There are a couple of people on Facebook that I have finally blocked. I feel that I don't need to read their constant haranguing with each other, with other people, and I certainly don't need either of them in my life.
They are caustic to others and poisonous to me. Frankly, I'm glad they are basically gone from Facebook completely. By blocking them, I no long get messages in the middle of the night from them, and I no longer see their hateful responses to others on the walls of my friends.
These people are toxic people. They say they care, when in fact they do not. For a while, their behaviors were hilarious to me, and now, I think that I need to move away from the fear and the pain and the hyper-vigilance that has been my watch-word for most of my life.
Yes, by all means, I intend to stay "on this side of the state"; however, I will continue to do the things that I love doing--such as spinning, knitting and crafts. I will continue to attend the Living History Show, the Kalamazoo Highland Festival and the Alma Festival for the sake of my friend Ray, who may not be long for this world--to listen and grieve my own losses. If I stay over here, it's only because I do respect my family and the people I call my friends. In like manner, you should stay on your side of the state and stop stalking me. If I'm friends with someone you knew and now do not like anymore, that is MY business. Do not make it yours.
I was a good person until I met you. I am still a good person, and I care a lot about people. I do not give a tinker's damn about child abusers, wife beaters or people who mistreat others to make themselves appear more human. I am a champion for the underdog, an intelligent human being, and a VALUABLE AND TRUSTWORTHY friend to those who deserve to have my friendship.
It's so sad that you have to lie in order to make yourself look more important. It was always you that had the problem, and you drew me into it, severed all my friendships, and got in the way of my making new ones because you wanted all the control. When you didn't get it, you left. Every relationship you've ever had was built on those same lies. I am sick to death and tired of living with them. If your current relationship knew that she was severing her relationships with people to side with you, and that eventually you would finish doing to her what you did to me, she would leave you in a heartbeat. Instead, she is so afraid you'll leave, that she'll do anything, including support your abusive nature, and deny her own good sense, in order to keep you in her life. Deep down, she knows you are destroying things. It's making her angry. I know what you're doing to her, because it's what you did to me.
I have been done with you for a long time. And now, at least I don't have to look at you. I don't have to read what you say, and even if you email me, I can immediately delete you and if you call, I can hang up. There is no way that I will ever forget your voice. And forget my name. I'm not sure why it matters to you so much. All I've ever did was to give it a GOOD reputation. You have a very bad reputation in many circles. I can't believe that I ever had feelings for you. I can't believe that I ever cared about you, and I can't believe that I married you, even though I knew there was something about you that just didn't seem right.
I kept your last name for my own reasons. I am not going to give you the satisfaction of knowing why, but you can be CERTAIN AND SURE that it had nothing to do with YOU. You are a life sucker. A leach and a letch. You prey on women in pain.
And you lie.
One day, the whole world will know the truth about you.
Monday, June 6, 2011
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Sunday Morning Coffee
I don't think there's a better smell in the world, than the smell of good coffee on a Sunday morning. I don't particularly LIKE coffee that much, and I put a lot of preservatives in it to make it palatable to me. I use Equal, rather than sugar to help me keep the carbs down, and I use Coffee Mate Chocolate Flavored creamer--because I like chocolate.
In fact, if I could, I would have one cup of chocolate Hershey's syrup instead, but that would really defeat the "watching my carb intake" now, wouldn't it?
So I drink coffee...then I drink Diet Pepsi the rest of the day. Hubby forgot to put the carton in the frig, so we will be having warm Diet Pepsi all day. Sigh. A cold one would hit the spot right about now...but I'll drink coffee first.
I'm interested to know how many people drink coffee in the morning, and their reason's for doing so. I'm sure that someone has put up a poll SOMEWHERE in bloggerland--I suppose I'll have to "google" it and see. Just to get some statistics on the matter. Not that it really matters, of course, but that's how it is.
For instance, some people aren't coherent until they have had their first cup of coffee. Must be my ex-husband hasn't had any coffee for the last 4 or 5 days. He's been pretty incoherent lately. Perhaps that's his problem.
Some, drink it for the taste.
Some, drink it to clear the palate.
Some, known as "coffee connoisseurs" won't put anything in their coffee, and drink it black, claiming that those who put "stuff" in their coffee really don't like coffee.
Some, prefer their coffee weak, and others, strong. Either way, to me, it's a bitter brew.
I like to put my own beans in a processor and relish the fresher taste. Others go out and buy small packets and brew it one cup at a time in a little coffeemaker (I think it's called a Kerbit, but I could be wrong there...another "google" is in store, methinks.), and brew one cup at a time. To me, a waste of good electricity. Make 6 cups and be done with it.
Some like Cappuccino, some expresso and some Late (which is mostly milk). I've never had an Expresso, and from the sound of it, I don't think I want any. I've heard it's coffee so strong your spoon stands up in the cup, and you'd best not leave it there for long--implying that the coffee will eat the silverware. I think to myself...imagine what it's doing to my guts? But I understand that people swear by it.
I mean, people...go buy some beans and chew on them like a snack, for pities sake!
Some people drink coffee to calm the nerves, others to RAMP them up, some people don't need any more winding up--having enough of their own reserves in the morning, and I wonder why they drink coffee.
When I was in high school, and in the school plays, the director, Roger Koger (not pronounced Rojher Kojher, but Koger was with a "hard" g), would set out carafes of coffee, always black, claiming that it helped keep people awake and also kept the vocal chords clear. Adding "additives" slurred proper diction by coating the throat lining, resulting in poor projection.
Ya, that's what I said. Nice story, doctor. Back it up with facts, please.
Some say coffee is good for you, and still others will tell you it's not. Depends on the poll and the results of the statistics, whether you're democrat, republican, christian, agnostic or atheist. There's a statistic for every modality of thought.
Me, I just like the smell of it in the morning. That's my story and I'm sticking to it, but while I do that...maybe just one more cup.
In fact, if I could, I would have one cup of chocolate Hershey's syrup instead, but that would really defeat the "watching my carb intake" now, wouldn't it?
So I drink coffee...then I drink Diet Pepsi the rest of the day. Hubby forgot to put the carton in the frig, so we will be having warm Diet Pepsi all day. Sigh. A cold one would hit the spot right about now...but I'll drink coffee first.
I'm interested to know how many people drink coffee in the morning, and their reason's for doing so. I'm sure that someone has put up a poll SOMEWHERE in bloggerland--I suppose I'll have to "google" it and see. Just to get some statistics on the matter. Not that it really matters, of course, but that's how it is.
For instance, some people aren't coherent until they have had their first cup of coffee. Must be my ex-husband hasn't had any coffee for the last 4 or 5 days. He's been pretty incoherent lately. Perhaps that's his problem.
Some, drink it for the taste.
Some, drink it to clear the palate.
Some, known as "coffee connoisseurs" won't put anything in their coffee, and drink it black, claiming that those who put "stuff" in their coffee really don't like coffee.
Some, prefer their coffee weak, and others, strong. Either way, to me, it's a bitter brew.
I like to put my own beans in a processor and relish the fresher taste. Others go out and buy small packets and brew it one cup at a time in a little coffeemaker (I think it's called a Kerbit, but I could be wrong there...another "google" is in store, methinks.), and brew one cup at a time. To me, a waste of good electricity. Make 6 cups and be done with it.
Some like Cappuccino, some expresso and some Late (which is mostly milk). I've never had an Expresso, and from the sound of it, I don't think I want any. I've heard it's coffee so strong your spoon stands up in the cup, and you'd best not leave it there for long--implying that the coffee will eat the silverware. I think to myself...imagine what it's doing to my guts? But I understand that people swear by it.
I mean, people...go buy some beans and chew on them like a snack, for pities sake!
Some people drink coffee to calm the nerves, others to RAMP them up, some people don't need any more winding up--having enough of their own reserves in the morning, and I wonder why they drink coffee.
When I was in high school, and in the school plays, the director, Roger Koger (not pronounced Rojher Kojher, but Koger was with a "hard" g), would set out carafes of coffee, always black, claiming that it helped keep people awake and also kept the vocal chords clear. Adding "additives" slurred proper diction by coating the throat lining, resulting in poor projection.
Ya, that's what I said. Nice story, doctor. Back it up with facts, please.
Some say coffee is good for you, and still others will tell you it's not. Depends on the poll and the results of the statistics, whether you're democrat, republican, christian, agnostic or atheist. There's a statistic for every modality of thought.
Me, I just like the smell of it in the morning. That's my story and I'm sticking to it, but while I do that...maybe just one more cup.
Saturday, June 4, 2011
The Die is Cast...
There is trouble in paradise. While it's true things could go either way, the less I work at it, the faster things will go.
I'm not sure what all that means, and it has spiritual tones to it. I can't really discuss it, due to it's private nature. The weirdness of last night's dreaming (or more appropriately, THIS MORNING'S dreaming) seems to indicate that things are moving in the background.
It's a hot day--very humid. I thought I might take a shower an hour ago, but I've been a lazy girl today. Hubby and I drove around to local garbage sales, and I found a LOT of yarn at a couple places, and he gladly bought a LOT of yarn for me to knit with (since I really REALLY like knitting, of course), so when I got home, I quickly pulled out the remainder of my Vanna's Ruby Red and finished crocheting the block for the afghan. Then I pulled the Log Cabin Scrappy Doo out of the bag, and knit several rows on it. The rows are getting longer the more yarn I put on the outside, and it's taking more yarn to do a single row, but not yet a whole skein. The blanket is almost 20" across now. It feels huge, heavy and warm on my legs, which I don't need right at the moment, so I might opt to hold off on it for summer and work on something lighter.
Like the Aeolian Shawl at Knitty. I've had this on my mind for some time now, and think I'm just about ready to start it.
But which yarn should I use? I bought several today that would work--all on cones--beautiful yarns that would knit up this shawl, which is just a little out of my comfort zone and includes nupps, which I've never done, but they look so yummy!
But I'm not sure how well the sweat on my hands will work with the wool coming off the cone, which is VERY fine. So, I'm procrastinating.
Never a good thing for me to do, but there you go.
So in the meanwhile, I decided to blog and let my monitor heat up the air a little more. I might check the stats for my page in a minute and see how many people have been here for one reason or another. There has been thunderstorm watches for all around us, but it's only hazy here. I suppose a storm could pop up out of no where, but it's cooling off now, so it's a little less probable.
I wish hubby would have put in the air conditioner yesterday. He's been quite the slacker lately. Actually, that's not true. He and a friend cut down all the lower limbs on the trees and firs in the yard and dragged them behind the barn. Being mostly pine, they will burn VERY hot, and hubby is concerned that when he burns them, he'll also burn down the barn. MUCH too close for comfort. So when he decides to do the burning, he will do so, further from the barn, a little at a time, and when the pile gets smaller (imagine a room 12x12, piled to the ceiling, which is how it stands at the moment), to touch it off. It will burn fast, because pine lights quickly being a soft wood, and turns to charcoal in no time at all. When I was younger, I had a fireplace, and I burned up a lot of 2 x 4's in my fireplace. I found out later, that wasn't really such a good idea, since it builds tar in the chimney much quicker than hardwoods do. I still wish hubby would have put in the a/c. It's just too smokin' in the house for me today.
Slow news day, today. I think everyone might be suffering with the heat/humidity. How about you?
I'm not sure what all that means, and it has spiritual tones to it. I can't really discuss it, due to it's private nature. The weirdness of last night's dreaming (or more appropriately, THIS MORNING'S dreaming) seems to indicate that things are moving in the background.
It's a hot day--very humid. I thought I might take a shower an hour ago, but I've been a lazy girl today. Hubby and I drove around to local garbage sales, and I found a LOT of yarn at a couple places, and he gladly bought a LOT of yarn for me to knit with (since I really REALLY like knitting, of course), so when I got home, I quickly pulled out the remainder of my Vanna's Ruby Red and finished crocheting the block for the afghan. Then I pulled the Log Cabin Scrappy Doo out of the bag, and knit several rows on it. The rows are getting longer the more yarn I put on the outside, and it's taking more yarn to do a single row, but not yet a whole skein. The blanket is almost 20" across now. It feels huge, heavy and warm on my legs, which I don't need right at the moment, so I might opt to hold off on it for summer and work on something lighter.
Like the Aeolian Shawl at Knitty. I've had this on my mind for some time now, and think I'm just about ready to start it.
But which yarn should I use? I bought several today that would work--all on cones--beautiful yarns that would knit up this shawl, which is just a little out of my comfort zone and includes nupps, which I've never done, but they look so yummy!
But I'm not sure how well the sweat on my hands will work with the wool coming off the cone, which is VERY fine. So, I'm procrastinating.
Never a good thing for me to do, but there you go.
So in the meanwhile, I decided to blog and let my monitor heat up the air a little more. I might check the stats for my page in a minute and see how many people have been here for one reason or another. There has been thunderstorm watches for all around us, but it's only hazy here. I suppose a storm could pop up out of no where, but it's cooling off now, so it's a little less probable.
I wish hubby would have put in the air conditioner yesterday. He's been quite the slacker lately. Actually, that's not true. He and a friend cut down all the lower limbs on the trees and firs in the yard and dragged them behind the barn. Being mostly pine, they will burn VERY hot, and hubby is concerned that when he burns them, he'll also burn down the barn. MUCH too close for comfort. So when he decides to do the burning, he will do so, further from the barn, a little at a time, and when the pile gets smaller (imagine a room 12x12, piled to the ceiling, which is how it stands at the moment), to touch it off. It will burn fast, because pine lights quickly being a soft wood, and turns to charcoal in no time at all. When I was younger, I had a fireplace, and I burned up a lot of 2 x 4's in my fireplace. I found out later, that wasn't really such a good idea, since it builds tar in the chimney much quicker than hardwoods do. I still wish hubby would have put in the a/c. It's just too smokin' in the house for me today.
Slow news day, today. I think everyone might be suffering with the heat/humidity. How about you?
Last Night, I Had This Crazy Dream...
I really must stop taking Advil at 3am!
I had a dream that included a friend from JoAnn's, the JoAnn's store, my ex-husband, a man who lived across the street in a small bungalow, with a pool in back and the ocean a little farther back, and my old neighbor from when I lived in a trailer park--but not my neighbor, no. Her son's wife, who was no longer married (the son, not the mother, although she wasn't married either, but I digress. And if you could keep up with all of that, well, you're a better man than I am, and that's for darn sure!).
The dream began with me in a JoAnn's store, and my friend (who resigned from the job) was trying to figure out how to put together a classy display for the front of the store. We were shopping together, and we took all of our cart contents to the back of the store--when the day was over, I went "home" to my ex husband, and life as his wife, bored to the teeth desperate housewife--that was me.
The man across the street turned out to be a tax evader. He was "in the railroad business". Well, he certainly was a loser. He tried to railroad me pretty hard, even though he knew I was married to my ex husband. Wait, did I just type that? It was an interesting, although confusing and complicated dream, and that's how I know when it's a dream and not reality, when I'm something that I would never be in a million years--my ex husband's wife.
One of my old school chums was in the dream too, and he was helping my husband (er, ex husband) to protect my honor when this guy reaches into my dress and undoes my brassiere. Of course, I slapped him--are you kidding? I'd seen the parade of loose women come in and out of his bungalow. I know I was being flirtatious, but it didn't merit THAT.
I tried to palm him (rich guy, good looking, great space) off my my neighbor's ex-daughter in law...after slapping her a couple times because she was being STUPID about it. Never did like that girl.
All of a sudden, there's my ex husband, tackling this guy with the friend from high school, they taped his hands and half of his face and beat the living snot out of him, that's when I went inside the bungalow and found the shoes. Funny how you remember certain things, and not others, isn't it? He kept a pair of matching sandals (silver slingbacks with 2" heels) in his bungalow in a size that he could wear and a size big enough for a transvestite, so I presume that he was a tad perverted, too. Perfect for my neighbor's ex-daughter in law. (You have to understand that I didn't know about the tax evader stuff until after this cursory "search" of the bungalow.)
I stepped out the back, and that's when the cops came. I slipped down into the deep end of the drained pool to hide, then decided I'd look guilty, since my ex husband and the guy from high school were responsible for beating the guy senseless, and presuming that the guy had called the cops, I figured I'd better get out and start back to the front of the house to meet the cops from the yard, rather than from the inside of the house. I hadn't disturbed anything, but those shoes surely disturbed me.
When I got to the front, they were hauling the guy to the squad car in cuffs, and my ex husband puts his arm around my waist and says "He told you most of his business was in another country--Luxembourg--in railroads. Fact is, the feds have wanted him for years for tax evasion, and finally caught up with him."
It was about that time that my neighbor's ex daughter in law showed up in a stunning long white crepe gown to go out on a date with him. When she saw him being stuffed into the back of the cop car, she came up to me and tried to slap me, but I stopped her easily. We watched the cop car fade into the distance on the main road.
That's when we threw a party, and all the local tugboat captains came.
That's when I woke up.
So don't say "I want some of what she's drinking!"
It was the Advil. I swear it was the Advil!
I had a dream that included a friend from JoAnn's, the JoAnn's store, my ex-husband, a man who lived across the street in a small bungalow, with a pool in back and the ocean a little farther back, and my old neighbor from when I lived in a trailer park--but not my neighbor, no. Her son's wife, who was no longer married (the son, not the mother, although she wasn't married either, but I digress. And if you could keep up with all of that, well, you're a better man than I am, and that's for darn sure!).
The dream began with me in a JoAnn's store, and my friend (who resigned from the job) was trying to figure out how to put together a classy display for the front of the store. We were shopping together, and we took all of our cart contents to the back of the store--when the day was over, I went "home" to my ex husband, and life as his wife, bored to the teeth desperate housewife--that was me.
The man across the street turned out to be a tax evader. He was "in the railroad business". Well, he certainly was a loser. He tried to railroad me pretty hard, even though he knew I was married to my ex husband. Wait, did I just type that? It was an interesting, although confusing and complicated dream, and that's how I know when it's a dream and not reality, when I'm something that I would never be in a million years--my ex husband's wife.
One of my old school chums was in the dream too, and he was helping my husband (er, ex husband) to protect my honor when this guy reaches into my dress and undoes my brassiere. Of course, I slapped him--are you kidding? I'd seen the parade of loose women come in and out of his bungalow. I know I was being flirtatious, but it didn't merit THAT.
I tried to palm him (rich guy, good looking, great space) off my my neighbor's ex-daughter in law...after slapping her a couple times because she was being STUPID about it. Never did like that girl.
All of a sudden, there's my ex husband, tackling this guy with the friend from high school, they taped his hands and half of his face and beat the living snot out of him, that's when I went inside the bungalow and found the shoes. Funny how you remember certain things, and not others, isn't it? He kept a pair of matching sandals (silver slingbacks with 2" heels) in his bungalow in a size that he could wear and a size big enough for a transvestite, so I presume that he was a tad perverted, too. Perfect for my neighbor's ex-daughter in law. (You have to understand that I didn't know about the tax evader stuff until after this cursory "search" of the bungalow.)
I stepped out the back, and that's when the cops came. I slipped down into the deep end of the drained pool to hide, then decided I'd look guilty, since my ex husband and the guy from high school were responsible for beating the guy senseless, and presuming that the guy had called the cops, I figured I'd better get out and start back to the front of the house to meet the cops from the yard, rather than from the inside of the house. I hadn't disturbed anything, but those shoes surely disturbed me.
When I got to the front, they were hauling the guy to the squad car in cuffs, and my ex husband puts his arm around my waist and says "He told you most of his business was in another country--Luxembourg--in railroads. Fact is, the feds have wanted him for years for tax evasion, and finally caught up with him."
It was about that time that my neighbor's ex daughter in law showed up in a stunning long white crepe gown to go out on a date with him. When she saw him being stuffed into the back of the cop car, she came up to me and tried to slap me, but I stopped her easily. We watched the cop car fade into the distance on the main road.
That's when we threw a party, and all the local tugboat captains came.
That's when I woke up.
So don't say "I want some of what she's drinking!"
It was the Advil. I swear it was the Advil!
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Wow!
I get back to my book, and everyone vanishes! I had 33 hits two days ago, 17 yesterday and so far, zero today. Must be you guys don't care much for my story?
Or maybe you're all guys and paranoid now?
Well, I will continue on another day.
I had a class at JoAnn's today. It wasn't too bad, but it didn't get me home in time to watch my favorite show for Thursday night, which apparently has been cancelled or else due to the end of the season, it's just playing reruns, neither of which was palatable.
But I come home to find my husband watching Glee!
Holy cow! Who died and where did they take my husband?
My husband doesn't watch Glee!
My husband makes FUN of Glee!
He laughs (ha ha!) when it comes on! But there he is, watching it, presumably because it's "all that was on".
Yes, I'm sure.
A little excitement at the Governor's workplace, though, I understand--some substance (white) inside an envelope--I would hazard a guess, but wouldn't want to get anybody into trouble. Frankly, it was more likely a delivery of special foot powder, as we all know how odorous is the Governor's job...oh, wait, maybe that should be onerous? Whatever. Either, or--will make a man sweat. I guess that the person who opened the mail claimed that their hand felt odd (or something like that), and the person was cleared and sent home. Well, it sounds like a good excuse to me! Getting sent home by the boss? A paid holiday? Yeah! I'm all for that! I bet there's a rash of these white powder envelopes come Monday. Sheesh! Not that I'd know something about it--Oh, heck no! That's not my bag (of cocaine). Never touch the stuff. White powder, that is.
In any case, it would appear that there is a rankled customer--but you knew that would happen, didn't you? People are really complaining about the leadership in Michigan, but guys, get a clue! Even the president is starting to feel like he's not got a snowball's chance in ...okay, let's just say they'll be ice skating over at the devil's house before Obama gets a bill passed in the house. Frankly, the whole country is in a complete mess (according to my student this evening). She's taking her pension and heading for Alaska. Frankly, I think I'd like to go with her. I hear they're offering land in Alaska for free if you stay a year. She's only going for three months. Frankly, if they would promise me that I could sleep the entire time that the sun DOESN'T shine, there--I might consider going. As long as I got paid all the same. I could stand to hibernate just about now. I wonder if you get anything for 3 months? A paid cruise on the Caribbean Royal? An Ocean side hut in Tahiti? A small pyramid in Egypt? Okay, how about you just pay my mortgage?
In any case, friends, the country is going to Georgia in a handbasket. The infidels are taking over, and we're allowing it. Even the leadership knows it's all a bust. If you have money, take it and RUN--where ever you can.
Or maybe you're all guys and paranoid now?
Well, I will continue on another day.
I had a class at JoAnn's today. It wasn't too bad, but it didn't get me home in time to watch my favorite show for Thursday night, which apparently has been cancelled or else due to the end of the season, it's just playing reruns, neither of which was palatable.
But I come home to find my husband watching Glee!
Holy cow! Who died and where did they take my husband?
My husband doesn't watch Glee!
My husband makes FUN of Glee!
He laughs (ha ha!) when it comes on! But there he is, watching it, presumably because it's "all that was on".
Yes, I'm sure.
A little excitement at the Governor's workplace, though, I understand--some substance (white) inside an envelope--I would hazard a guess, but wouldn't want to get anybody into trouble. Frankly, it was more likely a delivery of special foot powder, as we all know how odorous is the Governor's job...oh, wait, maybe that should be onerous? Whatever. Either, or--will make a man sweat. I guess that the person who opened the mail claimed that their hand felt odd (or something like that), and the person was cleared and sent home. Well, it sounds like a good excuse to me! Getting sent home by the boss? A paid holiday? Yeah! I'm all for that! I bet there's a rash of these white powder envelopes come Monday. Sheesh! Not that I'd know something about it--Oh, heck no! That's not my bag (of cocaine). Never touch the stuff. White powder, that is.
In any case, it would appear that there is a rankled customer--but you knew that would happen, didn't you? People are really complaining about the leadership in Michigan, but guys, get a clue! Even the president is starting to feel like he's not got a snowball's chance in ...okay, let's just say they'll be ice skating over at the devil's house before Obama gets a bill passed in the house. Frankly, the whole country is in a complete mess (according to my student this evening). She's taking her pension and heading for Alaska. Frankly, I think I'd like to go with her. I hear they're offering land in Alaska for free if you stay a year. She's only going for three months. Frankly, if they would promise me that I could sleep the entire time that the sun DOESN'T shine, there--I might consider going. As long as I got paid all the same. I could stand to hibernate just about now. I wonder if you get anything for 3 months? A paid cruise on the Caribbean Royal? An Ocean side hut in Tahiti? A small pyramid in Egypt? Okay, how about you just pay my mortgage?
In any case, friends, the country is going to Georgia in a handbasket. The infidels are taking over, and we're allowing it. Even the leadership knows it's all a bust. If you have money, take it and RUN--where ever you can.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Chapter 6 (continued)
I sat in the car for a little while, then decided that I could probably mix in with the throng, perhaps I would catch sight of them again. Locals milled about, hurrying to get to their places of employment. Gated entrances were opened and the general public was allowed inside the various shops...a curio shop here, a book shop there--the odd Chinese Restaurant. I considered on that for a moment. Back in Michigan, you could find a Chinese place almost every city--not quite as bad as McDonald's, but darn close. I wondered if the food in Chinatown would be of the same genre--Americanized for the palate and full of carbs, cholesterol and MSG.
I had almost decided to step inside one of them for lunch that also had a Mongolian BarBQue atmosphere, when I caught sight of her stepping into the tourist trap establishment where they sold all the standard items that tourists buy--chopsticks, whirlygigs and the like. I stepped inside the restaurant and sat down facing the window, which was conveniently quasi-one-way glass, and watched the place across the street for her exit.
The waiter came around and I ordered a minor something--just pointed at the menu really, not wanting to spoil lunch. He bowed at me, and rushed off to the back. When he returned with a coffee and an eclaire, I thanked him, and off he went again, back to the kitchen. It reminded me of the way cockroaches scurried back and forth, and I smiled to myself. Another memory, long before I met my ex, of a CB Radio enthusiast with a household full of those insects that she never did seem able to get rid of. I pushed the eclaire into my mouth and ate it whole--it was pretty small, but a tasty morsel. I downed the coffee quickly when I saw her walk out of the store with a small brown bag (Ah, she bought herself some chopsticks.), and smiled and waved at her paramour, catching his attention at the end of the street, where he was apparently purusing comics. He looked up and waved, and then set the comic down and came to the middle of the street to meet her, linked arms and they walked out of Chinatown toward the train. I left a $5 bill on the table and motioned to the waiter, mumbled a few words and was out of the restaurant and into the bright sunny day.
The L-Train was already waiting, and I climbed into a different car, taking note of their car. I knew this train went downtown. From there, they could walk all over the city, maybe take the A-train topside and get a little view from a little higher up, just for kicks really, since there really isn't much to see on the A-train. It's walled in on both sides with buildings that rise higher than the A-train track sits. So you get a lot of windows with reflections that stare back at you.
The L-train is a nice ride from Chinatown to downtown. It's worth the money. You get to go into a tunnel and come out the other side and there you are--almost to Lake Michigan. It's like taking a stay-cation. You haven't really gone anywhere, but since the scenery changed, you feel as if you have. When the train stopped, I got off where I expected them to get out, and sure enough, there they were a little farther ahead of me, He looked tired to me for some reason. Did she keep him up all night? I smirked. Served him right. They walked along the wharf, and then ducked into the museum. I walked inside, too, and admired the paintings, the ancient arts and crafts and the tall replica of David, then stood beside the statue of Venus, and snapped a pic with my cell phone, trying to blend in. A short, balding, Japanese man came by, pushing up his bigger than life round glasses on his nose, and lifted one his his three Nikon's to his face and took a picture of the grate in the floor.
Don't ask. I'm not sure what that was all about. Chicago grows some weird ones, I think.
My "couple" stopped just outside the door for the museum and sat down in a small garden, smooched (more pictures with my "bluetooth"), while he made a few lurid moves--something about Russian Hands and Roman Fingers? Anyway, they tired of their game and headed back to the train station. This time, hopping on the one headed for the Sears Tower.
The Sears Tower was at one point the tallest building in the world. It wasn't anymore. It was just another tall building. There were five high speed elevators, but only 3 were marked for "visitors", the rest were used by employees there. Getting into one wasn't a problem. STAYING inside was a problem, when you thought about how it might get stuck, or it might fall. The guide told us all about it's high speed "get 'em there quick" motors and how it had never had an incident. Someone extremely fearful muttered, "So? There's always a first time." However, the view from the top was amazing. All three of us headed for a different direction. I went to look at the lake, because apparently you could see Michigan on a clear day, and sure enough--there she was! Home!
I didn't dare to look down, of course. You can only look out. The glass keeps people inside, and a scaffold-like landing all around the tower keeps you from seeing exactly how high up you are. If anyone knew how truly high up you were, you'd faint. She walked up to me, and told me about the view on the other side of the tower, and I pointed "over there" at Michigan. She mentioned that she lived there, which of course, I already knew, but nodded anyway. Then I wandered away, while he made his way over to her, put his arm around her waist and pointed across the water. Any closer, and they could have worn the same pair of jeans. Snap, snap.
The game was tiring, but a game nonetheless. They went on back downtown and had lunch and visited the library and it's copper leaf roof, Then on to dinner, I suppose. I hopped the train back to downtown and then the L-train back to my car. Locked and loaded, I put the vehicle in reverse and made for the toll road, and back home.
*****
When I returned home, I printed the pictures and a bill on my computer, placed the evidence and copies of my receipts for the expenses I'd incurred and shipped them all to an address in Colorado. When the courts decided on the division of property into her benefit due to his cheating, she would send me my due and a hefty hourly rate. The guy wasn't rich, but he had lots of funds socked away, and she intended to find each and every one and take him to task for his indiscretions, as this wasn't the only one, just the most recent.
It was at this point that I returned to Mrs. Draner's account. She was steadfastly hanging on to any shred of hope she could, even though I knew it was a done deal for her. I knew that as soon as he fixed his car, he would leave her behind for someone else's. He was a cretin. A trailer trash, smack talking cootie king.
Oh, I like that. Must remember to put that in my book! I grinned evilly from ear to ear. I have nearly enough now to bury him, but I'll keep this little ace in the hole for now. When I finally lay down my cards, he will have no escape. She will finally have the last laugh. Or was it me?
I had almost decided to step inside one of them for lunch that also had a Mongolian BarBQue atmosphere, when I caught sight of her stepping into the tourist trap establishment where they sold all the standard items that tourists buy--chopsticks, whirlygigs and the like. I stepped inside the restaurant and sat down facing the window, which was conveniently quasi-one-way glass, and watched the place across the street for her exit.
The waiter came around and I ordered a minor something--just pointed at the menu really, not wanting to spoil lunch. He bowed at me, and rushed off to the back. When he returned with a coffee and an eclaire, I thanked him, and off he went again, back to the kitchen. It reminded me of the way cockroaches scurried back and forth, and I smiled to myself. Another memory, long before I met my ex, of a CB Radio enthusiast with a household full of those insects that she never did seem able to get rid of. I pushed the eclaire into my mouth and ate it whole--it was pretty small, but a tasty morsel. I downed the coffee quickly when I saw her walk out of the store with a small brown bag (Ah, she bought herself some chopsticks.), and smiled and waved at her paramour, catching his attention at the end of the street, where he was apparently purusing comics. He looked up and waved, and then set the comic down and came to the middle of the street to meet her, linked arms and they walked out of Chinatown toward the train. I left a $5 bill on the table and motioned to the waiter, mumbled a few words and was out of the restaurant and into the bright sunny day.
The L-Train was already waiting, and I climbed into a different car, taking note of their car. I knew this train went downtown. From there, they could walk all over the city, maybe take the A-train topside and get a little view from a little higher up, just for kicks really, since there really isn't much to see on the A-train. It's walled in on both sides with buildings that rise higher than the A-train track sits. So you get a lot of windows with reflections that stare back at you.
The L-train is a nice ride from Chinatown to downtown. It's worth the money. You get to go into a tunnel and come out the other side and there you are--almost to Lake Michigan. It's like taking a stay-cation. You haven't really gone anywhere, but since the scenery changed, you feel as if you have. When the train stopped, I got off where I expected them to get out, and sure enough, there they were a little farther ahead of me, He looked tired to me for some reason. Did she keep him up all night? I smirked. Served him right. They walked along the wharf, and then ducked into the museum. I walked inside, too, and admired the paintings, the ancient arts and crafts and the tall replica of David, then stood beside the statue of Venus, and snapped a pic with my cell phone, trying to blend in. A short, balding, Japanese man came by, pushing up his bigger than life round glasses on his nose, and lifted one his his three Nikon's to his face and took a picture of the grate in the floor.
Don't ask. I'm not sure what that was all about. Chicago grows some weird ones, I think.
My "couple" stopped just outside the door for the museum and sat down in a small garden, smooched (more pictures with my "bluetooth"), while he made a few lurid moves--something about Russian Hands and Roman Fingers? Anyway, they tired of their game and headed back to the train station. This time, hopping on the one headed for the Sears Tower.
The Sears Tower was at one point the tallest building in the world. It wasn't anymore. It was just another tall building. There were five high speed elevators, but only 3 were marked for "visitors", the rest were used by employees there. Getting into one wasn't a problem. STAYING inside was a problem, when you thought about how it might get stuck, or it might fall. The guide told us all about it's high speed "get 'em there quick" motors and how it had never had an incident. Someone extremely fearful muttered, "So? There's always a first time." However, the view from the top was amazing. All three of us headed for a different direction. I went to look at the lake, because apparently you could see Michigan on a clear day, and sure enough--there she was! Home!
I didn't dare to look down, of course. You can only look out. The glass keeps people inside, and a scaffold-like landing all around the tower keeps you from seeing exactly how high up you are. If anyone knew how truly high up you were, you'd faint. She walked up to me, and told me about the view on the other side of the tower, and I pointed "over there" at Michigan. She mentioned that she lived there, which of course, I already knew, but nodded anyway. Then I wandered away, while he made his way over to her, put his arm around her waist and pointed across the water. Any closer, and they could have worn the same pair of jeans. Snap, snap.
The game was tiring, but a game nonetheless. They went on back downtown and had lunch and visited the library and it's copper leaf roof, Then on to dinner, I suppose. I hopped the train back to downtown and then the L-train back to my car. Locked and loaded, I put the vehicle in reverse and made for the toll road, and back home.
*****
When I returned home, I printed the pictures and a bill on my computer, placed the evidence and copies of my receipts for the expenses I'd incurred and shipped them all to an address in Colorado. When the courts decided on the division of property into her benefit due to his cheating, she would send me my due and a hefty hourly rate. The guy wasn't rich, but he had lots of funds socked away, and she intended to find each and every one and take him to task for his indiscretions, as this wasn't the only one, just the most recent.
It was at this point that I returned to Mrs. Draner's account. She was steadfastly hanging on to any shred of hope she could, even though I knew it was a done deal for her. I knew that as soon as he fixed his car, he would leave her behind for someone else's. He was a cretin. A trailer trash, smack talking cootie king.
Oh, I like that. Must remember to put that in my book! I grinned evilly from ear to ear. I have nearly enough now to bury him, but I'll keep this little ace in the hole for now. When I finally lay down my cards, he will have no escape. She will finally have the last laugh. Or was it me?
Chapter 6
The next morning, the phone jangled the nerves with the wake up call from the front desk. Once I realized who and where I was, I answered it. The clerk on the other end of the phone answered with a bright, cheery, youthful, female voice that it was 5am, and this was my wake up call, have a wonderful day, and something else incomprehensible, since by now I had said my "thank you" and returned the phone to it's resting place, while the clerk continued to babble.
I yawned. I stretched. I made the decision to get up and go, even though my get up and go had got up and went a long, long time ago. When did all these aches and pains begin, anyway? I massaged the left shoulder and neck muscles that always seemed to follow a hard night's sleep in a strange place, and determined another warm shower might help loosen things up and wake me up the rest of the way.
After the shower, I pulled my laptop out of my suitcase, and plugged it into the nearest wall jack. I flipped on the WiFi, and got my cell phone and my "blue tooth" camera set nearby to load pictures and video to the hard drive. Once everything was hooked up and transferring, I finished dressing and put my tired old shoes back on, heading to the hotel lobby for the continental breakfast of coffee and donuts. I was hoping to grab an apple filled or a fritter but found only the small Dolly Madison white sugar donuts. I guess everyone's cutting back, but this was a disappointment. Even so, I grabbed a cup, some Equal, poured a teaspoon full of creamer into the cup, and then poured some coffee in from the black carafe. I stirred in the sugar substitute and took a taste. Too strong and hot, but it had been sitting there for a while, it reminded me that my neck was really throbbing, and perhaps I should get to the chiro next week. I decided on three donuts and headed back to my room.
I found the transfers finished, so I checked my email and Facebook accounts. In this day and age of social media, I found it really easy to check up on my accounts plus a few other people's accounts, just to see what they were up to. Some folks only updated once a week, others, once a month. I generally blogged daily. I thought it was important, not just for my readers, but for my own sense of mental stability. It helped keep my emotions in check. I could write in there all the weird stuff from my day, dreams that sometimes kept me awake at night, and who might be bugging me in some manner. I'd have notes on the crafts that were my hobby, but never so much as a word about my investigative side business. Somebody might think I was a stalker! As I was pondering the benefits of the blogging, I unhitched the phone and camera, and stuffed the phone in my pocket and the camera to my ear. Then I blogged a little bit about the Chicago Mall. Anyone reading this would probably think I was just another little old lady with her knitting, visiting far away places. Ah, what they didn't know!
After blogging, I returned the laptop to the suitcase, gathered up my things and headed for the car. It was going to be a busy day. I wasn't about to miss things for the world. As I passed the hotel lobby clerk, I turned and got more coffee, hoping for a more current batch, and I was happy to discover that they had refilled the carafe with a deep, chocolate brown brew that was neither too hot nor too cold, and the taste was right on the mark. I smiled to myself. The gal at the counter waved goodbye to me, and I headed out into the pre-dawn. Pink and blue sunrise after yesterday's rainstorms, and cool and clean air in one of the country's largest cities, I unlocked the trunk and dropped in the suitcase, then opened the door, and sat down to wait for my mark and his lover to come out.
Turns out I didn't have to wake up so early. They didn't come out of the hotel until well after sign out time. They must have found someone to chatter with about the morning paper at the continental breakfast. Meanwhile, my taste buds are screaming for a Diet Pepsi. They got in the car and pulled out of the lot, heading further south toward China Town. I followed slowly at a safe distance as to not arouse suspicion. I turned on the Josh Turner CD that was still in the player from the previous afternoon. I remembered the day I'd seen him at the B-93 birthday bash, and he'd signed the jewel case insert for me. I handed him my PI card, smiled and said "Nice doing business with you!" Now there was a man I'd like to work for, in more ways than one...
My personal reverie was interrupted as they pulled off the expressway into China Town, and parked. I pulled in a few rows over, and watched them scurry off to China Town and quickly lost sight of them in the throng of people there. It was going to be a long day sitting in a hot car in the hot sun, so I determined that I would catch up with them at some other point in the trip.
I yawned. I stretched. I made the decision to get up and go, even though my get up and go had got up and went a long, long time ago. When did all these aches and pains begin, anyway? I massaged the left shoulder and neck muscles that always seemed to follow a hard night's sleep in a strange place, and determined another warm shower might help loosen things up and wake me up the rest of the way.
After the shower, I pulled my laptop out of my suitcase, and plugged it into the nearest wall jack. I flipped on the WiFi, and got my cell phone and my "blue tooth" camera set nearby to load pictures and video to the hard drive. Once everything was hooked up and transferring, I finished dressing and put my tired old shoes back on, heading to the hotel lobby for the continental breakfast of coffee and donuts. I was hoping to grab an apple filled or a fritter but found only the small Dolly Madison white sugar donuts. I guess everyone's cutting back, but this was a disappointment. Even so, I grabbed a cup, some Equal, poured a teaspoon full of creamer into the cup, and then poured some coffee in from the black carafe. I stirred in the sugar substitute and took a taste. Too strong and hot, but it had been sitting there for a while, it reminded me that my neck was really throbbing, and perhaps I should get to the chiro next week. I decided on three donuts and headed back to my room.
I found the transfers finished, so I checked my email and Facebook accounts. In this day and age of social media, I found it really easy to check up on my accounts plus a few other people's accounts, just to see what they were up to. Some folks only updated once a week, others, once a month. I generally blogged daily. I thought it was important, not just for my readers, but for my own sense of mental stability. It helped keep my emotions in check. I could write in there all the weird stuff from my day, dreams that sometimes kept me awake at night, and who might be bugging me in some manner. I'd have notes on the crafts that were my hobby, but never so much as a word about my investigative side business. Somebody might think I was a stalker! As I was pondering the benefits of the blogging, I unhitched the phone and camera, and stuffed the phone in my pocket and the camera to my ear. Then I blogged a little bit about the Chicago Mall. Anyone reading this would probably think I was just another little old lady with her knitting, visiting far away places. Ah, what they didn't know!
After blogging, I returned the laptop to the suitcase, gathered up my things and headed for the car. It was going to be a busy day. I wasn't about to miss things for the world. As I passed the hotel lobby clerk, I turned and got more coffee, hoping for a more current batch, and I was happy to discover that they had refilled the carafe with a deep, chocolate brown brew that was neither too hot nor too cold, and the taste was right on the mark. I smiled to myself. The gal at the counter waved goodbye to me, and I headed out into the pre-dawn. Pink and blue sunrise after yesterday's rainstorms, and cool and clean air in one of the country's largest cities, I unlocked the trunk and dropped in the suitcase, then opened the door, and sat down to wait for my mark and his lover to come out.
Turns out I didn't have to wake up so early. They didn't come out of the hotel until well after sign out time. They must have found someone to chatter with about the morning paper at the continental breakfast. Meanwhile, my taste buds are screaming for a Diet Pepsi. They got in the car and pulled out of the lot, heading further south toward China Town. I followed slowly at a safe distance as to not arouse suspicion. I turned on the Josh Turner CD that was still in the player from the previous afternoon. I remembered the day I'd seen him at the B-93 birthday bash, and he'd signed the jewel case insert for me. I handed him my PI card, smiled and said "Nice doing business with you!" Now there was a man I'd like to work for, in more ways than one...
My personal reverie was interrupted as they pulled off the expressway into China Town, and parked. I pulled in a few rows over, and watched them scurry off to China Town and quickly lost sight of them in the throng of people there. It was going to be a long day sitting in a hot car in the hot sun, so I determined that I would catch up with them at some other point in the trip.
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