'nuther funny

Carlson the Clown (though he doesn't mean to be):

He's been studying animals in science ('studying" and "science" being relative terms. he's five.) tonight he was talking about being a meat-etarian or a veg-etarian. He told me, "I like meat. I'm a carnival."

bad Car-ma

As Dave Barry would say, "I am not making this up."

So The Dealership (see previous blog) did call and said, basically, "We will charge you almost as much as the van is worth to fix it for you. Or if you buy a new car from us, you can trade it in for about a third of what it is worth. OR, if you buy a used car from us, we'll just keep your van for no extra charge." I decided to have it towed back home until I could decide what to do. (it makes a pretty good storage shed, actually.)

So the declarer of it as healthy (see previous blog) feels REALLY bad about having done so, even though he drove it, like, 500 miles (I'm still not making this up) before giving it back to me, just to be sure it really was healthy. So...feeling as bad as he does about it, he is going to replace the transmission for me for about 1/3 of what the dealership wanted. O-K. good news. Just the logistics of getting it back down to the shop three hours away, but he can handle that, too. With a minimum of grovelling at his boss's feet, he hopes.

So...just gotta juggle cars with Mom and sister until the other sister leaves Sunday and I can use Mom's Geo until the behemoth is fixed and I can get some financial wrangling done around the divorce settlement so I can get something a little more economical to drive. >sigh< Good-enough news.

So sister juggles cars with her husband to get us all down to Monterey in one vehicle to spend a "Night at the Museum" (see future blog). Works out fine. comfortable car, though I am not allowed to help drive because its a company car....

Monterey with kids & cousin and sis. Beach, playground, beautiful weather, sunburned nose, cool aquarium overnighter...phone call from Mom. Stranded on the highway. Geo is dead. Bad news.

(I am not making this up.)

May I please whine

or throw my head back and scream?

I've been playing musical cars since September when my mini van was scrunched (see a previous blog). I borrowed mom's and sister's cars for a while and then flew to Memphis (ostensibly to get divorced; see a previous blog) and brought Evelyn's car back, taking over payments, and she started using Louise's (paid off) car that had been left there in hopes of selling it. (see a previous blog)

I just had the big van looked over, some repairs done, bill of health declared clean a week ago. I got it back Monday (due to procrastination and logistics as it was worked on three hours away), registered it today (well... provisionally registered, at least; "his" name is still on the title so I need his signature to actually get registered and THEN we can take his name off.)

In the meantime, Louise's old car (which is Evelyn's new car) has had to have some major repairs done, nonetheless dying a gasping death Wednesday at the intersection of Germantown and Trinity. At rush hour. We discussed it and came to the conclusion that Evelyn really needed her reliable car back. So she flew out here Friday and left with her car Saturday morning at the Crack of Dawn for a bat-out-of-hell drive (see a previous blog) back to Memphis in order to not miss too much school.

Somewhere between here and Phoenix, she called to ask about the "humming sound" coming from the rear. I was unfamiliar with it, and she wondered if it was just the newer tires. But it got louder the further away she got.... So in Phoenix she stopped and had it looked at. The mechanic could hear it, but had no idea what was causing it, and gave her the go-ahead. But it got louder. So in Oklahoma City she had it checked at the dealership, and it required several hundred dollars worth of repair. Wheel bearing in very BAD shape..."turning purple with the heat" is what the guy said. So she got it fixed, had an appropriate meltdown, and went on home.

On Sunday, Monday and Tuesday I borrowed my mother's Geo as she was driving my sister's Honda, as she was out of town visiting her daughter and is leaving for Columbia soon (the country) and will be leaving her car with my mom. But she got back Tuesday evening.

So, as I said, I got California registration for the big van today, (having let the TN registration lapse at the end of March, due to procrastination and the logistics of it being 3 hours away for the last month or so...) I drove it maybe 50 miles today, at the most, and it died on the freeway. At rush hour. I happened to be on my way back to work to get my cell phone, which had apparently slipped out of my purse. And I had two barefoot twins with me, cuz they wanted to come see where I work, and there was no reason to wait around for them to find/put on their shoes as I was just running in to get my phone.

So we were near an exit but not near enough to walk with barefoot twins, and did I mention I did not have my phone? So I said an out loud prayer: "Oh PLEASE just let us go three more miles to work and let me get my PHONE." I started the car up, and it moved forward!! About ten yards. So I said another, little bit louder prayer: "o KAY then, can we at least get as far as this next exit so I can call Triple A, please." Wilbur echoed "please" in a reprimanding tone and I said. "I said please." He replied, "yeah...but your tone was......"

So I started the car back up and it went! And I did it again, and again, and again, and...well, you get the gist. We made it to the Jack-in-the-Box parking lot and called the wonderfully "worth it" roadside service club, who sent a tow truck post haste, and we dropped the behemoth off at the Dodge Place, which was closed but had a lovely little 'early bird/late bird' key drop thingy. And Mr. Triple A was kind enough to drop us off just a block away from home on his way back to the shop (which he did not have to do). I imagine in the morning The Dealership will give me the prognosis, and I'll have to make a decision whether to euthanize or revive. >sigh<

And I'll take mom to work early in the morning so I can get the kids to their school state testing site...then get her again in the afternoon so she can get to her Dr. Appt.... and I'll use the Geo till I figure out what my next step is.....(or possibly many steps, or maybe pedalling?)

Same old same

This website shows me that folks are checking in. It's nice to see the numbers go up and know that you are thinking about me.

Things are plodding along fine. I just got back from a week of Watsu 2 training, and fell in love with it again. And I received my first Waterdance session, and fell in love with that, too. I'm having the hours from one school transfered to the School of Shiatsu and Massage to consolidate everything and work towards getting certified as an Aquatic Bodyworker.

California has no standard licensing for massage therapists, which makes it sorta crazy to try to practice here. I can't get a massage business license in my own town, because of the moratorium instituted last June. I can get a job working for an already established business, but I'd need a license in that town. The required background check takes 2-6 weeks, and they won't start the background check until I've put in my application for a license--which I can't get until I have an employer---who won't hire me without a license. >sigh< So I'm going to just go ahead and spend the money to get an "outcall" license in my town (and get the background check done), and then spend the $$ again in whatever town I end up working in. Kinda crazy, but I guess we do what we have to do. I'm also looking for a pool warm enough to do Watsu in. The closest ones are too cold. My search radius is widening. Taking the next reasonable step is a good premise. Not holding on too tightly to any one outcome is a good one, too.

In the meantime I am working very part time with an eightyplus year old lady with Parkinsonism. It is rewarding work, and they pay me a more-than-fair wage. I'm only gone two hours a day, so it doesn't interfere too much with the kids' homeschooling.

The children are very happy here. And I am grateful to be near my sisters and mom. And I love the weather now that it has stopped raining. Right now I am sitting by the open patio door and the temperature is PERFECT. There is enough of a breeze to set the windchimes singing, and not disturb anything else.

College is on hold for awhile, I think. I may take one independent study course, but I won't be going to school full time in the fall. I have the younger kids signed up for Montessori school through the charter school program (no tuition or fees), but they get about three times as many applications as they have openings for. (They choose by lottery). We could be chosen as late as two weeks into the school year (or not at all...). So I'm trying to stay open to all my options, and to stay curious about what the outcomes will be....

Namaste

Onward upward outward....somewhere, anyway

OK

So. You folks who have been following me for the whole wacky ride are entitled to an update. I've been reluctant to post, but here goes....

Things did not go well for me--at all--with the financial aspect of the divorce. Oklahoma is an "equitable division of property" state, rather than a community property state....which gives the judge a great deal of leeway. He could actually have awarded me more than half of the assets, based on comparing my prospects for the future to my former husband's. Somehow the judge considered it an "equitable division" for him to keep the 4000 sq ft house on 4500 acres (with no mortgage) and the children and me to live in 1300 sq ft with my mother, who is 72 years old and continues to work for $12/hr because she can't afford to retire. I was awarded about 1/5 the value of the house itself (not the property it sits on) out of which I have to pay all of my attorney fees and court costs, some of the marital debt, my massage school costs, and the back rent and other debts brought on by his refusal to pay the full amount of the court-ordered support during my massage schooling. He does not even have to pay the unpaid child support. I'm not entitled to any alimony, either, except to pay for psychological care. And I get to pay my own health insurance. He has to continue paying the kids' but--get this-- he called me and offered to send me the cash instead, if I'll go on welfare and sign the kids up for state health insurance.

Do I sound angry? I hope I do.

On the flip side, my arm is finally doing better. I self-medicated with some freaky-new-age home remedies (DMSO anyone?), and got some good relief. And I continue to do the physical therapy exercises. AND I do some light exercises with my client who has Parkinsonism, which seem to help me even further. I still have pain when I work it, but the pain does not linger long at all. I have not done a full massage since I hurt myself in June, but I am going to try it out on a family member, soon. (I have done some brief, light hara (tummy) work and foot/hand massage on my client with Parkinsonism.) Still no word on the licensing moratorium, but as I've said before, there will be ways around that.

I have an appointment with a guidance counselor at the college next week. I will have residency in a few months, and may be eligible to start classes this summer. In the fall, for sure. I am going to pursue a Certified Alcohol and Drug Counselor accreditation with an A.A. or A.S. through the community college, then continue working toward my Master's. I can work in treatment centers, and with organizations such as W.E.A.V.E (to which I have become devoted) and a little private practice--without calling myself a therapist--with the CADC. I am excited about embarking on this leg of my journey.

I am settling in to life in CA. I can be happy here for the forseeable future. My opportunities for schooling--and training in various bodywork/psych techniques--are so abundant and accessible here. I love being near my sisters and their children. And I love being so close to the ocean/mountains/lake/river and wonderful good fresh produce. We've been given tons of kiwi, oranges and grapefruit from neighbors yards the past couple of months. I neglected my sister's fig and pomegranate trees this fall, but the kids scarffed up her cherries this summer. I'd started coveting a Victorio Strainer in recent weeks, plotting to make up for lost opportunity....then realized she's in a rent house and will be moving before I can take advantage of this year's bounty. >sigh<

So all in all, life is good. Different from what I'd hoped, but good. I'm hoping to get out to TN again this summer (and back for good eventually.....)

Peace to your souls!

Man it pours

So

It never stopped drizzling since I wrote that last blog. It never actually RAINED, mind you. But it has not stopped drizzling. And it is cold, and so UN-California-like. And I don't like it. So I'm crying UNCLE to the cosmos, and asking for mercy.

Rain, rain

It never rains in California.

Actually, I remember two rains in my childhood. Once, when I was in first grade, it rained and the gutters backed up and the streets flooded. My mom remembers a neighbor coming down the street in a skiff, but I think that must be a memory from her childhhood, not mine. And then once when I was a teenager, it rained. And actually thundered and lighteninged. Wow. THAT was something to behold. We sat out on the porch and watched it. And someone dragged one of my sisters through the mud in the front yard.

What it does do in California is what you or I might call a steady drizzle. The drops hit the windshield and spread to all of a quarter of an inch, or so. And its hard to decide whether to set the wipers at the fastest intermittent and put up with a few seconds of blur between wipes, or set them at the slowest steady and put up with the squeaking as they drag across an almost-too-dry windshield.

It has been drizzling all day. When I picked up the children at homeschool co-op, Carlson's teacher said he had "gotten soaked" at lunch. Wouldn't come in out of the rain. I expected him to be wrapped in a blanket or somebody's coat, with his clothes in a plastic bag. But he was fully dressed in the garments I had put him in this morning, and when I hugged him hello, I could not detect that he had been wet at all, let alone soaked two hours earlier. "Soaked" must be a relative term, as "rain" is a relative term.

It has been doing what passes for raining here, as I said, all day. When I left the house to pick up the kids, the spot under the car was dry. This on a sloped driveway after four hours of steady rain. I laughed out loud.

The first time I ever saw it really rain was in Texas. I called it a storm and the locals laughed out loud. Right in front of me. That spring I experienced a storm, and spent part of it under the bed. (The radio had said, "Tornado Watch" which I later came to realize means "It's raining pretty hard and there's some thunder and lightening, but go about your business and if tornado conditions develop, we'll let you know.")

But where it REALLY rains is Oklahoma. I kid you not. I know you grew up with stories of the dust bowl, and you think of Oklahoma as that forsaken stretch of I-40 that connects Texas to Arkansas. But I tell you what, it rains in Oklahoma. If we had a day like today in Eastern Oklahoma, people would be saying, "I wish it would go ahead and rain if its gonna, and quit threatenin' about it." We'd be trying to decide whether or not to go cut firewood in this drizzle. And we certainly would not be worried about the kids getting soaked.

On a visit to Oklahoma, before we moved there, I saw it rain. My then-husband and I were out in the woods, looking for a likely place to build a house. I felt something hit my head and thought I had been shat upon by a rather large bird. The whole top of my head was wet. Turns out it was a raindrop. One raindrop. I heard it hit my head. PLOP. Then I saw some hit the ground. The footprint from one of those buggers was a good two inches in diameter. By the time we made it the fifty feet or so to the car, we were soaked. Honest to goodness soaked to the skin. No standing in front of the fireplace to warm up; we had to change our clothes. I was taking a poetry class at the time and we were doing a unit on Haiku. I got back to Texas and wrote:

liquid crystal balls
dive-bombing forest, field, stone
Oklahoma rain

Right now, I can hear the rain hitting the ground outside my window. People here would say, "It's raining hard." They would have their wipers on low steady. They would be unable to fathom having them on high, and still not being able to see to drive. Pulling over on the interstate and waiting it out for an hour, because its impossible to procceed in almost-zero visibility would be unheard of. For fog, sure, but rain? That's a hurricane. (The distinction between a hurricane and a tornado is lost in the translation. Don't try.)

Years ago, in Oklahoma, we spent a night in and out of the hall closet when a tornado actually did touch down about 30 miles from our home and was headed our way. We had a closet, about four by four, which was the only "room" in the house that didn't have an outside wall. There were seven of us in there because we were keeping a friend whose mother had gone on her honeymoon. The radio was blaring at us to "Take cover! If you are in the coverage area of this radio station you must take cover immediately. This is not a drill. This is not a warning! You are in danger. You must take cover." We listened as they named town after town as having been hit. We were right in its trajectory. Eventually, we HAD to open the closet door, or suffocate. My little three year-old (now eighteen) crawled out as soon as she had the chance. I told her she had to come back in to the closet. It wasn't safe out there. She said, "I have to get my Binken." I said, "Oh. OK. We can get your blanket if that will help you feel better." She said, "No... we have to get my Binken because the rain monsters are coming and the man said we have to take covers." The tornado passed about half a mile from us. It picked up a trailer house and set back down. On its roof. Killing the occupant.

It never rains in California.