newsday tuesday...

I had to reassure myself yesterday as I arrived home at dusk/just about dark.... even though time has changed, there is still the same number of hours between the time I leave work and the time I start work the next day. This matters, of course, so that I can let my spine decompress and catch up on my "non-demanding" time.

You know... the times when I'm able to watch as much tv as I want, play all my social games, visit pinterest and just, in general, be worthless. You feel less worthless when the worthlessness is preceded by 8.5 hours of work.

It's bothersome to the kitties, though. They know that when it gets dark, we go to bed and they have my body heat to snuggle up to. I'm not sure if we have cats or roosters because they seem to keep the clock on my activities... nudge me when it's time to go to bed... wake me up when it's time for their morning "num nums"... sit outside the boy's room when it's time for him to get up.

I never saw Austin yesterday evening. He had to take the math graduation test (for the third time) and didn't sleep well Sunday night (from nerves, I imagine) so when I talked to him at 4:15 he was already almost asleep. I told him I wouldn't wake him when I got home... and I didn't... and then I was asleep by 8pm (as usual) so if he got up after that... well, I was asleep.

I had a talk with a veteran policeman in the office yesterday and found out they make about the same thing I do. That makes me sad. I mean, yes, there's less crime here in Hooterville than there is in a more urban area but there are still bad guys with guns... and while I certainly consider what I do necessary and valid. I'm no cop, you know?

Times are hard all over, aren't they?

Something happened yesterday that made me feel less sure about postponing surgery. I'm going to consider one more possible option for replacing my income for those twelve days. I looked at the calendar... the first part is in the end of the last pay period in November... I have, essentially, two days worth of income replaced by a hospital income policy I have... that leaves roughly nine days of income I have to replace. Possibly less, depending on how quickly I can recover. But... let's be real here... when do I EVER recover quickly from ANYTHING? So I haven't cancelled the surgery yet but will need to in the next few days if I'm not going to be able to work it out.

If I am completely honest with you (which I usually am) I have to say that my faith is shaken right now. I am having moments of wanting to scream at the Heavens, "ENOUGH ALREADY"... But even in that, I believe that there is a Being for whom to scream... I believe that He loves me enough to understand my frustration and what's more, love me in spite of my frustration. He's big enough to take it. Which is a good thing because I'm complaining a lot lately. I'm just feeling like what I'm dealing with is more than I should have had to deal with... but then again... I'm not living in a mud hut somewhere swatting flies off my starving childrens' faces. So... how much is really enough and how much room do I REALLY have to complain?

I was pleased with the guilty verdict in the Conrad Murray trial. I think he made a lot of bad choices that led to Michael Jackson's death. I think Michael Jackson made a lot of bad choices too. It makes me kinda sick to my stomach to think about things like his nose starting to collapse (which was testified in court). I, for one, have had years of frustration with my body... and at times have worked hard to change my body... but I can't imagine having so many procedures that your body starts to fall apart.

I'm sick of the case the liberal media continues to try to build against Herman Cain. I'm frustrated that the NAACP only supports liberal candidates. If there's a conservative black man being attacked... he's on his own. Hypocrisy.

I watched the movie Rosewood on Sunday. It's a true story about a race war that broke out in Florida in 1923 based on a lie of a white woman that a black man had beaten her. It was astonishing that the details remained hidden for several decades and finally, one of the survivors came forward and details were put together to realize the atrocities that happened there. How much of our past remains hidden like that?

Purple Michael wants me to help him write a book about his grandfather, a small town southern sheriff who was killed in the line of duty when Michael's dad was 16. There's a lot of historical material that Michael's dad saved and gave to Michael recently. As you know, I'm fascinated with history, particularly with retelling the stories of the people who lived years ago... I think it would be very interesting, although my grammar is insufficient for a "real book", I'm afraid.

If there's a point when I'm not able to work... I want to be able to write. I think that is more my calling and my destiny than anything else I'm able to do. My passion, you know?

So that's the news from the nest this week. Hope you are all happy, safe and loving life! Love and hugs!