Happy Thanksgiving from the stranded

On this very special Thanksgiving Blog, I want to tell you the thing I am most thankful for-you (because you’re full of awesome sauce and don’t you forget it) … and everyone else who has ever interacted with me.  You are all important because as I’ve heard “people come into and go out of your lives for a reason; some don’t stay long enough some stay longer than we’d like.”  I think it’s part of the “everything happens for a reason” gambit.

You have come into my life for a specific purpose… I’m hoping it’s a good one.  Maybe you called my work and got to talk to me and maybe I fixed your problem and brightened your day with my cheerful attitude and quick laugh.  Maybe that conversation I had with you lightened my spirit and reminded me that not everyone is going to yell at me and I can stay at that job a little longer.   Maybe it was the other kind of call… where you immediately start with aggressiveness and name calling (A little tip, consider it a side benni…if you are a bitch to customer service you are not going to get what you want.)

Maybe you’re my sister-who has to stay in my life forever- she called earlier to see if we could get together tomorrow… she was bummed that she had to work today and I completely understand that.  Her family, my Mom and I will meet up to grab some food and maybe shop.

You could be the friend I fell out of touch with-I can be really bad about that or the person I decided I didn’t want in my life anymore.  You could be the manager who fired me.  You might be the person I want back in my life-watch out, I’m coming for you.

The person I am most thankful for is my Mom… No matter how much I get irritated or annoyed with her; I love her bunches.  She puts up with my moods and bitchiness and she let me move home bringing all my baggage (emotional and literal.)

Today, I am thankful I have a place to live, a job and hope for the future.  And I am thankful for you-Thank you to all the people who have come, stayed a while and left or are still here.  I am me because of you and I wouldn’t want it any other way.  I hope you had a wonderful Thanksgiving.

What would you do?

Stranded in Hazard-but only for a little while

So let me start by saying that today was a monumentally crappy day…  I got up- a little earlier because my bladder was yelling at me.  Got ready for work, had my coffee and walked out to my car.  I climb in and
Nothing. Nothing . Nothing. It wouldn’t start.  No click, no wheezing-nothing.

No big deal, we took Joe’s truck (I drove because I am a terrible passenger-white knuckles the whole bit-I blame my Dad but that is a story for another time.)  Joe noticed one of his tires was a little low and we were going to stop for air on the way to work but the one place was too busy and the other was inconvenient-we’ll stop on the way home.

We got to Hardee’s for breakfast-they took a little longer than usual, no big deal we can make up the time… Then we discovered that they forgot my straw… And I knew the universe was screwing with me.  I had about 50% crazy customers all day-there were some really good customers too.  The day seemed to fly till my last customer of the day… trying to authenticate him (we have to ask security questions) was like pulling teeth.  What should have been a 3 minute call was 20 minutes and I left work frustrated.

We got in the truck to head to Food City for air and PowerBall tickets.  I better go the speed limit with the way my day has gone.    

10 minutes from work… fwump fwump fwump fwump.  It wasn’t just flat, the tire was shredded.  So we pulled into the lot of this little auto body shop.  A police Officer pulled in right behind us to make sure we were okay-“thank you Sir, just a flat.  I’m going to call Mom for help.”  I had to walk up the road a little to get cell service (thank Heavens I didn’t forget it.)  We wait-it took Mom about 45 minutes to get to us… we listened to my iPod. I mentioned that I was thinking just yesterday that I need to find a way to spend more time outside and Joe said “just not this way.”  We stood and waited… the gentleman who owns the lot was nice enough to let us leave the truck there overnight.

Mom came to get us and I drove us to Wal-Mart to get a tire iron… There are few things that can make me feel better when I’m having a rough time of things… one of those is chocolate but I’m trying to cut back, one is alcohol and I try not to indulge too often because I have an addictive personality and the other is PJs.  PJs, jommies, jammys, pajamas whatever you call them, them make me happy.  I like nice soft ones with fun prints or pretty shiny stuff.  I’ve haven’t bought any lately because I haven’t needed them.  When we got to Wal-Mart I made a bee-line to the PJs.  I considered the cotton night shirts with the Halloween themes, the flowered flannel nightgowns and fuzzy sleep pants but I decided to go with the soft pink pajamas with the darker pink bows and the little black scotty dogs.  They make me smile.

We went back to get Joe’s tire and then home.  Unloaded Mom’s car and went to see if we could get my car to start. The *bleep* *bleep* started on the first try…  Grrrr. While we were putting the tire in the trunk of my car we talked about how everything happens for a reason… better for this to happen while Joe could have help and not while he was on the way to visit his kids, in a spot with no cell signal.  And I would not have gotten the new jommies.

I am wearing the scotty dog jommies right now… I know that when I go to bed I’ll wake up and tomorrow will be another day and it is bound to be better than today.

Thanks again for coming to rescue us, Mom.

As seen on television

The US has a great history of ordering stuff through the mail.  It started with the local mercantile or General Stores.  If there was something you needed, they would order it for you.  And, of course, you would have to wait forever for it to arrive and it was really expensive.

Then the catalog came along… One of the most famous and longest running was Sears and Roebuck.   We had a reproduction Sears & Roebuck catalog when I was growing up… I loved to look through at all the interesting things that could be ordered.   Sears started with watches.  Then he partnered with Roebuck and they added bicycles, farm equipment, cars, dolls, clothes, indoor toilets and eventually houses.  When I looked it up, I learned that Ben Franklin had a catalog order business selling science and academic books.

Around the 1930s, people could order stuff from the ads in the back of comic books and magazines.  In the 70s it was things like Sea Monkeys.  You can still order stuff from the back of comic books-mostly back issues.  Mail order this way was tricky.  Some of the ads were honest- some made the product sound much more exciting than it really was.  You may not have seen it but what springs to mind is an episode of The Waltons.  John Boy wants to build muscle so he orders the body building kit from a mail-order ad featuring a strong man type illustration.  When the ‘kit’ arrives, it’s just a booklet about resistance training.  When he is discovered, John Boy gets the “if it seems too good to be true-it probably is” talk from Daddy. 

Now we can order from tv, catalog, magazine and internet.  We can order just about anything… We would never have to leave our homes again.  I order fun shirts and electronics from Woot.com, books from Amazon and craft stuff (including yarn) from Crafty.com

But Wait-There’s More!

In the 1990s the Infomercial took over.  Exercise videos, diet systems, gadgets to make our lives easier and better.  Not that the infomercial is bad-it brought us some awesome products: Bare Minerals, Oxi-Clean and others.   You’ve seen them and probably thought about buying one or ten… sandwich maker, pajama jeans, pocket fisherman, stompies, and the Old Brooklyn Lantern.

As I’ve told you in the past- Mom watches a lot of Hallmark Movie Channel.  I have been convincing her that there are better things on TV than watching those movies all day.  So now most of what she sees on HMC is Murder She Wrote and other mystery shows on the weekends (This weekend is Perry Mason.)  The result of watching all this HMC is that we see all the short infomercials all the time.

Because of these infomercials, I visit the “As seen on TV” section of Wal-Mart and Magic Mart.  I have an alumawallet, Magic Mesh, Salon Express and the Genie Bra.  And Mom got herself and Orgreenic Skillet.  The infomercial for each of these is true… but there is always that little extra that they leave out.
My Genie bras are great, comfortable and supporting-kind of like a sports bra that lifts and separates.  What you don’t know is that they come with these triangle panels that you have to remove before washing and reinsert after.  The bras would work without the panels but they would not lift or separate.  Plus, you have to pull it up to get it positioned right.  I tried to pull it on over my head to my waist then pull it up from there, it rolled up and I had to take it off to get it unrolled.  My only problem with my Alumawallet is that it isn’t big enough.  We have used the Magic Mesh so well that it is falling apart.  The Orgreenic isn’t better than any other non-stick skillet.  The Salon Express needs a steady hand, room to spread out and special nail polish.

That said-I still buy this stuff… and what I’m really waiting for is Tag-Away, a supposedly natural way to remove skin tags.  2 bottles for $19.99 plus shipping and handling…

Odd little car

I love cars.  I especially love old and uncommon cars.  I daydream about going to car shows and interviewing car owners and taking photos of the owners with their cars for a classic car blog.

 A couple weeks ago, Mom and I were headed to Jenny Wiley Theater in Prestonsburg, KY. To see Grease-it was great, by the way.   We drove past this little car lot.  At the back of the lot I saw a little tan car that looked like an old Volvo or VW station wagon-but I knew it was neither.    I’ve been bothered by it since…What is it?  Where was it made? How much do they want for this odd little car?

Today I went back to Prestonsburg after spending my time at the library.  Aptly enough, the little car lot is called Little Auto Sales.  I parked and walked straight to this odd tan car.  Walked around it, opened the door and looked in.  And I took photos…

When the lot owner came over, I asked questions.  This is a 1967 Trabant- Manual 4 on the column-yes I said on the column, 2-cylinder.  He has done a bunch of work on it: new rubber around the doors, new seat covers and he has a tail light cover for the left side that he’s replacing this week.  He is asking $3995 for it.  I didn’t ask to look under the hood but I should have-I’ve never seen the innards of a 2-cylinder.

After getting home, and showing the photos seen above, I Googled Trabant.  They were made in East Germany… and they were very economical for the time.  It would not be a very good every day car.  It’s a collector’s car.  I imagine it’s slow (being a 2-cylinder,) loud and hard on gas.  It is cool looking though.  And getting to see it up close was totally worth the trip.

If you want to know more about these, Wikipedia has a page for the Trabant

I feel so old

I’m almost 40-Will be on Dec 30^th if you want to send gifts (I like gifts.)  I rarely feel or think of myself as my age; most of the time, in my head, I’m closer to 28 and apparently I look like I could claim it.  There are times when I’ll be talking to someone and think that they are within 5 years of my age, only to find later that they are 25!  Then there are times when I’ll be talking to someone and think they are way older…he was 35 but I think it may have been the bad mustache!

For most of my life I have felt younger; I think it had something to do with being younger in grade school.  I was right at the end of the cutoff date for starting kindergarten.  In grade school all but one of my classmates was older than me.  Then when I got to High School, I was the youngest in my graduating class-I think this may be a contributing factor in my inferiority complex.  It’s my own fault- when registration time came, my parents let me decide.  I sometimes wonder how differently I would have been had I chosen to wait.

There are a few things that make me feel my age:

finding out someone I used to babysit for is married with teenage children.

Seeing how grown the children of my family and friends are-especially if I haven’t seen the child in years.

Trying to go without sleep-I love to sleep and the thought of an all-nighter now scares the crap out of me.  I was a teen librarian for over 5 years and teens LOVE Lock-Ins-they get all hyper and sugar loaded.  The last one I worked was as a favor for a friend (I had already been fired and wanted to feel connected to the library field again)-it took about 4 cups of coffee, lots of candy and hyper teens to keep me going all night… I had fun then I went home and slept for 8 straight.

And now I can add road trips-not all road trips… just ones that include my Mom and shopping.  Last weekend we went to Dayton, OH for my Cousin Susie’s wedding reception.  The drive there was fine, we spent the night before in Lexington at Paul and Lori’s house (older brother and his wife-who puts up with us a lot.) The reception was great, laid back and very casual.  The hotel -Hampton Inn and Suites- was wonderful… mmm squishy bed with squishy pillows…if only there had been a hot tub. Nice helpful staff and hot breakfast included.  Sunday was the shopping day-I knew this going into the trip-I was the one using Google Maps.  I knew as soon as I had both Jungle Jim’s International Market and Sam’s Club on the same day I was in trouble.  I made Mom agree that we weren't going through ALL of Ikea this time.  There were a few other stops in there too… mostly places at least 2 hours from home.  We finally finished at Sam’s at around 6PM and headed toward home.  My back hurt from walking at Mom’s slower pace and I was glad that I had worn sneakers and had flip-flops to change into.

We pulled unto Food City in Hazard to “get the last few things on my list” (-Mom) at around 11:30. I fell asleep in the car while Mom went in to get bread and OJ.  I was completely wiped out the next day and I’m not sure I’ve completely recovered yet.  Today I feel about 35, so I’m almost there.

The Oil Change

I take my car to a mechanic for oil changes.  Now, that sounds a lot fancier than it is.  When I lived in Cincinnati, I would take it to someplace like Jiffy-Lube.  Most of what they do is oil changes with the occasional radiator flush and tire rotation; you are in and out in about 20 minutes if they aren't busy.  Here there is one fast lube place, a Wal-Mart and dozens of little mechanic’s garages.

If you’ve never been to a small town mechanic-it’s hard to describe.  I show up, tell them who my kin is (that means relatives in case you didn’t know) and they treat me like they’ve known me all my life… Ask after my family and neighbors; ask what I do and the like- all the while, letting me watch and ask questions about what they’re doing while they’re working under the car.  There are always 3-6 men in the garage whether they work there or not and at least one will be really old and missing teeth.  They always seem really interested that I would bring my car to a mechanic without male accompaniment.

A few months ago, I was having some trouble with my car; it was loud and didn’t have as much power as it should.  I took it to this place Mom told me about, apparently my brother-in-law worked there for a little while.  Mike was able to tell me what was wrong just by lying down in front of the car and wiggling a few things underneath.  I went to get cash-he doesn’t take plastic and Mom is one of the few people he’ll take a check from.  An hour after getting back to his garage, I was on the road with a new flex tube and a much quieter car.  And when I took the car back because the weld had failed and my car sounded like crap again, he said they had messed up and then fixed it without any hassle or charge.

So I walk in this morning and Mike asks how I’m doing-“fine and you?”  Then I ask after the possibility of an oil change-he says “pretty good” Mike asks if I want to leave the car or come back in a couple of hours.  I said “I’ll bring it back” and that’s the end of the conversation… he goes back to standing under the truck looking at the underside while the owner tells him what’s wrong with it. 

Oil changes, used tires and other small things are what keep small local garages in business.  I’d rather have my oil changed at Mike’s any day-his prices are fair, he’s fast and if anything is ever really wrong with my car, I know the name of a good mechanic.  Plus it keeps life far more interesting than spending 20 minutes sitting on a molded plastic chair.

In a couple minutes it will have been a couple hours and time to take the car back. 

I LOVE food

I Love to try new and different foods.

I especially love to try foods that go with places. I think of these as Vacation Foods; unique foods in new and different places.   One of the times when I went to visit BFF Sean in Boston, we went to this wonderful little microbrewery near Fenway park-they made the best burger and I had the hard cider they make to go with it… ommmmmmmm nomnom.  

On a different trip to Boston, Sean drove me up to Maine, where we wandered around on a rainy afternoon and stopped in a little town on the coast to eat… I had the crab cakes-they were wonderful-crabby and crispy.  On that same trip, we took a train to Salem on Halloween, for Samhain (pronounced sow an) a Wiccan Celebration about nature, the elements and compass directions.  What felt like thousands of people in the park all walked down to Old Salem after the Gathering.  Sean and I ended up in little Mom and Pop Pizza place; the pizza was great but the place was packed and you know how I feel about crowds.  We also wandered around in the psychic fair food booths and some of the open stores.  I bought my Nightmare Before Christmas metal lunchbox there.

Last summer I went to Santa Claus, IN with Mom and my sister’s family.  We mostly ate normal stuff like IHOP, amusement park food and stuff cooked at the campsite- my brother-in-law, Jamie is a great cook-so that was all good.  But we decided we were going to try something different-we went to a little place on the side of the road that sells buffalo burgers.  The burgers were good, but they were overpriced and small, we all ended up having to order a second burger.  If you ever eat there-be prepared.

The trip with the most memorable food was when I went to China.  Stephen, a friend from college who has been living in China since he graduated took me to some very interesting places to eat and I was really glad I took the Imodium with me.  I flew into Kunming, Stephen met me at the Airport, took me to the Hostel to drop my stuff, and then we went to find dinner.  About a block from the Hostel was a little street stall selling noodles and grilled squash with red pepper powder.  The food was spicy-but tasty.  Even though the travel books warn people away from them, we ate at street stalls most of the time I was there; spicy soups with noodles, meat grilled on sticks, Over the bridge soup (a local specialty mentioned in the travel books) and one particular little stall that warmed rounds of tortilla looking things slathered with stuff that looked like thick molasses then wrapped around a puffy dough glob… it was wonderful-squishy, sweet and warm; Mmmm better than doughnuts.

I met Stephen’s local friends and they were so honored to have an American to entertain, that they took me for a fancy dinner.  We were in a private room at somewhere or other and we were served all kinds of special dishes-the only one I remember was the deep fried bee larvae-it was crunchy. At another place, I got to try Hot Pot-we walked into what looked like a storage space full of kindergarten sized chairs and tables.  The tables each had a hole with a propane tank under it.  We picked the split bowl with fish stock in one side and spicy in the other.  They lit the tank flame to heat the stock and we went to pick vegetables and meats to add.  We added the stuff to the stock and waited for it to cook- it was so good.  If I could afford it, I would go back to China for the food alone but there are other places on my dream travel list to visit first.

I eat some interesting things at home too.  Some that I come up with myself-like whole pickles eaten with walnut pieces-a bite of pickle then a couple of walnut pieces… good combo.  I may try making it into a relish at some point.

Some of the things I end up eating at home don’t go so well-like the time Mom combined macaroni and cheese with ground beef and bean sprouts… It was just wrong-crunchy and squishy and the flavors didn’t go together.  I prefer tomatoes with my mac-n-cheese and ground beef.

Lost in Hindman

I’m a little OCD about my hair.  If it’s something small like my bangs being too long-I can fix that.  If it’s a fundamental structure issue like that I can tell one side is longer than the other, I want to get that fixed by a professional.  I’ve been trying different stylists since I got home (because I hadn’t found THE ONE) so when I heard that Trent- a friend from high school was reopening his hair salon, I decided to wait till he was open and give him a try… I patiently waited a couple of weeks and set an appointment for yesterday.  I was so excited; not only was I getting my hair cut I was going to get to see a friend I hadn’t seen in years.

 I got up and left the house a little early-to give myself time to find his shop.  I got into downtown Hindman-drove up Main St. (which takes about 3 minutes) and didn’t see the shop.  I drove down Main St. and still didn’t see the shop.  I was about to freak out when I saw Stacy, Trent’s wife and kids walking through downtown.  I parked my car and ran/shuffled (1. I don’t run and 2. I was wearing flip flops) to meet up with her.  I got to where she was and I was all “OMG Stacy! Where is the shop- I’m so late!”  Stacy-looking a little shell shocked- told me how to get there… She started with “Do you know where ______ used to be?”  Of course I didn’t… After quickly getting directions (thanks Stacy-sorry about the shell shock,) I left Stacy and ran back to my car.
Back on the road, I headed toward the OTHER part of Main St. again looking for the shop on both sides of the street-I got all the way to Leburn-about 5 minutes then turned around and since I hadn’t thought to take Trent’s number with me, I called home.  It was early enough that Mom and Joe weren’t out of bed yet.  I had to call three times before I got a person.  While I parked the car in front of two simple trailers, Mom woke Joe; he looked up the number.  While he was doing that, I looked around and saw it… the number! Then I saw the sign-THE CUTTING EDGE right there.  I had parked in front of the shop by accident.  I said something pithy like son of a B**** I was 17 minutes late.

I rushed in and told the epic tale of finding The Cutting Edge.  We laughed.  Trent cut my hair; it looked great and then I went to spend my day cataloging books at the library.  Later, when I met up with Mom and Joe for Chinese food and grocery shopping Joe said “How did you get lost in Hindman? …That should be your blog name.”

Just so you know… I did not get lost in Hindman.  I knew exactly where I was-I just didn’t know where I was supposed to be going-kind of like my life. 

Keep an eye out for my new blog of book reviews to be announced later. 
Edit- Here's the review site: http://bookreviewsfromnowhere.blogspot.com/
first review should be on there tonight.

Comfortable is not always better

You all know about my mom’s taste in television and how I’m trying to influence her to not spend as much time with the Hallmark Movie Channel… the thing is, she is like this with everything.  She finds something she likes and gets too comfortable to change it.  She tends to stick with stuff long after she should have gotten rid of them.  Right now, her car is a yellow Nissan Xterra.  Her last car? Yellow Nissan Xterra. 

She watches and re-watches the Hallmark movies and Murder She Wrote episodes.  I’ve been working on introducing her to other television shows: We watched Sherlock, Warehouse 13, Firefly and next I was thinking about Monk, Merlin or maybe Doctor Who.

Mom used to work for a second-hand store that was run by Hospice.  She would always be bringing stuff home.  Some was just AWESOME like the pair of Eric Cartman slippers she brought me-they said “screw you guys” and “I’m going home” on the backs of the heels.  She also brought home lots of dishes and clothes for herself.  Mom is a bit of a pack-rat-I can’t say anything because I am too… we’ve been nagging her for years to go through her dishes and clothes and get rid of the stuff she doesn’t use or wear.

My siblings (mostly my sister) and I have been bugging her about her wardrobe for years.  For the longest time she didn’t have any jeans and mostly wore wind suits-those shiny “track suits” with sequins and other shiny bits that were popular with older rich women in the 00s.  When they were no longer popular, people started donating them to Mom’s work and she brought them home… all of them.  She had at least a dozen.  We’ve been fighting the wind suits since she started bringing them home- I think they look tacky, but of course I’m more of a jeans kind of girl.

She also never bought new clothes for herself.  Last year, for my cousin Amy’s wedding I bullied my mom into going to Cold Water Creek.  I then badgered her until she tried on clothes and found two family wedding trip appropriate outfits… the pants are a lovely taupe and can go with everything.  I have also talked her into buying new shirts at other places too.  And to top all that off, my sister-in-law who has really good taste gave mom bags of beautiful clothes she can’t wear anymore (she lost a bunch of weight-go girl!)  So now, Mom has all these clothes and had to make room for them all. Today mom brought a bag out of her room and asked me to put it out in the garbage can-it was full of wind suits.  I am so proud that I had to write about it.

June is a Terrible Month.

For the last several years, June has been a notoriously bad month for me.  Let me go back to the beginning. 

I was living in Louisville as a college dropout.  A friend and I were sharing a crappy one-bedroom walk-up on Taylor Blvd.  She got the bedroom because “It [was her] apartment” she was just letting me live there. It was true, her name was on the lease, but I paid half the rent.   I worked about 4 blocks away at a little gas station (where I got held-twice-jerks.)

I was 21, and like I said the other day, had the bottom half of my head shaved; I would pull the rest- dyed black-back into a barrette at my crown, of course.  I wore lot of black-basically I was Goth before it was called Goth- funky jewelry, makeup and all. 

I drove the afore mentioned 1979 AMC Spirit-I loved that car.  Went to Rocky Horror-in costume, drank gallons of coffee nightly with friends at Denny’s, played Magic The Gathering and hung out with friends a lot.  I basically lived a carefree existence-no longer a child but not quite an adult.  Then…

In the beginning of June 1994, my Dad died unexpectedly-it had to do with a heart problem that they found when he was in High School-doesn’t matter.  I was caught complete off guard, because quite honestly with Mom being a Brittle Diabetic, I always expected her to pass first (soo many health problems.)

My beloved AMC Spirit had died and I had no way to get home.  My friend Lori (hi Lori) came home from college to make sure I was okay and take me to my brother’s in Lexington so I could ride the rest of the way with him.  The rest of my family members who passed in June of various years were all elderly.  That’s not to say that they were expected, but they were less of a shock.  

I was a mess for the first year… sullen, sarcastic and bitchy- like I am now but far less fun because I cried a lot.  Dad looked like Santa Clause, so the Christmas in July commercials broke my heart.  The first Christmas without him was hard-we sat arround drinking and "decorating" the tree.  The lights and garland stayed bundled and were tossed into the branches and an empty can served as tree topper.  We laughed and cried and we got through it.

I moved back to live with Mom to finish teaching her and my sister how to drive-it’s hard to get anywhere here without driving.  I took classes at the local Community College, because I knew he wanted me to and because I wanted it.  Then after that year I went away to college at Berea then on to Lexington for more schooling. 

Each year day-by-day I would get a little better till out of nowhere, I would be reminded and have a mini breakdown; I remember being in the Design studio at Berea waiting for class to start while one of my friends told me something his Dad said or did that upset him.  I reminded him that he should appreciate his Dad while he had him and that he was just doing his job. Then the tears welled and I couldn’t push them back.  It’s the moments when I’m not expecting it that I get the sucker punch to the gut.  Most of the time I’m fine and can talk about him and tell stories, but I don’t talk about him being dead-it makes me cry. (Don’t worry and rush to call me-by the time you read this I’ll be back to fine.) 

So, there the grief is, lurking behind the everyday, just waiting for its turn to ride the Merry-go-round.  I always expect that grief to make its appearance during the first of June and hang out for a week.  Well, that didn’t happen this year.  I was going through the motions of the everyday when I realized it was half way through June and didn’t have my usual “OMG! It’s June!” moment. I didn't prepare for the depression and crying, get extra tissues, chocolate and anything else I might need.

After realizing that I had forgotten to wait for the sadness to overcome me, I was filled with guilt.  I know I shouldn’t.  I should be living my life and enjoying what I have, but I can’t help it.  Inside I’m a very sensitive person so I feel deeply. 

It has been 18 years and more than a week, and I think I might be getting past this grief-next I get to work on the guilt for not feeling the grief as much. 

Gum and THE TALK

Sorry it’s been so long.  I’ve been doing other things that I should write about: camping with friends, mini road trip with Mom, working.  But I feel the need to write about something completely frivolous: bubble gum.

Lately I’ve had a craving for bubble gum.  I’m not talking about chewing gum like Orbits or Extra, I mean good old fashioned loaded with sugar-lose the flavor in 15 minutes bubble gum like Hubba Bubba or Bubbalicious.  I’ve been thinking about that full mouth chomping, stretching with your tongue stuff made for the big bubble.

I have been thinking about it for a few weeks now… remembering what it was like...  I don’t know what made me think of it to begin with-but every couple of days I would think about bubble gum.  Today I happened to think about it while I was in a store that had some.  I bought a pack and popped a square then went to finish the grocery shopping. 

I wandered through the store chomping and blowing bubbles… It reminded me of my childhood.  Buying a pack and sharing with friends or hording it all for myself.   Summers riding around on my bike till the streetlights came on.  Not to mention getting in trouble for chewing gum in school.  The innocence of youth came flooding back to me all because of a square of gum.  Hubba Bubba was my favorite-it had the two colors like pink and green (Watermelon) that usually mixed to make grey or brown.  During High School my favorite switched to Juicy Fruit.

At some point in the last couple of weeks, I realized that I don’t really see much of that kind of gum in stores anymore.  I haven’t really been looking.   Maybe it has to do with missing the carefree joys of youth or it could just be wanting to blow bubbles and make my jaw ache tomorrow.

This next part is completely unrelated except that it is another thing I've been thinking about lately. 

The Talk-  Many of you that know me understand that I am a very reserved person until I get to know you and feel comfortable showing my true self: open, smart-assed, funny, tactful, sarcastic and considerate.  My reservedness often prevents me from forming romantic relationships.  Because of this, over time people have felt the need to have "The Talk" with me.  Most of them go something like this: Them "You know, if you are gay, we're okay with it." Me "I appreciate that, but I'm not gay."

The first time I was not expecting it at all.  A friend came at me with "Don't you think it's time you came out of the closet? I mean, we all know you're gay." from out of the blue.  I was shocked... At the time I had no idea anyone might think that... I mean sure, I wore flannel , shaved half my head and wore a lot of black- but it was the 90s.

My favorite of all time was with my sister.  We were in my car on the way to the baptism of my brother's kids.  I'm going to paraphrase a little because I apparently used some crude language.

Sister "Alita, you know we love you and want you to be happy."

Me "Um, yeah, I know and love you too"

Sister "It's been a while since you've had a relationship.  Have you considered trying women?"

Me -WTH- "I have considered.  And while I think I'd be good at it, I'm really not that interested in trying it, besides I like men (that is the part where I got crude)." 

Don't get me wrong, I have a lot of homosexual friends and can completely understand being attracted to another woman, or man if you're a man.  There are several women out there that I think are very attractive-I even have a little crush on Queen Latifa because she's just that awesome-but that does not mean that I wanna get with her.  Yes, it has been a while since I had anything go further than a 2nd date.  But I am just not that interested in being with a guy just for the sex. 

That said, I could come visit, we could drink too much and I might let things get out of hand.

Television

I made the mistake of answering the phone to a survey Wednesday night. They wanted to know which local news programs I watch and which news personalities I like... Well, living here there really is only one station- WYMT: We're Your Mountain Television. The reason we first moved to the area. My Dad was a television new producer for them. So of course most of my answers were WYMT and that I liked that station and the news personalities I know like Steve the anchor, Jim the weather guy (He is better looking in person) and Derrick the sports guy (Hot) They are all married, but I like to look.

I only watch the news because Mom watches the news.
Living with mom, in her house means that she usually chooses the television programs. Most of the programs we agree on-like Big Bang Theory, NCIS and CSI. I also like the old mystery programs she watches like Murder She Wrote and Matlock.
I don't know if I've told you this but Mom watches WAY TOO MUCH Hallmark Movie Channel. I'm sure she has seen all the movies they show at least 5 times if not more.  I like to watch some of those movies- once.  I have been trying to move her toward less maudlin shows-they are like After-school specials for adults... and they always have a happy ending. I can't say too much because I read romance novels (my guilty pleasure-Nora Roberts)
I know she loves mysteries so I got her watching Netflix: Sherlock-the new one from the BBC showing on PBS, we watched Life and we have been watching Warehouse 13. Mom is a creature of habit; so when I come home to find she went to Netflix (by herself) to watch some of last season's Sherlock, I feel so proud that I'm helping her expand.
I've also been bring home movies from the library. Tonight we watched In Time and tomorrow we are going to see Dark Shadows (for Mother's Day.) She likes Johnny Depp, so maybe I'll try some 21 Jump street-the TV show too.

And now, a repost from Facebook:
Actual conversdation with my mom...
mom "Johnny Depp looks good as a vampire"... "Dark Shadows was the only soap opera I ever really watched."
me "That was a soap opera?"
mom "yes, I watched it when your dad worked for educational tv. We lived on Willow."
me "You watched a vampire soap opera?"
mom "yes"
me "do you think Johnny Depp is hot?"
mom "yes, that's what I said earlier."
me "when you said ...he looked 'good as a vampire'?"
mom "yes"
me "you want to go see it with me?"
mom "that sounds like fun"
me "you watched a VAMPIRE soap opera?"

Happy Mother's Day Mom, I love you.

Road Trip

I don’t know if I’ve told you this-I love to travel.  I like camping in a tent and got to try an RV last summer…I like that better.  I like staying in hotels but I’d much rather stay with friends.   I like flying; I don’t mind going through security and waiting to board.  The actual flight is fine-but the take-off and landing make me a little nervous.  I haven’t tried travel by boat yet, but motion sickness notwithstanding, I would probably like that also.  Mostly I LOVE road trips; driving there, seeing the country and stopping whenever I want or need.   Stopping at any roadside attraction or truck stop I want.  It probably has to do with every family vacation we took when I was growing up was in the car/VW van and usually involved a tent. 

 ROAD TRIP!!

I’ve gone on lots of road trips, most of them to visit friends and relatives in nearby towns.  Some of them have been big, like to visit family in Chicago and on to Wisconsin to a place called The House on the Rock in Spring Green.  If you’ve never heard of it, check out their website http://www.thehouseontherock.com/.  It is a very interesting place with some odd/cool collections: arms and armor, automated music players (whole rooms that move and play music,) dioramas, dolls, lighters, tiffany lamps, other random stuff and the world’s largest indoor carousel-it really is amazing.

I love exploring the new place, or an old place.  I really like wandering around-seeing how people are in this place.  I am especially interested when I find little interesting places accidentally.  This past weekend Mom and I went to Lexington to visit Paul and Lori and the kids, so I could babysit and Mom could go to Sam’s Club. When we were on our way back, I was driving and needed to get out of the car for a little while-stretch my legs and wake-up some.  So I pulled off in Stanton, they have lots of fast food places.  I was headed back to the BP so I could get a soda or something. And I’m about to pull into the parking lot when I see the place across the road. I don’t remember what it’s called, but they have a deals barn.  We walked through, it’s like a little catch all kind of place-a truck stop for the truckless: tools, furniture, fake flowers, wind chimes, dragon figurines, UK shirts and leather motorcycle chaps-we were standing next to the chaps when Mom said “this would be a good place to do some Christmas shopping.” 

I’m sure she was talking about the UK shirts-right?

My Tattoo advice for a friend

A friend asked me to give advice to one of her friends about getting tattoos.  This is what I told her, with some new stuff and edited to make the advice useful for anyone.

I wanted a tattoo since I was 18.  I chose something simple that will have the same meaning all my life and I waited a long time... about 8 years before I got it.  I don't think you need to wait 8 years.  I think about 6 months would be good-long enough to back out.  You should start with something that has meaning for you- not what you think other people think you should have.

I have 2 rules to follow. 
1. NEVER get a name.  My dad passed a few years ago and I've been thinking about a rose with his initials in it.  Initials are okay. Your children's names are okay. Never ever put your SO or lover's name on your person.  When things fall apart, you will regret it.
2. NEVER get a portrait.  They don't ever look right.

Do some research.  The library has some books with photos and designs for tattoos.  Look on the internet at tattoo images.  Try to stay away from anything too overdone.  It's horrible, seeing your tattoo on a flock of people you don't want to be associated with. Try to stay away from anything on the Tattoo Parlor's wall.
I have 4
1. An Ankh, Egyptian symbol for life.  Back side of my left hip.
2. One I've changed my mind about and am going to cover with the rose for my Dad.
3. A book on my right shoulder-my favorite
4. and an A on the back of my neck.
and I'm planning a 5th-my favorite Tarot card on my left arm-cap sleeve.

I designed all except the 2nd.  You can take in a drawing,  If you can't draw, you can find and print something from the internet then draw on it to make it look the way you want.
Take your time.  That's my big advice.  Ask yourself if this is something you will want to see on yourself 5 years from now.

Placement is important.  Your body is going to change over time, especially if you're a woman and planning to have kids.  We gain weight, stuff sags and your tattoo will stretch.

You want a good safe licensed artist.  Ask people with good tattoos where they got them done.  Get artist recommendations from your friends.  NEVER EVER agree to a free tattoo from a guy in a trailer. 

This is very important-Make sure the place you choose is clean.  If it isn't clean you could end up sick. Like dying sick-I'm talking AIDS and Hepatitis B or C sick.
If you have any questions about anything, let me know.  I could talk about tattoos all day.

Hi, I'm Alita, Part II

My last blog, the one comparing the job hunt to online dating came about from a cover letter that I recently wrote. After finishing it, I realized that my cover letter read like a dating site intro.
Since I found out yesterday that I didn't get the job, I thought I might share that cover letter-redacted-of course.

And it also got me thinking...
Mom says she's sure it was because they already had someone in mind-that might be the case... but I keep thinking. I know they have to post the job and interview at least 2 people. If only there was a way they could tell us when this is the case so I don't get my hopes up.

That said... here is the cover letter, let me know what you think.

Dear Human Resources Manager,
Hello, my name is Alita, I am writing this to let you know that I am interested in the Librarian II position open at the Xxxxxxxx Branch. I like to keep myself busy doing a lot of different everyday jobs. Variety is part of why I love being a librarian; there are so many different things than need to be done: answering questions, writing reports, creating displays, recommending books, talking to people and finding lost mommies to name a few. Every day is different and they are all adventures.
For personal reasons, I moved home to Xxxxx Xxxxxx last year. Since moving back to the area, I have been volunteering for the Xxxxx County Public Library doing whatever the County
Librarian needs done. Lately, I’ve been doing some copy cataloging, shelf reading and weeding. I also get to help at the Circulation Desk.
My last professional position was as the part-time Archives Technician at the
Cincinnati Art Museum, while I enjoyed the history of art in the Cincinnati area, I was also reminded of why I prefer working in public libraries-the people. I like helping people of all
ages find materials to suit their needs, whether it’s for a school project or enjoyment.

In addition to over ten years of reference experience, I have several years’ planning and running programs-mostly for teens and adults, teaching computer classes and troubleshooting computer issues, and preparing reports and statistics. I also have experience supervising and training new hires; one of my former supervisors referred to me as a natural leader. I am very patient and have wonderful customer service skills – I believe in working together to give a great library experience.

If you have any questions, please feel free to contact me.
Sincerely,
Alita

Hi, I'm Alita and I like books, and planning programs... let me be your librarian

I’ve been in the professional job hunt for a couple of years; I’ve been single a lot longer. I
bet you can guess where this is headed. I’ve realized that hunting for a job is way too close to internet dating for my tastes.

You read a description, feel a spark of interest. Write something carefully worded in response and send it. Wait for a response… and wait… and wait. Then after a certain amount of time you hear that they want to meet you or you don’t hear from them till much later after they found someone else.

You pick just the right outfit. You’re nervous so you show up a little early. You’ve brought questions to ask and expect to answer a bunch in return. You spend time with this person-getting to know the front that you show on a first date… trying to be as close to their perfect match as possible while trying to gauge if this is “the one for you.” You spend some time, you say, ”It was nice to meet you,” then part ways. Then you wait to see if they want to see you again.
And wait to see if you found “the one.”

Well, I haven’t decided about the job world yet, but I’m not going to keep putting on “the face” for future dates. I’m going to work at being my charming, funny, curious and sarcastic self. And I’m not going to keep seeing someone just because they seem to be interested in me. I’ve got varied interests, so we should be able to find something to talk about.

And just an FYI, if you don’t like Star Wars and Doctor Who, you won’t make the cut.

I don't interview well. I get nervous and blank out on the examples they want. Maybe I should stop trying to be what I think they are looking for and be what I really am: a librarian in need of a library...with a lot of quiet enthusiasm and a good sense of humor about life.

Death of a House

I’ve lived in a handful of places during my life. Some have been apartments alone or with others some have been houses. This is about my homes with my family.

The first was a nice sized brick house in the Germantown area of Louisville. It was an old house, dating back to the late 1800s, I think. My room (that I shared with my sister) had big cabbage roses on the peeling wallpaper… that I peeled and colored on. It also had a Dining Room with French doors-I love French doors.
Of course, with four rambunctious (read that as evil and destructive) kids, my parents left the French doors off… I can now say that was a wise choice since I’m the one that broke the living room window with a little help from Paul. This is also the house with the laundry chute that the babysitter got stuck in with help from Paul. I have occasionally daydreamed about buying that house back, but now I never will because it isn’t the same place.

The second one was the house we got when we moved to Eastern Kentucky. Even though we only lived in that house for a year and a few months, I have a bunch of memories from there. The front room used to be the two car garage that the previous owners carpeted and put in a sliding door. Nice big room… great for a teenage girl to do aerobics in-not much warning when people were coming to visit though and those glass doors didn’t help.

Then after some financial troubles, we moved into the house owned by the Coal Company. The house was built room by room by one man; his name was John. It started as the Kitchen, Living room, family room and bedroom (really it was the Dining Room.) By the time we moved in, there was just enough room for the six of us. This is the home I lived in when I bought my first car. This is where I got snowed-in with my Mom. This is the home I went to when my Dad died. The Christmas after, Mom, Joan and I went up the hill behind the house and got a tree, and then we all got drunk and “decorated” it. Then I moved home to teach my Mom how to drive and get ready to go back to school. And this is the house we killed.

Let me explain… We lived in that house about 7 years before my Dad died. When the Coal Company heard of his passing, they called my Mom and told her she could live there rent free as long as she wanted and as long as they didn’t need the land. A few years ago, Mom decided it was time to move and when she did, the Coal Company decided they were going to tear down the house.

Since the house was coming down, we could do whatever we wanted. We moved all Moms’ stuff. We got anything we wanted out. Then we built a gigantic bonfire in our usual fire pit. We burned anything we could. Old clothes that we couldn’t give away (I think we tried to sneak some of Mom’s wind suits into the fire,) paper, falling apart furniture, and dying stuffed animals. The whole scene reminds me of Bevis and Butthead sitting there snickering “he he fire, fire….he he FIRE aaaaaaaaaaaa he he” even now, I smile at the memory of adding the oversized black and white teddy bear to the fire-seriously, it was about the size of a pro linebacker. The crotch burned first and when it split open the Styrofoam BBs came spilling out in a rush like a waterfall that splashed into melting plastic-it was awesome and cathartic.

I rescued the Dick Tracy Figurine mug (still in the box) that I had given to my Dad for Christmas one year. Then some of us spent time hitting golf balls in the General direction of the house… to break out the windows-I missed that part. I can’t swing a club to save my life so I probably would have thrown them like baseballs.

Now, I live about a mile from where that house was. I haven’t been back there because I know it isn’t there-it’s in my head.

Hello Ants, I have come to kill you.

It started last year when I moved back to my mom’s house; my war with the ants. I HATE ANTS! Crawling on stuff marching up walls- Blech. I end up imagining them walking on me…

They aren’t all over the house, just in the kitchen and the bathroom. I understand that they are God’s (take your pick-I like the idea of a Higher Power but don’t have one picked out) creatures and have a right to their lives. And they do, as long as they stay outside I have no problem. But as soon as they cross the threshold into the house they are mine!

These are smart ants. We put down fresh traps, and they walk around them. Being the librarian I am, I looked up natural remedies. I found a book full of home remedies that said ants can’t swim in soapy water. So I started wiping them up with a sponge full of soapy water-suffocating them.

All summer… as soon as I saw the line of ants climbing up the side of the fridge to whatever it is they found at the top, walking along the edge of the sink for absolutely no reason-Mom and I do not eat in the bathroom and I hope Joe doesn’t. I would go get the sponge and kill the ants. The book also said I should follow the ants back to their point of entry. One of their points of entry is a crack next to the kitchen window (I just found it.) The crack is just large enough for the ants, but not large enough for the crack filler.

We’ve had a blissfully ant free winter until last week. Torrential rains (the same storms that did so much damage all across Kentucky and other parts) drove the ants inside; into Mom’s kitchen and bath. I was here… there was much cussing and sponge use.

*I would like to take a little time to say how sorry I am for all the people who lost their homes and loved ones. I am a very sensitive person about some things; as soon as I hear the individual stories like the little girl from Indiana who was found in a field and taken to Kosair Children’s Hospital and the elderly woman who got stuck in a closet- who both died-I end up crying even though I didn’t know them. I know my ants are nothing compared to not having a home in which to battle the ants or a mom to share the battle.*

I am trying to take a philosophical approach to killing the ants. Like, I’ll go for hours without thinking about the ants, then I’ll see one in the kitchen or I walk into the bathroom and there’s 10 on the sink… that’s when I’m all, “Hello ants, I have come to kill you.” I have been squishing them then washing them down the drain to add insult to injury. Day before yesterday I walk into the bathroom and there is a big army of ants walking the wall edge of the bathtub. I grab my leave-in conditioner and spray it at them, just for kicks. And they stop moving. All of them are dead on contact…Who knew.

I wonder what the conditioner does to my hair.

We also got some yard pellet sprinkle, get it wet, let it dry yard stuff that the cats have to stay away from till it’s dry. I hate ants.

FYI I asked Mom if I could quit my job to pursue my writing career... She said no.

Stars and Kites

Not too long ago I went to a funeral for a friend. Our priest mentioned more than once that Maria was a “shining star.”

That night I remembered to look up. I spent some time looking at those stars that wink and shine. I didn’t spend much time looking at stars in Cincinnati; too many things in the way (like lights and buildings.) I always forget how calming gazing at stars can be. While I appreciate the complement paid to my friend, I don't think it is quite right.

Maria was many things, calming was not one of them. She was funny, elegant and welcoming. She could see the beauty in the plain and as a Mary Kay representative, she could show you how to enhance what God gave you and sell you the makeup to do it. She was always happy to see everyone. Always a smile. Always an inspiration.

For the last few years of her life, Maria had been wheelchair bound. She had ALS. I don’t know much about the disease but I do know it takes away your motor function. Everything becomes a struggle-EVERYTHING.

I feel sad at Maria’s passing, but she had been sick for a long time. Maria will always be a vibrant and graceful person in my memories. Now she isn't confined to the wheelchair or the body that won't cooperate.

So really, she’s not a star, she’s a kite- a bright red kite dancing on the wind and she has flown off to another place where she can brighten other skies.

And now for a tangent, just because I can: right now it is Girl Scout Cookie time, my favorite is the shortbread. Shortbread is one of the types of cookies my family used to bake at Christmas time. We had cutters for shapes and iced them-red hearts, yellow stars, blue bells and green diamonds (they kind of look like kites. ) Writing about stars made me think of the cookies. And Maria would have appreciated that.

Wow, look at the snow

We got about 4 ½ inches of snow yesterday. It took Joe, my brother, and me almost 3 hours to get home from the Coal Fields, whichI think is a reclaimed strip mine turned industrial area. Looking out my window now, I can see our little hollow/driveway is cleared, thanks to some of my neighbors and another neighbor just drove past on his way to work. We aren't snowed-in but it does remind me of a couple times when I have been snowed-in here. There have been many other times, but these are the two that come back to me now.

I was living in Louisville and had dropped out of college—but had yet to go back. I was young; I had to be around 21-years-old because my Dad was still alive. I worked at Frisch’s in the drive-thru and I’d had a couple of days off so decided to visit home. It may have been Christmas, because I seem to remember my brothers being there too. I don’t remember any specifics about the trip except for calling in to work on the day I was supposed to return to let him know I was snowed in and wouldn’t be able to work that night. I spoke to Ted, the Manager in Training. He was just this side of livid, to say the least. It was obvious that Ted thought I was just trying to get out of work (um Ted, it would have been so much easier to play sick.) He took the number to our house and called me back to make sure I really was snowed-in—in the middle of Eastern KY and wouldn’t make it back for the evening shift. Then next morning, we got my car—a 1979 AMC Spirit, I loved that car—unburied and I drove back to Louisville.
The other time it was just me and Mom. And that’s fine; Mom and I mostly get along. We sat on the couch and watched lots of TV…until the power went out. We heated with coal then, so we had plenty of heat as long as I kept the coal bin full and the ashes empty. Coal is heavy. Ashes are heavier. We were also able to cook on the coal stove, so we didn’t starve. I wasn’t a knitter yet so we had to do something to keep ourselves sane. I have a hard time reading around my Mom, she keeps talking to me and I get frustrated. So I knew we had to do something together. We had lots of board games, and I love board games, except they were all multiplayer like Trivial Pursuit and Monopoly. We also had puzzles. I like puzzles, maybe a little bit too much. I get a little bit OCD about them. First we separate the edges from the inside pieces. Then we build the frame (put the edge pieces together) and work our way in. We must have put together at least 3 1000 piece puzzles during those 5 days. Working a puzzle by candle light is near to impossible. And after the power came back on? We finished the last puzzle while watching TV.

My cats won’t let me play with puzzles now. They want to play too and I end up missing pieces.

I stole my car images from:

External http://www.amcyclopedia.org/

and Internal http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:1979_AMC_Spirit_GT_V8_Russet_DA.jpg photo by Christopher Ziemnowicz

I stole the puzzle image from http://www.apartmenttherapy.com/ who stole it from http://www.psychologytoday.com/

Other-ness and Blue People

I led a very suburban life in my childhood.

We lived a block from my school, a little Catholic school, and yes there were uniforms. We, myself and the people I spent most of my time with – my brothers, our friends, sometimes my little sister- rode bikes around the neighborhood, hung out at each others houses, had snowball or milkweed fights, walked to the store to buy candy and tried to have as much fun as possible and make it home before the streetlights went on. We were able to go and do without too much hassle. Most of the places we wanted were within walking distance or we knew how to use Louisville’s bus system.

Other cities I had visited had the same feel about them. We had been to Dayton, OH and Chicago, IL every couple of years to visit family. I had been other places too like to COSI with the Girl Scouts, Santa Claus Land (yes, it was still Santa Claus Land at the time) and the Wisconsin Dells.

It was sometime around my 13^th birthday when we learned we would be moving to Hazard, KY (or thereabouts.) When my Dad brought us for our first visit he tried to explain that living here wouldn’t be like living in Louisville. He gave us lots of advice like “wait till the people approach you” and “if you rush off they will think you’re rude” and his favorite, “never leave Church early, someone will follow to make sure you are okay.” Apparently, the first time Dad went to our Church here, he left right after Communion (which was a commonly accepted practice in Louisville) and three doctors followed to make sure he wasn’t sick.

Dad also gave us a newspaper article he thought might interest us. It was about the “Blue People of Troublesome Creek” about a family with a blood disorder that caused them to turn blue when they got cold. I was 13, and imagined hundreds of people the color of Smurfs all over Eastern KY. In all the time I have lived here, I have never seen a blue person… because they don’t exist. Not the way I was thinking; it isn’t like a mood ring. And it is rare. Always was, but now it is much rarer than it was in the 60s when it was discovered in this area. Because the thing that was keeping the blood disorder alive was proximity.

Here in the early 1900s it wasn’t as easy to get to… well, anywhere. Your neighbors were your family and sometimes boys ended up married to the girl next door aka cousin Bess. I found and reread that article recently and it was interesting and technical. I noticed one of the family names listed in the article and asked a friend if her family was one of the descendant lines that had this blood disorder. She was kind of suspicious about my interest. I realized later she was thinking of the incest stuff and I was thinking how cool it would be to see someone turn blue.

There are a couple of misconceptions I want to address here:

• I don’t care that your Great Grandpa married his first cousin, that was a different time. None of the people I know here now have done it.
• The people here are basically just like the people everywhere else. Some are vegetarians, some play video games and some are morons.
• Undereducated is not the same as ignorant. I know a couple of really smart people who finished high school and that is it.
• Some of the smartest people I know came from here: doctors, lawyers, professors, you name it… environmental engineer, computer programmer and one genius that can’t really be pinned to one thing-so he's a substitute teacher. I’m just the librarian.

I think what Dad was trying to explain to us about life here is the other-ness. Now that I am sitting here trying to, I know there is no description that can capture it, but I’ll try. I can run into someone I haven’t seen since high school, (who wasn't really my friend at the time) in Wal-mart or the library and they will ask me how I’ve been then ask about all of my family by name and I know that they really want to know. For all their lives, people here live next to family, so if you live next to them, you may not be blood kin, but you are family. Any person that is my family’s kin is my family same goes with friends.

My sister, Joan and I look a lot alike: she’s a little taller, I have darker hair. I always though she was prettier. I wear a lot of black, make stuff and watch Science Fiction and Foreign stuff. She’s really busy with her kids and NA. You get the picture, we’re different. Mom and I were walking into Wal-Mart a couple of weeks ago, when I see this woman waving at me. I smile and wave back at her because by this point I figured she was just saying “hi” to my sister. She says, “Oh I though you were Joanie!” We ended up talking to her for about 20 minutes. That is just the kind of place this is. Other-ness and blue people.

Interested in reading about the Blue People of Troublesome Creek? Click the blue words.

What the hell happened?

Note- I actually wrote this over the summer. I have since been back to Cincinnati to work at the Halloween place again (Hello ladies) and have since found a job... but more about that later. This was supposed to be the beginning of a book, but I find writing in blog form less daunting and scary. Stranded in Hazard is about me (of course) living here in the Hazard, KY area. The ups and downs--things I like and the things that confuse me. That said... my intro to how I got here.


I’ve been more or less unemployed for the last 2 years. It’s the classic scenario that sometimes happens… I had a great boss; she was one of the best women I’ve ever worked with. Management wanted her someplace else, and even though she didn’t want it-she was forced to move.
Let me back up a little. Hi, my name is Alita (pronounced uh, lee, tah) and I’m a librarian. I love working with the public, there are so many interesting people with amazing questions. I was a teen librarian for just over five years. I’m a pretty affable person, I can accept/work with anybody. I don’t have to like someone to work with them. This is part of being an adult. That said, I did not like the new manager (for the sake of anonymity, I’m going to call her Stephanie.) I gave Stephanie a good three months before deciding I didn’t like her. She decided right away that she didn’t like us; she wasn’t there to get to know us, she hated if we got too loud and God forbid if we laughed.
Not long after Stephanie got there, she made it very clear that there were a few of us that she disliked even more than the rest and that we had to go. So there I am, with a target on my back trying to fix everything she decided was wrong, so I wouldn’t get fired. Let me say right now, that I am not perfect. I’m a fat, occasionally bitchy smart-ass with a strange sense of humor and little tolerance for people who are mean or ignorant on purpose. But, I’m also very patient, empathetic and give great customer service. Oh and have a hard time being on time, but I’m working on that.
Then Stephanie found the one thing I couldn’t fix. I can’t fix teenagers. I cannot make teenagers come to the library; especially those that get more allowance than I make in a year, who don’t need to come to the library because they can buy whatever book, movie or video game they want, who don’t need to come to the library because they can drive the car they got for their birthday to the local mall and hang out with their friends. No matter how often I visit their school and tell them about the fun stuff we do at the library—I cannot make teens come to the library.
So with the job market the worst it had been in a very long time, I got fired. I applied for unemployment and cursed Stephanie a lot. I cried a lot. I slept a lot. I have applied for so many jobs; I don’t remember most of them. I applied at those places that will hire anyone (or so it seems when I’m a customer)—grocery stores, big box stores, Wal-mart, Target, Starbucks. Nobody wanted to hire me. I spent time volunteering to fill some of my time and put anything on my resume.
I ended up working some temporary seasonal stuff, like the Census and a Halloween store then I got a part time job at a library. It was actually the library where I had my first librarian position, and I was so grateful when they hired me back that I cried (granted I’d been crying a lot, but this was because I was happy.)
So I spent my 20 hours per week at the library, the rest of the time, I looked for another part-time job, or a full-time job and worried about money. The money thing had caught up with me, mortgage, credit cards, home owner’s insurance, electric bills, phone bills, you name it, I was behind.
That was about five months ago, then I got the Notice of Intent to Foreclose. Holy Shit, they are going to take my house! I knew it would happen, but it is a punch to the gut when you get that letter. I knew what I was going to have to do… so I let my boss and the Human Resources Department know, and then I started packing.
…And now I am living with my mom and one of my brothers (also unemployed, but a little less educated than me) in Eastern Kentucky.
We went to the grocery store yesterday, we decided to drive the truck (it’s mom’s truck because she paid for it, but it’s still in my brother-in-law’s name and Joe uses it to get around till he fixes his car) it’s older, but not old enough to be cool, faded red with one grey door and loud. I asked for the keys, to which I’m told, there aren’t any. Turns out, the door key is hidden in the truck “In case we need to lock it” and the ignition key broke off in the ignition (I’m hoping this has been fixed by now so no one will steal the truck.) So we just start it and go. I suggested taking my car, because “what if someone steals the truck?” “Look at it, who is going to steal that truck?” “I just don’t want to get stranded in Hazard, oh wait I already am. And wouldn’t that be a good name for a book?”