The USS Alabama is a BIG boat! It’s a bazillion levels tall (I looked it up) with lots of stairs. No, really – LOTS. OF. STAIRS. And narrow hallways and little cramped rooms.
There are three levels below deck, and at least eight levels above deck. I started with the bottom levels and then went to the upper levels, looking in each of the many little rooms. Normally, I can withstand small spaces and large crowds for short periods of time without any effects whatsoever, but I stopped after the fifth upper level because I was starting to get too claustrophobic and agoraphobic – I can only stay so long in small spaces and crowded places before my skin starts crawling and my anxiety level goes through the roof.
And people lived in these cramped quarters for years. I would’ve jumped ship.
The USS Alabama – too big to fit in the picture frame.
This isn’t really a post, it’s a confession, one I hope helps someone else. At least then the struggle won’t be all for nothing. This is about something I’ve dealt with for a long time, over thirty years. It’s something I very rarely talk about because I feel it makes me somehow less acceptable as a person, broken, not good enough.
(No, this is not about Speck. The one bright spot this week is Speck has left the RV park and is no longer a constant reminder. I wish him well.)
This is how I feel when I’m depressed, like the shadow of a person. Empty, hollow, without substance.
The Bloggess often writes about her battles. By her admission and openness, she comforts me and the entire interwebs. We know we aren’t really, even though we feel utterly, completely alone. I hope to be like her someday: brave, vulnerable, and to let someone else know they aren’t alone.
I identified with all of what they said, and applaud their bravery and honesty, their vulnerability. They have inspired me to admit my own struggles. But, wait! There’s more…
Moving slower than molasses, I’m still in Ohio but determined to leave this week for Pennsylvania. It’s cold, it’s flat, and women are often treated as objects, and men are reluctant to stand up for a woman when they see a man verbally abusing her in public (a church-like environment). I didn’t witness that event, but heard of it in detail from a man who was bothered by it. A few of the other men listening said it was none of their business to say anything to this man they knew, a man who had done this before.
As the only woman present for this discussion, I was quick to tell the men who said it was none of their business that it was, in fact, their business to teach the other members of the fellowship how to treat people, to be respectful. I pointed out it was easy for me to see why I was the only woman there… they had chased all the others off as much by the aggressive behavior of some as the passive behavior of the others.
I probably just lost all male readers in Ohio, but I call them as I see them. Needless to say, this is not an isolated incident in that town but rather an underlying part of the culture in this area (near Dayton). It’s not everywhere, but it is a far more common and accepted occurrence than I’ve encountered in a long time. But this happens to some degree every day all over this country…
I don’t often go to see old stuff, unless of course, the weird and wacky roadside attraction I’m visiting happens to have been created a long time ago and is therefore old by default.
Not this time. This attraction’s only claim to roadside attraction fame is age. Okay, okay, some folks prefer the word “historical”. Whatever. It’s old. This particular city is rich in history, as is all of Texas. And it’s all about a cannon.
Come and Take It
Gonzales, Texas, is all about a cannon. An old cannon.
Texas is a Common Law state. According to Findlaw.com, you can say you’re married and that’s it. No ceremony, no nothing.
Yet one more reason Texas is awesome.
I’m looking for a common law husband. Why? Because I need health insurance.
Those of you unhappily married may be asking why I don’t just get ObummerCare (intentionally misspelled) instead of going through marriage, common law or not. ObummerCare is too expensive – even with the low-income subsidy. The good hospitals won’t take the cheapest plans out there. That seriously limits my choices to providers you’ve actually heard of.
<Obummer rant on>
I’m going to momentarily digress to get political…
My long-time readers (if there are any of you left after my recent absence – thank you!) know I’m not one to get on political rants, but my recent experience trying to sign up for ObummerCare has prompted this one.
Texans tend to be a might prejudiced against anyone who once lived in California, even if you weren’t born there, like myself. Whenever Obama is mentioned in a conversation, someone invariably looks over at me and makes some comment about my having voted for him – just because I once lived in California.
I did not vote for Obummer.Have y’all not see my We’re in an Obamanation gear on Zazzle? That’s been on my site for far longer than ObummerCare has been around.
<Obummer rant off>
Why does a mature 40-something29-year-old, dammit! woman like myself care about health insurance? But, wait! There’s more…
Last we left off, my coworker “Spiderman” found someone to whom he could pimp his spider out for a long weekend in Dallas, was requesting transportation to Dallas for his horny male spider.
You new folks may still not realize I do not make this stuff up. Hang around a while and you’ll see little corners of the world you did not know, or perhaps ever wanted to know, existed. You’re welcome.I consider this a service in line with Public Service Announcements.
Back to the pimpin out of one of Spiderman’s numerous (30+ and growing) spiders.
We may rejoice! The spider is getting laid. The ride for the horny spider to spend a long weekend with a female of the same species has finally taken place.
As I mentioned in a previous post, Spiderman was quickly able to find a nearby mate for his spider through Facebook. Facebook is the place to hook your spider up for a weekend away with other spiders.
Mark Zuckerberg must be proud. When he helped create Facebook, he was probably thinking it would be a great arena for humans to hook up. Little did he know…
Fear not, my dear Kernutties, fans of Breaking Bad, Walter White is alive and well and living in Texas… posing as my boss.
But before we get to that, let’s recap what the new job has been like over the last few months:
In my first couple weeks there, I was quarantined with Roscoe the Racoon. (The update to that post is here.)
Also living in the office was a giant (pet) katydid, Cletus. In addition, one coworker, Spiderman, has over 30 pet spiders, six pet snakes, centipedes, lizards, gekkos, and probably a bunch of other stuff it’s better I not know about.
For those of you following the Spider Prostitution ring, as of a couple weeks ago the spider had not yet been pimped out for the hot weekend in Dallas, nor the trip to New Mexico. (I have no idea what the delay might be, but I’m starting to feel sorry for the little guy. He just wants some lovin’.) I will keep you posted should he get laid.
(Thanks to Cathleen G. for the inspiration for the title!)
The temperature hovered between 27 and 28 degrees for most of the day, so said the AcuRite thermometer attached to the tree outside, transmitting the digital reading to the receiver inside my warm RV.
I originally planned to stay inside, warm and dry. However, after spending a day in front the computer I opted to run some errands and meet with friends. At 4:00 p.m. it was still a chilly 29-30 degrees, according to the thermometer in my car. That was the high for the day.
Drizzling rain froze on the windshield as I drove.
December in Texas, as drawn by a Texan. Obviously.
Four hours later I’m back home, warming up. I puttered around the house for a bit, and then turned on the faucet… *pthhh pthhhh* The water trickled and sputtered from the faucet for a couple seconds before stopping altogether.
I tried it again a few minutes later… *pthhh pthhh pthh* Then nothing.
Could it be my wrapped pipes froze??
Oh, I know how to fix this! I turned on the hot water heater. My logic behind this: If the hose and outside pipes are frozen, I should still be able to get water from the hot water heater, which is inside and independent of the frozen hose outside. I later learned this logic is a tad “blond”.
She’s a baby Alligator Snapping Turtle, and her soft shell is only about one inch long. This is an extreme closeup photo – she’s only about the size of a quarter. Despite her small start, the Alligator Snapping Turtle is the largest freshwater turtle in the world. Ranger Roscoe is fascinated by her tiny little tail. (you can see it in the above photo)
We’re keeping Myrtle in a tank until her shell hardens and she gets a little bigger – and looks less like a snack. Her little shell will grow to a couple feet across. She’ll also get a big, snapping beak, and may live as long as 120 years.