I am a asset. I swear.

I managed to live off $40 for two weeks in CT. AND I have a car that has not changed its ways to food for fuel.

*Disclaimer - I know so many others have it way worse than me so this is not intended as a poor me stint. You'll know when I'm doing a Poor Me. It'll be the title of the blog.*

OK I cheated a little. I had to stare at the clear purple piggy bank. And it stared right back. It's so cheap that its mouth isn't defined very well...the eyes, at least they have some color but the mouth is facial wallpaper. But I definitely heard it say that Deese is hard times Girl. Go ahead, do whatcha gotta do. HOWEVER, let the burden of Mommy Guilt hang over your head until you pay every cent back.

OKAY ALRIGHT. It was Humanling's Piggy bank...Ohhhh the SHAME! But we had to get by.

We are also very gluten and dairy sensitive. If you want to eat nothing but a piece of broccoli at our home for dinner, swing on by, we're also vegetarian.

What do we eat? Candy of course! And vegetables so that she doesn't tell the authorities how much fun I am and I get arrested. I back that up with a threat of her having to go live with strangers if 'they' come and get me. Strangers will force you to eat meat.

So here we are all kinds of *food sensitive* and being broke asses. Ok, not her really. It isn't her fault that she can't charm the income out of her deadbeat dad, Cavey.

So we go back to life as it was when I was young and on da welfare. Cheap white bread, peanut butter, jelly, cream cheese sandwiches and lots of toast. But no Government Cheese in sight. I still can't believe my mom used to freeze that stuff. For those not having the pleasure of knowing what I'm talking about, Government cheese is what they used to issue to low income households. It was this long, narrow rectangle of orange American or Cheddar. If you left it on the floor, someone would fall over it. If you break it in half, you have book ends. If you can't find your baseball bat, Government Cheese will step in for you.

I sound like a food snob, but well, we kind of have to be for the allergies. The veg thing is a choice - me since 1992, her since birth. When she gets older she will probably date a hunter and start betting on the dog fights. Not only that but the circle of choice becomes only noticable with a spy glass because I try to keep us fairly organic, non GMO da dee da dah.

So as soon as I got paid we spent $1.44 on crickets at Petco. We don't have anything that eats crickets, however, the pre-packaged bundle of slowly suffocating little beings were sitting there at 11 cents a piece. Humanling and I thought of it as a rescue. Now I know what the president must feel like once a year, surveying a gang of turkeys and finding just that one to pardon (who is probably thrown back into the mix to be slaughtered a year later.) Although really, I know it merely is perpetuating a supply and demand streak - on a small scale of course. So we brought them home and opened the bag between the gas station and our home and bid them adieu. I saw one walking around under some sort of plant life and that actually felt pretty cool. I know its the food chain, but it doesn't have to be all sorts of reality tv where its right up in my face. One of them merely flopped out of the bag belly up and really, I want my 11 cents back for that unfreed soul.

So we made it through the broke broke weeks and life went on. Of course I do have my Organic friend who is just the sweetest breaking and entrying person that I could have in my life. She knows how to get into my house, for various reasons, and I have received text messages from her sorta like this:

Her: What r u doing

Me: At park with Humanling What U Doing

Her: In ur bedroom petting cat & guinea pig

Me: Ok. Help Urself to whatever U want

So I come home during our time sensitive Depression to find a note on my door that she got in and put some awesome farmer's market organic veggies in my fridge. Is she not the best Ladies & Gentleman? (Applause would be fine here - standing, even better).

FYI - the last post - Rant - about Cavey, Humanling's loosely termed 'father' - update. He called the day after to 'apologize profusely'. He must have been visited the night before by three ghosts - all of them from AA and predicting a modern day prohibition in his near future if he didn't suck up and call me. I took the opportunity to say umkay, thanks but....now that you're on the other end of the kite, here's the deal....sort of talk. I told him he needs to give some financial support toward Humanling's growing needs. He then proceeded to ask the guy who's cell phone minutes he was burning, if he could borrow $20 to give to me. {Smacks forehead....No no no!!!! YOU have to earn it! Not BORROW it from some other person that you won't pay back!} Then I mentioned that he needed to get his furry ass (that's right. Visual. I brought you all there) here to see her and he said his friend will drive him over (but he can walk fairies through the forest at midnight. Now THAT's chivalry folks - taking care that your 18 year old friend doesn't fall over a branch but allowing your kid to fester a severe daddy complex). So stay tuned....

Ok, not really. Because nothing is going to happen. I swear I will be on the up and up and totally publicly acknowledge if Cavey does anything remotely Parental anytime soon. I can't be held responsible for forgetting though if he finally does something in like 6 months.

Well now that I've had my shot of raw apple cider vinegar, I should get ready to take Humanling out for some coffee shop beverage. I sit and make jewelry, she aggravates me by playing chess where every rule involves further doom for my pieces and anything that I do to gain is cheating.

That's right people, I got paid. I'm hot stuff now. I can buy a beverage at the coffee house and even Borders - Without using my Borders reward card!!! High five - Awwwwww yeah!

Rant!

Just wanted to relay a conversation with Cavey because he is clearly on his own set of rules.

He calls tonight - the first time in HOW long, and says How's the baby. I say that she's asleep because its after Late O'Clock. He says he broke his foot. WTF. He 'broke' his shoulder 2 weeks ago and 'broke' his hand a week ago. I ask how he broke his hand. He says punching something when he found out his uncle died - which is a lie. He already told me that he broke it one day when I stopped over BEFORE he knew anything about his uncle being close to death, and still hadn't yet passed. So I called him on it and he said, "Oh. Then I broke it when I got mad about something else". REALLY? Say it isn't so!

So I ask how he broke his foot. My theory is that he busted it kicking a ringing phone clear across the room that could have been someone calling to give him work. He says his foot found a ditch. So I said that I can never know if he's lying or not because of how he sounds. He said that he was walking 'someone' home through the woods and fell in a ditch. So I said what's the big deal why can't you say who she is because otherwise you wouldn't use 'someone' and its not like I'm going to be mad because I don't care about that. He says *18* of course. The 18 year old girl (mind that he is 33 going on 34 this year.) I have no problem with him with whatever age but if he is going to spend all his time and pocket lint on someone other than his daughter, it had better be an emergency and not another beer run. As soon as *18* turns *21* and can buy her own booze, I'm sure she will have better things to do than walk through the woods with a guy who's body spontaneously breaks everywhere.

So then he said that he was hoping to speak to Humanling and I said IT'S Late O'Clock - why would she be up? Why can't he call when she's awake?? He said he doesn't have a cell now. So I said "I'm going to be straight with you. I know you are having a hard time with stuff right now so this might sound harsh, but you need to get in parent mode. You are not in parent mode at all. " He says "you're damn straight I'm not in parent mode because I don't have a cell" WHAT???? I didn't have a cell when I conceived! How on earth after Humanling's birth could the hospital have let us go home without one? Apparently Virgin Mobile issued me my first parental pass back in 2005 and then I must have crossed that line into Officiality. So I said that if he needed to call *18* or *20*, he'd find a way, or his band, or one of his friends. I then said further that there is no reason he can't come see her. He said he doesn't have a car. IS TOO HARD TO WALK??? Let me tell you the distance to his house from my house. We are basically joined by one road. It takes little over one full minute by car, maybe two on an upwind day, five minutes by bicycle, and about 20 minutes walking to get from mi casa to Dillweed's casa. With his abilities, he could jet fart his way here in less than 10 minutes in small spurts. I said that I understand about his foot right now but there is no reason he can't WALK his ass over here and see her. He is yelling at me at this point, saying something about he can't come see her because I have some puerto rican over etc etc. (This would be about :doot: who isn't PR, [said in Seinfeld] Not that there's anything WRONG with it) So I just said with pristine annunciation Listen you Mother f**king A**hole....and he hung up. IS HE KIDDING???? IS HE F**KING KIDDING????? UGH!!!!! My beloved Humanling does not deserve this. She says things DAILY about him. She wanted to swing by his house tonight on the way to the water park to ask if he will get her off the bus this year. Poor thing. I said fine, ask him by phone, we are not swinging by. I am not taking you there. He needs to come to you and come to our house. I am no longer in the business of making this easy for his ass.

I know its all bad vibes and negative but damn, he pisses me off.

No wonder when I challenged her to a game the other night, it went like this - "What rhymes with car?"

She answered without missing a beat, "My dad drinks at a bar!"

Nuff said!

Humanling Allows Niceities to get the best of her

Scene: Me driving us down the main strip in our miniscule town.

Weather: Very hot

Characters: Me as the driver, Humanling as herself and a shirtless man walking on the sidewalk facing us.

Humanling [pointing with all her might outside the car window at the shirtless man] - EWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!

Curtain closes as Me gasps in horror at the apparent wonderful job I've done in so far omitting etiquette in her 9 years.

Study question: But was he a MySpacer?

My Clairvoyance is ON

My cat's name - Azrael.

The Thing that I've been taking care of for the last four years. The being that has me yelling more sailor nouns, verbs & adjectives put together than any arty production ever produced. The clear winner in Who Gets Yelled at More - Her or Humanling.

The cat that drives me insane, makes me hurl cups of water at myself from odd angles, sits her furry arse anywhere and on anything that she wants and spends her whole entire nightly existence zipping around the house like a fool.

I'm talking to my coffee guy out in the back of my place this morning and he mentions to me that Azrael means something. Something that I didn't know. Makes perfect sense now. I probably better be nice to her now.

Azrael
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
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This article is about the angel of death. For other uses, see Azriel.

Artistic depiction of the angel of death
Azrael (angel of death) is the archangel of death. It is an English form of the Arabic name Azra'il or Azra'eil (عزرایل), the name traditionally attributed to the angel of death in Islam and some Hebrew lore.[1] The Qur'an never uses this name, referring instead to Malaikat al-Maut (which translates directly as angels of death; not one angel). Since it is not mentioned either in the Qur'an nor Hadith, it is not part of the religion. It is thought by some to be legendary or adapted from other religions. It is also spelled Izrail, Izrael, Azrail, Ezraeil, Azraille, or Ozryel. Chambers English dictionary uses the spelling Azrael. The name literally means Whom God Helps.[1]
Contents[hide]
1 Background
2 In art and literature
3 See also
4 References
5 External links
//

[edit] Background
Although some sources have speculated about a connection between Azrael and the human priest Ezra,[2] he is generally depicted as an archangel whose history long predates this figure.[3] Rather than merely representing death personified, Azrael is usually described in Islamic sources as subordinate to the will of God "with the most profound reverence."[4] In Jewish mysticism he is identified as the embodiment of evil, not necessarily or specifically death itself.[1] Depending on the outlook and precepts of various religions in which he is a figure, Azrael may be portrayed as residing in the Third Heaven.[5] He has four faces and four thousand wings, and his whole body consists of eyes and tongues, the number of which corresponds to the number of people inhabiting the earth. He will be the last to die, recording and erasing constantly in a large book the names of men at birth and death, respectively.[6]

[edit] In art and literature
Azrael, as both a character or a more abstract concept has been adopted by many different artists, musicians, poets, and authors over the centuries to express or evoke a variety of different meanings or emotions in the reader – often drawing on the cultural resonance of the name for effect.

Depiction of Azrael by Mikhail Vrubel
In literature, Azrael has been featured by a variety of authors, across a broad range of styles and countries. Recently in the West, he has been written about by Terry Pratchett in both Reaper Man and Good Omens, the latter coauthored by Neil Gaiman and as the main character in Anne Rice's "Servant of the Bones." He also forms part of the underworld pantheon in the Dragon King series by Stephen Lawhead. Philip Pullman's Lord Asriel from The Golden Compass might also be an allegory for Azrael. The playwright Arthur Miller wrote in Azrael as a character in "The Creation of Life and Other Business", while the Mexican poet Amado Nervo wrote a poem entitled Azrael. The character has even found a place in popular culture – emerging as a costumed superhero named Azrael in the fictional Batman universe, and in the French graphic novel "Poulet aux prunes". He even formed the title of the CSI: NY episode "Here's To You, Mrs. Azrael", featuring a homicidal mother. Also, he appeared as a character played by Jason Lee in the Kevin Smith movie Dogma though in a vastly different interpretation, as a fallen muse and demon, rather an angelic assassin. In music, Azrael has been written about in both songs and albums by such varied acts as Demons & Wizards, Coil, The Nice, Crimson Glory and VNV Nation – classically, Asrael is a symphony by Czech composer Josef Suk, dating from 1906. In the comic book genre, writer Marc Guggenheim wrote Azrael as the warrior/angel of death whom Wolverine has to fight every time he suffers a lethal wound in order to save his soul, which is returned to his physical body if he is victorious.[7]. It is also the name of the Wizard Gargamel's cat in the cartoon The Smurfs and the name of the leader of the fictional chapter of Space Marines from Games Workshop known as the Dark Angels. The Swedish black metal band Marduk named one of their songs Azrael, on their album La Grande Danse Macabre. The name also features in the 1996 PC game Azrael's Tear; the game also featured a specific Biblical quote relating to Azrael's function as Angel of Death.

**And Yes, she does guard organic vanilla body cream rather well, doesn't she?

Scurred!!!!

:doot: must have some idea of how lucky he really is. How often does a guy get to put on the cape and tights for constant rescue missions?

He goes for five years not hearing from me and in less time than it takes to conduct an online search, I am bombarding him with my paranoid questions. He had my issues at "Hello".

On Monday I believed that I had a moldy infection in my right lung. He - that's right HE cleaned out my car on Sunday. Humanling had clothing in a bag and on top of it, managed to leave behind all half consumed bottles of water upside down in the back seat. On top of it, she's nine. So she isn't going to airtight the cap...just close it *enough*. So the equation of plastic bag + clothes + leaking water bottles = moldy upholstery. I removed the bag and some of the water bottles, but he removed, cleaned and organized everything else in the 90 degree heat and without gloves!!!

The next day I was convinced that the *blip* I felt in my lung was a sure sign of mold inhalation. I tripped over myself along the well worn cyber path and ran this by him. He felt fine. Ok, well maybe he is just stronger than me. Maybe my body simply saw a mold spore and succumbed. Or not. Because I feel fine now. On Monday it wasn't funny though.

He dealt with this as if he was born to.

Or when we open a bottle of something and the seal doesn't 'pop' at 89 decibels. If its a lazy pop, it bothers me. I need a nice, crisp SNAP! when it opens.

He assures me, this is fine.

As when I call him because I've read that CT scans, MRIs and X-rays cause cancer and tell him that I might have had a ct scan once...and many dental x-rays and now I can't eat and won't sleep for a long time because I'm paranoid that this is true in .4 cases and may be as high as 1.5 cases.

Or does *this* taste weird?

Or the drop of *something* that landed on me while we walk. Or the possibility of it.

In fact, the more he laughs at my many opportunities of demise, the more satisfied I am that things are really okay. The day he worries along side of me, I will probably drop dead of a heart attack.

Right now I am mildly uncomfortable because I ate something with BBQ sauce and curry and there is a bitter residual of taste in my mouth. So I start wondering why that is. He can tell me exactly why, pull me in off the ledge and make me feel like I've visited the Guru at the top of Mt. It's All Better Now and It Never Was Bad To Begin With.

I have to pop quiz him here and there to ask if he is going to be able to put up with a lifetime of this. His perfect answers don't miss a beat.

Dormant love sucks. I am beyond alive again.

! Pffffffff !

People, I have to debunk a theory right now. The whole Bad Mood thing in females. Usually the first thing people (highly ignorant strands) will say is "Must be that time of month....". Well guess what. It ain't that time. So what gives. My work day thus far is consisting of one major theme - "What the F*ck is THIS now?"

My copy and paste function, which is essential for getting today's stuff done today and not when Star Wars 10 comes out, has foreclosed and moved on.

I have the radio on and although I'm really happy for the gal who likes licking other feminine lips to obtain that cherry chapstick flavor, I'm done hearing about it. Yes honey, many of us have done this. It's called Free Drinks. Whoo hoo!

Ok, my Opinions session is over.

Wait, one more.

Dear Usher,

Nothing says 'Neutered' more than a dumb ass song about doing some girl in a club with the whole 'making love' tag on it. I don't know what Boardroom posse Ok'd this sorry attempt at Rawness. Hideous and harmless. On top of it, the whole trying to be melodic about taking this chick outside and giving it to her 'and I don't care who's Watchin'...Watchin'..........Watchin.....' was the last straw to drop your rice sac to the floor uselessly.

And to think that someone bought me an Usher poster for my 35th birthday. If I still had it I'd put a bouquet of daisies in front of where the carcass to his manhood used to be. Can someone say large skin tag?

Sorry Usher. I'm not hating but someone has to be a man about it.

..... okay. Done. .....

The What Happened!???! (without Mark Wahlberg)

I got issues. You knew that. Perhaps you are even reading this to make your own issues look like actions of normalcy. I love my horrible animal, Azrael. Oh yeah, she looks real cute up there, huh. But unlike the guinea pig and the hermit crabs, she is mobile, all of the time. Much to my disgust and constant protest, she is now blatantly being all leisurely about sitting her furry arse on the kitchen table. She can cruise the house stealthily, without so much as a click of a claw at times. She hates her water bowl. Probably because she can't tip it over and ruin my hour when I step in it with a clean, dry sock. Also because, it has a very straight up purpose of being her very own ration of water in her very own bowl to put her curious face in whenever she wants to. She'd rather lurk about instead, waiting for a chance to hover over any open cup of water that I might leave out. I wouldn't even trust for her a second if I walked out of the room and my cup was in another zip code. Her face would be in it sure as I saw one of my co-workers clutching a rubik's cube as he walked around today. And no, it wasn't my imagination. And it wasn't 1981.

So I get a Cup O'Tap yesterday and decide to put it in the kitchen cabinet to keep it safe so that I can walk the house and do chores without having to cradle the cup to me bosoms to keep the Feline Face with special guests, E.coli Paws, out of it. (She's an indoor Mew, therefore in my opinion, when a litter box is introduced as a prop, all cats have enchanted E.coli'd paws).

Anyone see the Happening with Mark Wahlberg? I generally, in most moon phases and civilizations, heart Mr. M'ky Mark's acting skillz. In this movie, without giving the whole booty away for free, basically *something* happens that causes people to suddenly become confused, stop what they are doing, sometimes walk backwards, and then under a complete and utterly savage compulsion, kill themselves as soon as possible. Usually in less time than it takes to open the wrapper to a Drumstick ice cream.

Today I go into the cabinet to grab a cup for Humanling's Quench Request, and it looked like a moment from The Happening. I was on mom duty auto pilot. I opened the door and saw a cup higher than my head (I'm big enough to get on rides but small enough for someone to pick up and walk off with) and trance like, grabbed for it. If this were caught on camera, you'd see what appears to be quite a self aggressive throw of a full cup of water all over myself, as if it were acid. (hey, if they had shown enough ways to die and got creative about it besides being all pro-innate the way they did - walking off buildings, slamming yourself into a tree, or dashing through a window, they very well could have done a cup of acid from the cabinet shot.)

And then CUT! I'M AWAKE! Water, all over my clothes and my brain is firing all kinds of immediate and to the point punctuation to figure out why this is so.

(Said in Newman Speak) - Azrael!

And yet five seconds later I am still standing there like a statue, cup in hand, standing in a pool of water. Damn cat has so far added about 600 extra hours of chores to my life in the last four years. But that's what happens when you try to tame the Devil as he mates with a Tornado.

Someday though, that cat is gonna trip just the right person for me. And it will all be worth it.

The World's First Pristine Happy Bubble

I'm not saying that my life is better than everyone else's. Or that my coupling is more pure, more deserved more true. *But!* My life is better than it ever was. My love has never ever ever been this core intended. Nor has this venus fly trap ever opened its jaws wide enough to accept the amazing Everything that :Doot: is giving me.



And he shall be named :Doot: (Surprise honey!)



He'll know why. And you should too. !Sharing Time! It's one of those graphic novels that I borrowed from him to read. He handed me three. And I read them in this order: Interesting enough, Gratuitiously Depressing (Chunky Rice) and the third - the adorable Yotsuba&!. Honestly, I can't remember the name of the first one at the moment. One of the characters in the GP pulp had a soul that was simply gasolined, burned, dipped into a boiling vat of porta-potty stew and then thrown into a Haitian dumpster. And yet this character still had this tiny tiny spark of needing, wanting to take care of something and be loved in return. Or that's how I saw it. What do I know. I read the book once. Maybe I'm just being a girl.



I digress. There was a little bird through out the book and it kept emitting the word 'doot'. *Tweet* really doesn't raise the bar as far as bird emittances go. *Doot* however, really tugs at my knotted heartstrings. Therefore, I will forego the (as one of my friends terms her husband) Captain Huggy Face (she'll know who she is if she reads this....or rather she should even though that's the third most popular pet name) and Pookie's and crown him :Doot: here.



I know that this is the person that I'm going to put permanently into my 'We' face. (HA! Not Wii - I can't imagine the starvation of intimacy that would bring). This is the person who brings out the best in me, and I can hope to do the same for him. He has been my biggest muse over the years in different ways. He makes me want to .... you name it. All of it. Okay, revise. You name good things only. He doesn't make me want to randomly stab Cheerios boxes at the gas station. Or kick water fountains.



I'd tell you all how awesome he is in detail but I don't need the ladies dropping death threats on me. Don't hate Ladies. Gots to keep the Humanling in safe quarters. You understand.



It's been a long five years without him. It's ok though. Every step of those five years brought us full circle to a place where we *can* be together fully. Or maybe that's what humans say to make ourselves think we've done the right thing all along. Whatever the case, walking east, walking west of the circle, we're still here, right at the meeting point where we can rest on each other the rest of the way. Or drag each other. Either way, we're together. Bless me Jack Johnson! - "Without you I was broken, But I'd rather be broke down with you by my side".



:doot: