Ghost and Cuddles.

So we foster cats.  This is insane and fun.

Insane that between all the litter boxes, including the rabbit, I clean six twice a week.  That’s 12 stinky boxes of poop every week!  It is fun becouse right now we have kittens, and they chase each other across our wood floors.  This is especially fun when you get more than two, which we have. The turning capacity of any cat on a wood floor reminds me of a race car on a wet road. 


Then you get quiet moments, like the one above.  Where they relax and calmly peer out of windows. 


These four are siblings and were not quite sure what to think of me.  They warmed up quickly and were soon happily romping with our two cats.  Both our cats are ‘foster-failures’ as I jokingly call them.  Gypsy’s cat is a great beast of a lovable fluff ball.  Well, he only loves her.  He likes me, perhaps even is fond of me.  I have very few illusions when it comes to that psychotic ball of fluff.

I adopted Cuddles about two months ago, and she lives up to her name.  Both her blog name, Cuddles, and her real name.  Supper Puppy loves her, and will only share her dinner with Cuddles.  That produces cute pictures like this one.


Now before you yell at me for letting my kitten eat dog food, don’t.  I have tried almost everything to stop this, and this is one determined kitten.  I have been trying to train her to sit like Supper Puppy has to.  I’ll get back to you on that.  Alright, now that everyone has been fed and taken outside to go potty it’s time for bed.

Perfect timing, the cats have turned the living room into a race track.


What Crap is This!

On a trip to Walmart on Thursday, I saw one of there costumed asociates putting up CHRISTMAS DECORATIONS!!!!!!  Now, I’m not going to mention the incongruity of a pink haired zombie girl in striped tights putting glittery angels on an end cap! 

That being said… for goblins sake, at least the the little snot faced kids get there Halloween candy buzz on before you soak the parents for the next holiday.

Gypsy shuddered, and we hurried past the seasonal section as rapidly as we could.  Now I’m not down on Christmass, it’s  just there IS a holiday in between Halloween and the over stuffing of ourselves and our stockings.

It’s called THANKSGIVING!!!  Or as most people around here call it “The day were theres a lot of foot ball and food, and no hunting.” 


Yes, that day.  But ya’all are missing the point.  It’s not about the food or the football.  Its about giving thanks, look at the world today people!  We have a lot, so we should be pretty dang thankfull about stuff.

Food? Check
Heat? Check
Light? Check
Someone to cuddle with? Check
Car that runs? Check
Job? *grummble, mummble* Check

Start thinking about this folks.  Start being thankfull for what you have, instead of whining becouse you dont have.

X-Box? Nope
PS3? Nope
Cable TV? Nope.
Latest Assassin’s Creed game?  Sadly, no.  But what would I play it on?

Anyways, its back to craigs list to sell my overload of Christmass decorations.  Then I can be thankfull for ya’ll forgeting to be thankfull.

Digging up the Devil

I have spent a lot of time on this blog doing my best to leave my ex-girlfriend out of my writing.  Fuck that! 

Let me exhume the she-devil from her cold grave.

In the almost 3 years since I liberated myself, I have spent a lot of time coming to terms with what she did.  There was no physical abuse, though perhaps that would have made it easier to end it all.  I was told what to do.  When to do it.  Why it wasn’t good enough.  I was told we would be having kids.  (I don’t want kids. Never have.)  I was told I couldent have a Jeep or a motorcycle, to dangerous.  The TV was always on, loud, while I was trying to sleep.  I was bitched at if I turned it down, even though she was on the computer and not watching it.  I was not allowed to cook, though I was expected to grill out when she wanted it.  Though honesty I don’t mind grilling, in pretty much any weather but rain.  I did all the laundry, though I refused to put hers away.  Money was controlled and spent rapidly by her.  I didn’t see a doctor for 4 years.  Any doctor for any reason.  There was ‘not enough money’ yet she could spend any amount of money she needed to, on pot.  I also didn’t talk to my best friend for a year, because my ex got into a fight with her.  Now though, I see that as a way to control me and who I hung out with.  She didn’t work for over half the relationship, and refused to go beck to school. 

Then, there was the magical side.  What? There’s more?  Yes, sorry to say there is.  The above list is rather a short one.

She told me, though I doubted it, that she was chosen. (Yes, I know. BIG red flag.  Hence the aforementioned doubt.)  That she was a witch of high power, and I was chosen to be her guardian.  Translate this into ‘You do all the work, while I sit here and tell you you’re doing it wrong.’  I read books, learned rituals and tried my best to understand what she claimed to be.

She told me I was her knight in shinning armor.

You know what I’ve learned about knights in shiny armor?  They tend to get eaten by dragons.  You see a knight in shining armor is awfuly reflective, that and if the armor is new the knight underneath is probably new as well.  A new knight is inexperienced.  The thing I didn’t realise, was that I lived with my dragon.  So, I vanquished her.

I broke up with her three years ago this month.  Her ‘move out’ date was set for the 5th of November.  I chose that date for a few reasons.  First; as a snub at her, I’m 1/2 British and this is a day of celebration for the Brits.  Secondly; if you have watched V for Vendetta, it’s also about liberation and freeing the mind.  My brother and I changed the locks on his house the night of the 5th. 

Then I began the long process of finding myself.  I halted all magical activities, though I have since started re-learning things.  I started cooking, and despite a few fantastic falures, I’m pretty damn good.  I write, draw and read more.  I enjoy my life and my time.  I buy what I need and want.  I split bills with Gypsy and we do the laundry together.  We split chores and clean together. 

Though the shaddow of my ex is sometimes long, and still passes over my soul from time to time.  I am healing, though now it’s mostly scar tissue that itches when the weather is bad.

This is not a comprehensive listing.  Its more like a list of my favorite things about being with a woman.  So, enjoy!

1. After sex cuddling.  No grumping, no mumbling and complaining.  After sex cuddles just sort of happen.

2. Amazing food.  With two women who can cook, the likely hood that you will starve to death is left to be dealt with somewhere around the same time as your going to be dealing with whatever world disaster they come up with next.

3. One of you can fix the car.  With either a mild knowledge of what to look for, or there own tool chest of Craftsman tools, at least one of you can check out that funny noise and probably knows how to fix it.

4. Cats.  While I love our Super Puppy because she IS the perfect dog, I adore cats.  We have two, one for each of us.

5. No more pee on the bathroom floor/toilet seat.  While I realize that some lesbians may have kids that are boys, or have male roommates.   I don’t have to put up with this anymore.  It makes me happy.

6. Clothing sharing.  You now have two full wardrobes at your fingertips.  Cant figure out what to wear?  Check in the girlfriend/wife/partners closet!

7. No one judges you for period cramps.  Now, I realize that there are some guys who try understand or sympathize.  Most just don’t ‘get’ this, and when they don’t it makes it worse.  (Here I would like to send out a Thank You to my brother, who more than once went to the store and got me Midol and Tampons.  Best brother EVER!)

8. Boobies!  There are four to play with, how could that ever be a bad thing?

9. Understanding.  While this is sort of related to #7 its not at all.  Men just don’t get women.  Men and women are wired differently.  I love my guys, the ones I work with and hang out with.  They are valued for there insight, wisdom and intelligence, and I enjoy there company.  I love my brother, I just don’t want to live with him again.  WHY DO THEY DO THINGS LIKE THAT!!!?

10. Smell.  We smell AMAZING! Men, well they smell funny.  Also, I never have to walk into the bathroom after my brother/father/roommate has put on cologne.  Now walking into a cloud of my lovely girlfriends perfume, that is something I enjoy.

Back to School Blues

I am more than familiar with the idea of a million mothers breathing a sigh of relief as the kids go back to school.  Yet, as I sent Gypsy off to her first night class I feel nervous.  Worried for her.  Will traffic co-operate, so she is on time?  The beltline can be insane at rush hour.  Will she remember what she studied?  Gypsy was home schooled and had to get her GED on her own.  Will she like it as much as she thought she would?  Massage Therapy is intensive and you need to know a lot.  I try to calm down and distract myself.

I feel a tad bit lost.

Gypsy is understandably nervous, more than I am, going back to school at 32 is a brave venture.  One that I fully support, I almost bought a cheerleaders uniform… I came to the conclusion that me in a midriff baring shirt and pleated mini skirt might not help the studying.  It could be, umm, distracting.  And lead to something far different than studying.  Though, anatomy is part of the curriculum.

I spend so much of my time with Gypsy.  I love her company, adore her smile and love the feeling of her next to me.  I miss her when I am with friends or family, she is my heart and calms the deep rivers of my soul.  So, to have time during the week without her is strange and odd.  Disconcerting to say the least.  Oh, I’m sure that I will get used to it and fill the three or so hours before bed with a multitude of things.  Yet right now, I’m missing her.  She’s not here to ask about my logo for White Lion Productions.  What she thinks, if it will work and how I could potentially change it.   I have cooked dinner, done the dishes, fed the animals and given our foster kittens there medicine.  Now, its almost bed time and of all the thoughts in my head the one at the fore front is a bit selfish.

I don’t want to go to bed alone.

I know that Gypsy is off making herself better, learning so she can make our lives better with a new career and more money.  I know that this is only for a year.  A year of intensive study and massive amounts of studying, but a year.  Not a lot of time when you think about it.  That leads into another thought.

Can I do it?

Can I be what she needs me to be while she works and goes to school?  Gypsy and I talked, she said my being here is enough and that my telling her she can do it is what got her started in the first place.  Yet this brings up shades of my ex.  I worry and Gypsy seems to understand why I’m worried.  Honestly, I didn’t want to say anything but Gypsy deserved to know why I was a bit worked up, and I could feel myself withdrawing.  I used to do that, withdraw into myself.  It saved me trying to explain things, or it saved me a headache and a fight with my ex.  You know, I shouldn’t have worried about telling Gypsy.  My ex would have given me hell, you know what Gypsy gave me?

Cuddle time.

And Gypsy thinks I’m good for her…  She has no idea.  No idea what she gives me, what she does for me and how she inspires me.

I have a Gypsy for a Muse.

Body Image and Personal Image

To delve into a weighty topic, with such trepidation is not really my style.  I’m usually the one jumping in head first at the deep end with alligators, or pit vipers.  You get the idea.  Weight is a sensitive issue, even in our house were Gypsy still struggles with hers.  Anyways, here goes.

About 2 1/2 years ago, right after I broke up with my then girlfriend, I realized something.  I was going to be a 35 year old fat dyke in 5 years.  You know the ones, that are ‘fat and happy’ but cant get a date and whine about being alone.  Alright wait pause on the weight issue, and into the other one that just reared its ugly head.  Yes, I’m a lesbian.  This in no way means I have to whole heartedly endorse every aspect of my gay and lesbian friends or our culture.  I’m serious!  There is a lot of sub culture in our tiny communities that is highly destructive and leads to pain and anguish.   Enough of that, since that’s an issue I refuse to dig into at present.

Carrying on.

I looked at my diet, my lifestyle and a few other things.  I changed my food, and since I was living with my brother I changed his as well.  Its easy to do that when your the cook.  We both started to loose weight, not a lot just a pound here or there.  Then I met Gypsy, and we started dating.  When I moved in with Gypsy she was on a diet, so I joined her.  Ummm… I actually feel bad.  We both lost weight, we both looked pretty good.  The path to more active lives lay right before us!

Then Gypsy tore her ACL wakeboarding, on her last run of the season.  A few weeks after thanksgiving she had surgery on it, and was in bed for two weeks.  When someone you love is in pain and asks for the 12 pack of mini cupcakes from Wal-Mart; you ask what kind, get in the car and go get them.  You don’t say “No, luv I don’t think you need those.” Or anything of the sort.  You go get them, and healthy food to hopefully offset the sugar and fat.  I leveled out and didn’t loose anything during those two weeks, you cant not share mini cupcakes.  Gypsy, well she didn’t fare to well.  The weeks of limited activity after she was up and about didn’t help either.

Again, a diet.  Not so much a diet as massive changes in our diet and exercise plans.  Dog park, for Supper Puppy and us.  Better food, more protein and less carbs.  Nothing processed, at all!  I miss my Oatmeal Cream Pies, pretty badly sometimes, but they are a treat now and not a regular thing.

I lost 75 pounds.  I fit into a respectable size 8.

Back to 2 1/2 years ago, my wardrobe was mostly black, forest green and darker blues.  I had decided that I needed more color, as my ex controlled my wardrobe. (I think I posted once about not writing bad things about my ex, its not polite.  Lets just say it was a very controlling and bad relationship and leave it at that.)  One of the first shirts I bought myself was a bright yellow Team Scotland soccer shirt.  I doesn’t fit anymore, I still have it though.  When I got together with Gypsy, I asked for help.  I had no sense of style, or if I did I had no confidence in it.  I wore guys pants and shirts, owned nothing pink and got called ‘sir’ regularly.


Oh now I have a pink t-shit that has a green glittery cactus on it that says ‘Free Hugs’, its one of my favorites.  Girly jeans, nice dress pants and shorts.  I own short shorts, with little rivets on the sides.  For a while, until they didn’t fit anymore, my favorite pair of jeans had studs on the pockets and gold stitching.  I own blues, reds, pinks, greens and I look pretty damn good in it all.  I still have some boy clothing, to wear when I need to.  Even though I feel comfortable in my cargo shorts and a baggy t-shirt, I love my new clothes.

Gypsy told me tonight that she felt bad for me having had a style change.  She told me that she felt like she might have pushed me into it.  I told her that if I didn’t like something, I wasn’t going to buy it.  Much less wear it.  We’ve had that discussion in the store.  The ‘what about this?’ followed by my contemplation and response of ‘I don’t think I would ever wear that.’ pause…. ‘Oh, well it would look cute on you but alright.’ discussion.  Some times Gypsy pushes, like the time I ended up with a blouse with a lace back.  I wore it out to a party last weekend.

Let me tell you about my ego!  If there is one way to make a girl feel sexy, it is a lace backed blouse and some eye makeup.


I suppose Sunday would be the day to smudge the house, in a strictly religious view of things.  You see, there is a lot of drama swirling around Gypsy and I.  I think it was beginning to seep in; from failed relationships, to religious parents, work and life.  It was time, past time, long past time and into the realm of near emergency.

With a friend of mine using the Bible to stay married to his cheating wife. (Don’t even ask, I don’t understand it AT ALL.)  An overly zealous not-mother-in-law, fresh back from a Christian friends house for a vacation, trying to re-convert my lovely Gypsy.  I had far to much of God.

Any god, including mine.

This was a problem, a BIG one.  Gypsy pointed this out to me one day as we were driving and I commented on a bumper sticker.  Snarled about would probably be a better term, and Gypsy in her kind and loving manner said “Your doing it again.”  Oh, CRAP!  You see, I worked hard to not be mad at God.  It took a long time, and a lot of study and growing into myself.  Then here comes Mr. I-know-it-all and spews forth incorrect biblical statements, using facts that I know are wrong to back himself up and deriding me for telling him he is wrong. (I was even nice about it!)  There it all goes, like someone pulled the plug on the ocean and its swirling all down.  So, unable to get around it mentally, I talked to an old friend.  He said in rather amused tones, “So your mad at the ‘Source’ because someone it twisting it and using it for there own means to an end?”



Well when you put it that way.  It does sound rather silly doesn’t it.  I thought about it, turned it all over in my head again, for the millionth time, and slept on it. Yep, it made sense.  Why would I be mad at the rain for making lakes, though I’m not a fan of water I still enjoy it.  I love the rain; the smell, the feel and the way it makes the world fresh again.  So…

It was time to smudge, remove the crud and grubby of other peoples drama.  Sweep it away and get back to living in our space, this is our home.  Gypsy and I worked hard to make it ours, to get it the way we both liked it.  We pared down our book collections, and trust me THAT was one of the hardest parts of it all.  So, we smudged.


Ourselves, the cats, the dog, just a little for the rabbit, the closets, the rock collection, the book shelves, the kitchen and the toilet.  Have you ever smudged a cat?  They give you the funniest looks.

I took the remaining sage, some tobacco and a breakfast biscuit that i made that morning put honey on it and took it outside.  I really wanted that biscuit too, I was hungry.  I left it in the field just over the way, as an offering of thanks.  Then, Gypsy and I sat and enjoyed the soft breeze coming in the living room windows.  It was nice.  Relaxing.  Refreshing.