with no insurance be admitted into the hospital. Am I crazy or is our healthcare system hypocritical? Chairty abroad but not at home. I don't get it.