Sunday, August 9, 2015


No, she ain't dead. That's my cat Kitzee (also known as Scratch) relaxing under the piano bench.

This is nothing but a bunch of jumbled thoughts that shouldn't be written. But I write, nevertheless, just to spite my better judgement.

This is a jumbled weekend. I'm exhausted from vicious bouts of insomnia. I have a touch of food poisoning, which has inspired me to consort with PeptoBismol. 
And I'm thinking.......could this food poisoning be an act of sabotage? Should I hire a food taster??

Hell, I don't have any money to waste on food tasters. I'll give it to the cats to taste. If they survive, I'm okay.

No need to panic. I'm jesting. Maybe. When you live alone in the mountain wilderness, the mind tends to do strange things.
Come to think of it, when I lived in the Big City my mind still did strange things.

I did some more work in the chaotic garage today, i.e. unpacking, sorting stuff, clearing out the junk. I'm making SLOW progress, but progress nevertheless. An extended deep depression kept me from doing things for months. Depression combined with laziness. I have to literally force myself to do physical things.

Those ruthless years in Texas have taken their toll. I survived but I emerged as a beaten old man. I used to look ten years younger than my age. Now I look ten years older. And I feel fifty years older.

I survived the death of both my parents, and the continual torture of my drug-addicted neighbors, and the lies and unethical shenanigans of incompetent realtors who kept me on a string for over four years. I was stuck with enormous medical bills and astronomical property taxes that financially wiped me out. I was plagued with my own health problems and medical issues that I've never revealed to anyone. And - - during all this time - -  I was caring for sixteen cats that one of my other neighbors abandoned when she moved.

That's only part of the Texas saga. If I ever told the rest nobody would believe me. I'm finally out of that bitch of a place, but I still have scars and am licking wounds.

You're complaining too much, Jon. Nobody wants to hear a whiner.

Hey, Pollyanna, when I bitch and whine, I do it with style and flair. Never condemn free entertainment.

I've already mentioned (many times) that the movers had "lost" a lot of my stuff. They also piled big heavy boxes on top of small ones marked fragile and a lot of delicate things were broken. Many of my treasured acquisitions are now in fragmented bits. 

Well, today I found some stuff that wasn't broken. That's my cue to post some boring photos of things nobody wants to see.

 Some of my antique Staffordshire china, circa 1820

Dresden figurine, circa 1790
I don't know how this one didn't break -
I must be a good packer 

 The Prince and the Pauper
these two figurines were made in 1885
(I had to put them away because my rowdy cats almost broke them) 

Are you still awake?
Yesterday I got the proofs for my poetry book Love Letters to Ghosts, which I plan to check later tonight. Then I'll immediately begin the daunting task of compiling my memoirs.

I can actually feel the excitement  that is rippling through my blog audience!

That's not audience excitement, Jon. That's merely a side effect from one of your alcohol-induced stupors.

 I'll end (not a moment too soon) with a photo of a seedless watermelon. I still can't find my big carving knives, so I had to cut this with a small Mickey Mouse knife from the Dollar Store.
The melon is sweet and good. 


  1. When we moved 20 years ago, it took 10 years to unpack the last of the boxes. One day we will need to consolidate the house and the condo, I am not looking forward to that. Lots will have to go (it is a long and complicated story - the tale of two cities.) Take care, one box at a time.

    1. Moving is hell. The last time I moved it took several years to finally get situated.

  2. Your collectibles are intriguing, Jon. I'm particularly taken by the 'pauper.'
    I hope you're feeling better soon!

    1. I was never particularly fond of the Prince or the Pauper, but they are lovely and very large (about a foot tall). And I got them for a very reasonable price.

  3. Feel better soon Jon. Loving the Staffordshire china, it's very beautiful. I'm so pleased that it survived the movers from hell!

    1. I'm thankful that the movers from hell didn't break everything.........

  4. It took me years to recover from my last job. I would have nightmares that I'd been called back to work. I still haven't gone through all of my husband's possessions. I did get the Harley sold yesterday (woot!)
    You have some beautiful porcelain. Is it too late to file a claim with the movers for damages? If the objects that were broken were as old and beautiful as the ones shown, you should be due a significant settlement.
    Do you have any Hungarian embroidery? My friend's husband was from Hungary and they had some absolutely beautiful pieces.

    1. The living nightmares that we have to endure really do take their toll.
      I'm glad you sold the Harley.

      Both of my grandmothers did some beautiful Hungarian embroidery. I have a few small things that my maternal grandmother did, and I have some larger things made by my father's mother.

  5. Kitzee looks comfy. I'm wondering if it is as hot there as here in. South Texas. It is unbearable this summer. we're all looking older these days.

  6. The hottest it gets here is around 90 but the humidity is often high. I miss the DRYNESS of west TX.

  7. Jon,
    Yet another great post. Nine years after my move, I still have a roomful of boxes unopened. I guess I could send them all to to one of the local thrift stores because I obviously don't need what's in those boxes. But like you, I love my "things" and have comfort from these reminders of my past.
    You do have me on your list for your memoirs don't you? Which reminds me, I have to get started on mine Unbelievable yet fantastic memories.
    I'm surprised that you're experienced so much humidity up there in the mountains. We have the humidity here but that's because we live on a peninsula surrounded by water. I always thought the mountain air was dry.

    By the way, if this comment seems disjointed it's because Blogger keeps skipping (or whatever it's doing).
    Have a great day Jon!

    1. My father used to give unopened boxes to Goodwill. I don't even want to think of all the treasures that he donated.
      The humidity here in the mountains changes rapidly. It will be humid for a few hours and then the humidity will drop suddenly and drastically.

      I'm very eager to do the memoir but I'm also apprehensive about all the personal things that will be revealed..
      I hope you start writing your book soon!

      My Blogger thing skips letters every time I type and I have to constantly make corrections.

  8. beautiful pieces, jon...and scratch too!

    1. Scratch is a sweetheart.
      I'm so thankful that some of my items didn't break......


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