LJ Idol Exhibit A - Topic 0 - All Part of a Grander Plan
o/` "Now I'm just rolling home
Into my lover's arms
This much I know is true
That God blessed the broken road
That led me straight to you
That God blessed the broken road
That led me straight to you.' o/`
-- "Bless the Broken Road" performed by Rascal Flatts
Once upon a time I was an English major who specialized in classic literature. To my dismay, I found out that not many paying jobs required a wordy, well read individual. You can't eat words so I ended up learning a newer simpler means of expression: "Would you like fries with that?"
I'm now a forty-something housewife currently living on a five acre farm in the Florida scrub. I'm married to a systems administrator; our girlfriend and my boyfriend also live with us. We are a polyamorous family sharing love, life, child rearing, and spoiling of pets. I used to spend most of my time gardening, playing with our menagerie of pets, or keeping the house tidy but growing disability has relegated me to the sidelines (Yippee, more time to write!). I use a motorized wheelchair to get around when I absolutely must go out. It fits neatly on the carrier of the grey GMC which looks suspiciously just like the one Walker of Walker, Texas Ranger drives.
What? You wanted more information than that? Who are you, the paparazzi? If you're honestly curious, previous seasons' introductions can be found HERE and HERE. The latter of the two links contain links to introductions from further back so I will not duplicate them here.
Aw, c'mon...go away, kid, you're bothering me...and don't you dare suggest that I nodded off in the middle of the --- what, I did? Well, I guess I do owe you a bit more information.
It would strongly behoove you to read through THIS POST in order to avoid making asinine accusations or deriving misconceptions from confusion. It gives detailed on most --- but not all (Dorie has other duties besides sketching, alas and alack!) --- of our family and circumstances. If you have questions, I'll be happy to answer them. Talking about my crazy, happy-go-lucky, nontraditional family is one of my favorite ways to pass the time.
2013 will likely be a rebuilding year for us as the prior year left a few turds in the punch bowl before departing. We lost not one but three of our furkids to accident and the ravages of time. Daisy, my beloved hound dog, was attacked by a feral pit bull belonging to the neighbors had to be put down. Festus, my big orange wine drinking, coffee slurping tabby, fell through one of the windows intended for escape in case of fire; while Mr. Shapeshifter was trying to get him inside, the same feral dog killed and savaged the cat. I returned from my winter trip out west to find my beloved bobcat hybrid Merlin's health in steep decine; the vet had already given me a few more months than I might have had by prescribing medication for heart failure and thyroid problems but I think he was just waiting for me to return. We took him to his veterinarian and she gently, compassionately eased him out of this life and into the next. Merlin was old --- I had almost nineteen years with him --- but that doesn't ease the loss.
My motorized wheelchair was backed into by an idiot driver while we were in Denver. The steering was never quite right, though we couldn't get the company to correct it, and when we got home the two motors powering the chair permanently seized. It's now in insurance limbo awaiting the approval of United Health Care, who has to have a new prescription stating I still need the damned thing, before they can start working on it. Meanwhile, this effectively traps me in the house until further notice. The old chair's foot rests are badly damaged and falling apart and so there is no way for me to propel myself since it drags against my legs. Asking a family member to haul my fat ass around all day is just ludicrous so I stay home.
Sometimes when one avenue closes, it opens a way for another. I'd not intended to get another cat so soon and I was, in fact, mortally certain that no new buddy existed for me out there. Happily, I was wrong. Feisal came into my life about two weeks ago from a reputable rescue. He's still a kitten, no older than six months, but he'll be a big cat. He so closely resembles Merlin in some respects that I would have sworn I'd seen a ghost. The vet thinks he's a Savannah hybrid but couldn't guess as to which generation (if he gets any larger, he'll be as big as the F2s). His markings are gorgeous --- clearly defined black and silver striping over a tawny coat with some rosettes on back and belly. I don't think I really had a choice about taking him home; he kept pawing at me and mewling loudly until we took him out of his cage and brought him home. Feisal isn't a cuddly cat but he spends most of his time under my altar or the wheelchair; at night he sleeps between my knees.
A lot of paperwork has been finalized, including Dorie's divorce and legal guardianship for Lix. I find myself assuming an unfamiliar role, that of a full time mother. Ygraine is expecting another baby but, as I've mentioned before, she's older and so it's not going well. In an effort to ease the stress, Dee has brought his twins here to live with us until after the birth. They're nearly three now and terribly smart for their age, but they are toddlers. I spend a lot of time saying things like "Spit that out" and "Don't eat that" or "Get out of the garbage" and "That's not a toy". Roz spends more time in the "time out" corner than Vandy but Vandy is more likely to be the one who thought up whatever got them in trouble in the first place. I've had my face "make-up"ed with my Prismacolor markers while I was napping, my kitchen "all clean now" with a five gallon bottle of bubbles, and both American Eskimos have been introduced to the joys of hairstyling because someone left a pair of kitchen scissors in reach.
Oh...my hair...it's mostly gone now. What remains is still red and, ironically, free of grey streaks. I had to cut it really short so that the huge bald patches wouldn't be so noticeable. Most of the time I wear bandannas or these neat little turbans we found at a boutique for cancer patients.
Mr. Shapeshifter works from home most of the time now but Dee, now that he's healthy enough to be returned to active duty, often works from the regional office now. We still have a security detail and that will likely remain unchanged; the lastest we heard, whoever had the idiot who shot Dee and those other agents in protective custody has lost track of him. Yup, they don't know where the guy is or what he might be planning. At least I seem to have finally impressed upon our MIB that if they simply must tail the family all over town, they should make more effort to blend in. Besides, who do you think ends up ironing all those shirts and putting creases down the center of those pants?
Might as well pull up a cup of whatever you prefer --- I highly recommend a splash of Jack if you intend on staying long --- and enjoy the show. We are, as one of my favorite authors once described a military campaign, "a sideshow of a sideshow."
Into my lover's arms
This much I know is true
That God blessed the broken road
That led me straight to you
That God blessed the broken road
That led me straight to you.' o/`
-- "Bless the Broken Road" performed by Rascal Flatts
Once upon a time I was an English major who specialized in classic literature. To my dismay, I found out that not many paying jobs required a wordy, well read individual. You can't eat words so I ended up learning a newer simpler means of expression: "Would you like fries with that?"
I'm now a forty-something housewife currently living on a five acre farm in the Florida scrub. I'm married to a systems administrator; our girlfriend and my boyfriend also live with us. We are a polyamorous family sharing love, life, child rearing, and spoiling of pets. I used to spend most of my time gardening, playing with our menagerie of pets, or keeping the house tidy but growing disability has relegated me to the sidelines (Yippee, more time to write!). I use a motorized wheelchair to get around when I absolutely must go out. It fits neatly on the carrier of the grey GMC which looks suspiciously just like the one Walker of Walker, Texas Ranger drives.
What? You wanted more information than that? Who are you, the paparazzi? If you're honestly curious, previous seasons' introductions can be found HERE and HERE. The latter of the two links contain links to introductions from further back so I will not duplicate them here.
Aw, c'mon...go away, kid, you're bothering me...and don't you dare suggest that I nodded off in the middle of the --- what, I did? Well, I guess I do owe you a bit more information.
It would strongly behoove you to read through THIS POST in order to avoid making asinine accusations or deriving misconceptions from confusion. It gives detailed on most --- but not all (Dorie has other duties besides sketching, alas and alack!) --- of our family and circumstances. If you have questions, I'll be happy to answer them. Talking about my crazy, happy-go-lucky, nontraditional family is one of my favorite ways to pass the time.
2013 will likely be a rebuilding year for us as the prior year left a few turds in the punch bowl before departing. We lost not one but three of our furkids to accident and the ravages of time. Daisy, my beloved hound dog, was attacked by a feral pit bull belonging to the neighbors had to be put down. Festus, my big orange wine drinking, coffee slurping tabby, fell through one of the windows intended for escape in case of fire; while Mr. Shapeshifter was trying to get him inside, the same feral dog killed and savaged the cat. I returned from my winter trip out west to find my beloved bobcat hybrid Merlin's health in steep decine; the vet had already given me a few more months than I might have had by prescribing medication for heart failure and thyroid problems but I think he was just waiting for me to return. We took him to his veterinarian and she gently, compassionately eased him out of this life and into the next. Merlin was old --- I had almost nineteen years with him --- but that doesn't ease the loss.
My motorized wheelchair was backed into by an idiot driver while we were in Denver. The steering was never quite right, though we couldn't get the company to correct it, and when we got home the two motors powering the chair permanently seized. It's now in insurance limbo awaiting the approval of United Health Care, who has to have a new prescription stating I still need the damned thing, before they can start working on it. Meanwhile, this effectively traps me in the house until further notice. The old chair's foot rests are badly damaged and falling apart and so there is no way for me to propel myself since it drags against my legs. Asking a family member to haul my fat ass around all day is just ludicrous so I stay home.
Sometimes when one avenue closes, it opens a way for another. I'd not intended to get another cat so soon and I was, in fact, mortally certain that no new buddy existed for me out there. Happily, I was wrong. Feisal came into my life about two weeks ago from a reputable rescue. He's still a kitten, no older than six months, but he'll be a big cat. He so closely resembles Merlin in some respects that I would have sworn I'd seen a ghost. The vet thinks he's a Savannah hybrid but couldn't guess as to which generation (if he gets any larger, he'll be as big as the F2s). His markings are gorgeous --- clearly defined black and silver striping over a tawny coat with some rosettes on back and belly. I don't think I really had a choice about taking him home; he kept pawing at me and mewling loudly until we took him out of his cage and brought him home. Feisal isn't a cuddly cat but he spends most of his time under my altar or the wheelchair; at night he sleeps between my knees.
A lot of paperwork has been finalized, including Dorie's divorce and legal guardianship for Lix. I find myself assuming an unfamiliar role, that of a full time mother. Ygraine is expecting another baby but, as I've mentioned before, she's older and so it's not going well. In an effort to ease the stress, Dee has brought his twins here to live with us until after the birth. They're nearly three now and terribly smart for their age, but they are toddlers. I spend a lot of time saying things like "Spit that out" and "Don't eat that" or "Get out of the garbage" and "That's not a toy". Roz spends more time in the "time out" corner than Vandy but Vandy is more likely to be the one who thought up whatever got them in trouble in the first place. I've had my face "make-up"ed with my Prismacolor markers while I was napping, my kitchen "all clean now" with a five gallon bottle of bubbles, and both American Eskimos have been introduced to the joys of hairstyling because someone left a pair of kitchen scissors in reach.
Oh...my hair...it's mostly gone now. What remains is still red and, ironically, free of grey streaks. I had to cut it really short so that the huge bald patches wouldn't be so noticeable. Most of the time I wear bandannas or these neat little turbans we found at a boutique for cancer patients.
Mr. Shapeshifter works from home most of the time now but Dee, now that he's healthy enough to be returned to active duty, often works from the regional office now. We still have a security detail and that will likely remain unchanged; the lastest we heard, whoever had the idiot who shot Dee and those other agents in protective custody has lost track of him. Yup, they don't know where the guy is or what he might be planning. At least I seem to have finally impressed upon our MIB that if they simply must tail the family all over town, they should make more effort to blend in. Besides, who do you think ends up ironing all those shirts and putting creases down the center of those pants?
Might as well pull up a cup of whatever you prefer --- I highly recommend a splash of Jack if you intend on staying long --- and enjoy the show. We are, as one of my favorite authors once described a military campaign, "a sideshow of a sideshow."