Powerful Mean Streak

I just came to the realization that I truly love my PMS week. I'm sorry beyond words that I missed out on years of PMS by being on the pill for the vast majority of my adult life to date. Figuring one week per calendar month since I turned 18, that's approximately 192 solid weeks of lost butt-kicking, name-taking opportunities. 192 unopened cans of whoop-ass. At least 192 people who pissed me off and did not have to answer for it. I regret it extremely.

I think I'm fairly fortunate overall in the period department, but I really hit the gold mine with my PMS. I don't break out and I don't bloat, I just get mean. Not threat-to-the-general-populace mean, just the very best sort of "you don't really think I'm going to let you get away with that, do you?" kind of mean. Note to any frenemies out there - avoid me the week of the full moon. If you don't, you will lose. The other three weeks a month I might let your shit slide on by, depending on how busy I am with other aspects of my life, but this particular week, not just no, but Hell No, you are not going to get away with that, whatever "that" may be.

So the way I see it, the pill is just another patriarchal ploy, designed to eliminate not women's fertile times, but rather women's PMS times. And we all fell for it. Boy did we get taken, again. Every time someone says "I must be premenstrual" as though it's a bad thing, men win. Every time a woman chemically neuters herself, a misogynist gets his wings.

I Might be a Redneck

Since April I've been living in a 29ft camper, parked behind my ginormous but completely gutted house. With five (yep, count 'em, 5, fem, cinco, cinq) dogs. But they're all little fluffy yappy things, so all together they don't even add up to one, say, german shepherd. Two of them are puppies and I have the half-eaten slippers to prove it. They're on my feet still, but could now accurately be described as "open-toe". I used to get a new pair every year from my ex's parents for xmas. LL Beaners, no less. Super-comfy. Anyhoo.

If you can rotate the tires on your house you might be a redneck. And while it's been fun to describe myself as trailer trash, and a great experiment in minimalist living, enough is enough already. Here's the visual:











Note that these pictures were taken when I looked at it, well before I moved in. Setting it up at the house involved things, such as cinder blocks and that cheap green wire dog fencing, that make it tres white trash. It's pretty awesome really. As an extra-special touch, I sometimes hang rugs to air on the cheap green wire dog fencing. My neighbors must hate me, because the view from their stately, columned front porch is my campsite extraodinaire. The only thing missing is a firepit, and if I had the time I probably would have one.

There will be no after pictures, so don't ask unless you're interested in buying it. Didn't think so.


























So what's a girl to do with not enough money and too much house and winter looming? Why, you make the mudroom into a studio apartment, of course! Pics and details to come soon, and I move in 10 days from now, but who's counting?

Dead Blog Walking

I'll post a real update this weekend, I swear. Lots and lots of updates. Do check back for all the latest on the house project, horses, etc.