the power of human emotion

A slightly dated photo of D. and me in our cabin during a Caribbean Cruise.

It was probably the cheesiest thing we have done yet, but not all bad. Pricewise, it was the best deal possible and we really ate our money's worth. I am really picky about eating out (thinking I could do better at home) and was quite satisfied. The only problem was that alcohol is not included and is expensive and can not be packed in your luggage. We didn't realize how serious they were about this and packed about 5 bottles, but they searched through our luggage and confiscated them. Because we are so cheap, we had to resort to more inventive ways of getting it on board.

At one of our stops (Grand Cayman - wonderful snorkeling), we filled plastic baggies with rum and put them in our flippers. All our belongings were x-rayed before we could reboard the ship, but we figured it would just look like sea water we forgot to dump out. There were well earned Pina Coladas that night.

I am becoming concerned about my tendency to enjoy it when bad things happen. I get this certain sick thrill out of it. This problem became obvious to me this morning, when the latest issue of our magazine arrived at the office and it had a gross, glaring spelling error on the cover. I was thrilled and excited; I couldn't wait to see what the reaction would be. Now, this was not my fault, so maybe you would think that this was just typical schadenfreude and my enjoyment was simply from witnessing the misfortune of others. But, I swear it doesn't stop there.

Suffering is something that I have been proud of as long as I can remember. When friends would brag about a new toy or shiny new shoes, I would brag about how I only owned one pair of shoes and everything I had was hand-me downs. An element of this was shock, but I was genuinely proud of what little I needed. I don't know if this was an early leaning toward Buddist thought or a way for a delicate mind to deal with being short changed. Not that I was suffering in any profound, 3rd world way. Not that I was suffering at all.

The things that annoy others still don't bother me. I have gone on to enjoy: getting lost on unknown roads, power outages, bank errors, car theft, dripping ceilings in the middle of the night, and locking my keys in the car (illegally parked with the motor running ). The trick is not to smile, because when there are others involved, they don't appreciate that.

Success! We finally got a new (used) car after over a month of being without. Nothing has seemed more difficult, but that's a story for another day.

Today's saga begins with the theft of our trusty old Astro van. Stolen one night from right out in front of our house, gone without a trace, no broken glass nothing. Reported to the police, much thumb-twiddling on D.'s part as he need things from the hardware to work. Found 3 days later and difficult as hell to claim. We drove 30 minutes to a to some erie police warehouse in the northeast to get the release only to find out that we need insurance and registration papers that we kept in the van. No telephones we could use there. My temper was flaring and I was ready to call this cop an asshole and spit in his face. He was definitely not there to help people.

So, then a trip down the street to a pay phone, because D. and I are the only people in civilized america without a cell phone.

Papers faxed, release handed over, another trip to the towing company who had are vehicle. We knew it would cost about $200 to get the Astro out. What we didn't realize was what sort of shape it would be in. Side mirrors gone, wheels gone, steering column busted, radio gone, glove compartment smashed. The guys who worked there showed us how to start the engine with a screwdriver (now the only way); the engine seemed intact.

Next the long frustrating discussion between D. and me about whether the van was worth bringing home. We had only paid $2,000 for it two years earlier. I didn't really care either way, but knew Dustin wouldn't be happy fixing it well enough to use it and just getting by. There was screaming and crying before a decision was actually made.

It is funny how people always seem to accuse others of things that they are doing themselves. D. was frustrated with me because I would not make the decision of what to do with the van. He can't seem to make a decision without hearing what I think first. The problem is he is more affected by things, so I am trying to make my decision based upon what I think would keep him happy. Otherwise I have to listen to him complain all the time. But it would just be easier if he told me what he wanted. I guess he doesn't know.

Eventually, I said leave the van and we did.



Our sweet green Subaru Outback. I love it. It fits me like a glove, especially after that big blue beast.

Yesterday, my boyfriend, D. ripped an old rotting deck off the back of our house. He called me one hour to say he was going to do so, and then the next to say it was done. That's how rotten it was. The only problem was relocating the wildlife that used it as their dank dark home. He called me ranting about a raccoon that could have taken his arm off, he was so close to it. He wanted to trap it and take it to animal control, which resulted in a terrible argument from me, both because i like having wildlife around and because I was completely against the idea of taking it anywhere it would be euthanized.

"What do they do with animals that get dropped off?"
"What do you think they do with them?"
"Maybe we could catch it and take it out to the woods somewhere."
"They're viscous... "
"No they're not. They're as smart as primates."

I was shaking and angry by the end of the conversation. I was not taking any animals anywhere to get destroyed. I surfed the web for wildlife rescue groups in the area, trying to avoid calling animal control and asking what they would do with the raccoon. I found no wildlife rescue groups. I called, ready to fight, ready to ask for alternatives, ready to point the finger.

Animal control does not euthanize wild animals turned over to them unless they are sick or carrying disease. No guarantee, but my raccoon would probably be relocated.

We can borrow a trap from them with a $60 deposit. SARDINES are the the best bait for raccoons, so I stop at the store on the way home and buy a big can. "You're lucky," I'm all ready to say to D, "They won't kill the raccoon."

"It's still back there," he says.

I head to the back yard. It is a mess, a tornado aftermath, with huge piles of wood spilling into piles of broken bricks and cement, mixing liberally with various other trash and broken furniture. In the corner of our foundation there is a recessed area that looks like it used to be an entrance into our basement. There, under a a large piece of sheet metal is the critter. Except it's not a raccoon. It's an opossum.

The poor little guy cowered in the corner while we looked down on him. "I don't think you have to be afraid of him," I told D. "Give him a few days, maybe he will relocate."

We didn't go borrow the trap. The can of sardines is still perched, unopened, on a crumbling brick wall in the disaster that is our backyard. Looks like I get to keep my wildlife.



The poor little guy even let me take his photo.

Two of my very favorite online reads have stopped writing. they still check in occasionally, but nowhere near the daily posts that i require. Meanwhile, the year's worth of web hosting that i bought my boyfriend for christmas has been barely touched. Perhaps, this is a sign that i should begin my own little web project. i do have the type of job where endless time is spent sitting in front of a computer and i am clever enough to find ways of making time spent blogging look like time spent working.

we will see how it works out. 1st step will be writing about something rather than just filling space with words. pictures will be nice too ... and easy.

right now ... back to the bird brains (redrawing them for inclusion in the science magazine i work for).

testing....