the Big Thing

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Tomorrow night, an official next step in the Big Thing is going to take place. I won't know the RESULTS of it then; that'll wait until a process completes. Once the process completes, I'll know whether the NEXT step will be a factor. It depends on the elemination process. ugh. My head's going to explode.

But I'm very excited about tomorrow night's next step. Discussions are being held on the whole thing. People with vast experience and knowledge are assuring me there's noting to worry about. They're saying that the qualifications, experience, style, people-skills, etc. are all in place. They foresee no reasons why it isn't completely possible.

Of course, there's the factoring-in of the decision-making process, the particular needs of those who would make this happen, economic considerations, etc.

The bottom line, to me, is this: not too many people with solid experience, flexibility, genuine enthusiasm for marginalized cultures, technical expertise and personal humility are available to just pick up and leave everything they know for a remote location. People have kids, mortgages, social committments, etc. that they must factor in. Young people, with nothing but book larnin' and a credit card, could do it more easily. They've formed no attachments that require consistant commitment. But they also don't have the experience, tangible and not, to perform well in this place, under these specific, crucial and fragile circumstances.

I'm convinced the Big Thing can happen. I'm confident it has a good chance of happening.

If it doesn't something else will happen.

In the mean time, however, I'm looking at every stitch and sliver of my life and evaluating it for how crucial it might be if the Big Thing were to happen.

I already know how much it will cost to transport 2 cats and 2 goats. I know where the cheapest temporary housing is. I know where to buy groceries, look for more permanent housing, ride public transportation, rent storage, ship goods, get medical care, continue my education....

I've been over every virtual inch of this location, examining it for potential, analysing it for problems. I've adjusted my mindset to what is of real value there, and how I can be of use.

I'll have to give up a lot, sure. But it's not like I'm having to concede some sort of defeat. When I look around at my lifestyle, my possessions, my diet, my habbits, etc., I see much which I can let go, at no personal sacrifice.

Actually, the purging is good for me. As I do laundry, for instance, and put clothes away, I find I've gathered things I no longer need. They're so old, holey, threadbare, stained, nobody else would even want them. Most I rescued from trashpicking. Some, I've had for many years. I always had more clothes than many people, just because it was so hard for me to launder: long trips by bus, much walking, washing things by hand in the bathtub as I showered, etc. When I'm sick, I need fresh linens and clothing, even if I can't wash.

I won't need that surplus of clothing anymore.

There's much redundancy, for equally-pragmatic reasons, throughout my household inventory. If I do The Big Thing, that redundancy becomes unnecessary. In fact, it would become a burden.

So, tomorow night, I sit and listen to the next step in the process of elimination toward the Big Thing.

I'm thinking I'll know for certain what the outcome is by sometime around the beginning of June. If my head doesn't explode by then.

Let's put it this way: I never imagined I'd ever have an opportunity to return to a place I visited, for a very brief period, when I was only 13. I loved it then and I hated to leave. It has never crossed my mind since then that I could ever go back. I've spoken of the place quite fondly, over the intervening decades. But it was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. I have always considered myself very lucky and priviledged to have experienced it, at all. Most people never will.

The prospect of actually being able to return is so amazing, so humbling that I can barely wrap my heart around it. I can smell and taste the air. I can see it. I'm even having dreams that I'm there, living as a resident.

I'm willing to do whatever it takes -- that causes no harm -- to have this opportunity to continue that aborted love affair with a most unique place and culture.

Here's to tomorrow night, and all the other nights, of hope, planning, happiness, love and welcome.

Whatever happens, whether or not I get to participate in this particular Big Thing, its influence on my perceptions of my own life has been profound, already. There's a paradigm shift in how I see myself and my life. It woke me back up. I was beaten down, discouraged for so long, just living in survival mode and trying not to get hurt anymore than necessary. I'd forgotten that life is about poetry, stars, deep breaths, small miracles.

This experience, as unformed as it still is, has reminded me to love and value who I am and what I hold most sacred.

I had a hard day, yesterday....

this is a wheely cart I buy mine at KMart, as they only cost fifteen dollars. THESE cost FORTY!!! Gees!

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Grocery shopping should NOT be a traumatizing and exhausting ordeal, but there it is. Took the bus to Sav-A-Lot (which Ma and I call "Try-&-Save," from either the Simpsons or King of the Hill, I can't remember which.) It's an ugly little store. One day, it stank to high heaven of raw sewage: an appetizing experience for food shoppers.

I usually only buy factory-sealed stuff there: Cheeses, frozen vegies, ground turkey rolls, etc. They had no turkey rolls out, so I asked the butcher and he hauled a case from the freezer for me.

They also had no frozen stirfry vegies, so I asked him whom I should alert. He said Juan, up front. Well, Juan (whoever THAT is) wasn't up front when I got there, so I asked a young woman, stocking dry goods. She acted like I just didn't know where they kept the stirfry. I didn't argue; I just obediently followed her. She picked up a bag of stirfry PEPPERS and said, "here they are." I dug in my cart for a bag of stirfry VEGGIES and said, "no, I want this kind." "Well, if they're not out, we don't have them." I explained about the "not out" turkey. She disappeared in the back and returned with, "They're coming in tonight." Fat lotta good that'll do me. So, I'll have to go back. Ma and I eat LOTS of stirfry vegies, even for breakfast. I make "sausage" out of the ground turkey, seasoned with cayennne, garlic salt, black pepper and sage. Tastes just like real sausage, and, that way, I can get away with melting a thin sliver of sharp cheddar on top. We can't eat much animal fat, and we both LOVE sharp cheese.

Well, I managed to buy about fifty pounds of groceries and pack them in my little "wheely cart." It's about the size of a milk crate. I dragged everything across the lumpy parking lot, across deadly Central Ave., and went to Kmart for nearly nothing. But it's the side of the street where the bus stop is.

At the bus stop, a lady with a maniacal grin and stained, yellow t-shirt said, "can I buy a cigarette off of you?" and fumbled in her purse. I like it when people offer to buy cigarettes, rather than just mooching them, and generally (unless I'm running out) accomodate. I handed her a cig. She took her hand from her purse, turned her back and walked away. She stole my cigarette!

A little while later (I wasn't watching this, but can surmise from the events), an old man passed her, asking for a light. She referred him to me. He stood before me and said, "gimme a light." I said, "did you say, 'please?'" He said, "Please." I was obliged to give him a light. You don't mess with people on the streets; being right can get you killed. He lit his cigarette (not mine) and walked away without another word. I ventured, "you're welcomed." Jees.

I lugged the fifty pounds of groceries onto the bus. The 2 front seats were folded up for a wheel chair. I need to sit near the front, so my cart's not in anybody's way. Drivers don't wait for passengers to sit. I held on for dear life with one hand and struggled with the release lever with the other hand. I asked the driver, three times, for assistance with the seat, to no reply. Two old men got into it and left me dangling from the overhead bar, trying not to fall, cornered by their fumblings, unable to sit anywhere. FINALLY, at a stop, the driver HEARD me ask for help. "Those seats are broken," he said. Great. At that point, one of the old men (the two of them were hogging FIVE SEATS in the front of the bus!!) finally moved things and made room for me to sit.

When we got to the transit center, where I needed to transfer to the bus home, the door kept snapping shut on me, as I struggled to pull my cart down off the bus and onto the sidewalk. An able-bodied white guy sat across the bus aisle, watching the door hit me and watching me worry that the bus might take off with my cart, groceries, wallet.... I finally got the cart down, looked him in the eye, and said, "thank you so MUCH for watching me struggle!" He looked at me stupidly.

Two boys were waiting at the transit center on benches next to my stop. They were saying FILTHY things about girls in their school and smoking weed. Several drivers passed. Nobody stopped them. Children were subjected to their filth and smoke.

The bus came; I went home.

An email awaited. The woman from the Pygmy Goat Club here who said she could castrate Willy had to bow out. Oh, hell! It's got to be done, and SOON! So, I sat down to call every member, whose phone number was on the members' list, who lived in or near Albuquerque. The very first person I called lives just a little north of me and was going to drive just a little south of me for a meeting. She'd do it for free, and would give Willy a tetanus shot, as well. Wow.

Ma TRIED to make it home; I was pretty worried. I'd have to hold the goat while she did the deed. I didn't want Willy to associate me with the pain. Ma volunteered. But she didn't get there on time and I didn't want to hang this woman (and her 2 friends, who came to watch) up. I held him for the injection, which left a big knot in his flank. I massaged it and let him down to walk it off. He was miserable and whimpering, already. He was suspicious of me. It took awhile to catch him again.

It took all four of us to castrate the poor bastard. A big woman held him on her lap and held one leg. I held his head (he has horns) and gently muzzled his mouth to muffle any screams. Another woman held the other leg.

The tool is like pliars (don't wince yet), but they OPEN to pull open an elastic band, round and thicker than a rubber band, something like a gasket. She pulled his scrotum through the band and then let the tool close. She pulled it out and the band was around his scrotum. It takes about two months for the testicles to finally fall off. Willy was in pain. Luckily, I had my orajel ready. I felt like such a kink. Orajel is, basically, clove oil in petrolium jelly. There I was, massaging goat testicles with petroleum jelly! Gawd...

She watched Willy for awhile. He's not trying to sit on them, lie down, roll onto his back, or do anything else that's not healthy for a freshly-castrated goat to do. But he's STILL suspicious of me and actually shies or runs at times if I approach. I'm heart broken.

Nilly thought it was all a great game, kept jumping on people's laps with Willy, danced all over the yard, and bleated whenever he did...which was a lot.

Just when we'd finished, Ma rode up. I thanked the women profusely and they left. I put the goats in my bedroom, to calm them and to mute the crying, and fed them bottles of pure, warm milk (I usually dilute the milk with water, as I'm weaning them, but thought they deserved "comfort food"). I made dinner and did my own whimpering, as Ma listened.

It was all necessary stuff. I was being responsible, all day, even when it hurt.

Today, I'm swamping out the kitchen, doing laundry, washing dishes: catching up on everything that had to be neglected for awhile, in the face of other priorities.

It took a LOT out of me. But we have turkey sausage....

For Trowbridge

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When I volunteered in the newsroom at KUNM, I was honored to share time and space with Tom Trowbridge.

I was treated quite shabbily by the news director and management. I was forced out for "speaking truth to power," as one middle manager likes to say (a politically correct phrase, going about academic circles.)

I felt horrible for a long time. I felt like a failure. I was ashamed and embarrassed. It was total humiliation.

But now I see I was in good company.

Tom is one of those old-school journalists. He does the "grunt" work without complaint. His standards are pristine. He is never influenced by power or glitter or sex appeal. He is fair and never editorializes. He's a ruthless editor.

He did his job professionally, consistantly. He did it under terrible working conditions, without respect. The entire organization depended on his consistancy, but never acknowledged it openly.

When he left, it rather broke my heart. Yeah, I was gone. But I wasn't a big contributor. KUNM's news dept. is the only possible hope for REAL, regional news in the entire state. It is failing its mission horribly. Tom's contribution was a precious resource.

When he moved on, however, it was a salve to my aching heart. I no longer feel ashamed. Anybody who could alienate Mr. Trowbridge so badly that he felt compelled to leave would, of course, take me out with the garbage.

I wrote a little tribute to Tom in my Radio blog, if you'd like to see it. I'm sending him a DVD copy of "Deadline," and included this little note.

Official announcement in UNM's student paper. Nobody "enjoyed" 911: student reporter. KUNM host leaves radio business

sprung

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Weather's a little chilly this morning, but it'll warm soon. Starting to plan my days with outside work. I may start swamping out that nasty pond in the backyard today.

I ordered some fertile duck eggs to hatch. I have a plexiglass "house" I found in the garbage. I was using it for a greenhouse for herbs in winter. I cleaned it out yesterday. Today, I'll seal cracks in the floor with silicone. Tomorrow, I'll install the eggs, on a bed of alfalfa hay, under a heat lamp, in the house. Hopefully, Lucky, my Pekin drake, will have some chums and girlfriends. He's pecked my hens bald and he terrorizes the roosters.

We watched a GREAT movie last night, "Deadline" with John Hurt. Ma found it in the dollar DVD bin at Smith's grocery. We're going to buy some more for some friends, if we can find it. Rent it if you can. It's extremely topical these days. Hurt plays a British, freelance journalist in an Arabic country, about to turn fundamentalist. It's a great portrayal. I asked Ma if he was disabled, he was so convincing! You gotta get it! It's in the tradition of "Broadcast News," "Good Night and Good Luck" and "Salvador." You GOTTA see it!!!

Hurt played Mr. Haden, the billionaire, in "Contact." He was in a strange, little movie with Christina Richie called "Miranda," which I taped off UPN the other day (THAT's an excellent movie, too, by the way). He also played "The Elephant Man," which Ma and I really want to rent from Intelliflix to see again.

We get Intelliflix 'cuz it's only a hundred bucks a year, three movies out at a time, no late fees, good selection. We had Netflix, but I was anxious, waiting for movies to arrive. And it costs about five bucks more each month.

Intelli has all the usual rentals, and a good selection. They also have GOOD Queer movies and EXCELLENT documentaries. Netflix does, too.


We also watched "The Santa Fe Trail," with Ronald Reagan playing George Custar (how's that for typecasting?) and Errol Flynn. They're West Point graduates, 1854 class. They're stationed at Ft. Leavenworth, KA (the "last outpost of civilization"), trying to stop John Brown and the abolitionists from "terrorizing" the white supremacists. Kansas was a territory back then; there was great controversy as to whether it would enter the Union as free or slave.

All the main characters from West Point would end up on opposing sides' leadership during the Civil War.

The Blacks were portrayed VERY badly: stepnfetchit, Mammy... I told Ma, there's nothing I can do about 1940s Hollywood, but I don't begrudge the Black actors; they earned a paycheck.

John Brown was portrayed as half-crackpot, half-visionary (which he probably was). There was substantial revisionist history in it. His son is wounded and taken into custody by the Cavelry. We're supposed to believe they "rescued" him, of course. At first, he denies knowledge of his father's whereabouts. Later, he has a change of heart and confides to the female love interest of the flick where his father's hideout is. Then, he conveniently dies. I'm thinking the FACTS might be: He was captured; he refused to tell his interrogators anything; they tortured it out of him; he died as a result. He was fifteen.

It's interesting, really. Ma's from Kansas. We're working on a documentary about the Santa Fe Trail, from here back to Kansas.

Reagan was typecast as an awshucks, arrogant ass. Custer to a "T"

Well, it's warming up outside and I'm dawdling. Gotta put on my good gardening shoes and get out there. Ma's working on a radio drama she's producing for a class project at the university. She'll be at her office all day, editing sound.

I'm outtie. Have a bodacious day.Santa Fe Trail

Deadline

Miranda

workin on a pond

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I have two fish ponds. One is a hole in the back yard, lined with an above-ground pool liner. The other is a kid's wading pool, in the front yard.

I just bought some swamp cooler pumps on eBay. I cover them with tulle (the fabric from which petticoats are made) and place them in baskets, to keep plants and fish from getting caught in the impellors. I cover the motors with cut-off, upside-down milk cartons, to keep water out and place a rock on top.

My backyard pond is a pure mess. It hasn't been pumped or filtered all winter. Basically, it's pure duck poop and algae, right now. I'll need to drain it, see if any fish are still alive to rescue, wash everything off and start all over.

I plan to use a 55 gal, plastic barrel as my filter out there. I'll submerge a fat comforter-style blanket in the barrel of water. The pump will rest in the pond, with a garden hose running into the barrel. The comforter will filter the cooties out of the water. The water will spill back into the pond. That way, more pond surface is available to the duck.

I'm looking at aquatic plants on eBay right now. I had good luck with the ones I got last year, but they didn't make it through winter. My bad: I should have taken better precautions.

I'll probably float some water hyacinth on top of the barrel. In the front, I have a large, plastic laundry tub for my filter, with submerged bed pillow stuffing in it. I'll put some hyacinth on it, too.

There's a plant called "lizard tail" which gives off an antialgae chemical that's not toxic to fish. I may get some. I'm waiting to see if my duck weed returns. There's SOMETHING floating on top. It's feathery. I see duckweed roots and some bleached-out leaves. It may come back. It's best to COVER the pond with plants, as they retard algae growth and protect my fish.

I have 6 for a dollar comet gold fish. I also have free mosquito fish, which look like, and are related to, guppies. I will return some of those to my rainbarrels, under the eaves of my house. They really do eat all mosquito larvae. Mosquitos are another reason to cover ponds in plants: they can't lay eggs on anything but smooth water surfaces.

I'm mostly looking at easy maintainance, flowering plants. Hyacinth are a noxious weed in wild water: they'll out-compete with native species and destroy ecosystems. But they're perfect when confined to a pond, and very pretty. I'd never put them in the Rio Grande, tho....

I am enjoying the fact that it's finally warm enough to garden again.

The Big Thing that might happen is progressing one step further. Doesn't guarantee a thing yet. The not knowing if and whether is anxiety-provoking, when I consider what a monumental task it would be to make the transition, how much stuff I'll need to unload, the challenge of finding GOOD homes for my chickens, duck, etc... I can't worry about it. Even if this Big Thing happens, I'd still have about a year to sort everything out.

I'm beginning to investigate some options for independent radio production, to subsidize the expenses. And, as I said, two friends have hired me for little, but monthly, jobs. The combined total would be about 1,500 extra, per year. Doesn't seem like much at the monthly level, but the annual earnings sound pretty damned good. It would pay to transport 2 cats and maybe even my goats to the new place... We'll see.

As soon as I start doing indi radio again, I'll warn you to visit my radio blog, ok?

Well, Ma's at the dentist. I have the joint to myself. I think I'll put on gardening clothes and get back out there...

PPNM to Hold Pledge-A-Picket Fundraiser

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Every year on Good Friday, anti-choice protesters hold a
demonstration at PPNM's surgical site in Albuquerque. Last year
183 men, women and children turned out to picket and pray - the
largest such gathering ever here. We're expecting another big
crowd this year.

For the privacy and safety of our patients, the clinic is closed
on Good Friday but we hold an annual Pledge-A-Picket fundraiser
to offset the loss of revenue. Individuals pledge to donate a
specific amount per protester - anywhere from five cents to two
dollars.

This year we're expanding the Pledge-A-Picket time frame to
include all the protesters who show up the week of April 10-14.
Typically, we have 3-4 protesters per day. If you
Pledge-A-Picket, we'll count the protesters all week, add that
to the number who show up on Good Friday, and multiply the total
by the amount of your pledge to figure your contribution. If you
pledge 25 cents a picketer and we have 15 protesters during the
week and 190 on Good Friday, we'd multiply 205 x .25 for a total
of $51.25. You may put a cap on your pledge.

Email us at pledge@ppnewmex.org if you'd like to participate in
our Good Friday fundraiser. Please tell us how much you want to
pledge per picketer and if you'd like to cap the amount. We'll
notify you by email after Good Friday to let you know how many
picketers we had and the amount of your donation.

Last year we raised over $4,000 in pledges from our Action
Alert Network. These donations allow us to continue providing
PPNM's high-quality, affordable health care in New Mexico. If
you have questions, please call Development at 265-5976.

Thank you for supporting Planned Parenthood of New Mexico.

found this in my "in" box

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Generally, I don't republish such things, but this was particularly clever, IMHO...

What You Need To Believe To Be A Republican Today:

Jesus loves you, and shares your hatred of homosexuals and Hillary Clinton.

Saddam was a good guy when Reagan armed him,
a bad guy when Bush's daddy made war on him,
a good guy when Cheney did business with him,
and a bad guy when Bush needed a "we can't find Bin Laden" diversion.

Trade with Cuba is wrong because the country is Communist,
but trade with China and Vietnam is vital to a spirit of international harmony.

The United States should get out of the United Nations,
and our highest national priority is enforcing U.N. resolutions against Iraq.

A woman can't be trusted with decisions about her own body,
but multi-national corporations can make decisions affecting all mankind without regulation.

The best way to improve military morale is to praise the troops in speeches, while slashing veterans' benefits and combat pay.

If condoms are kept out of schools,
adolescents won't have sex.

A good way to fight terrorism is to belittle our long-time allies,
then demand their cooperation and money.

Providing health care to all Iraqis is sound policy,
but providing health care to all Americans is socialism.

HMOs and insurance companies have the best interests of the public at heart.


Global warming and tobacco's link to cancer are junk science,
but creationism should be taught in schools.

A president lying about an extramarital affair is a impeachable offense, but a president lying to enlist support for a war in which thousands die is solid defense policy.

Government should limit itself to the powers named in the Constitution, which include banning gay marriages and censoring the Internet.

The public has a right to know about Hillary's cattle trades,
but George Bush's driving record is none of our business.

Being a drug addict is a moral failing and a crime unless you're a
conservative radio host,
Then it's an illness and you need our prayers for your recovery.

Supporting "Executive Privilege" for every Republican ever born, who will be born or who might be born (in perpetuity).

What Bill Clinton did in the 1960s is of vital national interest,
but what Bush did in the 1980s is irrelevant.

Support for hunters who shoot their friends and blame them for wearing orange vests similar to those worn by the quail.

Friends don't let friends vote Republican

PayPal: Chimps on Crack.

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Well, I had to retry FIVE TIMES, but I FINALLY logged a dispute with PayPal. They're "experiencing tech. difficulties." You only get 45 days to file a claim, and only three claims per year! I'm running out of time! But I FINALLY got to submit this:

This was an order for LIVE trees. After 3 weeks, I wrote her:
On 3/28/06, Rogi Riverstone wrote:
Where are my trees?

Her reply:
"Hello,
Name and address and I let you know thank you kindly"
She should KNOW my name and address!

THEN, she had the nerve to ask for feedback! NO WORD of a refund. I've waited 3 days, emailed 2xs, NO REPLY

Item title: Japanese Red Maples Spring Blow Out Sale,Japanese Red
Maples Spring Blow Out Sale
item=

Item number:
Buyer User ID: rriverstone
Seller User ID: bullyloverz
Your total: $25.05

Item title: Japanese Red Maples Spring Blow Out Sale,Japanese Red Maples Spring Blow Out Sale
Item number:
Buyer User ID: rriverstone
Seller User ID: bullyloverz
Total: $25.05
Note: Every eBay user has a Feedback profile made up of comments from other eBay users.
Thank you so much for your business.
P.S. I'm sorry we couldn't complete this. I hope you have a great summer. Happy Planting. I will leave you positive and hope you do the same. Thank you.

As far as I'm concerned, she has stolen my money

The Island of Dr. Lovato

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First Choice Clinic set up an eye exam for me at the Eye Institute. I had to reschedule, as nobody asks ME when I can go to these things, and the first appt. was too early to make by bus.

It took 3 hours to get there. The Albq. bus schedule makes no mention of the fact that the original bus I was on, #36, automatically becomes the #50 when it reaches the Alvarado Transit Center. the #36 comes within a block of my house, but only runs 1x/hour. I got on it at 10 am, for a 1:30pm appt. It goes on a long, loopy trip and comes back to an intersection at Rio Grande & Central, where I transferred to a Route 66 bus. I was going to transfer from there to the #50 at the University and take that to the Institute.

I took myself out for a very nice brunch at the Olympia Cafe. As I ate and listened to "Never-on-Sunday"-esque music, I thought about how much ancient Greek culture still influences modern life in the USA, even though we rarely ever think about modern Greece. I wish the Romans hadn't dominated, with their don't-care-about-your-commrads, mechanical army style. Greeks were encouraged to LOVE their fellow soldiers. 'course, they treated women like chattel, but who hasn't?

Anyway, I figured a craptacular burger at Mickey D's, next door, would have cost the same as the chicken in cinnamon sauce, over a bed of pilaf, served with a mixed salad with feta and a pita which I chose. I ordered 2 lemon custards (I'm NOT going to try to spell THAT!) to go. They put them in styrofoam clam shells, inside a paper bag.

I caught the #50 south for a few blocks to the grocery (#50 makes a loop to the airport and back, so I thought I'd have time to pick up a few things and catch it going north). I got my groceries and wheeled my shopping cart near the bus stop. I opened my wheeled backpack to put things in it and discovered the custard had been smothered in honey/lemon juice sauce, which now coated everthing in my pack. I packed the custards in a plastic grocery bag, washed things off as best I could with my water bottle and waited for the bus. I must've just missed the bus. I saw the next one pass me, going south to the airport, and had to wait for that one to return. I stood out there for about half an hour, waiting.

I was still about a half hour early to my appt. I washed my rain jacket in the ladies' room sink. My appt. letter was sticky with honey and I apologized profusely to the receptionist as I explained.

Now, nobody told me what the procedures would be. I didn't know I'd be blind when I left, or I'd have worn better walking shoes and brought my cane. I certainly wouldn't have had a load of groceries to manage on the bus home. I would have brought dark sunglasses.

The nurse found pressure in both eyes. That's an indication of glaucoma, as I understand it. The nurse also saw how my eyes don't adjust right when one is covered for a while and then uncovered. I've had double vision for decades. My left eye is very weak, as I close it to read and watch tv. She saw how pronounced it was.

Well, Lavato walked in. He didn't test for eye pressure, but decided I had no swelling, anyway (huh?). He did the same double vision test the nurse did, but passed the vision obstructor past my eyes so quickly, it appeared almost transparent to me, and the effect was minimal. He said nothing was wrong.

As near as I can tell, the NURSE looked at my EYES. The DOCTOR looked at my medicaid and medicare, and based his diagnosis accordingly.

I literally had to beg to get someone to put dialation reversal drops in my eyes afterward. Everybody was dragging their feet. I kept explaining I felt a blinding migraine coming on and that I still had an hour of buses home. If I missed the bus that was due in 10 mins, I'd have to wait, in the sun, for an hour for the next one! I had goats to feed. I needed to get back before the migraine got bad, if it did.

I had to beg a guy outside, talking on his cell phone, to help me get to the bus stop, as all I could see was fuzzy, white glare. Nobody gave me eye shades.

I heard Lavato in the hall, talking to a patient, "You've been a very good girl. You behaved yourself very well."

Of course, I thought he was talking to a child.

Out walked an OLD Navajo woman: hair in traditional tie, long skirt, the whole thing. I don't even know if she spoke English. Her head was down, mortified.

How DARE he talk to a Dine elder in such a disrespectful manner! I was furious.

All the medical staff there insisted in speaking to me in terms of endearment, too: "Dear, sweetheart, darling, honey...."

You are NOT my lover, my parent, my friend! You are a medical professional, and you should speak to me with respect. Address me as Ma'am or as Ms. _______. Do NOT treat me like a child, a defective or a pet! It does NOT reassure me. It doesn NOT ingratiate you to me. It alarms me and it insults me. You don't know me well enough to assume such language is appropriate. Stop being so familiar and act like a professional!

Basically, I felt like I was being treated by Wal*Mart associates and conquistadores.

I see Lavato did time at Harbor in Los Angeles County. Some of the poorest people have to go there. He learned, years ago, not to respect low income people, but to leach from them for his practice. We're meat. Period. He doesn't care about our well being. He cares about the bottom line.

At this point, I don't care if someone pokes me in the eye with a stick, I'll never go back there.

I got home, fed the goats immediately, washed off my backpack and its contents, peed, got a cold drink and called Ma, in that order.

They never warned me the eyedrops hurt -- BAD. They didn't warn me they were coming at my eyeball with a lighted stick. They didn't explain ANYTHING to me. They processed me. I had to BEG for them to tell me what they were doing to MY BODY!

You wanna know why the poor don't get health care? Beyond the crappy options re: medicaid and medicare, beyond the lack of decent transportation to inaccessible facilities, beyond the INSISTANCE of institutions to book appts without consulting the consumers, beyond the lack of follow up or access to testing, etc because insurance won't cover it -- poor people are treated like mentally defective LIVESTOCK!

The healthcare providers are suspicious of us, disrespectful to us, abusive, neglectful, arrogant.

It was a simple errand: go for an eye exam.

It turned out to be SIX HOURS on the bus, humiliation, trauma and insult for a 90 minute exam, where the dr. pretends everything's normal.

Original, stolen image -- now renamed and useless to the jackass:

My replacement:

You are reading http://livinginthehood.blogspot.com

So, in a few days, I'll just remove my "modified" smiley rainbow, so he'll have no image, at all. That'll mean the post below won't have it anymore, either.

He stole them from some of my net art.

Here are the URLs I had to fix. Mind you, I made "code" pages, so people could reproduce the art. I specifically said NOT to direct link to the images, or I'd have to remove the code pages from my site. But I won't do that; WebTV people love making "table art," and they're pretty good, these days, about TRANSLOADING images from one site to another. WebTV can't up- or download anything; they have to move things, across the internet, to their own domains or site hosts.

Here's my "art:"

Marquee Smiles
http://rriverstone.com/netart/marqueesmiles.html

Marquee Tree
http://rriverstone.com/netart/marqueetree.html

Gay Apparel
http://rriverstone.com/queer/yuletree2.html

So, I had to go into my domain, look thru my net art, find the pages with the graphic, repair it and resave SIX pages!!! All on ONE cup of coffee.

Other than that, I'm having a nice day. LOL

ignorant lil twit

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This jackass decided to steal one of my graphics, post it on his blog and call it "his" flag. This is a COMPUTER user, not a webtv person who can't down- or upload!

Well, I'm just tickled boyfriend's so damn proud, but I can't afford to subsidize him!

So, I hid the original graphic and replaced it with THIS one!

kinda gloomy

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Well, my check's in. Paid as many bills as possible online...which may be all of them, come to think of it. Finally paid off the payday loan I got to buy Ma some xmas. 20 percent per month in "fees" and interest. Bastards. It was only $250, but it took me 'til April to pay it off!

I should probably go to the cheap grocery today. They have ground turkey for 99c a pound. Good frozen vegies, too, like stirfry with water chestnuts and snow peas. And they have cheap cheese, eggs, etc.

If I just organized the back yard, I wouldn't need eggs. But there are old ones out there right now.

It's a little chilly, though, and I'm not motivated to get on the bus and drag home fifty pounds of food.

I'm warming the bathroom for my shower.

Weather's always a factor, here, in anything I do. Really cold or hot days, I work in the house, if possible. Or come inside when it GETS really bad out. I have to be flexible in how I plan stuff. I hate going to preset appt's. when weather's bad; it can wipe me out for the rest of the day.

Oprah's chicks are feathering out. Most are frizzles, like her and Harpo. I'm going to segregate Oprah and her family into the front yard, with Harpo and keep the other chickens and duck in the back. The duck chases and torments Harpo something awful. And it'd look pretty, having frizzle banties in the front. They're very cute.

Got 2 small chunks of cheap brisket out to thaw. Guess I'll cook em in the crock pot with some beans and tomatoes.

Ma's working extra hard this week with 2 special projects and will be putting in long hours. Best to have something hearty and healthy fixed up, easy to warm when she gets home late and tired.

Sure wish the sun would come out and warm things...

Went to Chat4tv.com yesterday. Haven't been there in so long, someone asked who I am. LOL. I used to be one of the small pond "big fish," as I wrote for net4tv Voice and all... It was good to be back, sorta. Some of the rednecky types still get the hairs up on the back of my neck, but I noticed they didn't acknowledge I was there. Unfortunately, they use Teamspeak, a voice chat program, so I had to hear them, anyway. One's a very outspoken libertarian stoner. The other's a republican. It gets wierd sometimes. shudder.

I have 2 paying gigs now. Neither pays MUCH, but it's better than nothing. P. I. got me a little honorarium for transcribing segments of his radio show for him to post on his website. L. B. might have some games work for me, too. Need to email her...

I'm just glad to have the house to myself. I love Ma, and I'm glad she gets SOME weekends off (but not many). And it's nice when I get to hang out with her. But I'm pretty much a bachelorette here, most of the time. Sometimes, having her around disrupts my cow path. No biggy.

I guess I don't really have anything important to say. Well, I do. But I find I must edit my processes in these blogs. People who could cause me harm lurk here, in case they can find something out that they could use to trouble me. isn't that a shame? I guess that's why I kinda lost heart and stopped blogging for awhile. Sometimes, the stuff that's REALLY important in my life can't be documented here.

I try to save it up. One day, there'll be space to write some of the stuff I'm keeping close to the vest. Just not right now.

Ma says I should write a book. It's a thought...

green roofs

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I'm gardening again. Basically, I'm just mixing up batches of "found" seeds, sprinkling them just inside the front yard wall (a lot of the seeds are "climbers:" beans, vines, etc.), sprinkling shredded paper over them and watering them. The rototilling took care of teh concrete-like resistance of the dirt. A little goat- and chicken poop, and that's all that's required.

Anyway, I'm thinking, once again, about how miserably hot it gets here and how little we attract clouds -- particularly with black streets, concrete buildings, etc.

And I'm back to my dream of retrofitting every building in town for green roofs. This is a project which even includes chickens! Here is a kitchen garden on a roof.

Here's a basic website, http://www.greenroofs.net/

There's even a commercial site, greenroofs.com.

Aluminum "I" beams could be used to build an inexpensive, weatherproof, durable exoskeleton around any existing building. They could even be bolted to walls, for extra support. The I beams would bear the load of the gardens. The gardens could be built of flatts, apx. a foot above the existing roofs. Between flats would be "cat walks." The entire structure would have guardrails, to keep people from falling.

Rain barrel water could be pumped, via solar energy, to irrigate.

This would provide protection for roofs from rain, wind and sun. The gardens would help insulate houses, particularly from heat. Governments -- particularly states like New Mexico -- could give tax rebates to property owners.

Parking lots could have "roof garden" shade protection.

Some planting could just be grass, for extra O2 and shade. But a lot could be foods, herbs, endangered native plants, etc. Indigenous and heirloom plants would thrive.

Now, NM has little water, true. But there are drought-tolerant plants that are in danger.

Other places, with higher rainfall (but higher land prices, making gardening extremely expensive) would see local residents eating virtually-free produce.

Even apartment buildings could produce substantial amounts of food for residents, especially if parking lots were also covered.

I wish I could do it here. We have a HUGE roof that just radiates and absorbs heat!

I'm already planning to scratch up the gravel driveway with a rake this year and plant lentils, marigolds, alfalfa and clover over it. I want to plant foods for goats and chickens. And marigolds contain pyrethrin (sp?), which is a natural bug killer. I grind the plants and make a "tea" which I spray around the kitchen. It's not toxic, at these low levels, to humans or pets, but it'll kill a roach fast.

The driveway was miserably hot last year. And it heated both bedrooms' outer walls, making going to sleep miserable without fan or air conditioning.

Last year, I did plant sunflowers against the wall. Morning glory vines climbed those. It did help. But six feet by forty feet of oven-hot gravel, radiating toward the house, is hard to overcome with a few sunflowers!

Well, the goats are fussing. It must be time for a bottle...

They're almost old enough to wean...

trying

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I'm very lucky, with regard to the clinic. I'm seeing an actual doctor. She's not a nurse practitioner. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but most social service agencies, etc., won't accept a NP's sig, when they want an MD's.

She's very young. She's very respectful. She hasn't learned to dismiss and disreguard low income patients yet.

And she does follow up on such things as: are the procedures she's scheduling covered by medicare and medicaid. Usually, I'm on my own, researching such.

I'm to go in for my first mamogram soon as they schedule it.

I'm already throwing away things I can't sell or take, things that I know aren't recycleable. I look around all day finding things that I can eleminate from my life. We have a nice, small, upright freezer. I'm wondering if I can just pack that full of the things I'd take and ship it. The condenser coils are covered, so it wouldn't be as prone to damage. I could pack it into a pine crate, for shipping. That way, I'd have the freezer for food storage. It doesn't weigh much, relatively.

It's way too soon to tell if this thing is going to happen, but I believe in early planning, so I won't be so overwhelmed, if and when I learn this thing is a "go." As gimpy as I am, and given that I don't have a car, it'll take some serious finagling to make this happen. It's going to be hard work. Any planning I can do now to alleviate some of the stress is a good thing.

I needed to "unload" some stuff, anyway. It's not like I couldn't replace most of my existing possessions at flea markets, yard sales and thrift stores, anyway. Then, there's trash picking, too.

So, if I can handle getting my health better, earning some money and divesting myself of worldly goods, I should be ok.

The hardest part is finding a job my tired, old body can actually do!

same ol' same ol'

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Whether or not I get to experience this potential transformation, I need to earn some money. Moving expenses would be astronomical. Even if it doesn't happen, I need to earn money. I have to get my teeth fixed, etc.

So, I'm applying for part time work.

I found NMPIRG (New Mex. Public Interest Research Group). They have a canvassing thing. You have to sign up $95 in memberships (which go for $25 each) per day to get $35. Over that, you get commission. Under that, they let you go.

Now, canvassing is hard work. I was told I'd be working in set locations: health food stores, colleges, etc. Standing all day is a hardship, but I was willing, as long as it was only 3 days a week, full time (that's what they mean by part time). They pick you up in a van and drop you off in the locations they've decided. They pick you up at the end of the day.

So, I applied.

He gives me this rap about how they're going to start door-to-door soliciting, beginning in May. What? Walking around in the heat, knocking on people's doors? Working late, when people get home from work and no busses are running? I looked worried.

I asked if they'd simultaneously continue what they call, "campus" canvassing. No. That will end in May. oh, gawd.

So, he says that, even in campus canvassing, "you're entitled to a ten minute break per five-hour shift, but we don't recommend you take it. You can take your break before or after work. There's no sitting down. You have to meet your quota, or you'll be fired."

I said, "so, once again, no reasonable accomodation for disabled people? I might as well be selling Avon."

I walked out.

He'd lied to me, on the phone. If I'd known it was door-to-door (and I'd specifically asked), I never would have taken the bus to their offices. It would kill me, walking the streets for 5-8 hours per day, and then having to walk from the bus stop a mile away to get home.

A few weeks ago, I applied to a local radio station. They needed someone in their news dept. I'm definately qualified. But my broken teeth affect how I sound on mic. I assured them I know how to position a mic, to minimize the lisp. They seemed interested. But, as I was leaving the interview, one of them stopped me in the lobby. There, in front of others, she palmed a $20 into my hand and insisted I take it for a dental appt. I tried to refuse it, but she insisted. I was mortified!

I didn't go there to panhandle; I went there to support myself!

I've never heard a word from them since.

Well, I finally have an appt today for a general physical at the medical clinic. So, I'd better start getting ready.

Paradise Found

Paradise Found This is a lovely blog. Once I got past the self-absorbed "superhero" stuff, particularly when I got to his descriptions of Washington, DC and SUVs, I laughed out loud.

studying

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With absolutely no guarantee I'd actually experience this radical transformation in my life, I've begun researching everything I can about this other place.

Affordable housing is scarce; there's a serious housing shortage. There's little public transportation. The cost of living is no joke and jobs are scarce and low-paying.

On the "up" side, there's a serious movement of sustainable living and organic farming. Many farms are offering housing for workers. Some include goat dairy farming. It's beautiful there. There's a serious alternative community: queer supportive, barter currency to keep money in the community, low pollution, "green" archetectural movement, even within the government.

The customary diet relies heavily on fish, chicken and produce; it's very healthy, if one avoids fast foods, which I do. There are extremely popular farmers' markets, where I could sell stuff.

They have a college, community radio and tv, lots of internet stuff.

One CAN live there without a car, if careful.

People like me are more the norm than freaks.

Serious economic changes occurred there over the past 2 decades. There's been a dramatic rise in meth use. The prisons are overflowing. There's little health care and poor residents smile without teeth a lot, like me.

It would be difficult. But, if I divest myself of most of my possessions and don't plan to acquire as many again once I'm there, if I rely on a more vegetarian diet, if I stop smoking BEFORE I go, I should be ok.

The people recycle things, so my crazy, second-hand lifestyle will fit right in.

It's a fragile environment and must be treated with respect. It's not as harsh to live in as this is, but the trade off is that living like a middle class American is for the birds there.

Who knows? I may end up a goat herd!

oh, HELL!

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Something transformative might happen soon. I won't know for sure until sometime in mid April.

I can't write here about what it actually is. It involves more people than just myself. My head's about to explode.

If it happens, it'll happen soon. Part will happen in June. The rest will happen a few months later.

It means I'd have to sell just about everything I've owned for most of my life. It means I'll have to find homes for all the chickens and duck, the goats, 3 of 4 cats.

It means I'd be leaving everything I've known for my entire life to move VERY far from here. It means I'll probably never come back to this continent.

It means I'd be living someplace quite amazing, fragile, in danger. Jobs are hard to find and the cost of living is a hardship.

It means I'd, once again, have to start my life all over again. First, it was Monterey County. Then, it was Louisville, KY. Next, it was here.

I'd probably die in this new place. It's not a bad place to die, really.

I'm looking around at scissors, stapler, coffee mug, tv, felt tip pens, clothing....it's all going to go, if this thing happens. I can't take it with me.

As soon as I know for sure, I'll open up at eBay and sell off as much as I can. The rest, I'll give away.

I don't even know if I should plant a garden this year. Oh, hell. It'll take me months, if this goes through, before I'll be ready to move. I can plant. If I'm not here to harvest in fall, my neighbors can have any food.

Where I'm going, I can't even take seeds from previous gardens.

It costs too much to send animals there.

Once I get there, if I get to go, I can pretty much scrounge up everything I need. I will send my electric bicycle ahead of me, though. It weighs 80 lbs, but I'll need the transpo.

blogger's freezing up. gotta post b4 I lose this....

Fiddling

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Watched “Fiddler on the Roof” the other night. I made a tape of a broadcast on UPN. Now, I don’t know if it was being aired as an attempt to encourage Zionist tendancies in evangelicals or not. I have my suspicions, though. I mean, I’ve NEVER, in the 30+ years since the movie first came out, seen it aired on TV before!

All that aside, it provoked much thought in me.

If the Czar of Russia hadn’t been such a pig to his Jewish countrymen, would Communism have developed?

If Communism hadn’t developed, would the Czar have ordered the Jews out of Russia?

If the Jews hadn’t emmigrated as they had: empoverished, starved, sick and dirty, would anti-Semitism have become so rabid in both Eastern and Western Europe?

If the Jews hadn’t, as well, returned to the Promised Land, would we be at war in the Middle East for three generations?

If the Jews hadn’t swarmed across the Atlantic Ocean to New York and other, major cities, overwhelming their fragile social structures, would the hideously-filthy ghettos and tenements have sprouted and changed the face of urban poverty forever?

If anti-Semitism hadn’t become rabid in Europe, would the Nazis have developed?

If the Nazis had no power, would millions have been slaughtered?

I watched the portrayal of the refugees, trudging through mud and snow, dragging what little they could carry. I thought of all refugees, everywhere: Africa, Asia, the Americas, Europe, the Middle East, Europe… even Australia. Everywhere on this PLANET, people have been displaced, without just cause, so the dominant culture of whatever geographical location it occurred could appropriate the properties and lands of people who did NOTHING to deserve it and who contributed richly to their location.

Imagine: if the Czar of Russia had encouraged, supported and respected the valueable contribution of the Jews of his country, what would the world be like, now?

Again, I don’t know what the motives of UPN were in broadcasting the movie. No Jews I know want pity, although the histories of their culture’s persecution over thousands of years has taught them a deep sense of compassion and social justice. I’m generalizing here, but there is an ethnic consciousness there which has contributed greatly to social justice.

I found myself, ironically (as a queer feminist), truly sympathizing with the decision-making processes of Tevyek. The precarious balance of survival, constantly threatened by new and outside forces, was his duty, as patriarch, to preserve. His motivations were not merely to save his own skin, or those of his family. He was struggling to preserve his race, his religion.

And his religion was no once-a-week placibo-slash-opiate to make him feel better about his circumstances. His religion was an ongoing conversation with his God. It was a continual source of both pride and humility. It was his shelter and comfort, true. But it was also his philosophy, his guidance, his discipline.

Oh, his sexism, his conservative outlook, his narrow perspective as a man who never left his village: these were aggrevating. But he was trying to maintain balance, security and nurture for his family.

As he pulls the cart, full of his family’s possessions, through the muddy, cold countryside, I thought: he is carrying his family, his village, his people, his god on his back. And he’s doing it willingly, at great cost to his physical health, without complaint. And, if the little ones get too tired to walk, he’ll carry them, too.

It was an honor to witness it.

I researched some of the actors. Molly Picon, who plays the Yenta, was deeply involved in the Yiddish Theatre movement in the US. She even went to Eastern Europe to study Yiddish for awhile. Her story is fascinating. The best info I got was from the Jewish Virtual Library: http://www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org/jsource/biography/picon.html .

I’d like to write a radio play about her.

Other actors have similarly-fascinating lives.

I also thought about the pride the actors must have felt. For many, “Fiddler” was probably the first time any of them could “come out” as Jews. Too often, in order to be successful in the US, Jews were forced to “pass” as gentiles. How thrilling it must have been for some, portraying characters that resembled members of their own families and neighbors, if not themselves! How wonderful it must have felt, knowing their work would contribute to understanding between races, ethnicities and religions!

It was beautiful. I cried my eyes out and laughed my head off. Go rent it.

Post Script: As I was researching "Fiddler" on the 'net, I came across something that thrilled me to tears, literally.

"Fiddler On The Roof" is returning to Broadway! And you'll never guess who's playing Tevyek! It's HARVEY FEIRSTEIN!!!! One of my all time, favorite actors: a gay man who's been out of the closet my whole life, they guy who wrote, produced and starred in "Torch Song Trilogy!"

I GOTTA GET TO NEW YORK! I HAVE to see that!

Oh, hell! Rosie O'Donnell played Golde, a part that doesn't require much singing, thank heavens. I seem to remember her mentioning it on Martha Stewart. Which means it's already over, darn it. Once again, it must suffice that I know it occurred, without being able to witness it, personally. The stuff I miss. Damn.

scary funnies

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2nd cumming o Jeebus

http://www.juancole.com/2006/03/friday-headlines-to-make-you-laugh-and.html

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oh, those quazy queers

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I got privately flamed by some freak on a local, queer email list. When I asked list members for assistance, I got no replies...until one rep. blamed ME for being unclear and provoking an emotional response! Then, I got grilled by phone from an organizer in another queer group, who basically said the same thing.

If one can't hold discussions in safety and respect, why bother?

I was feeling uneasy about returning to any public meetings, as this flamer was anonymous and knows my name. I'm assured the abuse is out of state now, with no plans to return.

But I don't feel safe in an unsupportive community. I doubt I'll return.

One of the m-f transexual women I interviewed in the Kicked Out Queers segment I produced for the Homelessness Marathon got busted on an old warrant. Then, she got busted for turning tricks. She just got released yesterday for possession of drug paraphanalia.

She was very young, when she hit the streets. She wasn't welcomed at home, given her gender status. She's so typical: hustling and dealing to survive, using to cope.

When I met her, she was clean and sober, or said she was. She had a home and a not-very-good job.

A mutual acquaintance is waiting to hear from her. There's a good possibility she can be admitted to a queer rehab in California. But she hasn't called.

I did some research today on the treatment of transexual and trangender detention centers here. It's pretty dismal. The authorities assign the detainee a sex, usually based on either genital configuration or on whatever other prejudices they might have. Therefore, transexual women are thrown into general population of the men's facility. They can request protective custody -- basically, solitary confinement -- but I don't know if they are informed they have that option. A rep. of the county accidentally leaked that a current prisoner complains she was assaulted by another inmate. There are currently thirty trannies in detention.

So, I have some serious energy to investigate this, possibly for New Mexico Voice magazine, possibly for KUNM or other radio.

No queer groups I've contacted seem to know anything about this issue. Not even the legal ones. Lord.

As I checked my sitemeters today, I realized someone from the county has visited my domain. Interesting coincidence, as I just contacted them, for the first time.

I'm also getting a regular visitor from the official Albuquerque gov't. page, which makes me nervous. I wish this person would email me and identify her/himself, so I could relax a little.

My goats are big. It's almost time to start gardening again.

I'm busy with recording the queer poetry at the harwood center.

I can't wait for Ma to finish her bachelor's degree, so she can quit her crappy job and we can get the hell out of this redneck burb.

Queer Poetry

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Common Bonds is hosting monthly poetry readings at the Harwood Arts
Center, in the basement performance space.

This month's Queer Poetry reading takes place on Sunday, March 26, at
6:00pm.

I'm an independent radio producer. I'll be bringing recording
equipment, in hopes of producing broadcast-quality recordings, which I
hope we can distribute through Queer radio networks and, possibly,
NPR, APR, etc. We'll also be burning CDs of performances to sell as
fundraisers for Common Bond and to pay our performers for their
brilliant and poignant poetry.

NOBODY will be recorded or identified without his or her permission.
If people need their voices digitally altered to protect their
anonymity, we can do that, as well.

This is an opportunity for Albuquerque to celebrate the powerful words
of our Queer neighbors. It's also an opportunity for us to read our
works -- often, for the first time in public -- to a tremendously
loving, supportive and eager audience.

Please attend. And, please, forward this email to any interested
parties. I'd also like help making sure these events get posted to
Queer-friendly community calendars.

Hope to see you there!
--
Thank you,

Rogi Riverstone

http://rriverstone.com

Slut Puppy

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This is Ma.

craptacular

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I did the dumbest thing last night. Ma came home with a burger, onion rings and black raspberry shake for my supper. I couldn't finish the shake. I mixed it with the regular 2% cow's milk I feed my goats.

Oh, my gawd! They started SPEWING! They had the runs -- if you can call projectile water poop "runs" -- ALL night long! Their butts, back legs and tails were crusty by morning. The protective blanket over my bed, with a sheet of plastic under it, was just a mess. I was the only one running.

I could smell the "berry" flavoring in it.

They're not sickly. They're playing and bright eyed. Which means they're sharing the wealth all over the house. I've turned into a human mop, following them with a wet towel.

I can't put them outside. It snowed last night.

Right now, they seem less incontinent than they did last night. Of course, that's why they call it, "breakFAST," because they haven't eaten in about seven hours.

I've done some internet research.

The runs in goats is called "scours," with good reason. Their guts must be completely scoured, by now!

I learned to replace the electrolytes they're losing. In other words, they need baking soda. They also need potassium, so I'm feeding a little grapefruit juice. To restore their gut bacteria, I'm making them drink a bit of brewers' yeast and yogurt in their bottles of milk. They don't like it much, but what the hell?

Some people say don't feed grain. Some people say don't feed hay. Some people say don't feed milk. Um... THAT'S ALL THEY EAT! Well, they like cornflakes, icecream cones, bread and corn chips, but that's all grains, really, and I ONLY give them in small amounts, as treats. I'm thinking starving them is no solution.

So, I'll try to keep them extra hydrated today, and suppliment with those things I mentioned above.

I can give them pepto bismal, but that sounds kinda disgusting -- for the goats, not for me. Someone suggests blackberry plants: forage or tea.

I've wiped down their backsides and dried them off. They're currently sleeping on an old blanket, in front of the heater in my room. They seem no worse for the experience, but I'm worn out.

Before this even happened, I was aware that certain types of diarrhea can kill goats in hours or days. So I was pretty alarmed to see this.

Too much milk, changes in feed, etc. can cause scours. I'm thinking a black raspberry milkshake from Lotta Burger is NOT good goat feed.

Imagine a bazooka, less than a foot tall, traveling about 8 mph, capable of climbing any furniture surface in your house, spraying split pea soup as it goes.

I'm too old for this....

CBS gives free air time for hate

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You can go to cbs. Go to the News Dept. Find the Steve Hartman feature. I think it's called Assignment America.

Should be called Assenine America.

The public is invited to vote on one of 3 or 4 possible stories for next week. I voted for a little girl, legally blind, who's working to rebuild the libraries destroyed by Katrina.

BUT

They're also giving the option to vote on "Liberty University's" debate team. They call it "tiny." And wonder that they are beating Harvard's debate team.

I smelled a rat. I looked it up. I want you to know that, on ALL websites associated with this so-called university, they're ALREADY posting links to CBS to get their little, facist dittoheads to vote for THEM! A pig in lipstick is still scrapple, in my opinion.

Here's what I wrote to CBS:

Hartman, that's really sneaky. You didn't tell us "Liberty" (sic) University is Falwell's tax break.

Out of all the wonderful universities in this country, WHY are you focussing on a bastion of hate: self-determining women, gays, lesbians, bisexuals, transsexuals, global warming, Muslims, Buddists, Hindus, Catholics, Jews. Falwell hates them ALL!

Why not focus on a school that wants to help HEAL this nation, rather than further fragment it?

If you do a story on this, will you also go to the Harvard Divinity School and explore Queer Theology, multidenominational multiculturalism and feminist exigesis? 'course not; somebody might actually be challenged to THINK!

I'm just disgusted.
--
Thank you,

Rogi Riverstone

http://rriverstone.com

Queer Poetry

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If you weren't at last night's poetry event at the Harwood, you missed some truly wonderful poetry from Dodici Azpadu, Jill Beyer, Charles Damon Catlett, Russell Maynor, Lhyve Oakwoman, and yours truly. Topics ranged from a gutwrenching narrative poem about an adolescent boy whose father found his journal (containing all of his homosexual fantasies), to issues of gender and relationships, to humorous, to organic, to erotic.

The only thing missing was YOU (if you weren't able to attend).

By all means, don't miss the next two in the Queer Poetry Series! Mark your calendar NOW, bring your work to share, and be prepared to be amazed and inspired by the range of gifts in our community.

#2 in the Queer Poetry Series: Sunday, March 26, 6-8 pm, Harwood Art Center Theater, 7th & Mountian NW, ABQ
#3 in the Queer Poetry Series: Saturday, April 29, 7-9 pm, Harwood Art Center Theater, 7th & Mountain NW, ABQ

See you there!


Mary Oishi
www.maryoishi.com
"...dismiss whatever insults your own soul; and your very flesh shall be a great poem..."
- Walt Whitman, in preface to Leaves of Grass

Oprah's brood is hatching

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Oprah is my black cochin frizzle bantam hen. Harpo is my white cochin frizzle rooster.

He doesn't know it, but he's becoming a daddy, even as I write.

Oprah began sitting a nest three weeks ago. I marked it on the calendar. I was expecting them to hatch tomorrow. Guess I counted wrong?

I was going to bed last night when I heard peeping. Oprah's nest is in shredded paper inside a flat, cardboard box. The box is topped with the cover to a cat litter box. It's sitting on my night stand, by my bed. Oprah's my smallest hen. The roosters pester her -- and Harpo -- something fierce. Harpo mostly lives outside the compound I built, to get away from the big guys.

Oprah began begging to come in the house. I've been letting her come into the kitchen and my bedroom when things got tense outside. She laid an egg on my bed, so, I thought I should give her a nesting box.

When she began to be really serious, and was having regular "relations" with Harpo, I decided to let her try to hatch them.

I have another small hen, Sake, who gets along better with the yard birds. She had a nest of two eggs, so I brought them in for Oprah to brood. One of them has a "pip" hole in it this morning, and a little beak is popping out. I can't wait to see what it'll look like. I can't remember what breed Sake is, but she's African, a small bantam with a long tail, mottled brown.

I have another hen, Suki, who's sitting a nest outside. She's a Japanese silkie bantam. Her guardian and protector is the duck, who keeps most roosters away, most of the time. She's sitting a nest in a crate in the yard, with the duck by her side. I don't know when she began to set, but it's about time for her nest, too. I don't know how many eggs are in it and I certainly don't know who the daddies of either Suki's or Sake's eggs might be. Could be giant mop roosters, for all I know. Anyway, the offspring ought to be interesting.

I'm building a ceramic baby feeder at the ceramics studio right now. It should be dry enough to fire, after the weekend.

Here's what frizzles are about. The first one looks like Oprah; the second looks like Harpo.

the Union should secede from Florida!

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That's the last straw. Jeb Bush, pregnant chads, no Queer adoptions....

Now, they've beaten a Black kid to death. I just emailed the Bay County, Florida's Public Relations office, since they won't let me email the Sherrif's Department, directly:

I just saw the tape.

When a gang of armed, adult white men surround an unarmed, Black juvenile, hold him down and beat him to death, there's no other word for it.

Close the so-called "boot camps." Learn how to TREAT people! And I do mean "TREAT" as in treatment.

Every day, Florida looks more and more like a bunch of redneck, ignorant fools.

There's no excuse. If the kid DID have sickle cell anemia, he CERTAINLY couldn't sustain a beating!

Own your garbage. You did this. Admit it, repent for it, and change things so it can't possibly happen again!

It took them an hour and a half to kill him, all on tape. He'd been complaining of difficulty breathing, but, apparantly, received NO medical exam at that time which could have confirmed a diagnisis of sickle cell.

http://www.ktvu.com/news/7161654/detail.html They have a slide show of the tape.

our future president?

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Rumors abound that NM's Gov. Bill Richardson may run for president, next time.

In addition to his apparant "need" for helicopters, international junkets, and an Albuquerque office with marble walls, he has squandered state (and we're one of the poorest in the Union) taxpayers' money by the boatload.

We're running a state surplus, thanks to inflated petroleum prices.

But I can't get my teeth fixed.

It's hard to eat. I can't speak normally -- on the phone, in person, and CERTAINLY not on a radio microphone. When I smile --even when I merely speak normally-- people see my teeth and become suspect. I've been refused service, had security called on me, been physically attacked on the streets and DEFINATELY refused employment, based on my teeth.

I have a chronic infection, due to absesses in my jaw and skull.

I went to First Choice Dental, community clinic for low income, today. I tried to schedule an appointment. My Medicaid doesn't cover dental.

I'll have to pay a $25 copay, per visit.

My income's $640; my rent's $450.

So, I called the state's Income Support office. They handle my Medicaid and food stamps (a whole $62 per month).

I wanted the telephone extension and name of my worker. The receptionist refused. Instead, without being qualified to do so, SHE insisted SHE would solve the problem! I STILL don't know my worker's name and number!

When I described my situation, she REPEATEDLY told me to go to First Choice, in spite of my insistance that $25 per visit was beyond my means. She said that's a really low copay, compared to other insurance companies. I replied, "sure, if you're middle class. But I'm not!"

I said, "what can I do?"

She said, "Well, I WORK for a living!"

She continuously asserted that I was not qualified for Medicaid dental.

When I'd ask why not, she first said, "because you're elderly."
"I'm only fifty!"
"Well, then, you're on SSI."
"I'm on SSDI!"
"Well, then, I don't know...."
"What do I DO?"
"Are you homeless?"
"No, that's why my rent is over four hundred a month..."
"Oh, that's right! Well, go there and lie. Tell them you ARE homeless. You know, you have to lie occasionally, when it's necessary."

That's the official position of the State's Income Support Division.

The clinics are broke. They'll have no budget again until July. They're accepting no new appointments, except emergencies.

So, next month, I'll forgo repairs to my electric bike. I'll illegally drive an unregistered, uninsured vehicle (without a driver's license) to the clinic. They accept emergencies ONLY by 6am. There's always a long line. There is NO bus service that early in the morning. It's too far to walk.

I have to risk jail to go. I have to give up repairing my only source of independent transportation to go.

But the governor has marble bathrooms and a helicopter.

soulforce.org

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Y'know, I've been a Unitarian Universalist for longer than I can remember. But I don't attend any churches. Most congregations are upper middle class and squeeky academic. It's pretty elitist, and I'm tired of having to educate them on the realities of being a multiracial, Queer, disabled woman on a tiny income. So, I stopped going. But, philosophically, I will always be a UU, minus the committees.

So, I found this long, forwarded email today. It's fromhttp://www.soulforce.org. They sound like good people, for those who have the energy, anyway.

But I really don't want to receive forwarded emails from them. So, I wrote the sender, whom I know from a totally different group:

I'm an agnostic, Queer Witch. I have no interest in assimilating into
Abrahamic religions traditions who've murdered my people for centuries.

Apparantly, this email list emphasizes the latter. Therefore, I have
no interest in these mailings.

In fact, I have no idea why I'm on this email list. Could I please be
removed from religious mailings, since my faith traditions aren't
represented?
>
>
>
>
>
> Subject: Soulforce Announces New Executive Director and
Renewed
> Dedication to Ending Homophobia at its Source

misc.

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I couldn't sleep this morning, so I watched some tv. I've never watched The Daily Buzz before. The promos seemed so juvenile, I wasn't interested. Well, I watched some this morning and was horrified. The so-called "anchors" don't simply report news; they editorialize. And their commentaries are reactionary, ill-informed and extremely biased. Even the stand-up "newsreader" has to inject the most ridiculous, poorly-thought-out and biased comments while reading stories. They also just HAD to comment that the PBS evening news is boring, congratulating themselves on being more entertaining, I guess. Well, news is NOT entertainment. It's information. Muddy, incoherant promotions of particular agendas is not news. It was aweful. And it's the future of tv news.

I'm going into the ceramics studio today. I'm worried about my work and my tools, and need to check on everything. I also need to uncover it from plastic, so it'll dry in time to fire. I made Ma a couple of Valentine's Day presents. They need both first firing, glazing and second firing, and the 14th is coming soon!

The goats are doing great. They can drink more than five oz. at a time now. They're very active and strong. They sleep less and play more.

My neighbor complained to me about a black rabbit, eating her rose bush. I don't have a black rabbit. But I saw the varmint in her yard. I made her brother and sister help me catch him. He's HUGE, very strong and not a bit domesticated. I've got him in my dog carrier for temporary purposes. Once I've rabbit proofed my enclosure better, I'll set him loose out there with the chickens. When I grabbed him, he screamed like a stuck pig! I don't blame him for hating me: I chased him for over an hour, pulled out some fur in the capture, and then confined him to a small, dark space in a room with a dog and two goats!

I have nothing else to report today, really. Just thought I should check in.

Oh, we're returning "The Hours," a movie, loosely based on Virginia Woolf's Mrs. Dalloway. It was unnecessarily confusing. And I have no patience for sympathetic apologias for suicide. It angered me, for that. Ms. Woolf suffered serious, psychiatric disorders which, even today, often go either untreated or mistreated. I understand her decision to end her life. But the other two characters, an attempted and a completed suicide, I don't forgive. The attempted was pregnant. The completed fell out a window in the presence of his best friend. Both are unforgivable, in my opinion. Yet, I think we're to believe these characters were, somehow, noble? Nah.

I've been suicidal. I'll tell you what: courage is NOT committing suicide, even when one has NO reason not to do it. I mean, I had no family, no support, no money and often, no home, when I was suicidal. I could see no reason to continue living in pain and poverty. But, somehow, I made myself hold on until the crisis passed.

Frankly, I don't think I'll ever be suicidal again. Unless, of course, I contract an illness or disability which would SO compromise my quality of life that I needed to proactively end it, if I could.

But psychological crisis will probably never be an incentive for me to kill myself.

Well, I'm returning the DVD today, not having watched the full-length commentary, as I'm just not that interested, thanks.

goat support & pottery woes

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I called Town & Country Veterinary this morning. I've been trying to figure out how to wether (castrate) my billy. I could cut him, myself, but I can't get the required drug without a prescription, and it costs fifty dollars, for WAY more than I'll need.

Well, the receptionist at T & C happens to be a member of New Mexico Pygmy Goat Club. Now, as it happens, most members are into show goats. I have no interest in any such thing. It's expensive and impossible, really, with no car. The kids sell for upwards of three hundred dollars, each. Not so much.

BUT, they can help me BAND my billy. Some members have the tool that stretches an elastic band over the scrotum. It's uncomfortable, at first, but only for about an hour or so. I can apply some topical anesthesia to help with that. It's clean, not prone to infection and the least-invasive method, really.

I don't have to worry for about 6 more weeks yet.

I also don't have to worry about worming, until they're off formula/cows milk. But worms will kill a goat pretty fast, at least, almost as fast as you can notice symptoms. Generally, once a goat is "down," ie: not able to walk, it's dying.

The kids are more rambunctious today than ever. They're eating a LOT and are very active for a longer period between naps. Right now, they're curled up, under my feet, as I'm writing.

The ceramics studio is open from 2-5 today, so I'll feed them again right before I take off for the bus stop.

Hell, they're not sleeping, they're nuzzling my shins. I'm the Giant Teat Of The Universe now. My sole purpose is feeding, in their eyes. Oh, and taking them out to the yard for adventures.

All the other animals are fine with the goats. The roosters are a bit scandalized, though. Harpo (I have to post his photo here) is tiny and easily intimidated, but he actually challenged a too-curious goat yesterday. He hides from all the other chickens. But he'll defend himself from a kid.

I worked on cleaning the house most of yesterday, so I'd feel better about heading out to work on pottery today. I bought myself 2 sets of pottery tools: one for here, one for there. One set came with a canvas apron, too. I marked all the tools with Sharpy markers. I wrote "Gone to Pot" on the apron. It has pockets, so I can keep my tools on me when I'm there. Some guy picked up one of my borrowed tools the last time I was there. I had my tools on the sink counter, to dry from washing. He just decided he needed one of them, without asking anybody. The studio provides tools to borrow, but they must be returned. I was just flummoxed that somebody would just TAKE something like that without asking! I don't need to get in trouble for somebody else's stupidity. So, I have my own tools, identifiably mine. If I catch the son of a bitch with something of mine in the future, I could stab him in the heart with another tool, I suppose... jees...

My stuff should be dry enough to smooth, decorate and set on the shelf to be fired. Once that's done, I can glaze them to be fired again. I'm looking forward to playing in glazes.

I'm going to practice making some beads, here at home. I'm thinking of buying my OWN clay. The clay there is recycled. I hurt myself, trying to throw a pot with dry, cold clay that wouldn't work right. It's all mixed up: terracotta, white, whatever people were using. It's soaked in water and run through what looks like a giant meat grinder. It extrudes in round pieces, about 3 inches round, cut into about 6 inch sections. And there was a glass melting class once, who left shards of glass in the clay to be recycled. It isn't sharp, but, if a piece sticks to a finger or thumb while the wheel's turning, it WILL cut the clay and damage the piece. So, I'm thinking I'll buy my own clay.

There are lockers there, big enough for my tools, apron and clay. I just need to find one of my padlocks with a key.

Public ANYTHING is so problematic!

training goats

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Rule Number One: Don't ever chase a goat away from the scene of its crime. You can not catch it and the goat knows it. Just making it leave the areas is not a correction. In the goat's way of thinking it won the confrontation and you may actually be teaching the goat to play games in which it tries to see how much stuff it can get out of the bag before dancing away just our of reach. To the goat this is fun, but to the humans in camp it leads to thoughts of goat murder.http://www.northwestpackgoats.com/index.htm

I've been researching goat training. Goats are good draft & pack animals. Their browsing is excellent for "weed eating" the yard. In fact, many communities are now hiring herds of goats to remove unwanted brush from freeway onramps, empty lots, etc.

I'm deciding whether to train my goats to collars or harnasses. Harnasses seem more humane; goats, as prey, are uncomfortable about restraints to the neck. But a chain collar can't be eaten by the other goat; a harnass can.

At any rate, I'm thinking my goats can pull a cart to the store. I can outfit them with panniers (saddle bags), too.

As with any animal, the earlier one begins training, the easier it'll be.

I've been letting my doe get away with a behavior I must stop. When I'm sitting on the bed, she'll try to climb my back. As they say on the website, it's cute when they're babies, but who needs, in my case, a fifty pound goat running up and jumping on my back?

I laughed at the above quote; I've been through similar experiences with dogs and cats. They're all faster and more cunning than I. So, training will be necessary.

They're certainly not satanic. They're clever, that's for sure. They're tricksters. But that's not to be confused with evil. What kind of church looks at intelligent mischief and immediately labels it "evil?" mercy! Any creature who thinks differently than they do is automatically damned. The history of human imperialism.

Well, I'll soon have goats and a roommate to feed (they're all, mercifully, asleep right now). Then, I'll pack the goats into their dog carrier for safekeeping while I'm off on the bus to UNM to work more on my pottery. I can only work short days now. I have to come home and feed goats.

I'm feeding them on THEIR schedule. They seem to eat about every three hours during the day and not at all at night. By 9pm, they hit the sack and can be persuaded to sleep in until nearly 8am, if we're quiet. They're eating about four ounces of formula/cows milk at a time. Their poops aren't runny. Their kidneys are CERTAINLY functioning. Their eyes are bright. They play a lot and then just collapse in a ball for about two hours.

I haven't any names for them, yet. Contenders are: Beevis and Butthead, Tristan and Isolde, Oscar and Gertrude, Burns and Allen or Billy and Nanny. So far.

thisnthat

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First, to answer the question of whether goats make good pets. Depends on your patience level, and how scrupulous you are about housekeeping.

I'm totally impatient with humans. Animals, I can forgive almost anything. It's not their faults they're captive and dependent. It's not their fault I put creatures with predatory natures in with prey. So, I feel it's my responsibility to accomodate them, secure them, assure them and teach them to live peacefully together.

Goats can't, as far as I know, be house trained. I've heard of people putting goats in diapers when they're in the house. hmm...

BABY goats, or kids, are very different from adults. They'll nibble at things to taste them, but their ruminant stomachs are dormant until they're weaned. The nibbling is just curiosity, play and practice. They can't actually eat anything while they're young.

Baby goat pee is almost pure water; it has no hormones, scent, etc. In fact, it smells a bit sweet, like the lambs' formula I'm feeding them. Their baby poo is an inch-long pellet, slightly moist, which is easily discarded in a paper towel. They always pee and poop right after a feeding, so it's easy to know when to throw their butts out into the yard.

I'm currently washing my bed linens. The babies spent their first day on my bed. Much soaking of blankets resulted.

But, the day I got them, they'd JUST been removed from their dam and were being taught bottle feeding. They'd been removed from the property where they'd be born and taken to a pet store, full of strange noises and sounds and a concrete floor. Even the people feeding them were different-smelling than their previous owners.

Then, I bought them, dragged them into a CAR in the bright sun, and brought them to yet ANOTHER strange smelling and -sounding place, with a dog and cats in it! That's a lot of predators around newborn prey.

So, I put them in my bed. They cuddled with the teddy, when I wasn't around. I fed them in bed. I let them evacuate in bed. I let them sleep beside me the first night.

Yesterday, I brought in my dog carrier, with shredded paper in the bottom, and set it on the bedroom floor, with the door open. The goats went right to it, smelled it all over, and practiced going in and out of it. It smells different than the one in which they were transported to the feed store, but isn't a strange concept. Last night, they slept in it with no fussing. In fact, they "slept in" this morning, as the inside is dark and warm (it's sitting near my heater).

For the first time, the goats followed me all the way to the front driveway, where I've erected a garage-sized tent with our bikes and stuff inside. I brought their bottles, my cigarettes and a cup of coffee. I was able to hold both bottles in one hand and smoke and drink my coffee in the other. They drink about four ounces of formula/cows milk at a time.

They're frantic, at first, searching for the alien nipple. Once they latch on, they only let go periodically, to catch their breath and let air back into the bottle.

But once they're full, they walk away. They show no more interest in the nipple. Now, it's time to play, pee and poo.

They're beginnning to gambol, climb and trot. They loved being out in the front yard, where there are rocks, logs and steps to climb and plant materials to nibble.

The girl is the instigator. They boy lags behind. He's whinier than she. He's also smaller and less aggressive. This will radically change as his testicals mature and descend.

I'm going to buy some anesthesia from a vet. supply place. I have some hypodermic syringes I saved from the trash when a diabetic got evicted, back in the War Zone. They're new and they're sterile, although I'll clean one in alcohol.

If you go to that goat site I posted yesterday, you'll see step-by-step instructions for castrating goats. I'll be using the "cutting" method, as it's quick, cheap and generally the less likely to cause complications.

I can't let him mature with testicals. Read the section about bucks, to see some of the problems. Beyond aggression, they piss on their front legs and head to smell very ripe. It can cause skin irritation and infections. And you can smell them from a block away.

And my goats are brother and sister: I don't want weak and deformed kids. If I decide to breed her, I can put up ads in feed stores.

So, yes, goats make excellent pets, if you keep in mind their biology, intelligence, limitations, predilictions, etc. Just like any other animal.

People get very angry at animals, even dogs and cats, for behaving as nature and evolution have intended. They want their animals to behave as THEY want them to, not as they do naturally. It's stupid, imperialistic, egotistical and often cruel.

As my goats mature, I'll be leaving them out more. They won't be able to come in without supervision, or they'll eat and break things.

They'll never be large. Pygmies are tiny, compared to standard goats.

But they're strong, smart, active creatures. And I like my glassware, book- and record collections. I also like my sanity.

The goats now know this is home. They now know I'm the mom. They follow me and listen to me. They trust me. They're not frightened, insecure, etc.

I can expect more of them now than laying all over my bed, peeing on it. And they WANT more now! They LIKE going outside! They like the dog carrier.

So, that's my story.

I had other things to write about, but this ended up pretty long, so I'll wait 'til later.