Credit Card Ads Are Making Me Furious

There is an ad running now about a woman who has to leave her home and her job to take care of her mother who has Alzheimer's. She gets behind in her credit card payments and starts getting notices from her card holders. And all she has to do to straighten this problem out is pick up the phone and talk to her credit card company. Have you ever tried to call your credit card company? It is an endless loop of voice mail hell. You will never get to talk to an actual person, unless they are calling you to tell you you need to sell you first born into slavery to make your damn payment.

I know because I had to fly to Santa Barbara (ticket on a credit card) rent a car (rental on a credit card) kidnap my crazy mother and drive her back to Salt Lake so I could take care of her since she had vascular dementia and was being evicted from her apartment. Then I had to get someone to watch her while I flew back to Santa Barbara (ticket on a credit card) rent a car (rental on a credit card) empty and clean her house and her storage unit and drive back to Salt Lake with her few salvageable possessions (her incontinence had left her clothing unsalvageable).

My mother required constant watching since every time I closed my eyes she ran away. She would go to the grocery store, gather up the crap she wanted and stand in line at the checkout counter. Then if someone behind her didn't offer to pay for her crap, the store would pay for her crap rather than have her pitch a fit in from of other people. I would then have to pay for her crap with a credit card. My mother started hitchhiking to another store, and got picked up by the cops. This resulted in my getting turned in for not keeping her safe. A charge just short of elder abuse. Then I had to get all the locks on the house changed so my mother couldn't run away, turning my house into a locked fortress to protect her from herself and me from the Ombudsman. And that was my last credit card charge.

Taking care of her full time meant I was unable to work. As I started missing payments (time gets away from you when you can't ever sleep or work or take a bath because something might happen to your mother) the credit card company started an aggressive debt collection campaign. I kept trying to explain my situation, but I guess everyone's got a sob story when they are unable to pay their credit cards. It was only when they called me to dun me, to call me an irresponsible idiot, that I was able to talk to a "real" person. They were in no way helpful. They suggested I sell my ten year old Jetta to pay my credit card bill. Eventually I was forced into bankruptcy.

One of my best friends has had the same credit card for thirty years and has never missed a payment. She was one day late with a payment a couple of years ago and they hiked her interest rate from 7% to 40% without notification to her. It was not until her next bill that she noticed the enormous change in interest charges. She spent a month trying to talk to a real person about her situation. The person she finally got to talk to said, "It's right there in the small print. If you read your statement you would know that we have the legal right to do whatever we deem necessary to protect ourselves from the irresponsibility of card holders like you who think it's fine to pay late or skip payments without consequences." This practice amounts to loan sharking. Now neither of us has a card we ever use to make purchases. We each have a debit card from our credit unions. I never use mine, but if I had to fly or rent a car, I'd need a card.

Fuck you Citibank. Take this card and shove it.

Hello Quizzy Gets It Wrong

Your result for What Do Others See You As Test...

41 to 50 Points

You've scored 43 Points!

Others see you as fresh, lively, charming, amusing, practical, and always interesting, someone who's constantly in the center of attention, but sufficiently well balanced not to let it go to their head. They also see you as kind, considerate, and understanding, someone who'll always cheer them up and help them out.

Take What Do Others See You As Test at HelloQuizzy

Now I could go back and answer all ten of those questions differently and we'd get the real way others see me. Because this is not how others see me, I can assure you. I'd get a more accurate take on who I am by taking a quiz based on my astrological sign. I will not always cheer you up. And I might wish I could help you out, but if skill or money or physical activity is involved in helping you out, you're out of luck. I am not always cheery. Ask the manager at the grocery store. He hides when he sees me coming. Ten questions to get a take on me? Sure.

Awards Season Is My Favorite Time Of The Year

I got an award! Yea! Thank you, you Attentive Aphorist!

TheMom is one very smart and generous blogger. And she's a good mom as well, just ask me. If you don't believe me ask her, her daughter, son, and TheGrandkids, they will confirm my assertion. Because I never make assertions I can't back up as absolute fact, unless it's just my opinion. But even then you'll have to prove to me I'm wrong because, well, just because.

When I became a blogger I had no idea what a blog was. It had to be explained to me several times before I got the concept. At first I only posted essays about things that pissed me off, like, lets say Barbie for instance. Man I hate that bitch. That doll is responsible for everything that's wrong with us, from anorexia to pornography, from breast implants to the plastic surgery of the pussy, or a pussy tuneup, or whatever you want to call turning a well-used pussy into something resembling the pussy of a twelve year old. Barbie is responsible for Reality TV, and the lowered IQ of the general population. On no, now I'm really wound up and could just go on an enormous rant, but that's not what we're here to do. No, we're here to thank TheMom and pass the love along. We're here to bless the ones who got us started and sent us out into the world to rant and rave as we feel we must about the things that are important to us.

The ones who got me started are a young couple who live in New York and were visiting. They insisted that the blog was just the thing I needed and the world needed another ranting, raving lunatic with a bad attitude and the hutzpah to speak her mind. Well, world, what do you think now. Now I even twitter. Take that all you smartasses who never thought I had it in me. Actually I'd have none of these outlets without the computing expertise I receive from my blogmate Sitenoise, my favorite reviewer of off beat movies. So thanks for the start, Rachel and David. And thanks for the help Phillip. Without the three of you there would be no Utah Savage. Bless you my children for getting me going. Without you I'd still be sitting here scribbling on paper.

I hereby bestow this lovely award on:
Susan at Phantsythat
Boarder Explorer
Wee Mousie's Cinema Burlesque
Non, Je Ne Regrette Rienes

There are so many others who I'd love to give this award to, but knowing how beloved they are, I'm sure this award will make it's way to them all.

The aims of this award:

As a dedication for those who love blogging and love to encourage friendships through blogging.
To seek the reasons why we all love blogging.
Put the award in one post as soon as you receive it.
Don't forget to mention the person who gives you the award.
Answer the award's question by writing the reason why you love blogging.
Tag and distribute the award to as many people as you like.
Don't forget to notify the award receivers and put their links in your post.

Tax Protesters Take This Pledge

If you are a small government fanatic and believe that you should pay no taxes, I've got a deal for you. There just might be a way for you to get what you want--a government that does not govern.

So if I have this straight, you think all government is bad government. Right? Well in that case you could do a couple of things. You could move to one of the countries that are failed states and essentially have no government, like say, Somalia. Or you could pledge to never ever receive any of the services provided by the federal or state governments.

So, no taxes, no tax supported services. Sounds fair to me. But for you this means, no roads will be open to you and your Hummer. No police or fire departments will respond to a 911 call from you since these first responders are tax supported. They would only arrive to protect your tax paying neighbors houses from the flames of yours. No schools receiving either state or federal moneys would be open to your children--but you probably home school them anyway, right? No garbage pick up, and if you get caught putting you trash in your tax paying neighbor's garbage cans, you would be jailed. No water flowing from you taps. No electricity, no gas. Yes, I know, the utilities are privately held, but subsidized by... you guessed it, taxes. And on and on it goes. If you are willing to abide by the rules, maybe you can keep your house and car, but only if you pay your property taxes. You won't be able to drive your car since road construction and maintenance is paid for by taxes. But you will have to register the car, which is a tax. In Utah, you wouldn't be able to buy food since food is taxed in this neanderthal state. Tax on food is the most regressive of all taxes--it disproportionately punishes the poor. And so it goes.

The one thing you probably approve of is also tax supported and that's the pentagon, the military, and arms dealers. But thanks to your stance on taxes we won't be paying for wars you actually support but the rest of us could do without. Oh well, a loss for you is a win for us.

You must also take the pledge to forego Social Security, Medicare, or Medicaid. I could go on and on, but it bores me to do so, since I think you won't keep you word, you'd find a way to cheat and use tax supported services in an emergency. But to make it a little simpler for you to understand where taxes come from and where they go, here is a little teaching aid.

Would I Marry Me?

Hell no, I would not marry myself. I'd be awful and have expectations. I'd be critical and impatient. I'd bitch and moan that I was not doing my share of the work. I'd criticize myself about my poor skills as a cook and housekeeper. I'd want me to be better with money, to own and know how to use a chain saw, to be able to install another outlet in the bathroom and fix the drippy faucet in the kitchen sink. I'd say things like, "It was nice you finally decided to do the laundry, but couldn't you have taken the few extra minutes to fold it and put it away?" I'd eventually divorce myself.

So what made me think about the prospect of being married to myself? It was Lisa. It's her fault.

File This Under Fabulous

I am not a fan of... I don't even know the name of the show. I don't watch any "reality" shows on general principle. I was an actor with an agent. Why would I be in favor of "reality" shows? I've been furious at fashion magazines for using "celebrities" as models. It just cuts the professionals out of the paycheck loop. And the whole "reality" thing has lowered the national I.Q. in my opinion. We seem to be a nation getting dumber by the day. But I am fortunate to be on YellowDogGranny's email update list. And today she sent me this.

It was so lovely I watched in stunned, and goose bumped wonder. Do yourself a favor and see if I'm right. Granted this comes to us from the UK, but I may have to rethink my disdain for Idol.

The Great Teabagging Party of 2009

And then there is this segment of the Rachel Maddow Show. Ignore the brief commercial, the segment is worth the wait, believe me. And Anna Marie Cox has become my new favorite twitterer.

P.S. YellowDogGranny suggested we send Tucks to the teabagging idiots. I'm thinking that's a great idea. However these idiots and their teabagging parties obviously have no idea that teabagging is anything other than dipping a teabag in a cup of hot water. You can lead a wingnut to knowledge, but you can't make him learn.

If There is God

If there is god
In this she shapes
A humble kindness

A small brown box reveals these gifts
One large moist spicy pumpkin loaf
Heavy like honey with generosity
An old slim book of poetry
In each word upon the page a mans longing
And new to me
A card sacred for such touching humility

These gifts sent to a woman never met
Who writes her secrets on a disappearing page
Perhaps to never know if they are understood
Light sent into a void and answered like a prayer

And yet here is proof: a loaf, a book of poetry, a card

2009 Peggy Pendleton

Blog Against Theoracy

Are You In Favor of Theocracy? Move To Utah. Utah is a Theocracy. I know of no other state that can make that claim. I could be wrong, but if I am I'm sure you'll let me know. The Mormon Church has a strangle hold on Utah. And the group of wise old white men on your left is the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. Oh yes, we have living, breathing, Apostles. Notice the pasty faces on these very clean cut, well connected men. Men rule everything in Utah. You'll like it here if feminism gets your goat. Uppity women are few and far between. And homosexuals? What homosexuals? According to a lot of Mormons, we have none. Oh yeah, Utah is the State of Denial.

Democrats live, for the most part, in Salt Lake City. Why is that? The University of Utah is a bastion of Moderation. Not liberal exactly, but moderate. In Utah, if you are a moderate, you are more than likely a Democrat.

And what do our Republican Representatives look like and how do they sound? Chris Butters is my favorite:



Come one, come all, bring your religious fundamentalist republican wingnutty selves to Utah, a state that welcomes you in all your nutty nuttiness, so long as you aren't gay.

And if I haven't convinced you yet that Utah is the place to bring your Theocratic selves check out these statistics.


If all you theocrats came to Utah, the rest of us could live in a country that might have a chance of being tolerant, inclusive, and free. Ah yes, let freedom ring for the rest of us. You theocrats can have your very own state with really strange liquor laws--heck, you could make it dry again.

"Because hate is legislated... "

This gift was sent to me by LeeAnn. It also came with a lovely large and delicious home made pumpkin bread and a card. I had never heard of Walter Benton, but I opened the book to the first entry, dated April 28, and it says this:

Because hate is legislated...written into
the primer and the testament,
shot into our blood and brain like vaccine or vitamins

Because our day is of time--and the clock-hand turns,
closes the circle upon us: and black timeless night
sucks us in like quicksand, receives us totally--
without a raincheck or a parachute, a key to heaven or the last long look

I need love more than ever now...I need your love,
I need love more than hope or money, wisdom or a drink

Because slow negative death withers the world--and only yes
can turn the tide
Because love has your face and body...and your hands are tender
and your mouth is sweet--and God has made no other eyes like yours.

Hello Quizzy Says I'm Ruth Bader Ginsberg

Your result for Which Supreme Court Justice Are You Test...

You are Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg

You agreed with Ginsburg 88% of the time.

Ruth Joan Bader Ginsburg (born March 15, 1933) is an Associate Justice on the U.S. Supreme Court. She was appointed by Democratic President Bill Clinton with the support of Republican Judiciary Chairman Senator Orrin Hatch in 1993 and generally votes with the liberal wing of the court. She is the second female Justice, Sandra Day O'Connor being the first, and the first Jewish woman to serve on the Supreme Court.

Prior to her appointment to the Supreme Court, Ginsburg served as a federal judge for 13 years on the United States Court of Appeals for the District of Columbia Circuit. In practice, she spent a considerable portion of her career as an advocate for the equal citizenship status of women and men as a constitutional principle. She engaged in advocacy as a volunteer lawyer for the American Civil Liberties Union, and was a member of the ACLU's Board and one of its General Counsel in the 1970s. She served as a professor at Rutgers School of Law in Newark and Columbia Law School.

Ginsburg characterizes her performance on the court as a cautious approach to adjudication, and argued in a speech shortly before her nomination to the Supreme Court that "[m]easured motions seem to me right, in the main, for constitutional as well as common law adjudication. Doctrinal limbs too swiftly shaped, experience teaches, may prove unstable." Ginsburg has urged that the Supreme Court allow for dialogue with elected branches, while others argue that would inevitably lead to politicizing the court.

Though Ginsburg has consistently supported abortion rights and joined in the Supreme Court's opinion striking down Nebraska's partial-birth abortion law in Stenberg v. Carhart (2000), she has criticized the court's ruling in Roe v. Wade as terminating a nascent, democratic movement to liberalize abortion laws which might have built a more durable consensus in support of abortion rights. She has also been an advocate for using foreign law and norms to shape U.S. law in judicial opinions, in contrast to the textualist views of her colleagues Chief Justice John Roberts, Justice Antonin Scalia, Justice Clarence Thomas and Justice Samuel Alito. Despite their fundamental differences, Ginsburg considers Scalia her closest colleague in the Court, and they often dine and attend the opera together.

Ginsburg is part of the "liberal wing" in the current court and has a Segal-Cover score of 0.680 placing her as the most liberal (by that measure, which takes no account of judicial actions post-confirmation) of current justices, although more moderate than those of many other post-World War II justices. In a 2003 statistical analysis of Supreme Court voting patterns, Ginsburg emerged the second most liberal member of the Court (behind Justice Stevens).

Ginsburg was diagnosed with colorectal cancer in 1999 and underwent surgery followed by chemotherapy and radiation treatments. During the process, she did not miss a single day on the bench. However, during a routine health checkup in late January 2009, a CAT scan revealed a cancerous tumor in the center of her pancreas, measuring approximately one centimeter in width. On February 5, 2009, she underwent surgery related to pancreatic cancer. Pancreatic cancer has an extremely high mortality rate, but doctors are optimistic due to the fact that Ginsburg's tumor was discovered at an early stage. On February 13, 2009, Justice Ginsburg was released from a New York hospital, 8 days after the surgery. Justice Ginsburg returned to work on February 22, where she proceeded to hear oral arguments for the rest of the day. On February 24, she attended President Obama's speech before the joint session of Congress, and received a warm welcome from both President Obama and the Congressional attendees.

Take Which Supreme Court Justice Are You Test at HelloQuizzy

Crazy Eyes Bachmann

Michelle Bachmann provides endless entertainment for Chris, David, Ed, Keith, and Rachel. But it is Keith Olbermann who knows how to make the most of her outrageousness. Between Bachmann and Palin we should have endless fun for years to come. Republicans seem bent on making themselves mockable lately, and mock them we will. Rave on Michelle. I know this is vintage, but it's fun none the less. And I hope Keith and I hook up again in my dream life tonight so I can comfort him properly. We were rudely interrupted this morning by my bladder.

A Day of Rest

I'm taking the day off doing nothing much. I woke up from a strange dream. I had to pee and I had a headache. I peed and pondered the dream. Keith Olbermann and I were talking about a problem he had. He was distraught. I had a headache. His problem was really serious and involved a child. I wanted to go back to sleep to help, but just when I fell asleep again, Roscoe wanted in. He comes here the moment Ms. M leaves for work. Then I got a phone call from some damned insurance company trying to insinuate themselves into my relationship with Medicare. So I woke up sort of screaming. The kid who called me finally said, "Mam, may I put my supervisor on?" I screamed, "Hell no! Just leave me alone!" Headache raging on. Then the supervisor was stupid enough to call me back. God are those folks dumb.


I haven't lifted any dumbbells or really much more than a finger today. YellowDogGranny always tells me either, "Tits out, chin up!" or "Chin up, tits out!" But I know what she means. I have to be strong and carry on. Yeah yeah, I know. And yet I slump against a pile of pillows, each dog at rest on the floor on either side of my bed. I feel like Cleopatra if she'd lived a real long time and grew sick of everybody but a very select few, and then by appointment only. The fridge is stocked. I'm hydrating.

I'm also thinking about all the things I'm pissed about and haven't written about for awhile. I'm furious at the religious right for being furious that state by state our gay citizens are getting their civil rights. I have yet to hear a reasoned, intelligent response for how a gay couples marriage threatens anyone. The problem for the religious right, those beloved, values voters is their ideology wants to limit my freedoms. My freedom to do something does not force a values voter to do it too. WTF? I think I'm working up a righteous blog against theocracy.

Anyway, I'm busy thinking and hydrating and listening to dogs snore.

I Think It's Going To Rain Today

Heal Thyself!

I'm back from the doctor's visit and running every possible errand I could fit into the pre-primetime news hours.

Here's the news from Chez Savage.

I got weighed and measured today. I've lost three pounds and haven't shrunk. It's my little Lenten Season Miracle.

I'm dehydrated. I told her that. She pressed on my forearm and said, "Yup. You are." I said, "I need to drink more water. She said, "Looks like it." We talked about the succession of symptoms I've had. She said, "There's a lot of that going around. Do you need to eat yogurt?" "No."

She poked me on the side of my ring-fingertip and we waited for the readout. I'm a bit too clotty. I need to increase my Warfarin. I bet anyone who knows me would say I'm way too warfarin' as it is, but so be it. A little Warfarin I will go. I talked about the lifestyle changes that come with Spring at my place. Since I got home I've dusted and moved the blue 8 lb. weights within eye sight of my bed. No reason I can't work on my Michelle Obama arms while watching the morning news, drinking my coffee and smoking my morning cigarettes. Oh yes, just one will not due. I need to smoke several to get my morning nicotine level up to par. And no, do not tell me to stop. Even my doctor knows better than that. The bronchitis has gone away.

I went to the bank, the post office, two grocery stores and Cahoots, the card shop by The Tower theater--Salt Lake's oldest art house movie theater. I only forgot one thing. And since I still can't remember what it was without searching for my list, which I probably left in the cart, it must not matter all that much.

I'll call Nick and tell him I'm ready to take him to lunch and a movie when he can fit me into his busy schedule. He really does have a very busy social life, unlike moi.

Off To The Doctor Again

Wish me luck, I'm off to see my doctor again. She will check me out and probably tell me I have a slow moving virus. She'll test my clotting factor and send me on my way.

My new symptom is a headache that never quite goes away. I know I'm starting to sound like a hypochondriac, but even if it's all in my head, it's real. You can't make me believe the days of diarrhea were all in my head.

Sergeant Myers Comes Home

This evening I saw the first casket of one of our servicemen arrive at Dover to be met by an Honor Gaurd. I can't stop crying. I have waited decades to see that honor bestowed on one of our fallen soldiers returning in a coffin from a war he or she was sent to fight in our name. It was so moving, so terribly sad. If it were my grandson coming back in a flag draped coffin, I'd want the world to feel my loss as if it belonged to us all.

Kindness and Generosity

If you've been following along, you might have noticed that I had painters in to repair a bit of a skylight leakage problem following the installation of new roofing on the little house. This is the interior ceiling of the little house with the small stain of a very slow drip over the winter. I know it's barely visible in this photo, but it's a faint light brown stain that starts narrow just at the bottom of the skylight and widens as it slowly makes its way down the ceiling toward the pipe that is my gas heater's chimney pipe.

The roofing company, Brady Roofing, sent the foreman of the roofing crew and a helper out to paint that one triangle of my ceiling. They did a lovely job, but I nearly killed myself getting ready for them to paint that wall. My two best and biggest bookcases are against that wall and they are both glass fronted. So to protect them I unloaded all the books and moved them into the greenhouse. Turned one bookcase's front to the wall and disassembled the other and moved it into the greenhouse. I took down art work from the wall below. It was a hard days work getting ready for them. And to make it harder I've been sick way too long, and am weakened by this illness and the emotional part of rejection of the novel has finally hit.

The surprise of this encounter with the foreman and his helper was the charm, intelligence and elegant English of the new guy. His name is Ricardo and I couldn't stop talking to him. It slowed things down and probably annoyed Omar, the foreman on the original job. What might have taken a couple of hours stretched into most of the day. I know it must baffle Omar and Brady Roofing that I won't agree to an 8 AM arrival time. I find it almost impossible to go to sleep before 2 AM, so getting up at 6 or 7 is a punishing call-time for me. If they were doing the whole ceiling I'd agree to the early time. But I knew it wouldn't take that long to do that one triangle. However, once I discovered that I had an intelligent man from Mexico working in my house, I wanted to learn something about Ricardo. He was willing to talk Mexican politics. Heaven. Hillary was in Mexico and telling us that the Mexican drug wars were our problems. This man, Ricardo, is a man who the Italians would have called "simpatico." I liked him immediately. And during the day of my asking prying questions I found out that he had been making his living as a handyman. I asked him what he specialized in and he said he could do it all--plumbing, electrical, you name it, he can do it. And based on the care he gave the painting I'm betting he can do it well. So I got his full name and phone number and planned to call him as soon as I get my property taxes paid.

Then I got a call for the charming man who owns Brady Roofing to tell me that Ricardo was offering to come back to paint the rest of the ceiling. I explained that I couldn't afford to pay him just yet. Mr. Brady said, "Ricardo wants to make you an offer you can't refuse. May I put him on the phone?" "Yes, of course."

Turns out Ricardo is willing to come back and paint at no charge to me. How is this possible? I could never let a working man come work for me and not pay him. That would be unthinkable. It goes against my sense of fairness and value for the skill and time of a working person. If you do hard work for someone else, unless they're family, you should get paid. But I'm not family. The weather has been bad here and the roofers are not working outside, so he says he has time and is ready to schedule the job. Still I put him off a couple of days. Then we schedule it.

I don't know why I thought Ricardo would only paint one triangle at a time. I thought he would be alone. I thought it wouldn't be too much to ask him to do the moving and lifting and draping. I just didn't have it in me to do that myself. I'm a ghost of my usual self. I made no effort at all.


Ricardo arrived promptly at 10 AM with another worker, a Mexican man who doesn't speak English. I was smoking and drinking my coffee and watching the morning news. And so they set about moving furniture, and taping and draping the walls, protecting the things that weren't essential to move.





And all the while I talked to Ricardo. And all the while I talked to him I schemed on how to make him part of my family. If I had a son I would want a son like this man. I feel kinship with him. I think this is part of the meaning of the word "simpatico." There is no English word that encompasses all that "simpatico" means. But kinship is part of it. We could talk about anything. I could wax lyrical about Ricardo and his lovely self, but I don't want to embarrass him. I told him I write a blog, and he just might see this. I tried to pay him. He said no. It's a really difficult ceiling to paint and in the past has required scaffolding. I argued with him, trying to explain why it was so important to me. How could I hire him to do other jobs if he wouldn't let me pay him? He still said no. When his back was turned I slipped a couple of hundred dollars in the pocket of his jacket. It wasn't a tenth enough. I was sitting at my computer when he left. He pulled the money out of his pocket and frowned at me. He handed it to me, smiled and shook my hand. I was starting to tear up when he left. This is how my ceiling looks now. More photos later.

I Don't Know What It Means But I like It

I think it was Tengrain who introduced me to Jane. In certain light I see a bit of Jane in Ms. M.

I was listening to the radio today and heard Jane Monheit singing "Like A Star." I had to stop what I was doing to listen. It was gorgeous and "Like A Star" was what I was looking for. I found this instead. I don't know what the Spanish means, but I like it.

I Apologize

Please forgive my inattentiveness. I have been sick. In the midst of being sick, the painting on one of the soaring triangles of my ceiling was scheduled. I over did it moving books and bookcases. Then I over did it after the painting was finished, cleaning things before putting them back. I mopped floors. All of this you know, but I have neglected you. I haven't visited. I haven't left you the love notes disguised as comments that you so richly deserve. Please forgive me.

The weather has been dreadful, either snowing or raining. Yes we need the water, but just when my pear tree budded the weather turned treacherous and we've had hard freezes at night. So much for a nice crop of pears.

And I have amazing things to tell you. Oh yes, even sick life swirls around me, and offers come I can't refuse. I should be confined to my bed, but my Imac is not in my bed. So commenting will be sparse for a few more days.

And then I must tell you all about Ricardo. I'm hoping he'll be my future son in law. Oh if only your daughters would let you arrange their marriages they wouldn't marry schmucks. Ms. M says, "Would you have dated a man your mother picked out for you?" And I say, "You wouldn't ask that question if you'd known my mother. She was a crazy bitch." Ms. M smiles and cocks an eyebrow in my direction and says nothing more on the subject. This is just the beginning of a very long story.

Now I have to get my orange juice and crawl back in bed. I've heated the newest sleep mask Ms M gave me at Christmas time. This is the first time I've had sinus pain in a very long time. But I'm so glad to have the comfort of this new sleep mask. Sky lights make it impossible to get this place dark in the daytime. Light is hurting my head. Every muscle and joint aches, and I'm running a low grade fever. Thankfully the mad dashes for the crapper have ceased. But now I'm either drenched in sweat or shivering. And I hate being sick. I still owe Nick a birthday celebration.

But don't be mad at me for not visiting you. If I had a laptop I could drag into bed with me. I'd be blog hopping like mad.