in the gloaming

Anybody here? Bueller?

roaming — Mon, 02 Mar 2015 21:04:18 GMT

Just checking that just because I've not been paying attention, LIFE on LJ still goes one. I'd like that.

(Plus, dayum, they've changed the way this looks. I'll have to figure out how to do things all over again. Um . . . don't hold your breath.)

Whining, because they've done studies . . .

roaming — Sat, 01 Feb 2014 05:22:37 GMT

that show that people in pain perceive the degree to be less when they are instructed to/allowed to curse out loud. Those who were instructed to grin and bear it perceived more pain level. (a/k/a "Troubles shared are troubles halved.")

Right now, I've got a couple of people in my life I would give anything to punt. Soooo tired of accommodating their personality quirks, turning myself into a pretzel to not discomfit them. My comfort? Doesn't count as much.

So weary of being A Nice Person when I just want to scream "YOU ARE THE WEAKEST LINK FUCK OFF!!!!!!!!!!!"

Anyone want to give me lessons in Bitch 101?

We've paved Paradise, put up a parking lot (Take 2,583)

roaming — Tue, 28 Jan 2014 03:03:16 GMT

(This is a recurring theme with me. Ignore if you've been this route before.)

Went out the back door just now to bring out garbage/recycling, and there was a HUGE FAT raccoon sniffing around for the cat kibble I leave out for a cat that keeps coming around late at night. (Can't tell if the cat is feral or owned: no collar and it runs when it sees me, which doesn't prove anything.) S/he looks up at me expectantly, not at all afraid of me. I hated to do it but I scared it off by stamping my feet and making barking noises at it. Me? I'd love to have him hang out there, unafraid of me. But not being afraid of people is really bad for *them,* so I consider I'm doing them a favor, much as I loathe to. Rather than learn to live with them, my neighbors would rather exterminate them. Nevermind that this was their land before we took it over.

In other news, the plan for cutting down on feeding the skunks and raccoons in the yard continues. Not every day, less and less, so that by spring they will come to the restaurant to find it NOT open for business. The vet at New England Wildlife assures me that I haven't retrained their instincts out of them, and they'll move on to where the food is.

My big question for me, that no one so far can answer, is: exactly WHAT food is there, and WHERE? We've paved Paradise, pesticided all the lots. I live in the town between Lexington and Cambridge, not sure it can even call itself "suburbia" really. So they'll garbage- and restaurant dumpster-dive instead? I don't see that as an improvement to getting healthy scraps and kitty kibble in my fenced in yard. (sigh) But I do understand and even agree with the advice that wild things should stay wild. (Unless they can't, and then we have angels like Vinnie and Kindra Mammone and their family.)

I've given up the search for the truth and will now settle for a nice fantasy

roaming — Tue, 28 Jan 2014 00:51:16 GMT

I'm a hoarder. (I excuse myself with the rationalization that you can see my floor, use the bathroom, there's no keeping of garbage or recycling, etc. And I'm not keeping broken, unuseable things.) And I used to watch the Lifetime series Hoarders. And I identified with their rationalizations for keeping what they kept. I'm not the first to say "One person's trash is another person's treasure.") But I'm so against the set-up of the show because of the manipulated DRAHMAH! (Duh, like I should be surprised?)

1) They force hoarders to get rid of *everything* in a few days. Sometimes only one. They wipe the houses clean, down to nothing, no semblance of anything personal left -- and consider that a success. No wonder the hoarders end up feeling bereft and go out in a replacement frenzy afterwards.

2) Worse, they involve the hoarder's family! Bet anyone can predict what that causes: arguments, old family stuff revisited with a vengeance, buttons being pushed, near nervous breakdowns. And the alleged hoarding specialist psychologists watch it all go on. The hoarder is trapped, and set up to be tortured for our entertainment ‪#‎lions‬-vs-Christians.

Just sayin'. Since it showed up on the tv screen just now. Note to self: watch cute animal vids while you eat, not ANY "reality" show!

not really here

roaming — Mon, 27 Jan 2014 22:33:23 GMT

I read here every month or so. Posting less and less,* not feeling like being public about life and what's going on (no worries, mostly all is well: friends falling apart, but we're fine). Just don't have much oomph for it all lately. S.A.D. Low energy. A bit buffetted by everything thrown at me from all the media to the point of depression and learned helplessness. So I'm scaling down. Don't worry: you're not missing anything. :-)

*(well, except on FB, where it's sooo damn easy to just click "share" to have a conversation. No typing required. That's about my speed lately.)

But wow, I do miss being able to choose an icon to go with the emotion. Should really hang out here more. It's slower paced, I can keep up. Maybe.

We've paved Paradise, put up a (pesticided) parking lot

roaming — Sat, 14 Sep 2013 03:40:45 GMT

I'm a city grrl, raised in Manhattan, moved to Boston in 1972, Cambridge in 1973, and then Arlington. When I moved to this house in 1990, with a big enclosed yard with lots of native plantings, blocks from more shelter and fresh water sources in a nearby park, I noticed urban wildlife, specifically skunks/raccoons/possums, would show up in the yard regularly. Probably on their way to the restaurant dumpsters on Mass Ave. (Where the kits might get trapped, or their tender paws cut on sharp edges of opened cans.) One bad winter I started feeding them (peanuts, raisins, apples, dry cat food). I've trained 23 years' worth of wild babies that my yard is the restaurant.

Not the brightest thing to do, but my heart was/is in the right place (compassion?), if not my brain.

And I'd keep doing it if I could, because we've paved paradise, put up a parking lot. I don't notice many natural fruit and nut trees here in pesticided urbia. Their other choices seem to me to be garbage, hit by cars, cut paws, etc. I worry. And I like them. In all this time, I've NEVER been skunked, or attacked. Maybe a mom will hiss at me if she's got babies nearby, but other than that we just leave eachother be. I move slowly near them, back off, don't startle them, and I especially don't impede their avenues of escape. I know to them *I'm* the Big Bad Scarey Monster, and they'd much prefer to avoid ANY confrontation with me.

I was warned years ago that I'd be inundated with far too many mouths to feed. Hasn't happened. Largest number of raccoons one year was 6: 4 kits, 2 adults. Before end of summer the older/more aggressive 'coons chase off the others, and I end up with 2-4 max.

My downstairs tenant built himself a shed in the yard. . . and the skunks soon took to living under it. No fools, they.

Recently, one of the neighbors has informed me that he doesn't like that they travel through his yard to get to and from mine. (So far, he's the ONLY one who's complained in all these years.) Last month he sent me a printout from the Audubon Society about a wild critter poop diseases, and we had a congenial chat about his concerns for his young daughter and his dog getting infected. He's now building a fence between our properties (as though THAT will keep them out of his yard, when for many years they've been traveling from the nearby park between the houses/in the backyards). AND his garage, where his garbage cans are kept, doesn't have doors. Good luck with that.

Even if I don't feed the critters, they WILL be here. Sure, they'll be here less often, and there will be less of them. But even neighbors far away who don't feed the animals see them regularly.

ANYWAY, since Tom and I hope to move further out in coming years, I agree that I need to stop training each new generation of critter kits that our yard is the restaurant of choice. So I've been cutting down on feeding: not every day, no human food anymore, scattered around the yard so they have to hunt for it, rather than in the usual feeding spots. Some night I hear them fighting frantically over the less and less that's there to share. I do still keep putting out fresh water. WHAT I'll do when the winter hits, I don't know. I like those guys, and I worry about them suffering. I don't know if the parents, once the kits who got taught our yard is the restaurant, have forgotten HOW to find food "naturally."

ANYWAY subclause A: I'd told the neighbor all this about untraining them and that it would take a while, I wasn't going to shut them off overnight. He seemed to understand. . . .

but lately I notice that when I'm in the yard, even not feeding, he is in his window VIDEOTAPING ME (or photographing me). He turns off the lights on his second floor and I can see the red blinking dot on his camera/vid. I can only guess he's trying to "catch me in the act" and then. . . I don't know what he intends. Report me to Animal Control? Sue me for endangering his daughter's health?

Google is little use to me in figuring out "Is is illegal to feed wildlife in MA?" Especially on one's own property.

But I'll be finding a lawyer to figure out if it's not just creepy but illegal for him to be filming me! I sometimes want to flash him either a big smile or the middle finger. For now, him not knowing I know he's doing it gives me the upper hand. Or whatever.

Boy I want to move!

Still here. Still reading.

roaming — Sun, 18 Aug 2013 21:13:43 GMT

And still not having much to say that can't be more easily posted in less less time on FaceBook. Where I am "Roam Gloam" because FB won't let me use Roaming IntheGloaming as a name. Wankers.

here. sort of.

roaming — Fri, 21 Jun 2013 05:39:56 GMT

I'm reading y'all. But don't have the psychic energy to comment. Nor to post my own.

shrug

http://jezebel.com/oh-my-fucking-old-gods-the-game-of-thrones-ep-that-des-511067334

roaming — Mon, 03 Jun 2013 21:35:51 GMT

Let me sum up, and add "So Say We All!":

"Years ago, before the show had even come out, a family member recommended the Song of Ice and Fire series to me and used the fact that George R.R. Martin isn't afraid to kill off main characters as a selling point. I respect that in a storyteller, but recently it's gotten to a point where I no longer trust where the story is even going. Is it fair for Martin and the showrunners to ask us to become invested in their characters only to punish us when we inevitably do? I honestly don't know the answer.

What I do know is that my GoT loyalties have become as flexible as Roose Bolton's.

As for the fates of the surviving characters (apart from Jaime, Brienne and Arya), I honestly could not give less of a fuck and â yeah â that goes for Dany and Tyrion as well. What can anyone expect? Punish us and call us stupid for caring enough and we're bound to stop caring entirely.

Look, I'll strike a deal. Martin and HBO can keep their red weddings and Theon torture scenes (really, I'm not trying to make anyone give anything up) and I will stay invested if â IF â Joffrey gets slapped across the face at least once for every terrible thing that befalls someone undeserving. Also, it's one thing to stay true to the books, but I would really prefer it if you didn't add additional fucked up shit like you did last night."

And I just stopped following GRRM's LJ page. Wanker.

so, the Steubenville rape trial and verdict

roaming — Sun, 17 Mar 2013 19:26:00 GMT

Two boys were found guilty, sentenced to one year (Ma'lik), and two (Trent, the extra year for posting a nude photo of the unconscious rape victim on the floor). Here's something I have to disagree with:

"The victim was not in the courtroom when the ruling was read, but her mother gave a statement after the judge's ruling.

'Human compassion is not taught by a teacher, a coach or a parent. It is a God-given gift instilled in all of us," the victim's mother said after court was adjourned. "You displayed not only a lack of this compassion, but a lack of any moral code.'"

Well, if it's a God-given gift, then it makes sense to me to BLAME GOD for not instilling it in these boys.

Of course you learn it from the culture around you! Parents, teachers, religious leaders. And then you have to hang with a same-age cohort that's been taught the same as you have.

(Of course, one can reject what one has been taught. My Italian grandmother brought me to church on Sundays. I rejected Catholicism as weird (and priests as weirder), but I got hooked on stained glass, gothic architecture, candles, castle-like structures. More bizarrely, at around age 11 I got sucked in by the local Baptist church lady, went to Bible camp one summer, took Christs as my savior -- so I'm "Born Again" Christian -- and then rejected all that a year later. It's like trying on clothing to see if it fits. Or not.)

Believe it or not, I can feel for these boys. It's an age where things can get out of hand, especially where alcohol is involved. That's a reason, but not an excuse. They do deserve the punishment, and maybe even then some when they get out. Good luck finding gainful employment, dudes.

Some seated things to try when one doesn't have the ooomph for more

roaming — Sun, 10 Mar 2013 00:15:41 GMT

Because something is better than nothing.

GYROKINESIS, from Prevention.com

Getting Old Is Not For Sissies. Or Couch Potatoes.

roaming — Sat, 09 Mar 2013 21:37:32 GMT

Last week I tried YOGA for the first time. There are 3 different places to do so in my town. I avoided the one that wants to read my aura/energy vibes (cult! but tempting as it's right next door to Starbux). Went to an introductory session for beginners.

I HATED it. I so wanted to like it. I like the *idea* of yoga. I can even do most of the positions, as long as it doesn't involve having to press my bad ankles against a hard object (e.g., floor), or hold my 220 lbs up by my wrists. My hands were numb within 10 minutes.

Mostly I couldn't do the transitions from one pose to the next. I suppose I could keep on keeping on until I can. But I'm not sure the transitions are what keeps one limber. As long as I can get into a pose and hold it -- stretching my muscles gently, and stretching my mind toward peace/ tranquility / enlightenment -- that should be enough. Right?

But the absolute deal breaker for me was the HEAT. I ALWAYS feel like I'm dry baking from the inside out, even in winter. I can go out in 30 degree weather in just a sweat shirt, no hat, no scarf, while others are shivering in down jackets. Steam Heat had me feeling like I was going to pass out without 15 minutes. I know, I can find an unheated class. Maybe. This class wasn't listed as heated, as others were, which is why I chose it. (That and being a complete novice.) Turns out, ALL their classes are heated to one degree or another. I'd melt in seconds in the ones listed as "heated." What's that temp: Hellfire and Brimstone?

Still, I HAVE to get into some routine. The transition to achey/dopey/creaky/hurty/sleepy/always seeing my Doc that's happened in the past 10 years alone does not bode well for the next. Can't keep doing what I'm doing -- not much physically -- and expect different results.

I'm lazy. I don't wanna. Waaah. But it was a big WAKE UP CALL about how far I've let things slide, month by month, year by year, not noticing the little changes downward until they've accumulated into this tipping point. If I don't change my habits -- I like my habits, that's why I do them over and over and over! -- the end results in the nearer than far-er future are worse than doing what I don't wanna. Martina Navratilova is quoted as saying: "I hate exercise. But I like the results [more than I hate the exercise]." I will adopt this mantra. One of these months.

(goes looking for Big Girl Panties. In my XXL size.)

THIS

roaming — Wed, 13 Feb 2013 21:12:54 GMT

Let's drink water and make fun of Hitler's mustache.

I'm mostly happening over on FB (Roam Gloam)

roaming — Mon, 28 Jan 2013 18:05:33 GMT

I just don't have the psychic energy for typing here regularly about what I'm thinking/feeling/doing. Never have been a journal-er/diary-keeper. FB is easy because I can just click "share" on things other people post that I think/feel about.

But I come here to read y'all. Wish there was a "I was here/waves" button to click.

Got a dog from a rescue yesterday. (She said, oh so nonchalantly.) Teeny 2.5 lb (!) min pin (with some chihuahua, I'm betting). Terrified of everything. Just shakes and cowers. Found lost -- or more likely dumped, out in the December cold, by a breeder, the filth! -- last month. She's all skin and hard, pointy bones. And velvety silky hair. Hoping my cats won't eat her. Temporarily calling her Mini. Intend to show her what safe feels like.

More gun debate. Wish I could articulate this as well Jon Stewart

roaming — Wed, 09 Jan 2013 23:35:36 GMT

Jon Stewart Scapegoat/Hunter/Gun Control

note to self

roaming — Wed, 09 Jan 2013 23:17:30 GMT

do not "multi task." You totally SUCK at it, and it causes you to do and say things you should not do or say.

I'm not always an asshole, but when I am . . .

Found in a stranger's LJ comment elsewhere

roaming — Sat, 10 Nov 2012 08:08:01 GMT

If They Come in the Night

Long ago on a night of danger and vigil
a friend said, why are you happy?
He explained (we lay together
on a cold hard floor) what prison
meant because he had done
time, and I talked of the death
of friends. Why are you happy
then, he asked, close to
angry.

I said, I like my life. If I
have to give it back, if they
take it from me, let me
not feel I wasted any, let me
not feel I forgot to love anyone
I meant to love, that I forgot
to give what I held in my hands,
that I forgot to do some little
piece of the work that wanted
to come through.

Sun and moonshine, starshine,
the muted light off the waters
of the bay at night, the white
light of the fog stealing in,
the first spears of morning
touching a face
I love. We all lose
everything. We lose
ourselves. We are lost.

Only what we manage to do
lasts, what love sculpts from us;
but what I count, my rubies, my
children, are those moments
wide open when I know clearly
who I am, who you are, what we
do, a marigold, an oakleaf, a meteor,
with all my senses hungry and filled
at once like a pitcher with light.

~~Marge Piercy

A good perspective on the debate. . .

roaming — Thu, 04 Oct 2012 21:44:55 GMT

. . . can be found HERE in theferrett's LJ.

Charity Drive for Wolf Rescue by GRRM

roaming — Mon, 25 Jun 2012 21:23:30 GMT

If you love wolves AND GRRM, wander on over to his blog and see what you can get from him for donating.

Or just donate and save a wolf.

FB vs LJ: the Cliff Notes version

roaming — Wed, 20 Jun 2012 19:30:31 GMT

When I'm tired or braindead (which is more often than I'd like to admit to myself or you all), I like FB. I can click "like" to say "I read this, hi there!" On LJ, I have to use whole sentences, have a point, make some sense, spell correctly, in order to connect. Otherwise why bother (you)?

I'm still reading. I just want LJ to have a button to click that say "Read this, good to know, still love ya."

Mushroom Footstools!

roaming — Mon, 09 Apr 2012 20:09:09 GMT

Andreajwoods on etsy makes 'em. I'm gonna have one done up in my own chosen fabric. Unfortunately, with shipping, that's nearly $200. ouch.

Just what we need, more sad faces/broken hearts

roaming — Mon, 09 Apr 2012 20:06:24 GMT

But it's gotta be done. Not sure what good sharing on LJ or FB does, but since it's the *least* I can do, well, I'd be ashamed not to do it.
Just stumbled on to Invisible Dogs LJ community. Luckily, some of these dogs about to be euthanized DO have happy endings. Like Angel a bait dog pitbull so terrified of everyone and everything he pees himself and cowers. That was in February. I went to the FB link to check out his story, and he's been "pardoned." But the vid and further info is no longer available. I'd so love to know who rescued him, and how he's improving with consistent love and care!

The downside of spring

roaming — Thu, 05 Apr 2012 20:03:51 GMT

Road kill. The young'uns start exploring. Saw my first today on Rt3south: a beautiful red fox.

Question for my crafty friends

roaming — Mon, 02 Apr 2012 07:51:31 GMT

So our wrought iron gazebo finally came apart this winter. (For a cheap, hollow inside/not solid stainless steel construct, it served well for nearly 5 years.) We liked it well enough to replace it with the same model. (We'd build something more sturdy and longer lasting and more expensive, but we don't hang out in the yard enough to make it worth it. Too noisy a neighborhood, too hot in summer, too many mosquitos at night, etc. )

Oh, right: the question. The only reason this cheap contraption lasted more than one summer is because I coated it with a rust-preventative paint. It took so long I only managed ONE coat. I'm NOT doing that again by hand. So...

I'm wondering if there is some place that is set up for SPRAY PAINTING several layers of rust-preventive paint on things that I could take it to. Then I could have 3 coats put on, and maybe it wouldn't rust out at the joints so quickly.

Any ideas? Maybe a custom car-painting place?

Food Allergies: The USDA doesn't care what's in your food

roaming — Sun, 26 Feb 2012 00:47:50 GMT

as long as their Corporate Overlords make money to bribe them with.

From rowangolightly, with thanks for her posting this.

As one commenter in Rowan's LJ said:

"Monsanto is an evil corporation. Poor farmers who used to save their seed after harvest no longer can do so without being sued out of existence. If even one grain of Monsanto engineered food sprouts in a farmer's organic field (and that will happen because of wind and birds), Monsanto can force that farmer to plow under his entire crop.
FDA shuts down Amish farmer's raw milk business.