Before I get to Mary, Tom came home at his usual time after his usual 10-hour shift, totally exhausted. Too exhausted to gather numbers in local parks for homes that are for sale by owner/parks, which aren’t usually listed online. Oh, but nothing up there is trying to hold us back, right? God just LOVES us, right? He doesn’t want to see us living in someone else’s trashy trailer, and if I just dropped to my knees and asked to get out of here, He’d be quick to help push things along, right? Right? He didn’t mean for things to take so damn long any more than he meant for my mother to abuse me or for me to be legally screwed by my own perps, right? He’s oh so sorry He let all that happen.

rolls eyes In reality, Tom’s blood sugar was really low, so he found when he got home, and all he wanted to do was eat and go to bed. But after eating he felt a million times better. He suspects he had too many sugary snacks at work and didn’t eat enough real food, so he’ll make sure to grab something to eat on the way to do his park homework. Then whatever’s up there can interfere and delay things in other ways.

Today’s bank day. He’s going to see if he can qualify for a loan since he’s the one who’s 55 and therefore the one that needs to do this. The question is whether or not they do manufactured home loans in this area. If not, can he qualify for a personal loan? That’d be the next step. It may take a week before we find out.

I just wish he’d see about working just 8 hours a day. I understand that $21 an hour may make him more motivated, but his health is what’s more important. Besides, we can’t accomplish much if he’s always working or sleeping. Our total worth is over 20K and that’s for people who don’t own a place. Money’s nice, but we don’t really need any more at this time. We could live off our savings for a year.

But I’m getting fed up with all the delays, and if we don’t give notice next month, I’m either giving up or giving into another shitbox like this in a dumpier park that’ll take anyone. I’m tired of this shit month after month, but I’m not going to let whatever’s messing with our mission to find a home of our own win!

Got up this morning and checked in with Andy on Ask, then Nane on FB, who had me laughing my ass off (in a good way). I called her a maravilloso friend (marvelous) and she thought I was calling her a mariposa friend (butterfly). So I woke up to her laughing about being a Schmetterling friend, ROTFL. That one’s almost as funny as me accidentally putting the yellow in the wallet (gelb) instead of the money (geld) when I was studying on LM and she corrected one of my exercises.

So about Mary – I don’t know what the hell is going on, but thanks to Alison, I now know she didn’t deactivate her account, she blocked me. But why??? I really wish those who no longer want to be friends with me on FB would just unfriend me and leave it at that instead of blocking me because that only jeopardizes my account. I would think it would anyway. This is totally not like Mary. Not at all like the woman who always said I was like the sister she never had and how she’d never dump me. We were getting along fine, so what happened? Regardless of why she decided to kick me out of her life (though why send an invite from LinkedIn if she really did?) she could’ve at least told me what was going on.

Despite Mary’s odd behavior, I don’t feel betrayed. I still think something came up that has nothing to do with me and that I’ll eventually find out what it is. I messaged her victim’s advocacy page and emailed her, so we’ll see. Meanwhile, she’s an adult who has to do what she has to do.

Someone in Grand Prairie, TX has literally spent hours in my OD blog for days now, along with someone in Fountain Hills, AZ. It’s amazing! Lots of Arizona viewers on OD. I wondered if this was cause for concern, but if it were anyone connected to the blacks, why view that blog and not my others?

Still getting hits on my jail entries from various states, and lately there have been three from Glendale, AZ. Again, I wonder if it’s anything to worry about, and again I doubt it. I think they just Googled the jail. If anything about those entries could get me in trouble, why haven’t they already?

Again I have to remind myself I really do have the right to express myself. My rights were only violated because I didn’t know how to defend myself and my naivety to the law was taken advantage of. There was also a black person with friends in high places involved. But that was then and this is now.

This is going to be another quick update only because there just isn’t really anything to update on other than Mary’s disappearance. She deactivated on Facebook and deleted her blogs. I figured she was just having a bad day or maybe some idiot was bullying her and not that she dumped me and others as well. Then I got an email saying she wanted to connect with me on LinkedIn, only I don’t use my account there. I only created it because I wanted to get a hold of a member there that I couldn’t find on FB.

I don’t know why it annoys me so much, but the creating and deleting of accounts gets on my nerves because it makes it hard for me to keep up with people. Now I have to allow for friend requests on FB from everyone when I would prefer to limit it to friends of friends, so Mary can add me from whatever new account she creates. Why can’t people just stick to ONE account only on sites?! Each account does the same thing, so why isn’t one enough? I can see if you’re being stalked or your account was compromised, but this seems to be a very common practice.

Anyway, I’m sure Mary must have her reasons for deactivating.

Still no Molly. Even Kim’s gone silent on Ask, though I’m sure she’ll be back soon enough.

I forgot to say that Molly’s mother sent Alison a couple of messages saying Molly’s “happy and healthy” but still not allowed online, then she immediately blocked her afterward, WTF? Why does she think she gives a shit? As long as we’re left alone, we don’t care how she’s doing.

It’s going to be 90° today and Tom and I are just hanging out doing this and that and thinking about getting out of here. The big question I have is can we go 60 days or less in this place without anything breaking?

The night before last I dreamt I was in a large crowded room with Nane. I pointed in front of us and said “Pferde.” That means horses.

Last night, however, I was at both our old houses in Arizona, only I was outside of the Maricopa one. The Phoenix one’s floor creaked as I walked on it, even though it wouldn’t in real life. It’s on a slab foundation. There were also these decorative tiles in the bathroom that I remembered that were never really there.

Later…

Something Tom said earlier only reminded me just how wonderful he truly is. I was commenting on how hard he’s worked and how helpless I still feel at times with my limitations and all that, and he was quick to point out that I do help a lot by not only taking care of things around here, but by winning us enough money to get out of the motels like I did that was sucking every last dime out of us. And a reliable car to drive as well.

What a great guy he is to focus on my strengths and not my weaknesses! To anyone else, my winning us out of the motels would be history. Just a long-ago memory. They’d say something like, “That was years ago, today is today!” Instead of seeing what I can do and how I can contribute, they would only see what I couldn’t do. It’s sad, but true that when most people consider a new friend, lover or roommate, they see only what they can contribute and how their lives could possibly benefit by having them around. If they have to give more than they can take, they don’t want anything to do with you. So what if you may be a sweet person who’s loads of fun to be around. If you can’t contribute “fairly” then none of it matters, even if it’s not your fault that you can’t and no matter how much you wish you could give more than you can.

This is one way to know who truly cares about us, though, is when we just can’t give or do enough for those who expect us to give equally if not more.

Sorry I didn’t finish up yesterday with our new plans. I was both too busy and too tired to post the entry, though I did get most of it written.

After Friday’s disappointment, I only went online long enough to break the bad news, then slipped into bed. It was not only the end of my day, but I try to avoid others when I’m down so as not to bring them down too, or give them the wrong idea. I understand how easy this would be to do even when we don’t mean to. Whenever something or someone gets us angry or sad, only we can really know the full story and how we truly feel about it. So if you’re not one of the ones to actually experience the situation, it’s only natural to find yourself jumping to conclusions that are probably false. Not knowing the full story is like trying to grasp flies in the dark and this can cause one to jump to conclusions that only pisses an upset person off even more. Not that I expected anyone to jump the gun and piss me off, but I was just too bummed out to do much writing and explaining at the time, and wanted to wait until I had a full night’s sleep.

I don’t know why, but sometimes when I lose out on something it can make me feel like a loser overall, even if it wasn’t my fault or anything I had any control over. Things that had absolutely nothing to do with house hunting ate at me, like my sleep disorder, driving phobia, weight… everything.

You’re such a loser, I told myself, wondering if I actually deserved my mother’s abuse even though that logical side of me still said this wasn’t true. Fuck the doctors and all the online medical reports that say there’s no cure for your problem! I told myself. If all you get is 2-3 hours of sleep before you have to get up for work, tough shit! Get up, get in a car like everyone else in the world, and go to work at the first job that’ll hire you cuz working at home isn’t “real life.” And don’t quit at retirement age. Quit when you’re simply too old to work anymore. All fears, phobias, and medical conditions can be conquered, right? So if you want to be a foot taller, then so be it! Even the paralyzed could get up out of their wheelchairs and walk if they really, really wanted to, correct?

Yeah, right. The nap I had to take yesterday from the exhaustion from staying up 18-20 hours a day for many days to push my schedule around for our waste of time house viewing was a reminder that we all have our various limitations, like it or not. Whatever’s up there may have me on a tight little leash in many ways, but it can’t keep us here forever.

Before I get to our new plan (details won’t be made public), while it still sucks that we didn’t get the Newcastle house, there were some negatives besides all the damn spiders. We know we couldn’t have gotten high-speed internet, even if it wouldn’t have been as slow as this, and the hilly terrain would’ve made bike riding horrible. And where would I ride to? Other than the pool and clubhouse, there are no stores or restaurants nearby to ride to with or without Tom anymore than there is here. There was nothing but farmland all around this park. So while it’s still a bummer that we didn’t get it, it wouldn’t have been perfect. Just close to it.

Unless God strikes us dead with a bolt of lightning, the new game plan should simply be a matter of doing it just like doing the laundry is simply a matter of me throwing the clothes in the washer. But either way, we’re giving notice by June 1st, no ands, ifs or buts. Like I said earlier, I realized we’re not going to be able to casually breeze on out of this place. We’re going to have to go crashing out head first. I don’t know why it’s so damn important to God or whatever the hell’s up there that I be stuck in places I don’t want to be in, but it’s been that way for the most part since I was 15 years old where I practically had to fight tooth and nail to get out. This is nothing new. Makes me wonder if I burned people’s dream homes in a previous life or something. But we WILL escape the Jes pest and his mutts!

Ok, so next week will be spent going to all the parks in the area and getting numbers for homes for sale by owner or by the park. I’ll take anything. Really. Even another small old dumpy single-wide would be ok because it will at least be ours. Tom still thinks we can get a decent doublewide, though.

Also, by Thursday of next week, we should know what our new credit score is. Once we know the numbers we can then talk to our bank about either a personal loan or a manufactured home loan, which they definitely do because Tom checked into it.

If by week 2, beginning on the 6th, the bank turns us down, then we continue with week 1’s tasks. If we’re approved, however, then we pick out a place in our favorite park and see if the park will accept us.

By week 3, if we’re still not able to get a place, we call the realtor, tell her what we want and see if she can find us anything. If the parks won’t take us, then by week 4 we’ll have to pay the Oregon scammers we’re still trying to dispute. It may be our only way in and we may also have to get a place we can afford to buy outright. That’s no biggy, though. We’ve seen enough decent places starting as low as 10K. Either way, the Jes pest is less than 35 days away from bad news!

I never thought that receiving eight thousand dollars could end up being such a bummer of a day for me. That, combined with our savings, now leaves us with an unbelievable amount of money that neither of us could ever have foreseen.

Our would-be death date was October 1, 2011. By the 3rd our bodies would have been discovered. Had someone told us that a miracle would happen on September 27, 2011, and that in less than two years we’d have the amount of money we now have, I’d have an easier time believing I’d lose both parents, a sibling and a foster parent in the same year. Really, I’d have laughed my ass off.

But what happened yesterday was anything but funny.

After depositing the check in the bank and signing forms that I dropped in the mailbox for Walter, who worked so long and hard to bleed as much money as he could from the assholes that were my parents at least biology-wise, we headed for the park.

The park is made up of 3 tiers of homes on steep hillsides. There are a few lakes scattered about in the center of the park by the pool and clubhouse. Upon first entering the park, I wasn’t that impressed. It’s like Tom said, some of it was dumpy, some of it was nice. Most of the homes were dumpy or just there. It was warm at the time, so some of the old folks were out sitting in front of their places, and not one of them failed to wave as we passed by, LOL. That’s just a small rural town for you, I guess. It wouldn’t surprise me if they were all lined up with cakes and other treats to welcome their newcomers, even those in wheelchairs.

Although nothing overly nice or fancy, I knew I wouldn’t mind a lakeside house even if that meant having neighbors beyond close to me, but nothing there was for sale. It would probably be a bit outrageous if they were there, but maybe not. One of the lakeside houses that had its carport on the other side of the lake and alongside the road like most of them seemed to, was chock full of piles of junk. Mostly old furniture. I was a bit surprised that the park would allow for that kind of an eyesore. It definitely wasn’t as nice, overall, as Lakeview Village.

Because I’m a writer and because I sometimes sleep during the daytime, it’s important to me to get the quietest place we can. A place that isn’t sandwiched in by other places would be especially nice. Well, as soon as we saw the house for sale up at the top tier I was like OMG! The location was the most ideal and by far the best we’d seen as of yet. It was almost as secluded as this place, only people can drive by it. I’m not going to get into it much since it’s not going to be ours, but somehow I knew the bastard above wouldn’t be that nice to let us have something that ideal. Hey, if God could sit back and allow my parents to abuse me, why would He let us have the perfect home? It wasn’t 100% perfect, but it was pretty close, even though it went against everything the few dreams I’ve had hinted at. The house wasn’t in the 1400s square footage-wise, it wasn’t blue or tan, it wasn’t built in 1988, and it wasn’t in Citrus Heights, which I always guessed the dream with all the citrus trees might’ve been representing. The house number also had a 4 in it, a very unlucky number, which I was quick to point out and remind Tom of as we walked around the outside of the place waiting for the realtor. We got there before she did because the bank didn’t take as long as we thought it would.

One of its biggest negatives was all the spiders. I’ve never seen so many damn spiders and webs and even some beehives were present, too. Something about the area attracted them (the lakes?) I don’t know why I’m creeped out by spiders and their sticky webs for one who has no problem with rats, mice and snakes, but I hate ‘em all.

Standing in the carport and looking up, the roof of the carport seemed miles above my head since the home is raised. I loved how carports ran alongside both sides because that would help with keeping it cooler. Plus, you can leave windows open without worrying about rain getting in, not that it rains much here.

So finally she (Christine) pulls up. “How long have you been here?” she asked.

Why are all you realtors blond? I wanted to ask, but instead we politely smiled and said, “Not long.”

“I will tell you up front,” she began as she fumbled for the key to the door, leaving me standing just a few steps below her surrounded by enough spiders and webs for a horror movie, “that an offer was made on the house I showed some man last night and it was accepted.

While I looked at Tom and thought, I told you so, I mumbled, “Aw, that’s too bad.”

Finally, we were inside the house. Most people would consider it small, but to me, it was rather monstrous after being cramped into this tiny 500-square-foot dump with 7’ ceilings that even seem low to little gymnast-sized me. It felt good to be in a real house. A real, honest-to-God house with standard 2x4 construction and 8’ ceilings, etc. Trailers with flimsy walls and tin roofs get so cold and so warm so easily, but the fact that it was pleasant in there at 5pm was proof enough of it being built like a real house. Just a house on a steel frame. I was surprised it was a ’77 model, though. It really seemed more like the early '80s. I loved it. There wasn’t much about it I didn’t like. Even the paneling wasn’t bad cuz it was so light. I didn’t like the kitchen wallpaper one bit, but that could’ve been changed.

Then she made some bogus excuse about not being able to get a hold of us in time to cancel the showing which was bullshit, of course, since they want you to hire them to help you find what you want.

You could’ve done your sales pitch by phone, bitch, I thought, but in reality, we just might hire her at some point. Meanwhile, we’re on as a backup if the guy that bought it doesn’t come through. In other words, if he’s hit by a meteorite or abducted by aliens, then we can maybe have it. For now, Christine and whatever’s up there that’s hell-bent on trying to stop us from moving and that thinks this is all we deserve, can go take a 450-degree dildo, shove it up their asses and sit on it. Here’s this near-perfect little house that has been for sale for months and it HAPPENS to sell just HOURS before I get my money? That is NOT a fucking coincidence!

So, back out in Spider Kingdom we went, me on the verge of tears as we made our way to our car. I wanted to give up, but a bigger part of me wanted to take anything. Yes, anything. The first thing we could get as even a carbon copy of this place would be better than staying here because it would at least be ours.

What if the fact that I haven’t gotten more clues in my dreams really means there’s no house to go to? I wondered. Even Andy’s beginning to believe my God curse. Yes, I do know a thing or two about that just like with the reverse discrimination thing and the favoring of non-whites. His friend may be weird, crazy and a lot of things, but she isn’t dumb. I made sure of that years ago when I actually WAS dumb and realized that what we don’t know really can hurt us.

This entry is getting long, so I’ll cover our new game plan in my next entry.

Today’s the day we’ll both be seeing the house. But am I going to see just any house or a house that’s to be ours??? I really hope I’m as impressed as Tom was and that this is it! Especially since whoever was staying with Jesse has apparently left now that the dogs are back to their barking sprees. It’s bad enough being cramped in this old dive, hoping nothing breaks before we can get out, but now I have to listen to the barking again on top of the saws, hammers and loud vehicles. The saws and hammers have tapered off a bit, though. It’s getting a little late in the year for that to be a regular thing. Scattered daytime barking fits are one thing as Jesse comes and goes and comes and goes, but now I’m going to have to deal with the 7pm – 3am barking fits as well when the Jes pest goes out to screw some crab-infested hooker on weekends. I better put back the sound machines I removed from the bathroom and kitchen. sighs I knew it wouldn’t last forever, though. As they say, all good things come to an end.

I just hope we get moved soon! I’m excited about seeing the house but trying not to get too hopeful. Worst-case scenario, we can’t get a loan and we have to buy a cheaper one outright and pay the scammers off so the park will accept us.

Just being able to once again use the decorative faceplates and maybe some of the curtains we bought for our Arizona house in our new house is a pretty wonderful and emotional thought. They’ve been packed away for years, never again to be used, or so I thought. The losing of our house/land will still always be a sad memory for me, though, just like what happened in the fall of 2011 and at the motel will always be a scary one.

“God punishes us for the sins of our forefathers,” someone once told me. Well, then that’s even more reason to believe that God is evil and vengeful if one exists and that was true. What “good” God would make someone pay for someone else’s wrongdoings? And who would pay for mine since I have no offspring for any God to take it out on?

Punished for our forefathers or not, I worried for a minute yesterday that something was going to make going to see the house later on today a bit of a challenge, and maybe even not possible. The alternator went out on the car, so Tom had to run up and get a new one, which he installed himself in an hour. While it was a pain in the ass for him and $150 may be a lot of money in itself, I’m just glad it doesn’t even put a dent in our savings. These kinds of unexpected expenses used to leave us flat broke, so I really, really appreciate not having to struggle till the next paycheck because of it… until we are poor once again.

I will be going to see the house tomorrow at 5pm. My money should arrive tomorrow, too. I really hope this is it! Tom couldn’t figure out why the place hasn’t sold yet since it’s been so, so incredibly well maintained over the years and seems so ideal in so many ways. He said the only thing he thought might be keeping it from selling was due to it being smaller and older and on the upper tier of the park. You can’t see the lake from it at all. There’s too much brush in the way even though the roof of the house on the second to last tier is below the house’s floor.

But then Tom learned more info about the house, info the realtor didn’t have the first time they met and that hasn’t been online. Its roof is less than 10 years old, its AC is less than a year old, and the plumbing was redone recently as well.

It sounds almost too good to be true. Not that it isn’t true, but something I worry we could never get lucky enough to get. And at what additional cost would we get it at if we did? Would shit break like crazy like it did with our brand-new home in 1999? At least it’s already been lived in, so if there were any problems, they’d have caught and fixed them beforehand.

I’m hoping that the lack of dreams about moving into a place will be made up with a “yes or no” dream after I see it. After we saw this place and I was starting to fall asleep that night in our Sacramento motel room, I saw a sparkling bouquet of flowers in these woods in my dreams and knew for sure we were in. Of course, this is all provided we don’t learn something we don’t like or that it doesn’t sell first.

We were worried about having the same shitty Internet and cell service there since it too, is another rural town, but the wires are underground there, unlike here. That would make a faster, more reliable connection more likely, whereas here the wires are raised and trees and wind can bend them. So we should be able to get decent enough service even if it’s not the best. Anything’s gotta be better than this shit anyway.

The only dream I remember last night was a B&E dream. Only a stranger didn’t do the B&E. We did. We were living attached to a father and his 10-year-old son. They were very quiet, though, mostly due to having super thick walls between our place and theirs. I don’t know why in the world we felt compelled to break into their side, but we did. Tom was fiddling with some electronics when I glanced at a wall clock and saw we’d been there for 25 minutes. I then told Tom, who had started to relax in a recliner and watch TV that we should leave. So we did. Out on the street, we saw the son walking up the sidewalk on his way home from school, and I wondered if he saw us exit his place.

Tom was disappointed to learn that his “raise” was a measly 35¢, so now he’s at something like $14.05 an hour. We compared our savings to what it was a year ago, and OMG! It’s amazing that we could save 10K without even trying and while living in a somewhat expensive place. We’ve done nothing to cut back on our outrageous grocery bills and we still buy fun things fairly regularly. It’s still kind of sad that he had to slave his ass off and work a lot of OT to get it while others are showered with free money and gifts for nothing, but that’s just life. I just wish I was in a position to work outside of home too, and know I would appreciate whatever I could get just like anyone else would. Then again, maybe not quite like anyone else. Due to all the work-at-home bashers I took it to mean most people were big on working “normal” jobs, but then Andy pointed out that most people don’t want to work. I asked Tom and he agreed. Ok, now let me get this straight… you mean they have a problem with those of us that work at home, but THEY don’t want to work at all? WTF???

The rats were funny this morning, stealing and hiding scissors on me when I went to pee. I had placed them down after cutting up some cardboard with it while they were out playing.

Yesterday Kim asked where did I go? Wonder how many days she’ll keep asking things.

It’s nice having temps in the 80s, but I wonder if after having two dry winters in a row if this is the way it’s going to always be. Hell, we had more rain during some of the monsoon seasons down in Arizona than we’ve had here during the last two winters.

It’s even nicer to know my money is on the way, even though Andy thinks I said it’d arrive last week. Last week Walter said it’d be sent by Monday. Well, yesterday was Monday. The number of things people are forgetting (not just him) or that I either was sure that they knew or had read in my journal after they would mention reading it, is getting to be kind of annoying. It’s frustrating when someone says, “I read today’s journal entry. By the way, did you work out today?” Meanwhile, I specifically said I did in the entry. So if they read it, then why would they need to ask that? We can’t remember every little thing. Even I’ve become a bit forgetful between growing older and having much more to keep track of than I did years ago, but still. Why are so many people asking about things I know damn well I told them or that they should know? I’m sure half the people who read this will ask me in a few days if the money is on its way yet.

Tom’s going to call the realtor today from work and see if I can see the place this week if it doesn’t sell before then. I probably won’t have my money till Thursday, so we can’t make any offers till then anyway. Also, we wonder if the net and cell phone service may be just as bad there as it is here. That’s something we’ll need to check out.

I have a backache today and am super hungry today as well. Once or twice a month I have days where nothing fills me up. I’ve only been up a few hours and have already had a small meal, a protein bar, a small smoothie and a snack, but I’m still hungry. So now I’m making chicken and garlic spring rolls. If this doesn’t stop the hunger, then I’ll have a big bowl of clam chowder.

Tammy said they couldn’t draw fluid from her lungs because it could puncture them, but I was thrilled to learn the transplant is “down the road.” This gives me hope that the dream I had of her dying really only meant there was trouble ahead for her. The transplant wouldn’t be “down the road” if she were critical, so maybe she won’t even need it at all if they just figure out the proper medication for her. She actually sounded quite good this last time around. Not great, but much better. I’m just glad that as rough as it may be for her for a while she’ll be ok in the end. I was really worried about her before. I don’t know that she’ll ever be able to work again, though.

I just hope she and Paula know and understand that I’m not going to have the time (or the desire) to sit and gab by phone for an hour or two most days. That’s not only not my thing, but I’m going to be returning to writing full-time, and also trying my hand at sweeping once again to see if I can win like I used to. I doubt it, though, with all the competition out there these days. I will also be out and about doing things I was unable to do here.

Although I’ve seen them before, I stumbled upon some photos from the holocaust when I was bored yesterday and went aimlessly clicking away. Once again I was not only thoroughly convinced that God is NOT good, but wondered how the hell so many people could think He is. Good Gods don’t let so many innocent people be slaughtered like cows.

One scene in particular that will haunt me forever is that of a child dying in the streets of Warsaw. As he lay there starving, people walked around him as if he didn’t even exist. Could not only God be so cold, heartless and without a conscience, but could so many fellow human beings be as well? Were there and are there still people in the world that could starve, torture and kill millions of people? No group has had it as bad as the Jews. The gays may never have a full bag of rights, but at least 6 million of them weren’t gathered up, while God sat back and allowed it to happen, and then killed like animals. Funny, though, how so many people are quick to deny the holocaust, but no one ever denied slavery.

Some people believe that there was once a God, but that shortly after He created the world He abandoned it for some reason. Could very well be too, when you consider the atrocities and injustices of the world, not to mention the fact that prayer has never worked for me (and many others), and when it seemed to it was probably just a coincidence.

I still think what I’ve thought for most of my life; that there’s either no God or a bad God. I’m just not sure which one it is. Guess we may never for sure. There’s no scientific proof that God exists or doesn’t exist. I guess we all have to do what we have to do when times get rough. For some, it’s telling themselves that a good God exists that loves everybody equally and that grants people their wishes. For others, it’s a nice long hot soak in a scented bubble bath. For me it’s Tom, good friends and family, my pets, writing and listening to music.

This week could be a real turning point for us. Gott, ich hoffe! This week I should get my money and see the house we’ve had our sights set on as long as it hasn’t sold. Once we’re able to make an offer on this house or another house, it begins the real test of just how hard it will be to get into one of these places. There are dumpy parks that will take anyone, but we’d really not have to settle and go from one dump to another. I’d still rather have our own dump than someone else’s dump, but I’m really quite sick of dumps altogether! Like it or not something up there has clearly been against us owning for quite some time now, and this will tell us just how much it may still be against us depending on how many more delays and obstacles we come up against. We may not actually know the full story till next week because the park, realtor and loan people aren’t going to give us an answer the instant we make an offer or fill out loan and park apps.

Even though it didn’t look like this place in last night’s dream (it never does), I was cleaning the stainless steel sink in what I knew was this place in preparation to move. Not that I intend to clean shit since that’s what deposits are for, but these types of “preparation” dreams are picking up and that could be a good sign, even if I can’t see where we’re going.

I’ll be sure not to mention the rest of this post in public, but I give up on Christiane. I messaged her yesterday curious to see if she could still see my updates after all the changes going on on FB. The message was seen within seconds but ignored. A few hours later I messaged her again asking if she felt like chatting. Moments later it was seen but not replied to. So… I give up on her. Nothing against her or anything like that as I realize you can’t make people be friendly, but it’s so, so typical hottie. If she were ugly or crazy or both she’d never leave me alone.

It has gotten me to see just how close Nane and I are, and I told her this, too. In the end, she’s the one that ended up really caring. More than Maliheh and more than a lot of people.

Had a dream Aly and I met and she seemed more like 2-3 inches taller than me instead of just one. I wondered if she grew or I shrunk, LOL.

Now I’m back to thinking that no, Molly isn’t smarter than I thought, and yes, she really is the dumb shit I always thought she was, and yes, she really was asked the same questions by Kim. They had stopped just like magic once Molly’s group home kicked her offline, so I thought she had pretended to be Kim and asked us both the same questions to look less obvious.

But now the questions are back, some well written and asking how my weekend went, others poorly written and asking, “is you bored with this site?”

Kim’s different personalities?

Either way, I haven’t answered any of them. It’s interesting to see what comes in, though, and how long it’ll take her before she gives up hope of any answers. I think she’d know it, though, if I did answer because I think she has an account of her own and is just making sure to keep the ‘ask anonymously’ box checked when asking me “questions.” So she would not only be notified if I answer but is probably following me and watching to see if the number of answered questions goes up.

Not everyone will believe this, but I’m going to write about it anyway. My ticket “rigging” ability may be back! Yesterday was an exciting day for that. Back when we lived in Maricopa I was influencing and willing scratch tickets to win like crazy. I knew which ones would win before we even scratched them off. About every 3 out of 4 tickets we’d get would win. Most were small wins, with a few $50 and $100 winners mixed in, but even the small ones added up. I was easily winning us $100 or more a month. But then one day it all stopped for seemingly no reason at all. I couldn’t make them win in Oregon, I couldn’t make them win in Cali… until yesterday.

He went to buy 2 tickets, but the machine said he still had credit, so he got 2 more. When he brought them home and laid them out on the counter, I felt that familiar surge within me. That strange sense of knowing. I placed my palms on them and instantly knew the crossword one was a winner. It was. I touched the remaining 3 and said, “This one’s a winner.” It was. I touched the last two. “Losers,” I declared, not sensing any excitement or “energy” from those tickets. Sure enough, they were losers.

Neither of us thought this was a coincidence. If I’d guessed 1 of the tickets correctly instead of all 4, then yes, but it was just like old times and I’m pretty excited about it, too! I don’t know how or why, but when and if I can know which ones are winners, I can usually influence more winners overall.

Things aren’t going well for Tammy, though I think that in the end, she will be ok. They can’t do the biopsy because it could kill her so next month they’re going to talk about the transplant and when and where they might do it. Meanwhile, she’s still on oxygen and all kinds of medications, including steroids, which makes typing hard for her because her hands shake.

I think that sooner or later they’ll stumble upon the right medication that her body will respond positively to. But since she’s not on the top of the transplant list and they’re not fighting to keep her alive right now, I don’t think she’s as doomed as I once feared she may be. Life may not be easy for her, but I believe she’ll get through this.

Becky has eye surgery next month and will be on temporary disability. Besides being nervous she’s going to be bored silly for a while because she won’t be able to read or watch TV. Hopefully, this surgery will help her down the road, though.

Paula left a message saying she’s sending a letter with her new address. She’s never going to get with the times and get a computer. Never. :(

Someone asked if I like sweet or salty snacks. I suppose that could be from anyone.

The people on MyOpera sure are pretty rude at times, but rather than waste time lecturing these collectors about sending friend requests that I specifically said I won’t accept, I’ll just start ignoring them. No matter how much you try to tell these dumb shits you don’t like being “collected” and don’t have time (or the desire) for new friends, they’re just too stupid to get it. Even the ones who seem to speak English.

Andy’s been having lots of luck lately as far as getting together with guys. It’s just for sex, though, as is usually the case with most people. I was thinking back to the dozen or so men and women I was with (mostly for just one night) before meeting Tom, and I regret nearly every one of them. I just didn’t know how to say “no” to those my heart just wasn’t into and that I just wasn’t attracted to. Although numbers didn’t matter to me nearly as much as quality, that’s what basically kept me from playing around more than I did. I tried and tried to get into the idea of sex with those that were either ugly or just there and that I felt absolutely zero spark for, but I just couldn’t do it. No matter how nice they were or how many times I tried to close my eyes and imagine a gorgeous woman or something, it just wasn’t the same. But I was just so, so damn picky that getting someone I found to be attractive wasn’t easy. Especially since I was a turn-off in the lesbian world with my femininity and not turned on by many of them. It seemed the only ones into me were guys and butches. But I finally put my foot down with my new rule and said, “If I’m not attracted to you, the answer’s no. Period.”

I didn’t care how much I came off as not being very nice, and I didn’t care how guilty I may’ve felt for turning an offer down. It was important to me to stop saying “yes” just because it was there hitting on me and probably all I could get at the moment.

So, often feeling as if I were a 250-pound ugly bitch with acne and horns sticking up on my head or something grotesque like that, I got “no’s” from what I considered hot and returned them to those propositioning me that I didn’t consider hot at all. Year after year we exchanged our “no’s” with just a few small exceptions in between until I met Tom.

Then sure enough, as is the case with most people once they are committed to someone, they suddenly came crawling out of the woodwork. Both men and women I found attractive were attracted to me as well. Not very often, though. I still find a lot of one-sidedness where I’ll be hot for someone that isn’t hot for me or vice versa, but it’s true that when you’re not looking and you least expect it, the more opportunities there are, not that I think I could ever get brave enough to act on any of them without feeling guilty, and not that there have been as many since being out here in these woods. If Andy can get so much fun by looking, imagine what would come his way if he stopped looking altogether!

Forgot to say in my last entry that if we can’t get this house or decide not to take it, the realtor should be able to find us what we want in no time. They know what’s to be listed before it even appears online, many of which are gone before most people get a chance to see them. So if we continue not to have any luck on our own for another week or two, then she should help speed things up. Tom doesn’t see why we can’t make it out of here before his birthday and that’s only a worst-case scenario estimate. We should still be out in May. Wish I knew the exact date so I could start a countdown!

Another thing we were surprised to learn is that all parks in Auburn are 55 and up. There are no all-ages parks here whatsoever.

Got my nail goodies in the mail and am not overly impressed. The Angel Kiss polish is nice, but the Cloud Nine is too light. Well, I’m light myself so it doesn’t stand out well. Nothing a glitter or crackle overly couldn’t cure, though.

The rhinestones are kind of a waste as well cuz they’re a bitch to apply and some of them fall off. I know I lost at least two of them changing sheets, even though I followed directions and sealed it with a clear topcoat.

I also got the clear plastic rocks to add to the big bamboo’s fuchsia-colored rocks which weren’t enough. I think this plant is dying, though, and it is rather old. I’ll have to pick up some new ones after the move. Love not having to deal with soil or anything messy like that. A large houseplant would be nice that is my height or taller, but the rats would only see it as a little sandbox to play in. I guess I could throw some metal mesh over it, but we’ll see.

I went to read Mary’s latest entry, saw the blog was gone and said, “Damn! I am so sick of getting into someone’s blog just to see them quit. I’m never reading anyone else’s blog again!”

It turns out that she got mad. Trouble with some drunk and judgmental “friends,” I guess. As I told her, she’s too damn sensitive. No one’s ever going to like or agree with every single thing we write any more than everyone’s going to like every food, color and type of music we like. As long as there are no full names, threats, sensitive info or plagiarism, don’t let others stop you from expressing yourself, I told her. She’s too nice and she worries too much about others. She needs to learn to be a little bit of a selfish bitch. Not sure why people can’t just stop reading our journals if they don’t like them, but that’s just how people are; they want you to write what they want to read or not write at all.

Also, I don’t know if she gravitates to them or if they gravitate to her, but I still think she has a lot of negative people in her life and needs to learn to be more independent once she finds work. All she’s ever known is abuse, and of course she’s never had much freedom or been allowed to even think for herself most of the time. Once she cuts the drunks and losers out of her life and starts associating with more positive, mature, stable people, I think she’ll be a lot better off. And also, once she can support herself with no one else’s help unless they want to give her whatever in addition to her being able to take care of herself.

Just when I think I’m not going to get any more leg muscles from running, I get these “ankle rings.” They’re mostly in front where the shin meets the foot. Makes shaving a bit trickier, but it’s still nice. I realize that if I were forced to fight to defend myself these days, I very well may kill the person even if I didn’t want to.

So the bombers weren’t Arab or American, but actually Russian instead. One’s dead, one’s wounded, and I still say the same thing to the foreigners of this world – stay the fuck out of the US unless you’re Nane! Well, maybe a few others are ok, too.

Later…

I hate live concerts but am happy for Andy because Stevie Nicks gave him two complimentary tickets to her concert which are normally $425 each. Yes, you read right. He really is friends with Miss Stevie Nicks of Fleetwood Mac. Not close buddies who kept in touch regularly, but he was actually friends with her mother Barbara first until she died. We have both known celebrities and kind of grew up with them, so it’s nothing new, big or exciting for us. Still, we don’t like to make this known to just anyone, so I’m going to limit the audience for this post.

I’m also limiting it because of Kim. Yeah, she’s still stalking me. I’m not 100% sure, but I’m close enough just by the nature of the questions she asked on Ask. The first one was: why do you have to track who sees your blogs?

It was written just as you see it here. The second question, also written as you see it, was: ‪Been reading some of your older blogs. How’s your sister doing? She going to be ok?‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

They were left two hours apart. The second one might’ve been Molly’s mother, but Mrs. M has always shown up on my tracker, so why would she stop now? I think they were both asked by Kim, especially the first one. My tracking would definitely annoy her, especially since I stopped updating the trackless blog every single day. Until I update it again at the end of the month, her “sources” will have to copy MO for her if she doesn’t know how to turn cookies off.

As for the question about my sister, it’s typical for her and Molly both (though Molly is still wonderfully forbidden from going online) to ask questions as if we were old buddies. It’s like those two are stuck in some kind of twisted time warp. It’s been 10 months since I dumped Kim, but I know that just like with Molly, she’ll never stop following me until I’m either out of reach or she is dead. No one’s ever going to throw this one in a group home for whackos and take its online privileges away. Oh, how I’d love to beat the living shit right out of that fat, filthy piece of crazies shit. They really need to start passing laws on keeping the crazy offline. This sack of shit does NOT understand that we’re not friends and we never will be again.

Another reason I think it’s her is that I asked who asked why I stopped updating MD and they never identified themselves. Also, unless it’s some generic question, I’ve found that anything “friendly” or more personal tends to be from those who don’t want you to know who they are. Anyone who could ask about my sister without saying, “Hey, this is so and so” while they were at it, is almost certainly someone I don’t like that knows I don’t like them.

Can’t say I don’t giggle a bit at the idea of fucking with her by giving false clues to my whereabouts in my blog once we move, knowing the lunatic will be running to look up whatever bogus streets I may name, all frustrated as hell when she doesn’t find any such street anywhere in the wrong town I also gave as well.

Anyway, I haven’t answered the questions yet. I’ll wait till questions from known users come in and let her sit and wonder where the hell I am for now.

What I don’t get is why she’s STILL reading my blog. Who in their right minds reads the blog of someone who dumped them nearly a year ago? I have made it a point not to mention her or anyone we know, so that and the questions on Ask leads me to my time warp theory. If MPDers can have different people, why not different times, too?

In general, I don’t follow the news because it’s too depressing. The only current cases of interest for me lately are the Boston Marathon Bomber and the Jodi Arias case. I still can’t believe the media is allowed to bash and say negative things about those on trial – even if they’re true – before a verdict is reached. Given the very, very off chance Jodi is innocent, she’ll never get a fair trial. How could she possibly get one single person on her jury who hasn’t heard a whole boatload of opinions, theories and beliefs? They’ve got to be influenced by at least some of what they hear, even if they may not realize it. If I’m about to meet someone you know and you tell me they’re ugly, I’m going to make my own decision as to whether or not I really think they’re ugly, but that’s going to be one of the first things I think of, subconsciously or not, when I meet them.

I’ll add my two cents to everyone else’s and say that I believe Jodi is guilty based on what I’ve heard. However, this does not diminish my disgust for the media in general. It is sad that they can go and print whatever the hell they want without a care as to whom it may affect. They never once checked out any of the bullshit claims made against me. They simply took my perp’s word for whatever they felt like telling them because they were black and in a state that favors blacks, Mexicans and any minority that isn’t gay. The welfare bums dictated, the media printed. No questions asked. No verifying anything. No proof. No nothing.

Another thing that surprises me is that there’s already a movie in the works. But a verdict and sentence haven’t been given yet! How can they do a movie without knowing the full story? Yes, it seems like an obvious slam-dunk case, but if anyone knows not to assume the system will do what’s right, it’s me. I hope she is convicted and killed, but I don’t believe much until and if I see it.

It’s sad that the bomber seems more and more like a homegrown thing. But it is since the Arabs love to take credit for their “work” and to strap bombs to themselves and kill themselves while they’re killing any innocent person unfortunate enough to be around them at the time. There are other things that point to it being Americans, too. It sucks because first the Arabs want to bomb us and now so do we? WTF?

I’m not sure if what I thought woke me up were real sounds or if I was just dreaming, but waking up as often as I do gets old. I hope I sleep better next time around.

Nane’s been both sick and busy, but reading some of my notes and hopeful that the big day is near.

The troll’s fellow trolls have stopped pestering Aly and Marbridge never returned her message.

Later…

Tom saw the house and says it’s fantastic. The way he described it did seem almost too ideal for us. Enough to suspect that something up there may try to stop us. It wasn’t 100% perfect, though. One of the biggest negatives is that instead of people getting mail delivered to their door, there’s a cluster of community mailboxes much like at an apartment where the people pick up their mail. Well, it’s right across the street from the house, so that would mean a lot of people stopping there, and of course it would also mean a lot of people suddenly having loud vehicles if we lived there.

The best thing about it was the space around it and how you can’t see the neighbors very well. The “shed” is really an old trailer but it’s bigger than the shed we’ve got here.

Everything indoors looks good, though the dishwasher is old. It does have a washer/dryer. We’re still not sure about the cable, though. It’s going to hinge on that, the park accepting us, and us being able to get a loan, assuming I like it too, when I go to see it next week. Unless it’s sold by then, of course. The realtor said you just never know and that quite often, what happens isn’t what you think will happen. She expected to sell this one in a week, but it’s been months.

Nothing urgent needs to be done if we got the place. We could move right in. We wouldn’t have to replace the roof first like we would with the last one we saw or anything like that. We could replace the single-paned windows at our leisure, the dishwasher, and anything else we wanted.

Even the paneling may not be worth texturizing and painting over because it’s whitewash and I actually like whitewash. I don’t care for maple, oak or cherry wood. This paneling here is maple. Too dark.

Tom said the layout was very efficient with no wasted space except for maybe in the entryway. The carpet was loose but not worn. It turns out that the realtor’s friend’s cousin last owned the place. She’s now in a nursing home. Anyway, they had a large throw rug over it and never used that part of the house, so that’s why it’s not worn. The house has a den and a living room, and I guess they only used the den.

I just really hope to hell Walter keeps his word about sending the money by Monday. I appreciate the fact that he’s ahead of his schedule, but he’s behind on ours. We’ve been wanting out for close to a year now, though part of that is due to us changing plans twice. First we were just going to save a few grand for a bigger rental. Then we were going to save for a dumpy mobile home. Then we said “no” to going from one dump to another.

But we can’t make an offer till we get the funds and see the place, so… no sense in saying any more about it right now. Just that Tom thinks it’s totally worth the money and I’m looking forward to seeing it too, despite it being a bit expensive for its size.

I am so tired today (or tonight, I should say) due to PMS and sleeping shitty yesterday. There’s nothing like being a light sleeper in a flimsy trailer AND in a helicopter and small plane path. I guess I should go back to using the stereo’s white noise when I’m sleeping during the daytime while we’re still here cuz I hear everything in here. Almost everything overrides the sound machine. It’s almost like I might as well just sleep outside.

Although I am excited and hopefully mentally, my ADD is scattering my concentration everywhere and I’m retaining enough water to make up for the drought California has had for the last two years. I even had to remove my bra. It’s like my boobies were screaming, “Hey, this is too tight! Let us out of here!” Fine, you damn things that were once flat and shoulda stayed flat. Out you go.

Tom has an appointment to see the house tomorrow after work. Wish I could be with him, but he’s stopping by after work. We both know what’s important to each other, so if he likes what he sees, I’ll check it out myself soon enough and we’ll see if I agree, though I don’t see why I wouldn’t. It’s just the park and loan people I’m still a bit worried about.

And any “punishments.” I’m not nearly as worried about that as I was before we left Phoenix. Before leaving Phoenix I kept getting these God-awful feelings that something was against us leaving the freeloaders and the whole damn circus in Phoenix we had to live with for 6 years and that it would make us “pay” once we got to Maricopa. I couldn’t have been more correct on that one if I tried! I just had no idea it’d be so damn extreme till we eventually lost the place.

Nothing exciting for dreams unless you count my parents and brother coming back to life after some new invention came about that “wakes” people up. They “worked” on my brother first, then my parents. Interesting seeing that while my brother was tossed underground, Mom and Dad were sent to the toaster. That’d be a helluva discovery if they could resurrect a man from only some ashes, some of which I have, and a woman from ashes that probably ended up in the local sewage treatment center.

Still bouncing about the same 5-pound weight range, but since I can’t seem to lose weight unless I’m sicker than a dog, I’m going to just stay fat. Going hungry for a month to lose a few pounds that come right back isn’t worth it. I do hope not to gain anymore, though.

Never thought good grades would be frustrating, but I’m beginning to wonder if the Instant Immersion software I got was a waste. I’m getting near-perfect to perfect grades! Time to get more challenging material like on yabla.com. This is an excellent site if you’re approaching advanced levels or are already there.

My grammar still sucks, though, cuz German has unbelievably complex grammar rules. There are 12 possible ways to pluralize words. :( Guess I could tackle that next since I’ve learned quite a bit of vocabulary.

My response time is still a bit slow, too. It hits home right away when I read or listen (unless I’m not familiar with the words), but if you asked me what the weather’s like in the state I was born in, I might need to stop and think before I could antwort. :(

Tom stopped by the Newcastle park on the way home from work. He said some of it was old, some of it was nice, and he couldn’t find his way to the house that was for sale. Still, he saw enough to know it was worth contacting the realtor. He emailed her tonight.

He drove through it at about 15 MPH, windows down, at 5:00 in the afternoon yet never heard a single bark. If they were allowed to store dogs outdoors there, they certainly would’ve been going ballistic at that hour. The park itself is kind of old and not nearly as fancy as the CH park, but very rural-like. There are lakes and streams running through it and it appears to be surrounded by farmland. It is also on a series of steep hills, so if we got into this place, the roof of the house in back of us would be level with our floor.

It wasn’t the one we thought it was at the end of a dead-end, but our guess is that only about 10 neighbors would drive by it. So… if your average person comes and goes about 3 times a day and has company 3-5 times a week, that means about 56 trips in and out per household per week. That’s almost more than the lazy freeloaders had in a day or two.

The more I look at the house pics, the more I like it. There are no vents above the bedroom doors to let light in when I’m sleeping during the daytime. It has both central heat/AC. The kitchen sink is porcelain and not stainless steel which I’d prefer since I can’t seem to keep stainless steel looking shiny and new no matter what I clean it with. The countertops are gorgeous. The bathroom sinks aren’t raised, making them easier to clean, but we would have to install sliders on the tubs and replace what appears to be old single-paned windows. I don’t care for the paneling, but the paneling is very light so it’s not that bad, and if I had to go with neutral carpet, light tan is what I’d go with because things wouldn’t clash with it as much as browns and blues would. Things like couches or drapes with printed patterns, or walls we may decide to paper or paint.

The place comes with a dishwasher, garbage disposal, range, fridge, shingled roof and window treatments. Not sure if a washer/dryer is included or not.

Love how there are carports running along both sides of the place. I can envision hanging lots of wind chimes along them. I’m looking forward to the little things like decorations, besides the big things.

Tom found more info on the park and they do have pet restrictions. Now it’s going to come down to what kind of internet service we could get, assuming the house doesn’t sell by then or that we get rejected. The place is really starting to look ideal. So much so that I fear God will stop us and see to it that we’re denied a loan and maybe even getting into the park. It is a bit pricey for a 1977 model that’s barely over 1100 square feet, so we’re sort of bordering on being turned down. On the bright side, God can’t stop us forever. All He can do is delay us. But sooner or later our numbers are going to be right on and in our favor.

Later…

When I see how much Tom did for his mother upon reading back in old journals and how much time and money we lost on account of the selfish bitch, then think of how she coldly dumped us in Oregon for daring to ask for help, I get so mad. I just get so damn mad. I am utterly appalled by the way she so casually dropped us, mostly because we were no longer useful tools to be used to gain in her favor once we were 1100 miles away. Tom acts like it’s nothing, but it’s gotta hurt somewhat. He did so, so much for that woman. I hope her final moments are hell. I seethe with rage when I think about the whole situation. Even her other kids, who could easily contact us if they really wanted to, cease to give a shit. I don’t know why either. Mary’s been a problem, but David and Steven were never a problem, and of course poor Ray is dead. Anyway, fuck them and anyone else that doesn’t give a shit about us. There are enough people out there that DO care and they’re the ones worth focusing on. Tom and others weren’t kidding when they said that the family may not be abusive or close-knit, but it could be as selfish and as uncaring as any stranger on the street could be.

The more I think about his family (and a few others) the angrier I get. Life is going too well right now and we have too many happy things to look forward to rather than focus on them or any other negative people we thought gave a damn about us, but I will say this much first and that’s that she’s the prime reason I hate to ask for help. Yes, it’s wonderful to know people care about us enough to want to help us if we needed it, and yes, if you would house and feed us if we were homeless till we got on our feet, you’re a definite true friend, but I’d still rather not ask unless it came down to do or die. Ok, enough of Marge and poverty. We ain’t going back there no matter how much God may hate us.

Later…

Although common for dream premonitioners to have dry spells, I’m hoping the lack of “serious” moving dreams means the dream prems have stopped. How nice it would be to have a nightmare, wake up and write it off as just that, rather than know it was a sign of trouble ahead!

I like to document as many dreams as I can remember, no matter how silly, trivial and meaningless they may seem. Like “Nervous” coming back to life and asking if I wanted to join him at the IHOP.

The weirdest dream was the one where Tom and I were on the road late at night. The digital clock on the dash read 2:38. We were heading out to eat at a 24-hour diner. I noticed the sky brightening and said, “Am I imagining it or is it really getting light out when it’s not even 3 in the morning?”

He said, “No, it’s getting lighter.”

I was surprised at just how fast the sun came up, too.

In the last dream, I remember, I was at some large indoor pool, sort of like what the JCC had that I’d go to as a kid. There were maybe about 30 people at and around the pool, including my mother who sat by the deep end in a beach chair. She eyed me critically and judgmentally, much as she loved to do when she was alive, though I hadn’t seen her since 1997. I climbed onto the diving board and did the perfect swan dive. Everybody applauded but Mom. I have absolutely no doubt in my mind that she wouldn’t have in real life either, for instead of being proud of me, she’d have been seething with jealousy instead.

I have often referred to my late mother as “the poodle” because of her fondness for that particular breed of dog. Her poodles meant EVERYTHING to her. Much more than her children and husband. She would have tossed her prized possessions into a pit of fire for those mutts. Probably even paraded around town naked barking like one of them if that’s what she had to do to save them.

On top of her placing her dogs above friends and family, she rarely praised or complimented her kids. Why? Because she wasn’t as smart as they got to be and this made her jealous. Yeah, I’m ashamed to have to say so, but the poodle was not only selfish, mean, negative and abusive, but she wasn’t very bright either and was often envious, if not downright jealous, of other people’s accomplishments. Instead of trying to achieve a certain ability for herself that she may’ve envied about someone else, she found it easier not to discuss it and to steer the conversation away from anything that might’ve made her jealous.

I may not be the smartest person on earth and I may have many shortcomings, but I had/have abilities she never had and I know it really bothered her and only served to make her feel even dumber. Instead of being proud, she was jealous.

I went from a shitty singer to a fairly decent one. What did she have to say about that? Nothing. Nothing at all.

I learned 5 languages and came to be able to read some of a few others. What did she think about that? Not a thing.

I won several writing contests. What did she say about it? Not a word.

I could skate, dance and play a little guitar and piano, yet she didn’t care.

I suppose I’d be a touch embarrassed too, if I had a daughter that could do a number of things that I couldn’t do myself, but I’d still feel much more proud than jealous.

She did sort of mutter a pleasantly surprised “oh,” when I told them both I published a book for Kindle users, but she never asked for any details, and as far as I know, only my dad read it.

When I last saw my parents in Arizona, I sat between them on the couch and showed them my sketchbook. Through other artist’s tips and books, I got to be ok at it. Like my singing, it was mediocre at best, but if I hadn’t gotten bored with it, I probably could’ve developed it a lot more. Still, I could draw and it was a fun hobby for a while back when I would keep in touch with people regularly via postal mail and would decorate their envelopes. Getting back to the point, my dad made various comments as I flipped through the drawings. My mother, on the other hand, never uttered a word. I could smell the jealousy like one can smell the smoke of a burning building. It was almost tangible.

Jealousy is something I could never understand. No one can have it all. No one can do it all. But if you’re envious or jealous of someone for something they can do, why not try to see if you can do it for yourself instead of wasting time with feelings of jealousy? Yes, my brain is wired for language learning. I don’t know how or why, but it is. Meanwhile, although my brain can’t process numbers very easily this doesn’t mean I can’t study and learn if I ever was interested in things involving numbers. I may not get very good at it, but I could still try.

Her other daughter is a genius with numbers and probably could’ve saved them from falling into debt in the end. But the poodle was too blind to recognize her daughter’s money skills to care and to be able to ask for help.

Now I’m going to go do some working out and if she’s looking down on me, she can then be jealous that she didn’t have a body like mine at 47, even though I could stand to lose 20 lbs.