Been here nearly 4 months now. The question is, will we be here for 9 more weeks, 37 more weeks, or 63 more weeks? Like I said, if I knew it would stay the way it has been, I’d be willing to stay here till we were either ready to move to California, or ready to buy something somewhere, but I can’t know that. I’m not that psychic. Logically speaking, I don’t see how it could stay like this. Good neighbors come and go and so do bad ones.

I’ve been working on a story I started in Maricopa as well as one I just started. As for the one I just finished, we’re now editing one chapter at a time. Tom inserts comments by using footnotes in the copy he has on his computer, then he sends it to my computer. I then edit what I think should be edited from what he points out.

Meanwhile, like we seem to do most of the time, all we can do is wait. Wait and see if Walmart hires him. Wait and see if we move. Wait and see if my story gets published.

I submitted photos I took of our Arizona and Oregon land to this site that does detailed profiling of towns/cities. Maybe they’ll post them. I’ll keep an eye out for them.

Paula’s back to being lazy, selfish and ungrateful by not caring to write. All those envelopes and still not a word. Oh well. As I told her, I won’t write until she does. I sent her a note, along with that horrid Patchouli oil, and a letter to Bob.

After a few hesitations, I decided to send Mary a letter after all. I don’t see what harm it could do, and it really wouldn’t matter one way or another if she responded. She might if she’s curious about the book I told her I was on the brink of publishing (I figure sooner or later I just might get something published), but I also said some pretty mean things to her. Well, not necessarily mean things, but things she would perceive as being mean. If I told her I thought she was overly sensitive and a bit paranoid, that would be taken as an insult by her, whereas to me, I’m simply expressing my opinion without trying to hurt her in any way. If she does respond, I’m going to tell her that it’d be best if we agreed that I don’t do any typing for her. That way she won’t have to worry that I’m doing it on account of some hidden motive other than to simply help her out.

Later…

Bev just left with Romeo after slamming the door on the way out.

Meanwhile, I submitted a picture of Bailey with Barbie for publication, and hopefully, hopefully, some sort of prize, though I won’t count on it with the odds being so damn high. Even if we do move in May, we’d leave a forwarding address, so I’d get whatever may be coming to me if I beat the odds. This picture is definitely unique.

They’re already starting to hang out back next door, and why not with a high of 57º as they predict for today? Not having concrete to bounce balls on, or barking dogs, or screaming kids, or music, they weren’t overly noisy. I’d just hear an occasional ripple of laughter and then the daughter got frustrated with a cat she was trying to get indoors. This one was named Sadie. Despite how much quieter they were than the shit we had next to us in Phoenix, the question is, will they get much worse in the summer? Will they let me sleep then?

Tom’s less than an hour away from his interview with Walmart. I’ll bet he’s just as excited as I am. I just hope God gives us a break for once and lets him have the job! There’d be so many plusses to him working there, and it’s not like he’d start off with great money, so whatever’s cursing us financially doesn’t have to worry about him making significantly more than he does now. At least not for a while. We’re just worried they won’t want him to start until the supercenter is open. Then what will he do between now and then? We’re guaranteed to be stuck here another year for sure if that’s the case, but I think we’re already heading that way. Oh well. There are worse sounds to have to listen to than the door-slamming and the laughter. All I’d really have to do is hope that Bev stays put so we don’t have to deal with some welfare mom and her 4-year-old brat, along with her wild boyfriend that comes blasting in a million times a day, to say nothing of the indoor banging and bass.

Later…

Well, he had the interview but wasn’t told anything either way yet. He said that’s normal when it comes to large corporations. The woman said they’d call him at the end of next week. If he is going to work there, and he still thinks he is, hopefully it won’t be too much longer before he starts. She said they’re looking for someone to work nights stocking/unloading. It turns out that she knows his boss, but that’s no surprise in such a small town. I guess his boss’ son and her daughter are pretty tight.

I looked online at The Nickel, the paper we used to find the rental management in. It’s still too soon to do anything, but it’s not too soon to start looking to at least get an idea of what’s out there.

I’m now working out a total of 5 hours a week. I do a half-hour workout, plus a 20-minute workout 6 days a week. By breaking it up so that I have two workouts a day, it’s easier on my knees.

I just did a check and found we were wrong in assuming K-Falls has 50,000. It’s just under 20,000, although this isn’t counting the people on the outskirts of town like where we are. Technically, we’re not even in K-Falls ourselves and neither is the Walmart. Also, East Longmeadow’s not as populated as I thought either. It’s only got 14,000 people. Even Norwich is smaller than K-Falls with 36,000 people. Redding has 85,000.

Good news, finally. Tom’s got an interview at 4:30 tomorrow afternoon at Walmart! From what he could sense from the woman he spoke to, it looks promising. Even if they start him off at minimum wage, he would bring home a couple extra hundred bucks a month since they wouldn’t take so much out of his checks to insure him, plus there’s the discount, too.

It’s still unlikely, though not definite, that we won’t be paroled out of here in May. This comes as no surprise. When we do get to do the things we want, it’s never when we want to.

I had toyed with the idea of casually mentioning to Bev that we may be staying just to test her reaction, but then I realized it could have negative effects. Could have positive, but you just never do know, so I’ll just keep my mouth shut. Besides, if she’s fated to move and we’re fated to deal with trouble all over again, there’ll be no avoiding it. A part of me wishes they’d raise the rent so that we’d have to leave, but they won’t. Especially if this is where we’re meant to be for a while.

The backyard of the house next to Bev was a bit annoying today. The landscapers returned to blow and saw away at God knows what for over 4 hours. I could’ve dealt with 1-2 hours, but 4 was a little long. I hope they’re not getting ready to sell like Tom suggested. I like the dogless, childless little old lady that’s over there now, and that yard’s still a wee bit too close for any dogs and screaming kids. They wouldn’t be out as often as they are in Phoenix, but if we’re here in the summer, it could be an unwanted distraction from my writing.

The pope is bashing gays again. I swear, those belonging to religious groups are bigots no different than bigots belonging to groups like the KKK! Oh, the things people do in the name of religion! People put religious labels on what’s nothing more than hateful statements and actions. How can they call bigotry religion? To me, religion would be accepting both God and others as they are, but if you’re out to bash gays, that’s bigotry, not religion. Take my hatred towards blacks and Hispanics – well – that’s exactly what it is. So why would I want to try to cover it up with a religious label?

I feel bad for the kids of today. The poor things must be so confused. They’ve got their teachers preaching tolerance while mommy and daddy are no doubt telling them that gays are evil sinners to be ousted and hated.

Tom finished my book and next we’ll edit it one chapter at a time.

Walmart didn’t call, but hopefully that’s only because it’s President’s Day. If she doesn’t call him back, he’ll call her. Almost anyone can work at Walmart, and I’ve always known this, yet now, because we need and want him to work there so badly and because we have something up there that’s so against us, I feel as if we’re talking about a job that’s hard to get, almost as if he were auditioning for a role in a movie.

I’m still finding it hard to concentrate on my current book while we still don’t know for sure what’s going on. I should tell myself he won’t get hired at Walmart and that we’ll be in this duplex another year and move on. Then, if by some chance I’m wrong, it’ll come as a pleasant surprise.

We went to the store shortly after 7:00, and sure enough, the crowds had already begun to thin. We were going to wait till 9:00, but being Klamath Falls and not Phoenix, we were glad to see we didn’t need to.

Also because it’s K-Falls and not Phoenix, I ran into one of the waitresses from the Chinese place. Unfortunately, it wasn’t that crazy, hyped-up druggie Jane that I wish had stuck around! A part of me does, anyway.

We not only looked at several things we want to get in the future, but we got the two friends of Barbie I wanted. They are so, so nice. Much better proportioned and more realistic. Both have dark hair and eyes. Even the stands are nicer. They’re shaped differently and are colored. They’re also adjustable which is great, seeing that a lot of the older stands were too tall so that the doll’s feet didn’t touch their little platforms.

Lea’s from the Cali Girl series and wears board shorts and a bikini top. What’s cool is that she’s scented with coconutty tanning lotion. You have to stick her in your face to smell it, though. She also came with a sheer cover shirt that I put on another doll and a paper surfboard which I didn’t care for, but the tiny bottle of tanning lotion she holds in one hand looks so adorable. Her sculpted feet and pink toenails are way cool. She wears a beaded rope necklace; a dark bead on a pink rope, has white hoop earrings, sunglasses on her head, and wears her hair up in a ponytail.

Kayla wears a red tropical shirt and skirt, strappy platform sandals, and a necklace with a red bead between gold circles. She has no earrings, though she has sunglasses and a canvas basket. She’s from the Fashion Fever series. Her long hair is loose, with just a small braid at the side.

Last night I decided to set most of my dolls back up, whether we leave in May or not, and I doubt we will. I missed having them displayed, and if we’re going to be here 435 more days and not 60, then I may as well make the place a bit more livable, homey, comfy, cheery and colorful. And why not? After all, I’m the one who said I didn’t get my dolls just to have to store them in boxes, though due to lack of furniture more than lack of space, I don’t have all my porcelains out.

I also decided it may be best not to burn my bridges with Bob, so I emailed him to let him know he was right about the incense oil being what it’s supposed to be, and that I realize it’s not his fault that the manufacturers sometimes alter the scents. He replied saying he may be able to get the original Angel oil I always loved, and said he agreed that the Patchouli smells like moldy dirt. He said he’s got two different kinds and doesn’t like either one. Says they smell like a graveyard.

Bob replied insisting that the scents are “correct” and to go ahead and cancel with the company we made the money order out to because he never did find it. I just ignored him, and as I said before, it serves him right to lose some money after how long I waited and what with the fuck-ups involved. Meanwhile, unfortunately we can’t simply cancel the money order and get our money back.

If the trial with SOS proves to be a bust, I’ll be out of variety, but not smells. I can always get perfumes, those scent cartridges, and other things, all without having to play mail games.

An old pickup with a shell in back I’ve never seen before was next door. I only got a quick glimpse of the driver who seemed to be a young woman with long brown hair. A few minutes later, she left with Bev following in her car. Meanwhile, we’re going to go to Walmart tomorrow night and hope the animals aren’t here earlier.

If I were smart, I’d stay here till he was 55, then have us rent a duplex in a retirement community in California, since I’m still afraid to go rural or own a house just to have to leave it in a few years and come back here or to some other city.

Some of these trees look like they’re getting ready to sprout new leaves. It’s to hit 51º today while Paula’s going to have a low of just 9º - ugh!

I called the mailing place, and surprisingly, they accepted the package. We thought they’d have sent it back or at least called to let us know it was there. She said we had a “ton” of mail, and as Tom said, it was mail he didn’t want to get since he knows it’s mostly letters from unwanted senders. Why do I have a bad feeling that fate had Bob send the package there, as stupid as he is anyway, to force us to deal with something we don’t want to deal with? On the other hand, the unwanted senders don’t live 3’ away from us so we should be able to ignore whatever threats they may be making, and as I told Tom, we know now not to open doors to people we’re not expecting, or answer in court to any subpoenas we may get. I also advised him not to sign for any certified mail that may be there. Today’s grocery day and tomorrow’s Walmart day, so if the truck will let us, we’ll go there on Saturday.

With my shit luck, the animals will come this Sunday and the truck will be too fucked up to let us out of here. I’ll just crank up my stereo if that’s the case. God, I miss that! I mostly prefer headphones, but I miss being able to blast my music from time to time, and not worrying about what unwanted audience I may have with all the people close by when I sing. On the other hand, as long as they don’t go complaining about me, it doesn’t really matter if they hear me or not.

I wonder if the animals haven’t been around because I asked her about the banging, or because she simply hasn’t wanted them here. Well, if it is cuz of my questions, what’s she gonna do when she sees we’re still here in May? Have them over every month? Maybe she won’t be here by then. Maybe someone worse will come to replace her.

I’m trying to see the good in staying here, other than the fact that it’s too pricey for a 1-bedroom duplex, too close to others, I’m sick of wet, moldy windows, and like with most old places, the faucets and drafty windows are a bitch to operate. If we stayed here till we went down to Redding, that’d be one less move to make.

Tom thinks the universal joint just needed a grease job, which he applied yesterday. I say nothing’s ever that cheap and easy for us. I think it’s something more costly and time-consuming, designed to set us back for the millionth time and keep us here. It’s alright. I already know we’re not moving. I knew God wouldn’t let me go back to the sticks that soon. He really, really likes me to be where I don’t want to be! It’s okay, though. I’m determined to get used to it. Why go someplace better anyway, just to have to leave it? I’ll just stay here and hope no trouble comes moving in. The warmer temps are bringing the dogs across the street out more often, but hopefully mom and daughter won’t decide to camp right outside the bedroom from April till September. And hopefully, Bev won’t be replaced with what we had in Phoenix!

I did decide to bash them in their testimonials by writing, “service sucks,” but a few minutes later it was gone. When I tried to repost it, it wouldn’t take, so that tells me that they’re preventing those they fuck up on from leaving messages. The few negative feedbacks they already have are bad enough for them.

Tom doesn’t think I should say I never got the package because they could contact the mail people who could say otherwise. Yeah, I figured he may say that, and as always, I’m going to go along with him, even though I think it’s worth getting an extra order. God knows I deserve it for all the hell I’ve had to go through with them, but I’m not in the mood to fight for another package either.

We haven’t been working on my book because we can’t concentrate. We’re too wound up over the prospect of him working at Walmart. He’s hoping to work nights. That way he could keep his current job and do both jobs for a few weeks to get us extra money, but somehow I doubt God would let him work nights. That’d be helping us out greatly and it’d up our chances dramatically of getting out of here. I’m thoroughly convinced as it is that I was given this driving phobia and the inability to keep a schedule to help keep us down financially, but that’s ok, too. We’re plenty used to struggling. As long as we’re together, we don’t have to have money. We all fantasize about what we would do if we suddenly were rich, but I’m ok with staying poor. I may not always like it, but I accept it. We are, for the most part, what God wants us to be, like it or not, fair or not. So if He wants us poor, it must be for a reason. I don’t know if it’s to punish us or to compensate us for future riches, though more than likely it’s just a case of Him feeling that struggling is good for us and that it keeps us going. If life were always easy, we’d never appreciate the good times, so by keeping us down most of the time, kicking us back and ensuring that we don’t get ahead, we appreciate those rare times when things are easier all the more.

A part of me misses Mary. I don’t miss all the favors she had me do and having to hear about God all the time, but she was such a good pen pal. Her worst crime was really only that she was naïve and too trusting. Other than that, she was a smart, compassionate and very inspirational person. Maybe sometime I’ll write to her and see if she responds, though I have a feeling that’ll be yet another thing Tom will say I shouldn’t do. I appreciate his not telling me what to do and making demands and ultimatums as some people do, but because I love him, I tend to want to please him and not always do what I want to do. I want to really give his shit of a mother and sister a piece of my mind, but I don’t for his sake. Especially if it could jeopardize his inheritance. If they come to hate me any more than they already do, then they could deny Tom his money simply so I don’t get any of it. Besides, although it’d make me feel better to tell them what selfish assholes they are, it wouldn’t change a thing. It’s not like we’d get a note from Mom saying, “You’re right. I have been selfish. Here are a few of my many, many thousands to at least get you into a house with some breathing space around it.”

Bev should be finding it a bit noisy on her side right now. The house next door to her is having some kind of landscaping job done in back. I can see the top half of some guy over there when I look out the bedroom window. I can’t imagine what he’s doing. Could he be trimming hedges? But nothing’s grown yet. Maybe he was vacuuming up old dead leaves. The lady that lives there is certainly a bit too old to be out raking.

Later…

Regardless of Tom’s opinion, and I don’t see why he’d object, I did go ahead and print Mary a quick letter. It’s on the last small floral card that comes with its own envelope. Again, her worst crime, besides being a bit of a pest at times, is simply being religiously brainwashed (at least in my opinion) and overly sensitive, as well as naïvely trusting. This isn’t much compared to the queen and Miss Perfect, and certainly not compared to my family. I made it brief and to the point, saying that I was sorry for our past differences and that I hoped we could put them behind us because I missed her friendship and her letters. I said I understood we didn’t always see eye to eye on things, but that I could accept her as she is if she could do the same for me. I also mentioned being on the verge of publishing a book, partly thanks to her. I haven’t got a guess as to whether or not she’ll respond. If she did, I’d think it’d mainly be due to curiosity over the book, but that’s okay. Anyway, if she writes, she writes. If she doesn’t, she doesn’t.

There was an article about Bill Cosby fondling a woman, but no charges were filed for lack of evidence. Doesn’t that figure? I checked this area where you can post/read messages and sure enough, a lot of them were bitching about blacks getting excused from all kinds of shit. He still probably would’ve gotten off had he been a poor old nobody. And they expect us to like them? When are the courts gonna quit giving in to them because they had it so rough over a century ago, and when are they gonna quit being afraid to convict them for fear of them rioting? The more you give in to spoiled little brats, the more they take advantage. They need to learn that when they’re guilty of something they need to pay, and if they want to go and beat their heads in the wall over it like two-year-olds, fine.

Later…

I told Tom about my plan to contact Mary and he didn’t have any objections or try to talk me out of it. I still haven’t a guess as to whether or not she’ll write back, but we’ll see.

The good news is that the truck held up, but the bad is that Walmart can’t interview him this week because he can’t cut out of work early tomorrow. They “say” they’ll call him back next week. Monday’s a holiday, and if he doesn’t hear from them by Wednesday, he’ll call them. He still feels confident they’re going to hire him, but you know me, always afraid to get my hopes up. I feel more and more certain we’ll never have money again. Especially since whatever’s up there knows we’ve smartened up and know how to eat/live cheaper. Therefore, I doubt we’ll get another chance. Tom doubts we’ll even get Christmas money at the end of the year because we haven’t been associating with the selfish assholes, and while it’s easy to say they’re not worth it, they are worth the inheritance. If he doesn’t get that, we’ll never get a house for damn sure. Or the doll.

I just feel so hopeless! This may be better than being in jail, but still, it’s bad enough. Why is God so obsessed with me being stuck in places I don’t want to be?!?! I just don’t understand it! I mean, it makes absolutely no sense to me whatsoever. We have enough problems as it is like with the struggling. Can’t we at least have a house with some breathing space to struggle in? I feel so claustrophobic here.

Some other guy Tom works with who’s a little older, applied at Walmart too, but he hasn’t heard anything from them.

Later…

After two months of waiting, I finally got my bags and oils, and of course the Bump & Grind is not Bump & Grind and the Patchouli body oil smells like shit. It’s almost as if it’s minty dirt. I know it’s patchouli, but it sure is a lousy version of it. Even Tom agrees it’s weird. I had told Bob to give me that or HB if the WS didn’t smell any different than the incense oil version. Makes me wonder if the HB would’ve smelled like bleachy dirt! Anyway, whatever the Bump & Grind really is, I don’t know. At least it’s nothing bad, seeing that I paid $12 for it. The “dirty Patchouli” was only $4. I’ll send it to Paula.

I left them a message saying I got the package, the Bump & Grind isn’t Bump & Grind, the Patchouli smells like mint-scented dirt, and to have a good life. Yes, I’m definitely done with them.

Later…

Now here’s something that’s weird. As soon as I put the Bump & Grind in the lamp ring, it started to smell a bit like Bump & Grind. Maybe it’s a heat thing, and that’s why there are two different grades. I guess I just expected them to fuck up since they’ve been doing that so much that I subconsciously assumed it’d be wrong. It’ll be interesting to try a drop of the Patchouli and Angel body oils in the ring and see if it alters their smell.

A lot transpired yesterday afternoon. Let’s just say we’re either in for a major change for the better or we’re about to be so cruelly teased.

First, he couldn’t find his grease gun that he said he left out knowing he’d need it. I get so pissed at him for constantly losing his shit. Even though he has so little now, he still can’t keep track of it. He is so disorganized!

While he was out tearing up the garage in search of the gun, Walmart left a message! Oh, how wonderful it would be if he could work there! The pay may be shitty at first, but they’d do raises, benefits, overtime and discounts. There’s so much opportunity there to be a supervisor or something, and if anyone’s qualified to do that, it’s him. We just hope they don’t tell him that yes, he can have a job, but not till April when the supercenter is open. Then again, somebody’s got to help stock all those shelves. That’s a job that’d certainly take hundreds of people. Just setting up the shelves alone would be quite a task!

My ear has been acting up feeling achy, so I guess it needs to be cleaned. I hope that’s all that’s wrong with it, but the worst that could happen is that I have a big old tumor growing there that’s going to kill me and spare me from a life of struggling and living where I don’t want to live, then getting torn down again when and if we ever did have money and a decent place to live.

If he got hired at Walmart, the easiest thing to do would be to stay here another year, then just move straight from this duplex to someplace in Redding, because Redding would certainly have a Walmart he could transfer to. I still dread staying here, because once again, they’re quiet now, but the stage is laid out for plenty of noise and chaos in the future. Knowing the potential is there and that I always have to worry about trouble moving in just like in apartments and the Phoenix house is stressful. I’m trying not to get my hopes up since things don’t usually go our way, but fate could be setting the stage to lead us to California like Andy set the stage, in a sense, by leading me to Arizona. If the horoscopes are right, then Friday, the day he’s to be interviewed, is not to be a good day. It talked of me looking for solid ground, but having the earth shift on me yet again. His horoscope was more positive, but I don’t really put much stock in these too-generalized things. God either wants us held back indefinitely or to finally move on. I’m sure we’ll get torn down eventually if we do move on, but maybe it’s not time to move on. Maybe this cock firing him will turn out to be a 7-year curse like the Phoenix sickos were.

The current package chase bullshit goes like this: the stupid, incompetent cock who’s really damn unorganized himself, sent it to the old mailing company. My guess is that they’d keep the package for themselves since we stopped going there, or return it to Bob. Naturally, Bob’s blaming Jeff for this screw-up, but no matter who’s to blame, there’s always a problem. Always. Things are being left out, things are being substituted, and now Bob, who said he thought the address looked funny, didn’t realize till later that my address hadn’t been updated on both their computers.

Instead of trashing them in their testimonials, I’m just going to dump them and hope the mailing place doesn’t return the package to them because Bob said he’d resend it if he had to. Well, I think I deserve double of everything, so if the mailing people say they either didn’t get it, or they give it to me by some chance, I’m going to tell Bob I never got it.

It really, really sucks that I’m so, so damn package cursed! I’m going to miss their incense and it’s going to suck not trying SOS, but I guess I’d rather be bummed over missing it than frustrated with the package chase game. I’m not a mail carrier and never will be. Therefore, it shouldn’t be my responsibility to get my own packages delivered to me. I know I’d only be forced to play package games with SOS too, if I ordered from them. They’d either lose the order, lose a loved one or have some other personal crises occur to interfere with things, go on vacation, fuck up the address, fuck up the order, or the mailman would fuck up.

I saw the pics of Janet Jackson exposing herself at the Super Bowl, then read the article where she was claiming it was an accident when Justin Timberlake accidentally “knocked it off.” What a bunch of obvious bullshit! Why would you wear a corset with detachable titties to a place like that in the first place, plus a nipple ring, if you weren’t going to use it and show it off? Plus, Justin was holding the tit cover afterward. If it was an accident, you’d accidentally brush it off and it would fall to the floor, not that all those snaps would “brush off” so easily. She’s such a slut! No better than your average male. I think she did it to take the attention off her equally slutty brother.

Bev’s gonna be out back again soon. I can hear her washer swishing. But she just did laundry last Friday, so how can she already have more to do?

Last night we heard something fall over there. Something wooden. We then heard a bit of hammering.

Not at all surprisingly, I didn’t get the package I should’ve gotten yesterday, so it looks like I’m going to be forced to play mail carrier yet again as is the case with every other package I get. If the package doesn’t come today, there’s no way in hell I’ll order from SOS. There’s no way I’ll order from any site. My days of chasing packages and doing other people’s jobs for them are over. If I can’t find what I want in a person, I just won’t get it.

Today’s Andy’s birthday. He would be 44 years old today. That’s hard to imagine. I wonder if he still looks younger, or if like with me, he caught up with himself. I know that once I hit my 30s, I started looking more my age, but he still looked a bit younger. Better yet, I wonder if his life is the same as Paula’s has been since 1990. Is he still a pothead floating from one hopeless job to another? Is he still alone and lonely with nothing more than an occasional fling that really wasn’t fulfilling in any way? Does he still love to gab on the phone, play the keyboard, and eat non-stop? Is he still even in Arizona? Well, if he’s still wheeling and dealing with the pot, I hope to hell for his sake that he’s still in the habit of getting away with things and that he’s never been caught. If he gets caught, what would be a simple warning and slap on the wrist in most states, will be many months in jail, many months of probation, many hours of community service, many hours of counseling, and many hundreds, if not thousands, of dollars in the state he’s in.

Tom describes my writing as “almost there, but not quite there yet,” and I agree. I’m a good writer and I know it, but I could be better.

Supposedly we have 75 days left here, but I don’t know. I think that once we get into March, I’ll vibe it one way or another as to whether or not we’re going to make it out of here. All I know is that something up there wants me with people and very close to them, too.

Later…

Guess maybe she does have some bright colors over there. Her pink sheets.

I’m a little bummed out today. I’m not in tears or anything like that, but the thought of us not making it out of here in May is depressing. My bedroom/office is right smack in the middle of this damn lot! I’m totally convinced now that there is no ideal place for us to live, and if there is, they’re either places that are too remote, too cold, or too expensive.

I so do miss the warm climates! I miss being able to sleep with nothing on, and I’m sick of having to bundle up, too. At least it keeps things quiet. Never do I see basketball games or people hanging in front of the houses when I look out the front window. Never do they have tons of company or sit in parked cars blasting music. They get in their cars and go. Period. And they don’t make a big production of returning either. They don’t act like they own the neighborhood and they don’t let everyone around them know what they’re up to. The only thing I hear is the dogs across from us that bark whenever people walk by, but they’re only left outside during sunny afternoons. Not 24/7, rain or shine. They’re also nowhere near as loud as the dogs in Phoenix were.

But still… why oh why can’t I have a nice, modest, quiet little house with more privacy in a warmer climate that isn’t a year’s drive to the nearest store?

It pisses me off when I look out to see Bev hanging clothes, not that she doesn’t have the right to do so. It’s just that we came here to look out our windows and see the wilderness and the wildlife, not someone hanging clothes barely 50’ away! Why is it that we get what we didn’t ask for when we set out to do something???

Later…

The truck is acting up, so Tom didn’t get to fill out more job applications. Makes me wonder if it’s to hinder him from finding a better job. Or to keep me from getting out of here this weekend, and that’s exactly what’ll happen if the truck needs parts with the money I was going to spend on the first dolls in 7 months. The only reason we’d go out if not to shop would be to escape the animals if they come around this weekend. Anyway, I’m amazed it took this long to act up, but I figured that’s cuz we’re in the city where it’s not driven as much.

I think my depression is mostly due to the fact that my May-moving vibes are fading. It figures. Nothing ever happens when I want it to, and of course it’s always hard to get out of places I don’t want to be in. I may as well get used to it, though, cuz we may end up here a whole year or more.

Another peaceful Sunday has passed us by. Now we supposedly have 76 days to go here. I’m just glad our only option wasn’t to resort to a Phoenix apartment! They were terrible! Beautiful, but so incredibly noisy with the banging, music and outside activity. I was quite surprised when Tom told me he’s never had a noisy apartment. I think he has but was just oblivious to it all. Some people can tune out background noise. I used to be able to do that when I was on Oswego Street in Springfield, and of course being bombed on Navane made sleep not much of an issue for me then. Now, however, I could never stand to be there, awake or not. I wouldn’t get shit for sleep even with the fan with the floor above me creaking under people’s footsteps, and the outside noise would drive me crazy. Everything changed as far as noise tolerance and sleep ability once I came off the Navane and experienced the NHA.

I could actually hear Beverly talking in her utility area last Friday before he got in with the groceries. I was in the kitchen when I heard a faint voice. I thought she was out on her patio with someone at first, or that it was coming from the other side, but then I realized she was in her utility area, either talking on a cell phone or to herself.

It’s amazing how I can sleep without the fan or the sound machine if it’s really late at night. Sometimes they go back and forth in the middle of the night, but not that often. It’s between 6 PM – 9 PM that they’re most active. I could never have done that in Arizona with all the damn dogs out barking up a storm non-stop, even at night.

I still haven’t received my bags and oils, and I better get them today! One more package chase, just one more, and there’s absolutely no way I’ll order from them again or even from SOS, not to mention how bad I’ll trash and bash them in their testimonials. Assuming it was picked up late Wednesday, there’s no reason I shouldn’t get it today unless he really didn’t mail it or somebody fucked up the address. Thank God I don’t have a store. I can see why Jan was all frantic about not getting the incense a lot sooner than she did.

Tom’s read through about half of my book and says it’s a good story so far. Thanks to him, he caught a few mistakes/discrepancies that I missed. We should be able to submit it by March.

We went to Walmart yesterday shortly after they opened at 7 AM. When they become a supercenter in a couple of months, they’ll be open 24/7. Tom applied for a position using their computer. Job applications have come a long way since the 80s! This was nearly 100 pages long! It asked him questions like, Do you feel employees who steal are rarely caught? Should one be reprimanded for taking too long of a lunch break? Do you consider yourself a loner? And then you respond by saying you either agree or disagree.

Again, I’m quick to say they won’t hire him because it’d be so convenient, they’re likely to have stock options, and then there’s the discount. However, the pay would suck and so would the hours. The hours would be unpredictable, and he’d probably have a hard time getting 40 hours a week.

I got a standard pillow for $2 and change and a body pillow for $8 and change. Because this was a few dollars less than I anticipated, I couldn’t resist taking advantage of a hell of a deal – a $10 majesty palm that’s about my height. I suppose I shouldn’t have bothered with the way we tend to lose things, and with the supposed move coming up, but I just couldn’t help myself. I hope it will live. It seems pretty healthy. From what I read online, the one I had in Maricopa may’ve died because it was too bright, warm and dry there. I know the spider plant sure likes this darker, cooler and wetter climate better. It hardly grew in Arizona, but as soon as we got here, it took off like crazy. I hope the move to Redding, whenever the hell that happens, won’t hinder its growth, but if it does, it does. The desert date palm seems to be the same no matter where it goes.

The only bad thing I read that I have to watch out for is spider mites.

Before I got the palm, we agreed to skip out on pizza or Chinese. We’d have gone out looking at rural neighborhoods and I’d have cranked up my stereo had the animals been over. I even agreed to bump getting a couple of books up two weeks, so I can get Kayla and Lea next week. Yes, another thing I probably shouldn’t get, and that’s two of Barbie’s friends. They have the nicest faces, though, and this particular version of Kayla I want has her in a reddish-pink palm print shirt with a tropical skirt and strappy sandals. What makes the Lea doll I want rare is that not only does she stand flat-footed, but she has defined toes. Yup, the Barbies and her ever-growing slew of friends sure have gotten way more realistic since I was a child. Anyway, Lea’s part of the Cali Girl series, dressed in beachwear.

We both agreed that getting little things a little at a time would be okay since it’s really ridiculous to try to throw a few bucks here and a few bucks there toward Kaori. Kaori’s going to have to come with a large sum of money. If that’s not with the queen’s money or stock money, then I guess it’ll have to wait and come from the sale of whatever house we end up buying. Meanwhile, I’ve come to see that there’s no reason I can’t enjoy little things every now and then, though I doubt I’ll go back to getting the $50-$250 dolls, even though he thinks I will.

Despite the fact that it’s been cloudy and wet, spring has definitely sprung. I wonder how long it’ll be before they wake me up when they go to mow and trim hedges. That’s another thing I don’t miss about the Phoenix apartments. I hated how those mowers and blowers would come right up to my window when I’d be sound asleep! I hope we can not only rent a house but rent one that we can landscape at our own convenience.

Bev continues to be out for 2-3 hours in the early mornings. I still say it’s connected to a new grandkid since I can’t see what shopping she’d need to do for a few hours each day. I just hope that the animals capable of running won’t be here this Sunday! Tom and I made an agreement – no animals, we order a pizza. If the animals do come stampeding in, we go to the Chinese place and then to check out the rural areas on the outskirts of town, since it won’t take us 7 hours to eat.

Because Tom was low on gas (today’s payday), he didn’t go to Walmart yesterday afternoon. Instead, we’re both going to go Sunday morning, and hopefully, despite the fact that I can’t see him working there, he can fill out an application then.

I wish he could get a job that has stock options like BOA did! That’d be pretty much our only hope of getting Kaori before we’re old since I doubt the queen will leave us more than 20 grand if even that much. I want her to die right now so we can at least get a house, but I also want her to live another decade to accumulate more money, providing she doesn’t suck it all up in the end when she finally does drop dead. Guess it’ll depend on how fast she goes. A quick, sudden stroke would be wonderful! The kind Lisa’s father had (Tom’s psycho coworker who’s probably going back to jail for 90 days for possession). Of course, if the compassionless, insensitive bitch lives another 10-15 years, that’s a long time to wait for a house or the doll. The sooner we can buy a house, the sooner we can start saving equity for whenever we feel is the best time to jump into a retirement community.

If I really ever do get a doll, I’ve decided on a 5’ 4” body with a 34B chest, 24 waist, and 36 hips. She takes a size 7 shoe and her dress size is 3-5.

I finished both silent and electronic proofreading of my No Escape book, so this weekend will be when Tom reads it and gives his input.

I had another California dream, but couldn’t tell what year it was, where we were living, or what we were living in.

Later…

Bev’s going to be out any minute, no doubt. I can hear the swishing of her washer when I’m in the kitchen.

Meanwhile, evenings continue to be prime time for the other side, and they’re up all night watching TV and doing God knows what else when they aren’t going back and forth. The daughter’s living room window is directly across from our bathroom, so I can see the flickering of the TV when I go in there at night to pee without bothering to turn on the light.

I spoke with Paula. Despite the fact that I told her to write, she said she was waiting for me to call her. Guess it’s a good thing I did, though I figured she’d have left a message if she hadn’t gotten the package. I’m the one with the package curse anyway, not her.

Anyway, she said she was afraid to use the oil in the light bulb ring. I guess she thought it would catch fire, so I explained to her that it wouldn’t. She’s only burning one incense stick a day, though, and not several like I thought she would. She seems to be going through one bag at a time, starting with the newbies I tried and didn’t like, and the extra Frankincense Bob enclosed.

She mentioned sending $20 a month for CDs, but I told her $5 would be enough. She also seemed delightfully surprised to hear that my last book might’ve made publication had it been longer and more detailed and that the one I just finished may make it because I’m paying attention to those things.

I was once so sure I’d make it as a singer, so I suppose I shouldn’t go jumping the gun. I guess that if God doesn’t allow me to publish a book since it certainly won’t be because of any money I’d be losing, I guess it’d be because He’d feel it was something too special and unique in a good way for Jodi S to accomplish. On the other hand, I never wanted to be an author like I once wanted to be a singer, so I’m not sure what to think. Que sera, sera.

Guess I’ll go tackle Traces of Hope which I began before we left Arizona.

Oh, here comes the Bevster from what I can see. I don’t know if it’s just a winter thing or what, but this chick has not one bright piece of clothing whatsoever. All her clothes are dark and dull. Same goes for her underwear which I could cover our microwave with. At least she’s quiet about it, though.

I’m surprised by how many spiders I’ve been finding in here despite the fact that it’s winter. They’re small, but they’re spiders nonetheless, so I sprayed around the door a bit.

No Romeo yesterday, but she’s been taking off early in the mornings for a while.

Not surprisingly, the search at the Work Connection didn’t look promising. Something is determined as hell to hold us back financially! But why??? And for how long??? Anyway, he’s going to apply at Walmart today. Despite the shitty pay, I doubt God would allow him to work there because we’d get a discount on things and it’d be easy to transfer to a Walmart in Redding. But why would God ever want to make things easier on us? I just don’t understand why life must be such a struggle for us, and when it isn’t as much of a struggle, like how we’re not struggling as much now as we were in the fall, why we must be stuck at a standstill? It sure feels like we’re stuck in a rut anyway. It feels like all our dreams and goals are impossible, with the exception of moving to California. I know we’ll get there someday. It just may take a few more years.

There’s a job opening in Tulelake, California which is 26 miles away, just below the border. He may apply for that. If hired, we could rent a house in that area. That’s Siskiyou County and not Shasta, and I had had a vibe about Siskiyou County when I went through that brochure. The weather wouldn’t be any better than here, though, because Tulelake, which is even smaller than K-Falls, is still at a pretty high elevation. But we’d be 26 miles closer to Redding.

I miss warmer climates so bad! I’m so sick of always being cold. It seems the further into my day I get, the colder I get. Especially my hands. It’s like they turn to ice!

Despite our usual impoverished situation, we’re going to get me new pillows this Saturday. Tom feels I deserve it and I agree. We’ve had to wait on and put off enough shit, and we still could use a lot more shit as it is.

Someday. Someday that queen’s going to step off her throne and into her coffin. It just won’t happen nearly fast enough!

Tom and I discussed various options we may have in the upcoming months. May doesn’t look likely for getting to Redding, though we should still probably be able to rent a house on the outskirts of town here, maybe even with the same property management. All I know is that while this may be peaceful and heavenly compared to Phoenix, it’s bad enough. It’s nerve-wracking because they’re always there. Always, always the neighbors are there. Right there, and I know they could get noisy or that noisy people could move in to spoil the peace.

You never know – if he finds a better-paying job, and the house we rent in May is suitable enough with sufficient breathing space around it, it may be worth putting up with a few more winters to save up a good amount of money to make the move to Redding more comfortable. I know I’ll get my dream of moving to California someday. If I’ve waited this long, I can wait a little longer. If I never got to Arizona, then I’d assume California was just a dream that could never become a reality. But since I was able to get there, why can’t I get to Cali?

When Tom said we may have to rent a condo in Redding before we find a house, I was like no way! When I think of condos, I think of fancy apartments, but apartments, nonetheless. But then he pointed out, however, that the dividing walls would be thick, and that due to it having an owner’s association, there would probably be fines in order for those who were noisy, and no dogs would be allowed. If that were the case, that’d be fine. The dividing wall here is thick enough too, it’s just that due to the place being elevated, it’s not good for things like bass and running kids, like I said before. However, down there in a warmer climate, most structures would be set right on concrete like in Arizona and there wouldn’t be any crawl spaces or cellars.

To be back in a climate that’s warmer, but not outrageously warm like Arizona, and with trees around for privacy, would really be having my cake and eating it, too! Anyplace but here where I feel like sandwich meat with Bev and those on the other side as the bread!

Romeo visited again yesterday. He pretty much does every day. I just don’t always know it when I’m asleep during his normal visiting hours. All I’ve heard over there lately is the thunk of an occasional utility cabinet, but that’s it so far. Nothing that could wake me up. It’s ok, in just 81 days, she’ll be just a memory. I don’t want to send her any funny mail when we move, as much as the thought amuses me, after what happened in Phoenix. We may be the same color and we may be in Oregon, but we may also run into each other in town if we stay here, despite how seldom she goes out. It would be my shit luck to do so, so she could mention the mail in front of Tom and get him all paranoid. Or she’d run to management about it and they’d call Tom. She’s the type to scare easily, so I wouldn’t want her getting all spooked out and running to the pigs so they can all make a mountain out of a molehill like the freeloaders did, and besides, it’s not like I hate her. She’s just someone who gets on my nerves at times.

Romeo stopped by for a visit. I even saw her return with him at one point when I walked up to the living room window. I wonder where they go.

I made my own pillow a couple of nights ago using Chris’s batting. I stuffed it into a pillowcase, then sewed the open end. It’s a lot better than the old flat one I just threw out, and it saves us $5.

I emailed the doll people to ask how hard the dolls would be to move at my height/weight, and the woman replied saying that as a 5’ 10” 200-pound woman, she can only move the smaller dolls (this would be the dolls in the 80-pound range and not 100-pound range). She recommended going to the local grocery store and getting a 50 to 100-pound sack of potatoes to haul around and see how I do. Also, people use pulley systems with the hooks on back of the doll’s necks or wheel them around in wheelchairs or office chairs when they want to move them any distance.

I swear there are times when if I could snap my finger and be a giant, I would. With all the stereotypes out there that believe bigger is stronger, how many of those who have threatened me in any way if I were around 6’ and 200 pounds myself would’ve dared to? Probably not many.

Yesterday, I was a little bummed out. Not depressed like I was in the motels, but a little bummed at the obvious knowledge that there is no ideal place for us to live. We’ve been drifting from one problem place after another for most of our adult lives, so I don’t see why we’d one day suddenly find the ideal place and stay there for 20 years. I think it’s become rather obvious that we’re always going to be moving around, and that the places that are nicer are going to be the ones harder to stay in, for reasons that’ll probably revolve around money like most aspects of our lives do.

Maybe the best way to stop being stuck in places I don’t want to be in is to just stay there. If I just resign to the fact that something wants me living so close to others and just accept it along with any noise it may bring, maybe I’ll be ok. Look how few problems we’ve had since being here which I thoroughly believe is due to us being in our “proper” place, so to speak. If I could just make myself want to be in the city! How easier it would be on both of us.

Bev won’t be hanging clothes today. We’ve got a light dusting of snow out there and it’s pretty cold, too. It was in the low 30s when we went out to the grocery store yesterday to dump the electric bill in their dropbox. When we left, her curtains were open, but they were closed when we returned.

Haven’t seen Romeo in a while. Maybe they broke up, though I doubt that. The animals weren’t over yesterday either, which Tom was pretty sure was due to the Super Bowl being on.

Not surprisingly, mom and daughter had company for the occasion, since they just can’t seem to go anywhere. They even shocked me by gabbing out back for a few minutes during half-time. I was like, in this cold? You gotta be kidding! I did hear some chick go, “It’s cold out here!” and then all went silent. They only go back and forth once or twice around lunchtime, but in the evenings, it’s back and forth and back and forth. I’m so glad we only have 83 days left here, though I’m also worried that that’s not enough time to gather up enough money to move with. I’m so fucking sick of being stuck in places I don’t want to be! What is it with me being stuck living so close to others? Is something telling me to stay here and that it wants me to live like this? It sure makes me think that’s the case. Why can’t we just have a house where we don’t have to know what’s going on with our neighbors and stay there for 20 years? Is that really too big of a request? Why can’t we have neighbors who work and who go elsewhere every now and then for holidays and other events? I know whatever house we end up in, there’ll be someone home all the time, lots of little kids, and of course dogs. We may’ve only had two houses, but that’s all we’ve ever gotten so far large, rowdy families with barking dogs.

Anyway, what bothers me about these neighbors here being outside isn’t so much that they’re noisy (yet), but that they steal my sense of privacy. It’s like having someone hanging out on your doorstep. They’re literally right there and it annoys me. It feels intrusive having someone just outside your place.

I just heard a few thumps coming from Beverly’s utility area when I went out to fix some tea, and the doors on the other side slammed a couple of times when I got back in my room. That should pretty much be it until lunchtime, then the evening.

I’m surprised Bev’s gone this long without the animals and the bass, but if she’s like most people, she’ll return to the bass at some point. After a while, people either think you forgot or you just don’t care anymore or they stop caring whether or not you care. While Bev’s no lazy freeloader who couldn't care less about anyone other than themselves, because she’s honored my request, I’d say she wants to stick around a while longer. It’s those who are on their way out that tend to care less if they make waves with those around them. I definitely don’t want any of these neighbors to move, knowing they could be replaced with screaming kids and barking dogs. I already feel bad for Bev as it is, knowing she’s in for a 90% chance of getting that when we leave, along with loud music. Or bassy music, I should say. Bev’s music was never loud in volume, just in the bass.

Bev’s back to hanging clothes. I just hope to hell those animals don’t show up today! I also hope that in 84 days from now, she’ll be just a memory, right along with this otherwise nice duplex. God, I hope so! But do I get down on my knees and pray to a God who didn’t care that we lost our Maricopa house and our land here? I don’t think so. Instead, I’ll just hope for the best and let fate take care of itself because that’s about all I can do anyway. Finding a place isn’t the issue, it’s coming up with the money that’s the issue. Always, always money’s an issue for us. Always. He talks like we’ll have about $50 extra bucks a month after we move and get settled, but I know this is just a dream. Oh, sometimes we’ll have that, but most times, no.

I just worry that Redding may be a bit noisy with its warmer climate. If it does seem like it may be, then I guess we’ll stay here till we can retire in Eureka. I’d be willing to trade this cold in for some noise, though. If I had to go back to hearing every dog barking within a 5-mile radius, then no, but maybe I’d take a little noise. I just hope we can find a happy medium that’s between living way out on another planet and in the city. One not so far out that you get sonic booms, off-road vehicles, and hunters, but not where your nearest neighbor is just a few feet away either.

I’ve learned that climates/temperatures don’t so much have to do with how far north/south you are, but more with elevation. Redding is 557’ above sea level and this place is 4340’.

I got a letter from Bob. He’s still having sick spells where breathing gets very hard, medical is giving him the runaround, and he did get my story. Being your typical male, however, he says to sex it up, and as I told him, I’m a romantic-suspense writer with gay characters, not a porn writer.

He suggested some places in rural California like El Cajon or Lemon Grove and that Tom could get work at Convair General Dynamics in San Diego very easily cuz if they would hire stupid him, they’ll hire him, a man of intelligence. I don’t know how he knows about these places. He’s never said anything about being out west before, though his father lived in NV. Maybe Convair General is nationwide? I’ll tell him, though, that we want to stick to northern California cuz it’s cheaper and less crowded.

I don’t like this. Bev backed in her car as if she were unloading groceries and now she’s gone again. Not to fetch and feed the animals, I hope!

I’m surprised I’m still 125 pounds. I don’t think it’s fat loss from lack of food so much as it’s water loss from drinking more tea.

Bev’s back. She’s backed in again too, so I guess she’s either picking stuff up or bringing stuff elsewhere. I hope she’s not moving, though I doubt it. Wrong time of year. Besides, she’s the type who would hire movers to move her. She wouldn’t go hauling stuff away by herself in her car.

Well, they may not always leave their dogs outside 24/7 here, but they sure do leave their cats out. Mom and daughter’s Siamese cat tried to get in here the other day when Tom was going to work because the poor thing was so cold. I see it in the backyard from time to time trying to catch birds.

A part of me is beginning to wonder if Beverly hasn’t been hanging out clothes in the last couple of weeks because she’s afraid I’ll come running out to either complain on her or to try to sell her something. It amuses me to think that this could be a possibility. I kind of hope it is because then I won’t have to worry about her slamming her door too hard and waking me up. I doubt she would, but it’d be one less possibility weighing on my mind for when I’m sleeping during the daytime. I have mom and daughter at my feet as it is, so I don’t need Bev at my head, too.

I’ve adjusted the schedule of my money-saving diet. I’m going to take weekends off like he does and nearly starve throughout the week. That way I don’t have to pressure myself into finishing up my goodies in just one day. It’s nice to have more than one day off. Also, I’d have to do the diet 3 days in a row after Friday’s day off, so I may as well make it 5.

I was pissed because I lost some Webshots pictures yesterday. I accidentally deleted some, forgetting that when I download their pictures into their desktop software, it doesn’t make a copy in my file folder. It’s no biggie, though, because I can redownload them. I just won’t be able to get the premium pictures until I’m a premium member again, and I can only download 5 non-premiums a day. What was funny was how I emailed them asking how to export them into my own personal folder (it took me a while to figure out how to do it because it’s done differently with the newer software) and they replied saying their pictures could only be used in their software and you cannot export them. If it weren’t for my wanting to be a member again someday, I’d email them back saying, “Yes you can. It took me a while to figure out how to do it, but yes you can.” Besides, I wouldn’t want them to know it can be done or else they’ll clamp more security measures down on them, and member or not, I want to export into my own folders as well. I doubt they’ll catch on that easily. Most people are too dumb to figure out how to do it. Like I said, it took me hours as it was.

No fucking way! I will not spot a whole 12 days before my period! Why can’t I bleed when I’m scheduled to?!

Tom went to the Work Connection and found a few potential possibilities. He asked me which ones I had vibes on and I told him I felt more promise about the customer service jobs than janitorial. He’s going to go for interviews soon.

Meanwhile, I was surprised to awake at 125 pounds after I’ve been slacking off on both diet and exercise.

I’m going to cut my letters to Bob to every other week instead of weekly. I just never know if the golden oldie is alive to get them!