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Profile Information

Gender: Female
Home country: US
Current location: retired to MidWest
Member since: Mon Feb 18, 2013, 09:15 PM
Number of posts: 5,551

About Me

Still an ardent Irish-American Catholic damnYankee Yellow Dog Democrat socialist after all these years. (cue Simon music) Army brat and wife for many years, now have been on the loose far longer than I was married. After my two red chows died, I took in a mini-beagle cross that I named Molly Maguire, thinking she might need a good Irish name like my original real one. Later she got a baby sister, a smooth-coat JRT I named Brigid after the greatest of the ancient Celtic goddesses. My great-grandfather and his son fought for Michael Collins and barely made it out of Ireland one step ahead of John Bull. They slipped over to Wales for new identities and then forward to the States for a fresh start. That makes me second generation of illegal but certainly justified immigrants. There are precious few people to whose defense I fly immediately, but the list includes Hillary Clinton, President Barack Obama even when I disagree with him - it happens! - and living Irish patriots Gerry Adams and Martin \\\'Mind Your Kneecaps\\\' McGuiness. I pray earnestly for a united and free Ireland rescued from all official British occupation, with every square inch of alleged \\\'ancestral lands\\\' now held immorally and illegally by the invaders returned to the rightful owners. Irish-only rule for Ireland. No foreign masters anymore! I find it passing strange when Brits chide ME about \'interfering\' in Irish politics!

Journal Archives


That dirty rotten FBI agent has just reneged on a deal with my dearest Patrick Jane, and now he's about to be charged with murder (again). I can listen but no way can I watch.

Since I can't think of anything really serious to complain about right now,

and my formerly favorite tv show is on, I'll fuss about Patrick Jane's new female nemesis. The only reason I don't like her is because she's a ringer for the small town attorney where I retired in RedNeckLand. I liked the first town atty okay but she's been replaced by this unspeakable horror who likes me even less than I like her, if such a thing's possible. Since I can't look at HER on tv, that means I can't drool over Patrick Jane either.

Sometimes life's so hard!

Sounds great to me.

Lovely, thoughtful gifts from the heart.

Except I have to say the 'health nut' couple has it all wrong. Chocolate's good for you, at least the dark kind. I like a shot of Irish whiskey in mine. After one - especially 2! - of those, I hardly even hate Republicans. Until it wears off anyway.

Well, this is a tiny bump-in-the-road town but it is the official seat of the most sparsely

populated county in the state. Only place for decent shopping is 60 miles away. So county residents consider this a 'big' town. There are a few quite wealthy families here, but mostly they're well below the poverty line. So the clothes closet serves a great need.

However, for some reason there are always lots of jeans, so I don't feel guilty cutting up a few for dog toys. And I always try to find something first in the reject bin where the volunteers toss unacceptably worn items. The dogs don't care.

I really like the place. It would almost be cheaper to buy a new wardrobe there every week than to wash the clothes I've worn at home. But it would look tacky. Everyone would be convinced I was selling stuff on eBay. They did have to limit the purchase of children's clothing and keep records, because as you might imagine, some people would come in, clear out the racks, and sell stuff at yard sales. Quite the scandal when they got caught, and rightfully so. But for some reason they've never had a problem with adults' wear, and I'm not about to stir up unwarranted suspicions.

Because of the few wealthy families, I've even found good brand new designer clothing there with the tags still on. Still 10 cents. Everything used to be free, but operating costs required a donation request. They'd let you have stuff for free if you asked.

Define cool. I nearly peed myself.

Maybe he wants you to go out with him and stop the rain?

A reminder to watch which behaviors you reinforce. I read about a family who encouraged their dog to do his business outdoors by attending the event and clapping and cheering for him whenever he performed. Pretty soon they had a dog that demanded a full audience for each event. If there was one soul still in the house, he refused to go and would bark and complain at the top of his lungs until everyone gathered to watch his trick. They never did manage to break that habit.

My deepest sympathies to all of you so affected. Sue if you can.

Before I escaped Arizona, I notified the county sheriffs dept about a dead body I saw on the road. They wanted me to finger their favorite suspect despite the true fact that I knew absolutely nothing about the event. So they started following me around, stopping me every time I drove the 35 miles to work 'just to check on my safety.'

I had a small off grid horse ranch at the end of a 5-mile dirt road. It was almost entirely surrounded by state land, so you could hardly get any more remote. One evening a deputy decided to 'check on my safety' at about 2 a.m. The chows woke me up with their barking, of course, and when I peeked out the window all I could see was the car parked outside my locked gate.

But I still followed country life protocol when I opened the door to check the porch before stepping out. I only opened it a little way because in my right hand, held behind me out of sight, I was holding my pistol. You just don't dash straight out in such a situation.

That was the first time I'd ever had that damned cop spotlight blind me. Since mentally I'd expected the LEO to be somewhere outside my gate with his car, it scared the living hell out of me. I jumped back in the house, slammed and locked the door, and screamed "GET OUT OF HERE BEFORE I BLOW YOUR FOOL HEAD OFF!" as I would've to any intruder.

Not exactly an ideal response. The guy THEN announced himself and said if I didn't open the door he'd break it down. I convinced him to wait at least until I could call 911 and verify he wasn't an imposter. He was theirs and I had to let him in because they said a SWAT team was on the way. I hid my gun in a drawer before opening the door again. When the deputy came in, he demanded to see my ID (even though he'd stopped me on the highway several times and knew who I was). He ordered me to put the dogs away but I refused because I was afraid he'd shoot me if he thought he could get away with it. He nosed around the house about 15 minutes before finally leaving.

Of course I went to the state Attorney about this, and of course nothing came of it except the sheriff's department doubled down. Couldn't even find a private lawyer to do anything. They all knew they'd get it too if they helped me. I never was so glad to leave a godforsaken place in my entire life.

I'd give anything almost to be in upstate Maine.

Winter gives me the opposite of the blues. I get almost giddy because the heat's gone.

Well, I live in a very cold part of the country and only heat my house to 60 degrees at most.

So that means during winter I walk around swathed enough to look like a polar bear or something. Footwear includes 2 pr of wool socks and heavy tall felt boot liners. Then there's the full set of sweats (with hoodie) topped by a flannel nightgown under a heavy plush bathrobe.

If Prince Charming knocks at the door, I'm doomed, I tell you - doomed!

But at least if I tumble and fall, it's unlikely I'll break anything. Except what I fell on.

Best of everything to you.

That's my favorite part of retirement, not having to deal with business savagery anymore. I was stalked too - by a boss on more than one occasion. They take one look at a single woman and mistake us for easy targets. I'll never forget the venture capitalist who literally chased me around his office desk, yelling "You don't understand how business works!" As soon as the loan for my house went through, I stayed behind at lunch and gathered my things, leaving after I put a note on his computer. It said that I had copied his hard drive and if he harrassed me any further or even said one bad word about me to anyone, I'd turn the hard drive copy over to the Feds. He left me alone.

Now I had no earthly idea how to copy his hard drive, but he didn't know I didn't know and I did know there had to be stuff on there that could get him in big trouble. Just the threat was enough.
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