When you invest in a historic property in a way-off-the-beaten-path town, there can be holdups. This place is not move-in ready, and getting it to that state is proving to be a challenge. It's been like pulling teeth for the electrician to get the necessary permits. He's trying his best, but the people who are supposed to be helping him aren't being very helpful. He said that usually permit people are more than happy to take your money.
It's also been like pulling teeth to get the proposal from the plumbing company. Why don't these people want our money? If they don't get the proposal to my email tomorrow, I'm going to tell them that we'll come to the office and sign it.
With my health issues, these 250-mile round trips are knocking me on my ass. I'm an old night shift worker who has never slept well at night and these contractors like to get cracking at the ass-crack of dawn.
I may suggest to my son that we consider packing everything from the townhouse into a pod and staying in one of those by-the-week motels in Greeley so we don't have to keep making this drive. It's really taking a toll on me. Of course, we'd have to find one that would allow cats...hell, it's always something.
Anyway, this bit is going to start coming down today, so that's a start.
This poem describes very well how I felt about being in the Employee Mindset for nearly 40 years. The line "grey upon greyness" is particularly evocative.
That's exactly how I feel about the Life of an Employee working a J.O.B., which I did from the time I was 16 years old until this year when my disabilities knocked me out of the working life for good. (I'm 54 now and am working from home.)
There were some things about the jobs I did that I liked, but, overall, it was an extremely soul-destroying situation. I absolutely felt like I had to give up bits of myself all the time.
I certainly don't like living in poverty, which I am at this point. However, one thing is true which it never was when I was working a J.O.B. (stands for Just Over Broke). I am really and truly myself, not someone else's servant. On a soul level, that is tremendously freeing.
The "sleigh" of the first Troiku was created by Jane Reichhold (1937 - 2016). The "sleigh" of the second Troiku was created by Kyoshi Takahama (1874 - 1958). I wrangled all the horses.
I have chronic, widespread, low-grade pain from fibromyalgia and am constantly hot and easily fatigued due to my various endocrine problems. The summer is not my friend.
Grover and Clem aren't bothered by this weather, seeing as Grover is a ghost and Clem is a mutant Cactus Man, or maybe a Man Cactus.
This poem is part of the Grover series, honoring the first place I've ever felt like I could call home since childhood. I don't feel like a temporary tenant when I'm there, I feel like this is where I live.
If you'd like to read more of my Ornery Poetry (as Grover calls it) please visit me at Poetry of the Netherworld.
This was not a classical Haiku--sorry! But it is where my mind is. Mike from Construction Guru starts his work tomorrow. Then the electrical work begins, then the plumbing. At that point, there's still a lot to be done, but we can start moving in. I will be happy about that.
These 250-mile round trips to go to the site and then come back to Lakewood are very stressful. I'm seeing myself coming and going and feel like I'm neglecting other areas of my life. This starts to make me feel very critical of myself, and not very good at all about my creative work. More about that later.
Even though this poem failed as a classic Haiku, it has earned the Cactus Clem seal of approval. In fairness, Cactus Clem doesn't know the first thing about classic Haiku. As Clem says: "I ain't know much about poem writin', but I know what I like, and this here is a poem I like!"
When the contractors Make the old place livable We are moving in My son will brew his own beer We will enjoy with new friends ~Cie~
Notes:
The stars are finally right and the contractors are going to be able to start working to make the Grover Hotel ready for our move!
My son is going to help the excavator pull down this rickety extension which a previous occupant erected on the property. It has no real support, and the excavator needs it out of the way to be able to expose the foundation for the structural engineer.
Once we are able to get settled in, among other projects such as growing both outdoor plants and indoor salad greens using hydroponics, my son wants to start brewing his own beer. Fortunately, we already have a couple of volunteer taste testers!
Ghost Town Grover was a miner during the Colorado Gold Rush. He was born in a covered wagon on the Oregon Trail on the fourth of July, 1840. He settled in the Grover Hotel in 1910. One night while he was out exploring the prairie grasslands with his shovel, inspired by a bolt of White Lightnin' to start a new gold rush, Grover was sadly mowed down by a train as he stood on the tracks gawping in awe at...
Nobody knows exactly where Cactus Clem came from or just what he is aside from, in Clem's own words "a cactus man, or maybe a man cactus," but the words "mad scientist" have been tossed about regarding his origins.
A mural featuring Dr. Schitz graces the Research Laboratory at Hell's Pass Hospital and Research Center on the outskirts of Nightmare Heights
Although he was three sheets to the wind on the night in question, Grover distinctly recalls hearing "what I thought was a train with engine trouble," and then seeing "a blue box-lookin' thing set down next to the track, and three fellas got out. One of 'em had on a white coat, one of 'em had on the craziest-lookin' getup I ever seen, and I couldn't quite see the other one in the shadows."
The Story of Cactus Clem
by
Ghost Town Grover
So there I was, standin' there starin' at the weirdest sight I ever did see and swearin' off the White Lightnin' for good. The feller in the crazy clothes was English or somethin', and he said: 'are you sure it's all right to leave your experiment here, Dr. Schitz?'"
The feller in the white coat said: "ja, ja, it is desert and he is cactus. Not to vorry." This feller sounded a lot like my old friend Slim Svensson from back in the gold rush days, but it wasn't him. Slim wasn't no scientist, though he sure did like to blow things up!
So then them two fellers went back in the blue box and I heard that weird noise again and the box disappeared. The third feller was standin' there across the track, and he said: "Howdy, Partner! My name's Clem, and I'm real thirsty. Do y'all have anything fer a feller to drink?"
Well, I said: "c'mon back to the ole hotel with me an' I'll git you somethin'. I don't trust this here white lightnin'. It makes ya see weird things."
I started to cross the track, but then I got a load of Clem, and I stood there gawpin'. That was all the time it took fer a train to run right over me. When I come to, I was standin' on one side of the track and my body was layin' on the other. Clem was swiggin' down the last of the White Lightnin'. He looked at me and grinned.
"This stuff is purty good!" he said. "It really hit the spot!"
Well, I didn't have much to do fer a long time, 'cept haunt the ole hotel and hang around on the lone prairie with Cactus Clem. I learned that he was some kind of scientific experiment made by that nutty Dr. Schitz feller. Clem don't eat nothin', but he has to drink a lot. So I know he's gonna look forward to tastin' the homemade beer when the Ornery Old Lady and her son git moved into the Grover Hotel! Iffen y'all stop by sometime, you might be able to have yerself a beer too, and maybe play some cards an' recite some poetry!
I outdoor shower bathed in sun colors of hot water outdoor shower a little bird looks out from the branches of home bathed in sun colors its black and yellow feathers so like clouds and light of hot water heat of summer relentless even for a bird II slipping into the pool naked divides the night sun-warmed waters . slipping into the pool comes a nighttime visitor a stealthy raccoon naked divides the night those that hide in the daytime appear bold at dusk sun-warmed waters a pleasure as it paddles silent in shadow Jane & Cie
Notes:
I was honestly stuck with this one. Then it came to me, like flash--like a vision! I just wrote it down.
The "sleighs" of these two Troiku were written by Jane Reichhold (1937 - 2016). The unruly "horses" were led to water by me.
Ornery made a couple small changes to this here recipe from Betty Crocker.
When it comes to cookin', there's a couple of words that the Ornery Old Lady likes. Them words are "quick" and "easy." If you like them words fer cookin' too, then you oughta like this here recipe.
Here's what you'll need.
1 bag of Betty Crocker chocolate chip cookie mix
3/4 cup butter or margarine
1 egg
3/4 cup salted caramel chips
Chocolate frosting
Snyder's butter snaps
Preheat your oven to 350 degrees.
Mix together chocolate chip cookie mix, butter, and egg. Stir in salted caramel chips.
Spray a 13 x 9-inch pan with cooking spray and press in cookie batter. Or use a 9 x 9-inch square pan for thicker bars.
Bake for 20 minutes.
Allow bars to cool.
Cut bars into equal portions. Place a teaspoon of chocolate frosting on top of each bar and press a Snyder's butter snap pretzel into each spoonful of frosting.
I'm warnin' y'all folks so's you don't learn the hard way, don't let Cactus Clem drive yer car to go on a booze run. He ain't got a driver's license, and this could happen. I'm on the way to git Clem outta the clink now. 'Course if he's in the middle of a poker game with Sheriff Austin an' Deputy Dallas an' he's got a hot hand, he might not be too keen to leave.
Some sundowns rise on another day of loss and one day set forever on a self ravaged by a broken mind.
~Cie~
Note:
Sundowning is a term for confusion in a dementia patient which worsens as evening comes on. Towards the end of his life, my father, who had vascular dementia, was sundowning. He confused reality with events on television.
My father was a college professor. I have cared for more than one college professor or other people whose work revolved around using their mind who ended up with dementia. The junk science sharticles which proclaim that exercising your mind helps prevent dementia make me see liquid murder.
You know what helps prevent dementia? Not having the DNA trigger for dementia coded in your genetic makeup. You could watch nothing but reruns of Jersey Shore and the Flavor of Love for your entire life and not end up with dementia if the trigger for dementia isn't in your DNA. I don't recommend it, but you could.
Dementia is horrible. It destroys lives. The least we could do is not insult those suffering from dementia and their caregivers and loved ones by publishing victim-blaming crap.
Image created by The Real Cie
Copyright taysuffocation @deviantart.com
I'm hoping one day to get this tattooed on my arm in honor of my father
