Dam Beavers, Clogged Stream of Consciousness

It just isn't natural for some of us to concentrate for too long on any one thing. The torrents of thoughts that blaze through my attention window are not currently yielding up any one thing to deconstruct, to delve into. Something that will hold my attention. So here is an un-throttled blurt of everything for the next five minutes. No promises it’ll be anything.

Brace yourself -

Dogs really resisted being washed this morning but Janie settled down once she felt the cool water streaming down her glossy black back. She stood with dignity as I sudsed up her tail and butt but I could tell she was slightly humiliated...
docto
So glad the doc found my heart to be beating strong and well...

Glasses clinking in the kitchen, daughter talking baby talk to wet pom dog who is wheezing just to scare us into never bathing her again ...

Sip of wine, notice I am having a power surge/hot flash...hot for November day, 77 degrees but a freakishly gorgeous day...

Kids whipping the dogs into a frenzy and I am uncharacteristically calm about it...not the usual stfu...

Daughter going to park…"no boys!"

About time for meds, rigid neck shaky arm...

Tick tick tick pom nails need trimming...

The light outside is blazing through the moss making it look golden...

Stop looking at me with mind control eyes Bella...

Haven't seen the report card yet from Tori...one excuse after another...she was absent the day they came out – swine flu but it's been a few days...

Strange last night when the sleepover just imploded ...meeting Tori outside of the apt complex at 11 pm in order to follow her home on her bike was other worldly...I thought it would be booze, boys, porno on the computer behavior that would break up the sleepover...her friend's two report card F’s did it...the Mom sent Tori home after freaking her out with her yelling...

Wish this mess would jog loose something to write about...

Bella wants on lap while wet...pats and punches with her little gold-tipped paws...I relent and she's on my lap sundress making comfy hammock...

Ultrasound in the morning looking for stones or something present in my liver area...feel it but doesn't hurt - yet...

Like my fretting is going to stop it but why are all these girl children and babies being thrown to the wind? ...watching news is a bad habit that I should turn off...my heart just aches with every report...

Laughed with E (I hate myself for this) when that poor sausage maker guy ripped out all of his plumbing totally copping to maybe creating the stink in that Cleveland neighborhood...when all along it was the smell of the disposable women a serial killer stuffed into every orifice of his evil house. poor sausage guy...there was a nouveau Sweeney Todd style opportunity there of you ask me....think E may have thought me truly mad when I couldn't stop laughing at that...

Tired again, sleepy but the sheer impact of the sun streaming in won't let me sleep, feels like radiation. maybe it is....

Blogging on BlogSpot and Open Salon now...that fork in the road has perhaps stomp hobbled me...

Shaking the trees an nothing's falling out...

Can't go to church no way. Too angry. Too much potential for lightning…kids should go if they want...

Why the fuck do all these women in other countries allow their ass wipe brain impaired men to dominate and abuse them? Women literally make the human race, literally from conception to death. These men are just homicidal mutilating and heartless sperm donors...I hate those retards. Screw condoms, I say give women in these countries, and here, baseball bats and AK's to keep the monkey men away so things can get peaceful...it's our fault we don't stage a gender coup....

Think I'll start creating a contract for kids...they must flush !


Wet dog creating a really disconcerting humidity on my lap but she's happy, dreaming of sleeping while wet on my lap...

M is sick...D's cough sounds like a bull walrus...

Crew money...candy sale....debt...debt...more debt…pills….Christmas...soccer...Thanksgiving...Dad...falling down.

Tupperware.

Ding! 5 minutes. G'damn.