Transitions

I went to a fundraiser with my friend Mandy tonight. It was the film Pedro, the story of the young man that had been on that MTV reality show back in the mid 1990’s and who died of AIDS related complications.

Well, folks, this is my second movie (at an actual theater) in Dayton and as it so happens both films were set primarily in SF and both were about gay men dying. Picking up a theme?

Anyway, I hadn’t thought much about it before hand. Got through the whole film, until the final scenes where Pedro is in his final hours of life, and then the blindside hit me.

All of a sudden, it was August 8, 1991. I was laying in my dear friend Wayne’s bed. He was in a hospital bed between his regular bed and his walk in closet in the apt we shared at 878 Dolores Street. My arm was stretched through the side railing, resting across his abdomen. I was exhausted after months of working full-time and being his primary care giver, along with the day nurse that was with him while I was at work. He suffered night sweats really bad. It was not uncommon for me to change his sheets anywhere from 1 to 3 times a night.

I feel asleep just before 1 am, with my arm across him, I just lightly dozed off. He was wearing his rose pink short sleeve t-shirt, it was one of those very heavy cotton types with the external stitching in a matching thread and a line of stitching across the chest. It was one of his favorite shirts. He was also wearing his grey sweat pants, and a pair of white sport socks.

I got a call at work earlier that day, my co-worker, Mari, suggested I take it in her office. His nurse was on the line.

He had turned, she said. You should come home right away.

I had already known the day was rapidly approaching. The nurse had alerted the receptionist when she called. All of my co-workers knew that Wayne’s life was coming to a close. I remember Mari or Bonnie offering to drive me home that day. I declined. I don’t remember anything about that evening.

I do remember waking up when his body shook slightly as he exhaled his last breath. I was a little annoyed with him, but it was just like him. He waited. Just like he waited for his birthday. Back in May of that year, Dr. Mass gave him a month to live and told him that it was the last time he would see him. Dr. Mass was going on vacation for a month, and expected Wayne to pass while he was gone. Well, Wayne’s 37th birthday was August 3. He apparently decided to wait for it. Just like he waited for me to doze off, I am certain he did not want me to watch him die.

All these 17 years later, sitting in that movie theater, I could feel his body tremble in his final moments. I could see him in that bed. I closed his eye lids over those magnificent blue eyes. I could still hear the wheels of the coroner’s gurney as they hit step after step while taking his body out of the building. I could still hear that silence that is larger than the universe as I sat in our apartment, alone. Just me and our two cats; Skippy and Jenny. I sat in that theater and sobbed. Images of dad’s last moments mingled in with those of Wayne’s. They were two of my 3 best guys. Dale, the third, died without me.

If Wayne had not had AIDS, we would have had one or two kids, the oldest would be about 18 or 19. But, he was sick and any thoughts of him transferring his little swimmers to me in a holiday baster were discarded. We’d joke about taking someone’s adorable child. We’d make plans. One of us would knock into the kid’s parent, the other would grab the kid and run like hell. We were joking, of course.

Life expectancy for people with AIDS was a few short years back then. He wanted kids as much as I did, and we were very close friends. Co-parenting was a distinct possibility for us, except for his disease.

I finally collected myself and we left the movie theater. I thought I was fine, but on the drive home, my mind was playing a reel from the late 80’s and early 90’s.

It was the Castro. The men in wheelchairs, the men with canes, the KS lesions, the sunken faces, the slow death, everywhere. Inescapable. I remembered my friend Becky. We had been co-workers and ended up living in the same building on 14th at Church and Market. One day, before I had moved in with Wayne, she relayed a conversation she had with her mother. Her mom had remarked that our generation was lucky. We hadn’t had a war.

Becky set her straight on that. AIDS was our war and it was playing out very much on the home front, not in some distant land. Becky was right, that is what it was like. A war. Soldiers falling by the scores daily.

I made it home from the theater, and went to the file cabinet searching for a yellow inter-office envelope. Below the 5 or 6 lines of people’s scratched out names, was my handwriting “Copies of Wayne’s Legal Documents.” That envelope was closed up with that little string closure for 17 years. It moved 10 times in 17 years.

Tonight I unwrapped that little string and cautiously removed the contents, unable to recall what all it held. The papers from the Neptune Society crematorium. Wayne was cremated, and his ashes scattered at Bonita Cove in the SF Bay. His closest friends were present, along with his brother Randy, his wife and their son. We were on the yacht, the Naiad. Everyone that wanted to took turns at scattering some of his ashes. As we slowly set sail back toward the city, we tossed flowers in the bay. It was the absolutely most beautiful and moving service I have ever experienced.

I want to be scattered in that bay and from the Naiad, if she is still sailing. I was down at Pier 39 just over a year ago and she was still occupying her berth there. May I be so lucky. Well, part of me wants to be scattered on a hike, maybe the Berry Falls trail down near Santa Cruz… yes, it is illegal… but ridiculous laws are ripe for breaking.

I also found many copies of his death certificate, his will naming me as executor and sole beneficiary of his meager possessions. The power of attorney, physicians directive, probate forms, the bill for the cremation and yacht funeral, grand total in 1991 of less than $1200. Letters from Dr. Mass stating he was terminally ill, his SS card still unsigned, his original birth certificate, a photo of him at the CopyMat store where we both worked, and where I first met him, the plastic insert from his wallet with his drivers license, a picture of us in Muir Woods and another one of us, at the um, the Folsom Street Fair, a picture of our two cats, his brother, Randy and Randy’s wife, his nephew, Ed from Phoenix, Wayne and Ed and a picture of a guy he had dated and whose name I cannot recall.

Also inside was A Hobbitt’s Journal. A journal he had from 1979 when he was in the military and trying very hard to become straight. The journal was mostly things written by other guys in the service, but a few were things he wrote about Barb, his girlfriend. He told me that he later found out she was gay too. Big shock there.

It occurred to me that his brother Randy might want a few of these things. His other brother, Wilbert Jr. could never wrap his head around his little brother being a fag, and so they were not in touch and he did not come to Wayne’s services.

Anyway, now I am looking for Randy. At least I have an address from 17 years ago and his parent’s names. Maybe I will find him, and maybe he will want his brother’s birth and death certificates and some other odd papers. I’ll keep his DL, and most of the photos, since I know the folks.

So, as with transitions, they never seem to end.

This morning my mom called to tell me her sister’s husband died this morning. For the family reading this, it was Lige’s (Liza’s) husband Elmer. I cannot recall if I actually know Elmer. I think I met him. He was husband 3, or maybe 4. I remember her first husband who was around when I was a kid, and I remember the second one, Andy Shelton.

Anyway, apparently the viewing is Sunday, and the funeral on Monday in La Follette or Jacksboro TN. Mom and I are headed down there on Saturday morning and will either return on Sunday night or Monday afternoon. We are not staying for the funeral. Mom’s isn’t up to that, and I can’t say I can blame her. The viewing will be hard enough on her.

So, the transitions just continue, as life marches on.

Here is that photo of me and Wayne Miller at the 1989 Folsom Street Fair:


In his death, he gave me the gift of life.

If you are not already living your life for no regrets, please start immediately.

AT LARGE!

The Rough Riders, after serving 6 months of prison time, broke out of Germantown Pike Jail at approximately 10 am EST on Saturday March 14, 2009.

The Rough Riders have been sighted at and around Kia Rio, and in the Impenetrable Forest.

Beware: They are clawed and frisky.

The mastermind of the escape plan is reported to be Amateur Fencer who was aided by Can’t Catch Me Cora, who is new on the scene, and reported to be none other than a 75 year old great grandmother. They were recently sighted celebrating at a south of the border cantina.

Reports have been confirmed that the Rough Riders have been seen with the TumbleFur Gang. The TumbleFur Gang suffered a devastating loss last September when key member, One Black Toe, was ambushed and murdered. The TumbleFur Gang went underground after the loss of One Black Toe, but now appear to be back in heavy operation in the area.

Recent sightings have put lone operators, Blanco Orange Spot and GreyPaw in the same vicinity of the TumbleFur Gang. Local authorities are concerned that an alliance is being formed which would make the TumbleFur Gang 6 strong.

All snakes, birds, possums, moles, mice, salamanders and other diminutive IF dwellers are urged to use extreme caution.

Report all sightings to your local Feline Fuzz .

If you had asked me a year ago

what I thought I was going to miss the most, it probably would have been a list a little something like this:

my friends
the fantastic diversity of natural beauty, ocean, bay, mountains, waterfalls, valleys
the ability to find good food a stone's throw from wherever the hell you are (and chains were not the predominant offering)
the diversity of people
the diversity of architecture
the 100's of hikes within a 10 mile radius
the walkability
the weather, ok this probably would have hit a bit higher...
the amazing & stimulating casual conversations that you could easily strike up with a stranger
stimulating conversation

anyway, that would have likely been the top 10. maybe not the last item, I don't think I would have expected that to be the case.

Never would I have guessed, that in at least one of the top 3 spots, day laborers would reign supreme.

Gosh. now what the heck would spur that?

well, dear mr. bob came out yesterday (Thursday), pulled down the one section of fence he had strung on Wednesday, restrung it (it now looks worse than the first string - it sags and wrinkles now, the first attempt was not all that bad for what I could see)

he called me about 10 am on Thursday morning to tell me he was going to restring it, and to remark on how much of a mess the gas company made of the yard.

I asked Bob if he was going to set the gate posts (this was Thursday) since he said they needed to set 24 hours before the gate could be hung (and he was going to be done with the job by Friday...) he said no, he left the concrete mix at home and he would set them on Friday when he came out.

I then said, well you said you had another job this weekend, so it sounds like I won't be able to let the cats out this weekend because the gate won't be up. He says, if I don't finish the job on Friday, I will come out Saturday morning and finish it.

Well, I get home at 10 on Friday night - was out interviewing professional women bowlers and shockingly enough, there was no sign bob had been anywhere around. Mom was here until 2 and he wasn't around.

The missing couple of t-posts are not in the ground, there are no holes for posts, no posts in concrete and no new fence stretched along the road.

Oh, no phone message either, not at home, not at work.

Am I happy?

Here is the pisser, he has my concrete mix, my gate hardware, my t-post clips, my tie wire and several other pertinent items in his truck so they would not get stolen or wet if it rained. I have the rolls of wire, the gate posts and the gate.

So, the only way I can do anything productive with the fence is to drive 15 miles back to the Tractor Supply purchase duplicates of everything and start work on it. So much for my homework that is due in a week, the last week of classes this quarter.

Cannot move for the little (ok nearly grown) and big fluff balls that cling to me like whatever the hell clings bad.

I had to let Snuggie out for a while tonight, he was getting a bit wild. If he gets killed before this fence gets up, bitch is gonna be on a rampage.

So, I am thinking in the morning I will go buy a few rolls of some cheap easy to handle wire or mesh material fence stuff, string it up along the road, and pound it into the ground a bit. that will create a reasonable temporary barrier. Then I will pound in t posts on each side of the drive way to act as temporary gate posts, and then stretch chicken wire across the drive with an single t-post attached to the end of the chicken wire to create a rigid side to the "gate".

I can then use some rope or wire to wire the t-post that is in the ground (acting as a gate post) to the t-post attached to the makeshift chickenwire gate, so that the driveway is reasonably well blocked off. This means a small pain in the ass to get the car in and out, but that is ok, I will only have the driveway "blocked" with it while the little ones are learning to be outside.

Then I can probably let the kittens out with some supervision and they will temporarily be protected from running amok into the road.

Wasn't the plan for Saturday, but yet another middle aged white guy bites...

maybe I could fly a couple of fellows out here for a week, and get the house all fixed up and then fly them back...

hmmm,

Anne, you are fluent in Spanish... I may send you out to hire me some home repair men!!! I have room to put them up... they'll have to suffer with some really crappy food while here, but hey, when else are they ever gonna see Ohio? Wait, my sissy, a fantabulous cook (former mother is law was Mexican) can come up and cook for the fellas, since she is off heavy duty work and cannot put the actual fence up for me...

$3k for airfare, ground transit, labor and food for 2 guys, and imagine how much would get done and I could just be done with it. No more UMAWGs (unreliable middle aged white guys)!

So, I wonder what Bob is going to say when he gets back in touch with me? I do hope he and his family are all well, and have not suffered some terrible fate, but if he just blew it off, well that ain't good.

OH, under-boob, mom was here with the kitties today when you left the message about the plates. I do not know the answer.

I have sent you a couple of emails to spursoft and the have been returned to me - get Stubba Bubba to figure out what is going on...

and sorry, little cutie pa-tootie was a one shot deal. They had my gas reconnected by about 11:30 that night and a little before midnight they had their little trench digger loaded up and were off to their next gig. yummy fella he was. I shoulda asked him if he did fencing work...

ok, Snuggie just showed himself in the house, yippppppppppeeeeeee, one more day and he is still alive. that is really how I know it was a good day. I go to bed and all of them are safe and sound. Except Tashi, that is, but I expect he is out sticking his paws in the edges of Possum Creek's lake and ponds while Dad cast his line out into them, pulls it out, walks 30 feet, repeats and does this until he has walked about 5 miles... Tashi probably craps out at about the 3 mile mark and waits for dad to come back around...

I miss them.

Ollie often reminds me of Tashi, especially when his fluffy little self goes sliding about 6 feet on these hardwood floors, then I choke up. glad to have Ollie, but wishing like hell he was Tashi. I have a feeling this is the wound that will never really heal. Maybe it was how close it was to losing dad, but I don't think that is anywhere near all of it. Tashi was a wonderkitty. Maybe just too special a spirit, he had more lives to touch?

anyway, I am gonna go crawl in bed and love the ones I am with, and let little Ollie lick my salty tears.

Tommorrow, i will probably be fencing... yippee.

No end to the Kia Rio fun!

OK, so about 10 days ago I had called a guy, Bob, to quote the fence job. Then last Friday night I get home and mom has gone and found that farmer dude who committed to doing the job and showing up on Saturday. I go out and buy fence supplies and well, you know the story...

So, I had not held out much hope for the guy, Bob, who was to come quote the job this week. He said it would be Wednesday before he could quote and probably two weeks before he could do the work. Given the track record of the fellas around here, that amounted to absolutely no value in my book.

Well, on Monday Bob showed up to check out the yard and mom happened to be here playing with the kittens and letting Snuggie out for a bit. She tried to just go ahead and hire him for an hourly rate on my behalf. Heart in the right place. I, however, need to establish some parameters, like is this a 15 hour job or an 80 hour job you are going to bill me for? Fortunately, he insisted on getting approval from me, since I am the one that asked for the quote.

Well, he came back after I got off work and we struck a deal and he said he could start on Wednesday. Bob even got out a multi-copy form and spelled out the work he would do and the total cost. Points. He is the only person who did not go into a lecture about the fact that this fence would not totally prevent my cats from getting out of the yard.

I am always saddened and amused by how stupid or ignorant people think other people are - I mean really, they are cats and frankly, there is no containing Snuggie if he is not agreeable to being contained. Are most people really that clueless about the abilities of a cat? Maybe I am being snarky, but come on.

Snuggie chewed his way out of a soft sided pet carrier when he was less than 4 months old. A solid steel cage with a single breathing hole might do the trick, but otherwise, good freaking luck - this is really about reducing the odds, not eliminating them. Best chances for survival while still being a cat in modern day america.

So anyway, Bob says he'll be here on Wednesday but that I HAVE to get the utilities marked or he won't do anything along the street for worry of hitting something. Now, I have all the posts in except for the general vicinity of the utilities and where the gate is to go.

BTW - I have a fall back career. After looking at the fence posts I pounded on Sunday, which was all of them but about 6, he asked mom how many fences I had put up before. She said none, and he said something like, no way. He was quite impressed with how straight my fence row was and how considerably even my post heights were. He said looking down the line it just looked like one post. Well, I was happy with that, you know, my rule is 85% planning and 15% execution and I still stand by it. Given that I am blind in one eye and my "center" is different than most people, I felt extra confident in my ability to run a fence line.

So, if I get sick of office work, I may start pounding t-posts for a living. It is a good outlet for frustration.

Well, I am getting increasingly scared about Snuggies survival until the fence is finished, so the boy is on lock down. He has been across the road at least 4 times in the last 2 weeks. I cannot stand the thought of him getting killed within a few days of the fence and gate going up.

I was just out there calling him to come in and out of the corner of my eye I see a white streak clearing the short fence across the street and flying across the road. 2 seconds after he cleared the road a car came through at about 55 mph. Nope, lock down until the perimeter is sorta secure!

So, back to the need to get the utilties marked. I called and they said they would all be marked by - I am not kidding on this - 7:59 am Thursday. Not 8 people, 7:59. Even I am not that anal.

Well, when Bob was walking the yard with me he said he smelled gas and I should call the gas company. So, I was planning to do that one day this week. Well, tonight I hear a loud motor running and see a huge gas company truck sitting on the edge of the road in front of the house. 2 guys are out there trying to locate the gas line and mark it.

I go out and talk to them. They show me the gas line. I mention the gas leak and ask if they are able to check that. Yup. They get the meter, go to the gas line, it beeps like it is on a speed trip and the expressions they exchanged clued me in to a problem in the offing.

They pull out the more accurate meter to get a better read because that hand held reading was suspect, given how high it read. Well, folks, the quality meter read a 70% leakage rate.

70%.

Now the good news is that the leak was before the meter, so I was not paying for leakage gas.

I very well may be lucky to be alive. The meter is right next to the basement. The older guy explained to me the way gas can leak through foundations and create a nasty situation. In my basement, btw, with the gas furnace that has a gas flame on it.

Nice.

Now this guy, the one that is about 30 - oozing by the way, with boyish charm, twinkling eyes, a pin up boy smile and a disposition that causes him to smile alot (ok, I wanted to keep him, he was sooooo adorable - and his name was Kyle - I love that name) he looks at me, and I say "man this is gonna cost me a bundle isn't it?"

He says, "no, it is your lucky day! A month ago the gas company took over responsibility for the line to the house and to the meter and the meter itself - you are only responsible for the line from the meter into the house. Now if it was 6 weeks ago, you'd have a big bill to pay."

I literrally jumped for joy. The replacement was for their portion of the system, not mine.

So then, little cutie pa-tootie says, "the bad news is we have to shut your gas off now"

OK, remember that 75 degree summer day I spoke about? Well, it is about 36 at the moment and headed to 21 tonight. Yup, it really is still winter here.

OK, dead or cold?

Well, I said to him, I'd rather be cold than dead, so what are ya gonna do?

He went back to the truck to call his supervisor and said their 'might' be a chance they would be allowed to do the job tonight, but probably it would be Thursday and if I was not home they could not turn the gas back on.

Well, you know I was flirting with this adorable young man. You get more flies with honey. He seemed to really like me and was probably relieved when I did not become a raving ass when they shut the gas off. Thank heavens I am not pms-ing.

At 8 pm he said his supervisor approved the job for tonight, but they had to go get some equipment and would be back in an hour to pull the line and repair it. Well it has been over an hour and no sign of them. I hope they get here soon.

So, just another day at Kia Rio, where the fun never stops.

Ooooooooohhh - Bob actually showed up today and strung a 70 or 80 foot section of fence along the side yard. He still has to string the other 30 feet on that side, finish the t-posts, string the front, set the gate posts in concrete and hang the gate, but, at least he showed when he said he would.

With any luck the Rough Riders will enter the grounds and the IF this saturday!

Cross your fingers!

The ole' grey mare's new grey hairs..

I managed to fit a hairs cut in today, right after work. I was downtown for work and the hair stylist I have been using is right down there and she had a cancellation.

Well, on the way home ( a fantastically sunny summer day - 75 degrees) I looked in the mirror (I was at a traffic light) and when my hair is freshly cut, those grey hairs are very easy to see, especially on the sides above the ears.

Yup, there were more of them. It happens every time. I wonder how long it will take... My sisters are not grey, but I don't know if they might be headed that way and are well, you know, resisting it through better living with chemicals or not.

Anyway... quarter deadline looms large so I am off a here!

The ole' grey mare ain't what she used to be

uuuuuuuuggggggghhh

The "Mexicans" are taking OUR jobs

I am willing to wager cold hard cash

(that I cannot seem to give to service providers)

that at least 4 out of 6 of the white guys that have committed to

either coming to the house to give me a quote,

or

who were to just suppose to come and start work,

have said more than once that those damn "Mexicans" are stealing American jobs.

Well, fellas, f*ck you - there is a reason - you

- like, um, unreliable/undependable, half-assed efforts,
cannot even bother to call and cancel,
lack of integrity...
the list could get pretty long.

OOOOOOOOoooh if I could only swing by and pick up a couple of knowledgeable hardworking day labor men to stretch that fence and set my gate up.

Probably get it all done in a day and do it well.

That is one thing I desperately miss about CA, the ability to get work done without it taking weeks to just find someone.

But no, I am stuck here in a place where the local folks have bought the idea that "they" are the enemy of "American" life. Just like the ancestors bought the crap about the dangerous black man running wild and raping white women.

I thought this last guy was going to be the real McCoy, you know. His young cousin, Michael, IS the real deal, but Michael is way too busy with his own work and going to school. The 20 year old had the maturity to decline the work instead of saying he was interested, and then flaking out and not bothering to call.

So this fellow was to show up, or call between about 2 and 4 today. It is 7:30 and pitch black out.

Now, it was 70 degrees today.

I was waiting on him to come by to make sure I wasn't creating any future probs for myself, and for him to teach me how to do it by getting started this evening. The gate posts could have been set today.

But no. I wait all day and nothing.

I could have been out there all day struggling with 75 pound rolls of welded wire, t-post that were not quite lined up right, trying to avoid my gas line, and trying to figure out how to keep my gate posts in the right position while I waited for the quickrete concrete to set up...

but no.

A whole summer day in March wasted expecting yet another middle aged white dude to be dependable and reliable.

F' em.

My condolences to the straight women who have to deal regularly with this crowd... I could not live with that kinda crap for nothing. nope. thank goodness I got the gay gene.

The weather on Sunday - rain and thunderstorms...

fantastic weather to struggle with fencing materials. Nothing like lightening and steel to bring some excitement to your day.

A Day Without a Mexican? Ha, I seem condemened to a life without my Hispanic work crew. And bitch ain't happy about it.

watch this space

for the ridiculous adventures of Clara...

it is about 60 degrees right now - hoooray! It is suppose to stay warm until at least early next week when it may go back to about 30 or 35.

ok, I cannot move for the little Rough Riders, and I cannot blame them. They SHOULD be climbing trees, chasing leaves and such.

It isn't their fault they are trapped in a house with nothing moving on it's own accord or by the force of wind. driving me nuts.

If I let them outside now, they are destined to become roadkill in a matter of minutes or hours...nothing between them and cars/semi trucks going 50 to 60 mph. just too young to be out there w/o some protection.

I have no fencing fella, so.......

I am going to go get t-posts, a few rolls of welded wire fence, a come along (fence puller/tightener tool), some wire to tie the fence to the posts, and I am going to do my dangdest to get some facsimile of a fence put up this weekend.

It ain't gonna be pretty, (the fence or the attempt or me afterwards) I can assure you that. I may not be able to move come Monday morning...

I don't have a solution for the driveway/gate, but I'll figure something out if I have to park the car on the street side and get creative about coming into the yard.

Gotta do something.

These middle aged white guys who end up being unreliable are getting on my last nerve. Chimney guys, roofing guys, and now fencing guys. Forget 'em.

Oh how I wish I could just run to Homo Depot and pick up a couple of intelligent Hispanic workers to get it done. No such luck here in Dayton... just have to try to do it myself - probably.

My friend told me that a farm market nearby hires Hispanic people to pick their produce. I am going to call them and see if they "know anybody"... maybe I can find a fellow or two to put my fence up this weekend- heck they may even know how to put a proper gate in, cement and all.

Wish me luck... my health insurance does not kick in until May 1...

aaaaaaarrrrrrrrrraggggggggggggggh!

All I want is a simple freakin' fence...

am I asking too much???

The fence guy was supposed to meet me Tuesday at 5:30. He was confused and was planning to come at 5, but did not have my address. I called him back when I got home (I get off at 5) and told him our appt was 5:30 given I don't get off until 5. I can forgive him for the confusion and not knowing where my address was because his kid woke him up from a solid nap when I called. Foggy. No problem.

Tonight he was supposed to be here at 5:30. Nothing, no call, no show.

He was supposed to come by to get the info he needed and show me the gate details and look at the area to be fenced so he could go get the supplies and do the job this Sat & Sunday, and it was going to be over. Done, kittens would get to go out for about 30 minutes at a time for about 3 days, then a hour at a time, then longer until I could just let them come and go during the day.

So, I am not feeling real good about trying to work with him, if we cannot sort out meeting to agree to even do the job...

I called another guy that used to be a farmer (they KNOW fence) and he says I need to check with gov then contact ALL the utilities and get markings for where their cables and such are underground, THEN I can think about putting the dang fence up.

ANYBODY want two adorable NEEDY juvenile kittens???????????????

Making me freaking crazy. They need to be outside. Like now.

I am about to lock myself in the car with the laptop. Cats all over the desk and the key board. Jaz marks the dang monitor and nearly knocks it off the desk when he is doing so.

The kittens are alone almost all day now, and of course they are not keen on that. Mom has been coming over for about 2 hours a day to let Snuggems out for a bit and she plays with them, but she has been sick with a cold the last couple of days, so they are REALLY needy now.

I was so happy. Fence on Sunday, whoo hoo.

Now I am booo hooo.

OK, done whining.

For now.

sick and real tired of school

I really just want it over with.

Like,

Now.