Would you like some cheese?

So, guess you probably heard, but in case you’ve been in Kathmandu or some crazy-azz place like that and you missed it, we’ve got rats.

Lots. Of. Rats.


Right here, in the house, for several months now.  And I’ve been avoiding dealing with them.  Until this week.  Because they just wouldn’t go away.

That’s my sign.  If you start looking permanent then it’s time for you to pay rent or go.  They refused to pay.  Oh well.  That means they have to go.

But hubby didn’t want to do anything to hurt them.  Yeah, who knew?  Bob’s the Rat-vocate around here.  Gandhi of the furry creatures.  Wow.  Which apparently means that I’m Dr. Kevorkian… or Dr. Mengele.  Because I want a final solution and I want it now.

I think Bob’s afraid of me.  He thinks he’s next.

My campaign of terror has seen success.  Two are dead.  Victims of my handy dandy rodent traps.  Baited with good cheese, because their last meal should be tasty, right up until they die of course.  And to show his opposition to my plot, my husband is sitting Shiva and saying the Mourners Kadish for the first victims of my raticide campaign.

He’s like that.

Key takeaway point:  if you want to be left alone in the hardware store, tell the clerk you’re planning a murder and you think they need to walk away  in order to not be subpeona’d as a material witness.  That kid might not be sleeping soundly yet.  And all because of the middle-aged lady with the big smile, nice purse, and cute shoes, who was busy plotting homocide in the Pest Removal section of Aisle 9.

You’re welcome.  That’s a visual that is sure to amuse.

I don’t miss them.  The rats.  Not at all.  And I don’t feel bad about their death.  Not a bit.  Survival of the fittest.  It’s not just a suggestion, it’s a life plan.  Make good decisions, think stuff through, and always figure that anything good being given away for free is probably going to have a bad consequence or two.  So today’s life lesson, for humans and rats…

“Don’t eat the cheese.”


Dear Mom…

Like you’d do that.  I know, seriously?

But anyway, I hope your day was good.  I hope you know we missed you.  I missed you.

I still miss you.

Every day.

It amazes me and it should please you that my life is filled with people who tried so very hard to make this first Mother’s Day without you into something better than it ever could be.

My village.  I am their idiot.

But there really wasn’t much hope for that happening.  Tears came and went.  My heart felt like the cloudy sky.  Somewhat leaden, full, like a blister that needed to drain.

I’ve never been good with being this connected.  I don’t know how really.  But I am.  And that’s good for me.  Because my key connection to this world before was you.  I was connected to you.

And now I’m not.

I love you.  I miss you.  I hope your day was great.  Mine was, at times, but at other times it was not.  Laughter and tears.  Joy and sorrow.  Of such is my life made now.  And always.

And memories.  That all begin with…


My Mother.

On Mother’s Day, and every day.


…looking to the future…

from a place straight out of my past.  And wherever and whatever it may be is still unfolding, still becoming.  But I feel the itch of the ink on my ankle these days.  No, not the star.  The heart, and the butt.  The one that tells me repeatedly that putting your heart into anything simply isn’t enough.  Yeah, that one.  It’s itching.  Like it’s trying to tell me something.  Like it’s reminding me that I have to put my butt on the line too.

In order to have a future.

But first I’ve got to finish the dream.  I’ve got to decide where, how, what.  And I’m building a network… which is very hard work yo?  But necessary… oh so necessary.  Busy all the time – planning, plotting, mapping.  I just want to scream at kids who don’t understand that worthwhile futures don’t just happen by accident, outcomes don’t just make themselves be.

The life you get is the result of all the things that happen to you while you’re planning another life that you won’t likely end up with.  God laughs at us when we plan.  Or not.  Sometimes it all works out.


Feeling very disjointed.  Possibly this isn’t making total sense, but it does to me.  All you need to know is that I’m possibly evolving some more.  In ways I don’t yet fully understand… so how can you?  What are my dreams?  Is it too late to have them?  Is it too late to finally decide to live a different life?  Is it too late to change the path?

So. Many. Questions.  And no answers.  But I’m working on it.  As I plot, and plan, and stew, and fume.

This won’t happen by accident.

Unless it does.  While I’m planning another path.


I missed my Mom.  Just like I did yesterday, and the day before.

And once again I realized that this new reality will not change.  This is the rest of my life.

And tonight I cried.


But tonight I also thought about one of the life lessons that Mom hammered into me all of my life. Because she did.  Mom was a big one on lessons.  Her favorite was this:

I cried because I had no shoes and then I saw a man who had no feet.

And tonight, although I might be crying because I have no shoes (so to speak), there are most definitely people around me who have no feet (both figuratively and literally).  But, of course, Mom met with abject failure when she first tried to teach me that lesson when I was a selfish and self-absorbed teen… back when the idea of pitying anybody was beyond my nature or ability.

Today, I’m sure that wherever she is she’s plenty pleased to know that she succeeded.

Thanks Mom.

I miss you.

A lot.