I've been meaning to post this blog for awhile but have had so much going on lately, I haven't gotten around to it. Hurricane Gustav came a few weeks ago, and here is my account of what went on. From my perspective, anyway. We didn't suffer too terribly, beyond being out of power for around a week... I know some were dealt a much more severe blow. This is what went down from OUR perspective. Gustav in the Tigerland Ghetto :o)
Well, Luna got all dressed up for the occasion...
Carrie invited her friend Mike to come evacuate and hang with us since he lives in Metairie and that's where the storm was SUPPOSED to hit the worst. Turns out, Mike's apartment complex never even lost power. heh... Anyway, he brought his friend Fred along with him.
We all went up to the levee to see what was going on in the river as the storm was coming in. The wind was blowing hard and it was raining like crazy!
So we went home and took showers and a nap. And when we woke up, the biggest blow of the storm had hit. Lots of water in our street and in streets in the area.
This is our neighbor Bruce. He's awesome. His dad's name is Rodney. He's okay too. :o)
A limb fell on the lines in the backyard... Mike and Rodney got it down later.
A little nest fell out of a tree and Carrie picked it up. She values the simple things in nature, even small birds' nests... just one more thing I love about her.
And through the entire storm, the barbecue pit stood firm. heh...
Of course we had bought important non-perishables to help us through the storm... So we bore through the days and nights and days of no A/C and far too many mosquitos. Sometimes I would go in the hot and stuffy back of the house and lay down to chill, and visit with the cats. And take pictures of my feet. heh...
Sometimes I would go on photo-journaling walks just to get out of the house, even in the rain. It rained and rained and rained...
Our house itself was fine, but lots of buildings around us had damage to the roofs.
And not one Port-A-Potty was left standing.
Businesses closed...
I love Carrie. We got along just smooth, smooth the whole time. That's a good sign for us. Some people would have gotten all stressed out and fought like cats and dogs. We were just like... cats.
Rocco, however, was driven to take up smoking...
When the power finally started coming on here and there around the city, we went to King's Buffet and got a good meal and... uh... we also both were kinda sick for awhile afterward. Um... heh...
Still, our power stayed off and finally we'd had enough. We packed up and took off for Texas, where some of Carrie's very awesome and kind relatives live. And so we made our way to Port Arthur, right across the state line. Stayed at an *AIR CONDITIONED* Ramada... with TV and everything, heh!! The weather was so beautiful, and I got to re-live the awesome feeling of existing under the vast Texas sky!
Got to meet Carrie's groovy uncle Kenny... and her equally-groovy aunt Beth... Rocco liked them too. We had a very enjoyable visit. And a very nice evening! When the, uh, room stopped sp-sp-spinning... hehe...
The next day, at Carrie's Grandma's, I saw Rocco on TV... and I liked the bathroom... because it reminded me of MY grandparents' bathroom... so of course Nicole had to take a picture of the bathroom. Ha.
Luna made friends with Grandma's neighbor's dog...
So a good time was had by all. Those 2 nights we spent there were a heavenly degree of refreshing and Carrie and I both credited that brief escape for the maintaining of a good percentage of our sanity. But on Saturday, we packed up and headed home, hopeful that our power would be on.
Yeah, Luna's great to travel with. She has the great "It's All Good" attitude. We had fun on the ride home, chillin' in the back seat.
But alas, despite our hopes, we came home to the same dark, hot and stuffy house we left. Pooh.
Yes, and it was hot...
But at least sweet little Vladimir took my mind off of it whenever I picked him up and held him awhile. My sweet little guy.
And the rain kept on coming...
So Carrie in all her awesome splendor scored for us a generator and a portable a/c. It was a definite degree of bliss. Luna thought so too. :o)
You know, Carrie lost her entire house underwater in 2005 with Katrina. She got a souvenir... a "Chocolate City" t-shirt... *elbow, elbow* hehe... Ahh, though, we had a nice evening on the sofa with the room somewhat cooled down.
The next day, we went out to the levee again, this time with Rocco, to get out of the house and get some fresh air.
THEN, the very next day...
We had restored to us power AND air conditioning. About 7 or 8 days without those things makes you a truly grateful little being.
Taz, however, was characteristically unimpressed.
And that... (drumroll)... was that.
I love my girl. She is wonderful in every way, even in less-than-accomodating circumstances. And her family kicks ASS.
So now all you funkadelicks can stop wondering if I was ever going to blog again. Fear not, I'm still here.
But now... I'm going to BED!! LATER!!!!!!!!
Friday, September 26, 2008
Friday, September 5, 2008
SAVE THE DRAMA FO YO MAMA
All I can say to this article I ran across is... "PUH-LEEEEZE!!" Whoever wrote this needs to go find something else to do. What I got from this article was a sense that the writer believed all lesbians were predatory, pussy-seeking vultures poised to prey upon unsuspecting, vulnerable, fragile straight women. I mean really. Go home. Just had to share this because of the ridiculosity and closed-mindedness on display in this article is mind-boggling to me.
Of course lesbians want to help battered women. Lesbians care about women.
**Side note: Carrie and I are in Texas in a Ramada, as our home is currently uninhabitable after the wrath of Gustav. More blogging with a storyline of pictures is soon to come.**
The article. Enjoy. Or respond and rip them a new one. heh...
Peace and fleas with wobbly knees...
Nic
----------------------------------------------------
Right Wing Alleges Women's Shelters Are Lesbian Predator Hotbeds
by Kilian Melloy
EDGE Contributor
Thursday Sep 4, 2008
A right-wing blogger claims that shelters for battered women not only originated with lesbian activists, but now serve as places where lesbians prey upon the vulnerable.
Carey Roberts, the author of a book linking Marxism and feminism (and, according to his bio at Renew America, where the story appeared, someone who is cited by Rush Limbaugh), claims that shelters for battered women are being used by lesbian predators as "happy hunting grounds" where unsuspecting women might be seduced or even recruited into lesbianism.
In his article, Roberts cites a four-year-old article that appeared in the newspaper The Oregonian, in which Bonnie Tinker, a lesbian community leader, said that women's shelters began with "a small group of lesbians from Portland who were at the forefront of a national movement to provide safe havens for women," and adds, "We knew that foundations were not going to fund a house for a bunch of homeless bar dykes."
The Tinker quote continues, "We realized the language that would be understood was the language of battered women."
Roberts reports in his article that a woman named Maria who turned to Falls Church, VA, shelter Bethany House was coerced by a male lawyer whose services were supposed to be free, but which turned out to have a price in terms of sexual favors.
Roberts also wrote that two managers for Bethany House resigned after accusations that they had made passes at women seeking shelter there.
Roberts also claims that in an unidentified shelter, a woman who had come with their children seeking refuge complained about sexual conduct taking place in the shelter, only to have her concerns dismissed by the manager; at the same unidentified shelter, Roberts wrote, a minor was being taken by an older lesbian into a closed room. When a worker at the shelter expressed concern, the same manager told the worker that she was being "prejudiced."
Roberts also claimed that the director of an organization called the West Virginia Coalition Against Domestic Violence came onto at least one woman who had begin to come to a support group's sessions. When the woman told the director that she was not interested, Roberts wrote, she was subsequently treated as a pariah.
Roberts reported on a woman who had been a resident at two shelters and who said that, "many workers in shelters are lesbians." One sure sign: when a shelter worker rubs the palm of a battered woman's hand. It's not just because the shelter worker is empathizing or offering soothing touch, implies the article.
Added the woman, "If you become her girlfriend, you will be treated very good."
The unidentified woman's evidence for the cl.. "I was 100% sure."
Roberts also cited an incident that allegedly took place in a Florida shelter, in which a nine-year-old and a five-year-old were discovered by a shelter worker as having been engaged in a sexual situation. Roberts cites the incident as a "digital rape."
The story on how women's shelters are a hotbed of lesbian seduction also included one account of a Houston shelter arranging for holiday parties in which residents and professional men from the area could mix; a pregnancy resulted in the wake of one such holiday mixer, Roberts wrote.
Roberts then cited an individual identified as Bobbi Bacha, "of Blue Moon Investigations," who expressed concern that such mixers might be a means of preparing shelter residents to become street walkers.
Writes Roberts near the end of the piece, "For the record, many women who work in abuse shelters believe same-sex marriages should be legalized, so who can fault these ladies for wanting to practice what they preach?"
Kilian Melloy reviews media, conducts interviews, and writes commentary for EDGEBoston, where he also serves as Assistant Arts Editor.
Of course lesbians want to help battered women. Lesbians care about women.
**Side note: Carrie and I are in Texas in a Ramada, as our home is currently uninhabitable after the wrath of Gustav. More blogging with a storyline of pictures is soon to come.**
The article. Enjoy. Or respond and rip them a new one. heh...
Peace and fleas with wobbly knees...
Nic
----------------------------------------------------
Right Wing Alleges Women's Shelters Are Lesbian Predator Hotbeds
by Kilian Melloy
EDGE Contributor
Thursday Sep 4, 2008
A right-wing blogger claims that shelters for battered women not only originated with lesbian activists, but now serve as places where lesbians prey upon the vulnerable.
Carey Roberts, the author of a book linking Marxism and feminism (and, according to his bio at Renew America, where the story appeared, someone who is cited by Rush Limbaugh), claims that shelters for battered women are being used by lesbian predators as "happy hunting grounds" where unsuspecting women might be seduced or even recruited into lesbianism.
In his article, Roberts cites a four-year-old article that appeared in the newspaper The Oregonian, in which Bonnie Tinker, a lesbian community leader, said that women's shelters began with "a small group of lesbians from Portland who were at the forefront of a national movement to provide safe havens for women," and adds, "We knew that foundations were not going to fund a house for a bunch of homeless bar dykes."
The Tinker quote continues, "We realized the language that would be understood was the language of battered women."
Roberts reports in his article that a woman named Maria who turned to Falls Church, VA, shelter Bethany House was coerced by a male lawyer whose services were supposed to be free, but which turned out to have a price in terms of sexual favors.
Roberts also wrote that two managers for Bethany House resigned after accusations that they had made passes at women seeking shelter there.
Roberts also claims that in an unidentified shelter, a woman who had come with their children seeking refuge complained about sexual conduct taking place in the shelter, only to have her concerns dismissed by the manager; at the same unidentified shelter, Roberts wrote, a minor was being taken by an older lesbian into a closed room. When a worker at the shelter expressed concern, the same manager told the worker that she was being "prejudiced."
Roberts also claimed that the director of an organization called the West Virginia Coalition Against Domestic Violence came onto at least one woman who had begin to come to a support group's sessions. When the woman told the director that she was not interested, Roberts wrote, she was subsequently treated as a pariah.
Roberts reported on a woman who had been a resident at two shelters and who said that, "many workers in shelters are lesbians." One sure sign: when a shelter worker rubs the palm of a battered woman's hand. It's not just because the shelter worker is empathizing or offering soothing touch, implies the article.
Added the woman, "If you become her girlfriend, you will be treated very good."
The unidentified woman's evidence for the cl.. "I was 100% sure."
Roberts also cited an incident that allegedly took place in a Florida shelter, in which a nine-year-old and a five-year-old were discovered by a shelter worker as having been engaged in a sexual situation. Roberts cites the incident as a "digital rape."
The story on how women's shelters are a hotbed of lesbian seduction also included one account of a Houston shelter arranging for holiday parties in which residents and professional men from the area could mix; a pregnancy resulted in the wake of one such holiday mixer, Roberts wrote.
Roberts then cited an individual identified as Bobbi Bacha, "of Blue Moon Investigations," who expressed concern that such mixers might be a means of preparing shelter residents to become street walkers.
Writes Roberts near the end of the piece, "For the record, many women who work in abuse shelters believe same-sex marriages should be legalized, so who can fault these ladies for wanting to practice what they preach?"
Kilian Melloy reviews media, conducts interviews, and writes commentary for EDGEBoston, where he also serves as Assistant Arts Editor.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
The I-Don’t-Fucking-Care Day
I don't fucking care today. And while that sounds like a tongue-in-cheek reference to Dr. Seuss, I just really don't fucking care.
I do not want to go to work today. But I am going. Fuck it.
I missed 4 hours yesterday because of a Dr. appt. Fuck it. I will try and make those missing hours up the rest of this week but I am not going to stress over it. I never have enough money anyway.
I love my new kitten Vladimir. Even though he peed in my bed last night. I can hear my mother's voice, embedded in my mind, saying, "You shouldn't have gotten that cat. You're taking too much on. You need to give it away. It's too much."
I will always tell Avery and Abel they CAN, no matter what it is they want to do. And instead of telling them they can't and walking off, I will HELP as much as I can to do whatever it is they dream of doing. Those are not my own sons, but they are my little BOYZZ, and I give my heart to those sweet little boogers. They will rule the world if I have anything to do with it. So there.
I personally believe that lies at the root of a lot of my tendencies to self-doubt when trying to take on new things. I've always been told I can't or that I should be super-cautious. Fuck that. That's why I have tended to give up on new jobs too easily in the past; ooh this is too much; I can't take this on; I can't do this... and stress would compound on me, and I would give up.
I don't especially love my job right now, but I am going there today to earn my 8 hours, hopefully maybe one or two extra if I can summon that out of myself... and there's no promise that this will ever turn into a permanent job, but fuck it... I've found new jobs before, all my life. Mandie said I was the queen of finding new jobs. I wish I had something FUN to do for a job. Like if I could work in a coffee shop all the time. Might get hectic sometimes, but it would be people in and out all day; no computer screens or at least at a minimal level... I could sell my car if I got on at a store close enough and bike it to work... the lower pay would be compensated for by the lack of car note, lack of gas expenses, and lack of insurance. It would even out.
I'm so fucking sick of life. Not as in, I want to die... I'm just sick of this world and all the bullshit I trod through every day, playing the corporate/contract game... I'm going to be late today on purpose. Fuck it.
I spent about $22 yesterday on pet stuff. It was my choice. Granted, I had allotted myself $60 to live on for the week including gas, and I have driven already so much this week that the gas I filled up with on Saturday is down to about a quarter of a tank... but fuck it. Whatever. I have had a sign on the bulletin board at work for a month now, offering to pay half the gas if anyone passing by where I live would just slow down and let me jump in and sit in their car on the ride to and from work. No response. Whatever. Fuck it.
I don't even care. I hate where I've come from in life and I hate that, overall, my opinion of my life is that I have continuously failed or not been "enough"... but I keep going... I need to try a different tactic if I want a different outcome, right? Maybe it's time for something drastic.
I think this alt cert teaching thing would be such a drastic change... I really want to do this. I almost did it last year, but withdrew my application at the very last moment because so many people told me I couldn't or that I would hate it. Fuck that. I'm going to do it for myself and see. It might be just my niche. Someone I respect greatly has told me that teaching is a noble profession, her words exactly. I've watched her life go through several phases since I've known her and have viewed her as successful in each phase. Because she does not give up, and she gives it her all.
So, more people want money from me than I have money to give them, despite working 40 hour weeks at a fortune fucking 500 company. Ahh the sweet irony... like chewing iron itself. Fuck it all, man. I'm gonna go to work, do my assigned tasks, and do my own thing in the meantime. And fuck you to anyone who has a problem with that.
I am grateful for my friends and my emotional support, few and far between but all the more valuable because of that. Today I want to make a list of things I WANT to do, no matter their level of practicality, and set out to DO them. Fuck the rest of it. You only get one life; might as well be happy.
Anyway I still have a few minutes and I can leave for work and still be on time. So fuck you too. *grin*
Much love to my adoring public,
Nicole the Valiant
I do not want to go to work today. But I am going. Fuck it.
I missed 4 hours yesterday because of a Dr. appt. Fuck it. I will try and make those missing hours up the rest of this week but I am not going to stress over it. I never have enough money anyway.
I love my new kitten Vladimir. Even though he peed in my bed last night. I can hear my mother's voice, embedded in my mind, saying, "You shouldn't have gotten that cat. You're taking too much on. You need to give it away. It's too much."
I will always tell Avery and Abel they CAN, no matter what it is they want to do. And instead of telling them they can't and walking off, I will HELP as much as I can to do whatever it is they dream of doing. Those are not my own sons, but they are my little BOYZZ, and I give my heart to those sweet little boogers. They will rule the world if I have anything to do with it. So there.
I personally believe that lies at the root of a lot of my tendencies to self-doubt when trying to take on new things. I've always been told I can't or that I should be super-cautious. Fuck that. That's why I have tended to give up on new jobs too easily in the past; ooh this is too much; I can't take this on; I can't do this... and stress would compound on me, and I would give up.
I don't especially love my job right now, but I am going there today to earn my 8 hours, hopefully maybe one or two extra if I can summon that out of myself... and there's no promise that this will ever turn into a permanent job, but fuck it... I've found new jobs before, all my life. Mandie said I was the queen of finding new jobs. I wish I had something FUN to do for a job. Like if I could work in a coffee shop all the time. Might get hectic sometimes, but it would be people in and out all day; no computer screens or at least at a minimal level... I could sell my car if I got on at a store close enough and bike it to work... the lower pay would be compensated for by the lack of car note, lack of gas expenses, and lack of insurance. It would even out.
I'm so fucking sick of life. Not as in, I want to die... I'm just sick of this world and all the bullshit I trod through every day, playing the corporate/contract game... I'm going to be late today on purpose. Fuck it.
I spent about $22 yesterday on pet stuff. It was my choice. Granted, I had allotted myself $60 to live on for the week including gas, and I have driven already so much this week that the gas I filled up with on Saturday is down to about a quarter of a tank... but fuck it. Whatever. I have had a sign on the bulletin board at work for a month now, offering to pay half the gas if anyone passing by where I live would just slow down and let me jump in and sit in their car on the ride to and from work. No response. Whatever. Fuck it.
I don't even care. I hate where I've come from in life and I hate that, overall, my opinion of my life is that I have continuously failed or not been "enough"... but I keep going... I need to try a different tactic if I want a different outcome, right? Maybe it's time for something drastic.
I think this alt cert teaching thing would be such a drastic change... I really want to do this. I almost did it last year, but withdrew my application at the very last moment because so many people told me I couldn't or that I would hate it. Fuck that. I'm going to do it for myself and see. It might be just my niche. Someone I respect greatly has told me that teaching is a noble profession, her words exactly. I've watched her life go through several phases since I've known her and have viewed her as successful in each phase. Because she does not give up, and she gives it her all.
So, more people want money from me than I have money to give them, despite working 40 hour weeks at a fortune fucking 500 company. Ahh the sweet irony... like chewing iron itself. Fuck it all, man. I'm gonna go to work, do my assigned tasks, and do my own thing in the meantime. And fuck you to anyone who has a problem with that.
I am grateful for my friends and my emotional support, few and far between but all the more valuable because of that. Today I want to make a list of things I WANT to do, no matter their level of practicality, and set out to DO them. Fuck the rest of it. You only get one life; might as well be happy.
Anyway I still have a few minutes and I can leave for work and still be on time. So fuck you too. *grin*
Much love to my adoring public,
Nicole the Valiant
And a Partridge in a Pear Tree!!
I got a new widdle baby!! Yes, his name is Vladimir and he's, oh, somewhere around a month old. I adopted him from a lady who rescued him south of Houma. He is sooo little and new... and very playful and cute!
And of course I have pictures!
I love this little guy already. He rocks!! Cute little guy. He's kinda scared of the other pets so far but I'm keeping him comfy and safe-feeling... to kind of bridge him in, I guess. I've never done this before.
I can't wait to show him to Carrie!! She is so loving toward animals... she can even make friends with amphibians. She's awesome.
And of course I have pictures!
I love this little guy already. He rocks!! Cute little guy. He's kinda scared of the other pets so far but I'm keeping him comfy and safe-feeling... to kind of bridge him in, I guess. I've never done this before.
I can't wait to show him to Carrie!! She is so loving toward animals... she can even make friends with amphibians. She's awesome.
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Waiting for the Paint to Erode
...That's actually what I'm doing... waiting. I found this pretty decent-looking end table upside down out by the curb in someone's front yard along with their trash. Did a little favor to the parish trash peeps and picked that up for them. One of the legs was loose and there were a few scratches, a few swollen places on top that looked like water had stood there awhile. I had spotted the table on a walk with Luna. When I got home, Rocco was the one who went back with me and served as my accomplice in retrieving said artifact.
Got it home and inside where, once I tightened a screw underneath the table, the loose leg was el-fixo and voila, perfectly good table. Only now I'm stripping it to fix the facial malformities. (And yes, to the more than one of you who voiced concern last time I did a project like this, I am using newspaper this time.)
I will re-varnish this lil bebe and sell her on the black market AKA Craig's List. *grin* Nice lil source of pocket change.
Ever since then, when I drive around in my partially-ghetto neighborhood, I keep my eyes open. People have an unimaginable variety of junk out by the curb all the time. I enjoy fixing things up. I also enjoy making sales.
Rocco is out here with me on the front porch where I've been working. I told him this was great because Jesus worked with wood, too. He wasn't particularly interested in that topic of discussion, instead preferring to scream at people... or other birds... or... just nothing, possibly enjoying the sound of his voice echoing off Tiger Stadium in the distance, heh...
Guess I need to get back to work. It's time to try the scraper and see if things have loosened up enough to be cleared away. That's the nice thing about wood; you can paint it, stain it, scratch it, whatever... but a little effort is all it takes to completely redo the whole thing.
If it's too broken, you might just have to make it into something new, which is another opportunity for creativity. Or... if there's no other feasible option... you know... firewood... *GRIN*
Peace and fleas with knobby knees!
Got it home and inside where, once I tightened a screw underneath the table, the loose leg was el-fixo and voila, perfectly good table. Only now I'm stripping it to fix the facial malformities. (And yes, to the more than one of you who voiced concern last time I did a project like this, I am using newspaper this time.)
I will re-varnish this lil bebe and sell her on the black market AKA Craig's List. *grin* Nice lil source of pocket change.
Ever since then, when I drive around in my partially-ghetto neighborhood, I keep my eyes open. People have an unimaginable variety of junk out by the curb all the time. I enjoy fixing things up. I also enjoy making sales.
Rocco is out here with me on the front porch where I've been working. I told him this was great because Jesus worked with wood, too. He wasn't particularly interested in that topic of discussion, instead preferring to scream at people... or other birds... or... just nothing, possibly enjoying the sound of his voice echoing off Tiger Stadium in the distance, heh...
Guess I need to get back to work. It's time to try the scraper and see if things have loosened up enough to be cleared away. That's the nice thing about wood; you can paint it, stain it, scratch it, whatever... but a little effort is all it takes to completely redo the whole thing.
If it's too broken, you might just have to make it into something new, which is another opportunity for creativity. Or... if there's no other feasible option... you know... firewood... *GRIN*
Peace and fleas with knobby knees!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)