Author: Becky

they wanted to go to work

On January 30, 2006, a woman killed a former neighbor with whom she had argued. She then went to the mail processing plant in Goleta, California, gained access to the grounds, stole a badge from an employee who she told to leave, and entered the facility. In different areas, she shot and killed six employees using her Smith & Wesson 910 pistol before turning the gun on herself and taking her own life.

• Ze Vang Fairchild (37 years old)
• Beverly Ann Graham (54) (shot at home)
• Nicola Michelle Grant (42)
• Maleka M. Higgins (28)
• Dexter E. Shannon (57)
• Guadalupe Swartz (52)
• Charlotte Colton (44)

Blah!

Mommie Dearest would not be happy with me. After all my grand plans for putting my house in order, life got in the way. Now I’ve fallen behind on my writing schedule, my tax crap has been tossed into a huge pile less organized than before–and I don’t much care at the moment. I did get my bank statements reconciled and those birthday cards and some thank-yous sent out before things went to hell. And Tim sent off a very important envelope (yay, Tim!).

One good thing about gray today is that my eyes don’t hurt as much, and I hope Tim’s are better, too. Another good thing is a repeat from last week. Tom was able to take a couple of vacation days from work last week and again this week to help build Habitat for Humanity houses. He’s a good guy, that Tom.

“Friendship is a single soul dwelling in two bodies.”–Aristotle

What is more powerful than falling in love? Watching someone you love fall in love. Being witness to love’s beginning. Being present to see love deepen and manifest itself in a thousand big and small moments. Seeing “joy” and “unconditional” and “unselfish” become not just words that are easy to say, but actions that require thought, commitment, and responsibility.

Love changes the person you thought you knew. If you already believed that he was one of the best and brightest individuals you’d ever met, you come to see that love gives him new depth, greater potential, more honor, and a fierce ability to cope with challenges.

Today, someone I love coped with a devastating challenge without sparing himself any of the hurt that is sometimes a part of love. A moment like this can leave a person feeling alone and like there is less of him. But he is greater than he has ever been, and he is not alone. This love is part of his soul and will be a companion to him every day–for always.

No more wire hangers!

In all actuality, I wish I could be more like Joan Crawford. (“Who doesn’t beat their kids?”–Evie Harris) At least as she was portrayed by Faye Dunaway in Mommie Dearest. Because then I’d have a clean house.

There was a time in my life–a very unhappy time–when I kept an immaculate house. Now I just have a lived-in house. VERY lived in. Now I do what I can do when I can do it. When I’m writing, things go untended. Which is bad, because if they go too untended, I can’t write. I can ignore the layer of dust on top of the refrigerator, since I can’t see it, but if things get cluttered and I can see the clutter, I start getting edgy.

Since I’ve hit another writing block (not writer’s block, which I don’t believe in, but just a point when I have to mull things over for a while), I figure it’s time to deal with some of those jobs left undone. Bank statements. Filing away last year’s paperwork. Sending out those cards for January birthdays that have passed. (Sorry.) Finishing my fourth quarter tax stuff in preparation for turning over one of life’s messiest jobs to the accountant. Trying to figure out where the hell that iTunes gift card is. (Do those things expire?)

I’m giving myself three hours to get my house in order.

Confidential to Lisa in Iowa

Before I start this entry…

Whenever I say “confidential to…” or read the same title in Tim’s LJ, it makes me laugh. How pathetic is that? Clearly, I’m just one step away from watching and extolling the virtues of movies like Dumb & Dumber. Which I haven’t seen, so maybe it’s brilliant.

Okay, one other digression. Why don’t I like Jim Carrey when he’s trying to be funny? Because over all, when he brings it down a notch or twenty, I think he’s talented. But when he’s consciously funny, it’s in that Jerry Lewis way that makes me want to slap him. I wonder what they think of Jim Carrey in France?

Lisa, you asked about the novel I’m working on. It’s a departure for me, because the main character is a straight woman. Since I am a straight woman, this should be a snap, right? It’s not. Mainly because it’s a Christmas romance about a woman in her twenties. Of course, since I perpetuate the myth that I’m 35, that part shouldn’t be too much of a stretch. However, I have a love/hate relationship with Christmas. And with romance, for that matter. But I’m making that work for me in the story. So far, though, no way to work the camels in, dammit. It’ll be out the end of this year, so you can bet when I’m sure of the title and other details, I’ll be posting about it nonstop on here.

The Big (and Better) Gay Picture

Michael Jensen has delivered good news in New Jersey’s Laurel Hester story. I’m sure this battle was won because many voices were heard in support of one individual who deserved fair treatment–not just the voices of activists, but New Jersey citizens, other governing bodies, ministers, and reporters.

It was also won because a man who describes himself as a straight, middle-aged conservative white guy, Dane Wells, was motivated by the professional respect he’d developed for Laurel Hester over the years to fight tirelessly on her behalf. Michael, thank you for your thorough coverage of this case, and when you speak to Mr. Wells, thank him from all of us who recognize what a difference he’s made.

One thing I believe is important. When people do the right thing, whether from a change of heart or political expediency, we should be just as vocal with our praise as we were with our criticism. I’m writing the freeholders at CountyConnection@co.ocean.nj.us to thank them for making the right decision.

I hope Laurel and her partner can now have the privacy and peace they deserve.

I love animals…

…but oh, that Yellow Cat Next Door.

He lies in the middle of my driveway or the middle of our street like a poet having a bad day.

He uses our flowerbeds as his litterbox. Which might not be a big deal if dogs weren’t inclined to say, “Ooooooo. Chocolate protein snack bars!”

He sleeps on my front porch so my dogs can see him through the door and hurl themselves into paroxysms of cat-loathing rage. When I’m on the phone. Or sleeping.

He’s a sounder sleeper than I and can nap on top of the fence in the back yard while dogs try to climb the tree to get to him.

Saturday morning, he did a victory dance through his yard, our yard, and the yards of three other neighbors with a bird in his mouth.

That’s right: I’m living next door to murder in a fur coat.