Poor Relations

As I have stated before.... I hate electric fencing. It is, on the whole....crap!! My electric fencing that is approximately three weeks old for whatever reason, broke under the influence of a haflinger. So the ponies departed for greener pasture. The neighbor girl got them caught and put into their round pen. I went out to fix the thing but the evening over took me. The ponies had an overnight with the neighbors and the next day I continued my repairs. I decided that instead of just mending the break that it would be an okay spot for a gate. This it seemed would be a nice change as Chloe isn't quite ready for the four foot gate.

The reason I have electric fence is because it is suppose to be good enough. I've been told so. It's good enough for you. It's good enough for now. It's good enough for ponies. It's good enough because that is what you can afford. Good enough for poor relations....beggars can't be choosers. This despite the fact that I own wooded property that is loaded with natural resources suitable for fencing. But I can't get the help. Even when someone owes me money and offers to work it off, they dictate HOW they will work it off. I am thinking that I have a tatoo or marking on my forehead that indicates I am the poor relation. It is in some way an indicator that I will damn well take whatever someone is prepared to give me...PERIOD!!

Well, if I have to be a poor relation then I would just as soon be no relation. I want what I want for a reason. I really want to just stab somebody with my warrior woman sword today......nothing bad....just a small flesh wound. Just enough to relieve some pressure.

Louie

Just when you think.....

Yea, that's the way it goes... just when you think you are on an even keel, when things have found their bottom, when it's not going to get any worse.... guess again. It does get worse. In this particular case the getting worse was kicked off by losing internet access. The closest free wi-fi is ten miles away. So it's time to try and save up some bucks, find a new internet provider and start over.

That's bad enough. However it gets worse.... when the internet was lost, this led to a spirited conversation. The kind married people have on occasion. It was pointed out to me that what I envision, I am not capable of fulfilling. I lack the ability to make money so Mac doesn't want to hear about it. He is tired of my dreaming and scheming. I'm not to speak of it again.

I believe the gist of the discussion is that I am a failure. There is something in me.... something that's very angry, that just cannot accept that. So that which is deep inside me... which allows me to dream and scheme will live a life unto itself. I am separate from him. I cannot give up..... the warrior woman won't let me. Then there is that smoldering rage to contend with.

More then ever, I have to succeed. I'll succeed by myself, for myself. Alone does not mean weak. This sounds like divorce. No, it's not. It's just that the heart of me is alone.... it probably has been for a long time.

Louie

Pancakes, revisited

There are days when there is just no hope for control. With luck you can direct... a little. That kind of describes yesterday. Appointments were rescheduled. Calls were received from the Iowa City Dr. office. New labs were ordered. So off to Des Moines tonight for a new UA and then again next Friday for a new Blood count. Tiring. Tiring and scary.

So what does a warrior woman do?

Well, yesterday I tried to not think. I tried to stay physically busy and to shut down my brain. I cut brush and I burned until my back hurt so bad that I could barely function. I got rid of a fair amount of buck brush and one HUGE rose bush. It went pretty well. I didn't lose much blood.

Today, I'll try something different. Try to make myself be creative. Work on next year's farm calendar .... and make myself some pancakes.

Pancakes!... the elixar of life in solid form! Pancakes!... the breakfast food that doubles as dessert! Pancakes!.... the muscles behind the syrup, or sorghum, or strawberries and whipped cream, or pecans! PANCAKES! that which comforts when you don't know what the hell else will.

Pancakes.. because you have to start somewhere, and you don't know where else to start.

louie

Recently....

Recently all of my news has been disappointing. It started with a computer class that was actually suggested by my vocational/ disabilities counselor. I got excited about it. It was a computer class that would take care of all of my loose ends. All the things that I have been having to wait for an opening in someone else's schedule so they could help me. It would have streamlined my existence. But they chose to not pay for a class and I was told to just spend my own money to go to a paid site that has support. What a freakin' novel idea!!! Pay someone! Gee, now I just need to make some money and become solvent again so I can pay someone! I know!!! The fastest way to make money these days is on the internet! I'll create a website and sell my stuff there so I can make enough money to pay someone to create a web site.

If I had money I'd just pay for the class myself which would still be far cheaper then paying out to a hosting site... even a cheap hosting site, for forever!

Yesterday was Mac's trip to Iowa City to the University Hospital. His Graft vs. Host has worsened a little. It is in his mouth and throat so they are ordering a scope of the esophagus. He has been on antibiotics for over a year and a half so there is some hope that the swallowing issue he is dealing with is just induced by some candida which is a fungal growth that occurs when the antibiotics kill off all the healthy flora in the body. Until they actually look, who knows. They went ahead and scheduled the scope but it got scheduled for the day before he puts in a couple of thirteen hour long days doing student conferences. We want to get the appointment changed so he doesn't fall into exhaustion. When dealing with a pack of sixth graders, becoming overly tired is a threat at the best of times.

Then we got home and there was a business card on the step. A business card from the banker. The banker from the bank that holds the mortgage to the old house. The old house that won't sell. The old house that we can't afford to make payments on anymore.

This morning the full moon was lighting my way, so I went out early to feed the ponies. Chloe came running down to meet me in the usual fashion. Pip came from a different way. She had gotten out. Gotten out through this piece of shit fence that other people say is good enough. If I hear one more person say that "a couple of strands of hot wire will keep a bull in so I shouldn't have any trouble", I will scream!! Apparently the bulls around here are far more fragile then a haflinger.

Today, I am too tired to even think about throwing a punch. But that's what I need to do. Get up and fight the hordes back. I don't need any more hoops to jump. Too tired for hoops. I hope that no one speaks to me today. I could use some good news but I don't feel that is possible, so I will be happy with silence. Dwell here for awhile and try to regain my strength. Find my warrior women.

louie

Inner Warrior Woman

Yesterday a friend sent me a short item from Facebook Notes called Inner Warrior Woman. I should have written it down... I believe the author's name was Cynthia Ryler The comments evoked as much thought as the original item. It has caused me to ponder just where my Warrior Woman came from. I think to some extent I chalk it up to racial memory. I don't understand all of the concept of racial memory, parts of it have been proven, but mostly I FEEL it. Sometimes it is almost like I can see the rank and file of women standing behind me. In some you see the strength of endurance. In others, the strength of battle. It's all very X-Files.

The first day I felt the Warrior Woman was the day that my first daughter was born. I think it went beyond bonding. I had always thought that I was the kind of personality that could never take a human life. But as I held this small being, something reared up in me, almost made me nauseous. It scared me because I knew that was no longer true. Then I whispered to her, "I will always keep you safe"

I didn't become a better person as the other two were born. I just discovered more dangers.

The Warrior Woman came back with greater strength when Mac was diagnosed with leukemia. I think she might have saved his life one day.

She brought not just her strength, but a design for the life that I am to be living. She drives me to be something more. To live better. To touch the soil. She found this land and brought me here and imparted the vision.

She was with me the day that my grand daughter was born. The day, where for a short while, we thought that both my daughter and the baby might die. My daughter's Warrior Woman showed up too. In surgery , when they placed Evelyn, my grand daughter in my arms, I whispered to her, "You are a Warrior Woman and you will be strong." I must admit, her strength is already becoming evident, though she seems to be a Warrior Woman who has a thing for pink fuzzy earflap hats. I don't get it, it must be some kind of an X-Files thing.

louie

Family

I have known for some time now that my mom is a little bit nuts. A little bit nuts you can deal with. With age, affliction and the general inability to stay upright, the nuts wears on you more.

I have to admire the precise crazy person. Find your crazy story and stick to it. Tell everybody the exact same crazy story. Then at least people can enjoy you. There is something about folks who think they are aliens, or Teddy Roosevelt or who can see giant pookas that draw the sane in. They are endearing and almost hopeful to be around. They create their own reality and they are capable of functioning in their world.

My family? Hell no! We can't be fun crazy. We have to be manipulative crazy. There has to be DRAMA!! I feel like I am the Joe Friday of the family...."Just the facts, Ma'am" I was pretty much disowned by one branch of the family as I cannot seem to play the game. Let me tell you, being disowned is not what it's cracked up to be..... IT'S BETTER!!

I can look at my life and very definitely say that it has enough bumpy spots. Does anybody really feel that they need to manufacture more?! That's just lunacy! Oh yeah that's right! I'M DEALING WITH CRAZY PEOPLE HERE!!

I'm going to just figure that the crazy gene will really kick in at some time. So I want to shape that alter reality now. I don't want to be horrible and have people afraid to visit me or compare stories behind my back. I want to be FUN crazy! I want to spend my senility in tree houses. Playing with my horses and pretending to be a pioneer. When I die I want to have my grand children and great grand children to hang out and tell fun, happy stories. When they shed a tear I want them to say, "We're really going to miss Grandma Warrior Woman" and with any great luck, they will mean it.

louie

Today is the first day.......

Today is the first day of the rest of your life. Seems to me that the first time I heard that it came from the lips of Anita Bryant. Lots of stuff came from the lips of Anita Bryant, like if God had wanted there to be homosexuals he would have created Adam and Bruce. She suddenly stopped hawking orange juice after that one. Ahh, the seventies! I had some good times in the seventies. I wasn't the only idealistic person I knew. We believed that change was possible cause we were going to do it whether the government said it was okay or not. Which meant we were watching and waiting for better solar and an electric car that was more then a wedge that only one very skinny hiney could fit into.

The war was over and the returning vets fueled the back to the land movement. Mother Earth News which started out as a bit of an underground publication was becoming a very hot mag. Mother started a bartering system that was so effective that the government found a way to tax bartered goods..... just as soon as they found out about it. Mother also put a spin on the personal ad that was a decade before it's time. The commune was reborn, though in this country we refer to them as utopian societies.

There was a big push that everyone accepted as a good thing called "zero population growth" It just made sense that there should roughly be about as many people being born as were dying. Then the powers that be figured out that we weren't breeding as many good little consumers and the idea was left by the wayside.

Women burned their bras and finally there was an aspect of the women's liberation movement that the guys could get behind. It practically turned the five o'clock news into sweeps week. The big battle was getting out of the "pink ghetto" and finding decent paying jobs. Women returned to the factory where they hadn't been seen since their post war eviction.

Unions were still in full operation. People were still around that remembered what it was like without a union. They were the only watchdog organization that used any clout to keep jobs in this country. They warned about the lose of manufacturing. Reagan said "Don't worry!" as he slit the throat of the union. The first blow coming with the air controllers strike. Under his leadership we left manufacturing or should I say manufacturing left us? We became a nation dependent on the service industry.

Somehow, in the decades since the seventies, I have watched people become weak. People were once social catalysts. our actions drove our politics, for good or bad. People built their own homes, worked on their own cars, built their own boats, put in their own gardens. Now we either aren't allowed to do those things, we don't feel we 'can' do those things or we are told it's just not fashionable.

Then a funny thing happened on my downward spiral. I read a little article about a mustang named Nevada Joe. Joe was a Bureau of Land Management mustang who was trained by a guy named Pat Parelli. I looked him up on the computer. I started to listen to what he said and it didn't just pertain to horses. He never said that an old broad with a messed up neck, a bunged up back who can't breathe shouldn't be out doing stuff. He told me I could do anything with the right tools, time and technique. He told me I could go as far as my imagination. He told me that if someone wasn't traveling in the same direction that I was, I needed to leave them behind. He told me that what other people thought of me was none of my business. It was amazing what I could accomplish once the dream killers were gone.

Pat has seen me through two bouts of leukemia and a stem cell transplant. He has seen me through the death of my dad. He has seen me through this land purchase that was so scary that I almost wet my big girl panties and he has seen me through the process of building a house. Pat and my family are the biggest motivations in my life and though they do not know it they have all taken a pretty broken up person and turned her into a warrior woman. I fight for this place, the little farm, I fight for what I believe is just and I fight for my right to do things for myself. In this little way I suppose I am trying to revive the seventies. I want to empower the people around me too.

Today, you know, the first day of the rest of my life? Well, today I'm going to go get serious about my horsemanship journey, cause I've heard that Parelli stuff works on horses, not just old broads. Besides, I promised Stacey, and I always keep my promises.

louie

Float like a butterfly.....

That's what Muhammed Ali used to say... "Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee" That's how he described his fighting style. I'm reminded of this because of Wells Fargo Financial. My youngest daughter works for that division of Wells Fargo. They are dissolving, laying off, calling it kaput. And in typical big business fashion many employees found out about their job status change from the evening news. Classy!

There is no guarantee in life that you aren't going to take some serious hits. It's the nature of the process. What you can do is decide how hard the blow is going to land. You can stand there and plant your feet and take it in the gut. If you do, you'll go down. Or you can float like a butterfly. Pretty damn hard to punch a butterfly.

The trick to being a butterfly? Lighten up. Unload the unnecessary. Maintain and even nurture what is most important. More then ever take the time to enrich yourself and those who are teamed with you. Remember there is nothing that you go through that in some way, they don't go through as well.

I remember my Dad telling me once that the greatest revenge is success. That is how you let those who threw that obstacle in the road for you know that "they" are nothing. "They" could not stop you. You were born with qualities and talents that can now be revealed because you aren't being caged by "them".

You have no idea how strong you can be!! It's times like this when you call upon the warrior woman... and some of you guys might get a kick out of that. Feel her strength. Feel her balance, her spine. Feel the swing of the blade. Feel her draw air into her lungs. Then feel how the warrior woman "floats like a butterfly".

louie

Contemplation

I spend a lot of time on my own and as a result I tend to do a fair amount of thinking. Most of it has absolutely no value whatsoever. But a recurring theme for my contemplation is my personal worth, or lack thereof.

My feeling is that as a result of my no longer being able to hold a job, that society dictates that my worth is highly diminished. Jobless and without health insurance and unable to drive the economy then what value do I hold? I suppose that for now my value is as a caregiver. I keep the one going that does have a job and healthcare. I am support staff.

Isn't it just too bad that we aren't measured by the size of our dreams? Why aren't we measured by how much happiness we share? Why isn't the person that can cook a really moist turkey as valuable as a data analyst? Why is it that certain anti-abortion sectors scream just as loudly that an adult life is valueless.

Why is it, that society's message to me is that I shouldn't dare to exist? Why do I feel that I have to defend my right to being... especially during election years?

If I take what is left of my damaged self and try to make myself a better person, then shouldn't society try to do the same?

It's a good thing I have the warrior woman. It's good to have someone I can count on.

louie

Personal abuse

What a week! I have accomplished more this week then I have in a very long time. Most of it is thanks to my grandson, Edgar. Yes, Edgar left his red wagon at Grandma's house. Sometimes the simplest things make great achievements possible. Okay I didn't achieve anything great. What I did do was plant two hundred trees and shrubs. I moved close to twenty buckets of clay. About ten buckets of gravel. I also planted six or so clumps of iris and some other various flowers.

In short, I have abused myself! I have many body parts that are telling me so. The palms of my hands still feel normal, but everything else seems to have a complaint to voice.

The sad part of this is that, as I look out over the yard and all the places I have worked this week, I don't see one bit of difference!! Considering the time, considering the aches and pains, when I look over the court yard at the very least things should shine. The clouds should part and an angelic chorus should be heard.... "Aaaaa-men".

I'm trying to think just what should I do next that will make things LOOK better! I really need for something to look as if it has improved! For those who don't know... reality bites! For some people it has bigger teeth. I wouldn't mind the aches if I could just get my reality to start looking more like my fantasy. Never mind. I will get it there. I have to, because it just isn't in me to slow down and be the typical middle age woman with my collection of teacups and angel figurines. That would be the ultimate form of personal abuse.

No, no no! I know who I am. I am the warrior woman and pain means nothing to me.

louie

time and tide

Today started with a bit of a panic attack. In a few days it will be June. CRAP!! How did that happen? The garden still isn't completely in, thanks to varmints and weather that swings from unseasonably hot to unseasonably cold. I have also been dealing with time wasters. Yesterday the belt broke on the mower. How is it that time becomes so much more precious the week before bill day, during serious illness and during panic attacks?

My to-do list (aka THE MASTER) has about five tasks on it today... all of which would be the big job on any other day's to-do list. What am I thinking?!! Why am I working myself into a froth? Well, it's like this.... I DON'T WANT TO BE A FAILURE!! I don't want to have the snow falling and have Mac say, "I knew you were trying to do too much"... "I knew you couldn't get every thing finished that you wanted"... "I don't know what you were thinking".. "You're a silly woman"

When Mac and I first met and were married, he thought I was so smart, so capable, so fun to be with. Then a person in his family started chipping away at us. First the marriage and then the kids. I have often thought that if I had a dollar for every time that she said, with a roll of the eyes, "You KNOW what she's like" or ,"You KNOW what your mother is like", then I could have easily paid cash for this place. There was twenty plus years of incessant demoralization. So now I have, I admit, a chip on my shoulder the size of New York city and a desire to prove myself that is totally unhealthy. I finally have a summer with no hospital stays looming and I have three years worth of work to fit into one.

Once I finish my little panic attack, it is time to let loose the warrior woman. It is time to fight the battle. I will slice down whoever stands in my way. This time I am not fighting for someone else. I'm not fighting a disease. I am fighting for myself. I am fighting to finally be me again with out someone else's shackles of a crippling persona. I have been made so strong and I will drop on the field rather then yield. My battle is righteous.

Now, you will have to excuse me.... I have a list to attend to.

louie

FEAR NOT!!

I don't think it was intended as such, but I got a little reminder from a friend yesterday that I am not the kind of person to be overcome by weather. I am a problem solver. I am inquisitive. If I have to figure out a way to clean out trenches and mix cement and pour forms while it is raining, then that's what I'll do! I just have to draw on the inner warrior woman. Some people might think I'm visualizing. I'm not. It's more like I let her out on a tear in my mind so she doesn't come out for real. Let's face it, sometimes when things get tough, you just want to hit somebody with the butt end of your sword. That's where the control comes in. Harness the power of the warrior woman without totally releasing her. This is done by tempering with the everyday ... the mundane ... the grocery list. Like this.....

The warrior woman stands as tall as she can make herself, stretching every muscle until taut and then releasing. She shifts from one foot to another, then unsheaths her sword. She can see her enemy in the woods. She remains unseen by them. She swings her sword in an arc and pushes her timber strong thighs into a fighting stance. The sun glints off her metal breastplate and she is noticed. The enemy runs to her. Let them run. They will arrive tired. (milk) She controls her breathing. She continues to gently move and warm her muscles without tiring them. Her enemy continues to run across the meadow clearing and she continues to wait. (potatoes) The three men are spacing out over the distance. The sprinter is spent and falling behind. The other two continue to come together. She waits. She notices clouds beginning to gather. Another man begins to lag. They are getting closer and she can see the details of their clothing. (onions) She can hear their labored breathing. Their arms flailing with the effort of the run. She squats down in the tall grass, though still visible, she is obscured. She becomes a coiled spring.

The first of the men draws closer and she propels herself forward with a roar that is born in the very bottom of her gut. (tomatoes) Her sword travels in a graceful backhand arc and the edge slides across his chest. He falls, holding the incision. Her sword comes to both hands again and she stands, knees bent, balancing on the balls of her feet. The second man comes, in full , but exhausted, run. His sword over his head. He is exposed and she could kill him. She waits. She blocks the downward blow and glides her sword sideways, slicing the man's arm open. (pork chops) The sprinter stops. He is winded, but he gasps out," We mean you no harm. We want only your land. Relinquish and you will be spared."


"My land is my own!"

"There are others who will come after us"

Then there are others who will die after you" (toilet paper)

"You are but a woman!" He screams in defiance to her will.

I am a woman who lets loose blood! Take your kinsmen while they can yet heal or die now!"

They heard a soft moan. The sprinter dropped his weapon, then pulled one of the wounded men to his feet. The other, unconscious now, was grabbed under the arms and pulled from the field of battle. The clouds that had continued to gather now opened into a downpour.

"You see", screamed the woman,"even God washes your stink, your blood, from my land. Do not come here again!" (dish soap)


Mac doesn't really allow me any sharp implements in the house other then kitchen cutlery. Despite that, I choose to cling to the warrior woman, and the warrior woman isn't afraid of rain!

louie