It is estimated that in 2005 over 5 million animals were euthanized in the US alone. The RSPCA and ASPCA had bumper years last year, with reports of some clinics being filled beyond capacity, particularly around the holidays.

In some ways, the ones who were put to sleep were the lucky ones.

What about this poor darling, who was tied to a tree and burnt alive?

Or in this case, a whole barn became a symbol of hell as the animals were left to starve to death?

Or Chrissie, who died in her loving owner's arms after being abducted and tortured for three days in ways that the abuser could never possibly repay his debt for?

Or Popcorn, who's alive now no thanks to those who would have had otherwise?

And these are just quick searches on the web. There are literally millions of pages of instances where animals have been subjected to cruelty. Every year animal abuse cases are on the rise. More and more those who could be our beloved companions and friends are tortured, killed, abused, neglected, or left to die.

We are their first defense. We are the ones who are supposed to protect and love them to be there to save them and nurture them just as they save and nurture us. Animals offer nothing but pure, unadulterated love at birth-it's people who rob them of their trust, their loyalty, and their love. We should be looking after those who help us through our daily lives, who go to work with us, who lie at our feet, and who look up at us with adoration.

Every night as we settle on to the couch, Gorby lays down at our feet with a satisfied sigh. He follows us everywhere we go, a touch of insecurity in his every step. Our rescue puppy, saved from a home where he was severely neglected and abused, has made our lives a better place to be. The RSPCA swooped in and rescued our boy and now he is a cherished part of our household alongside his two feline sisters who also share similar humble beginnings.

The Café Press website is up and running, and it's called the Gorby Corner. With an incredible amount of thanks, gratitude and support to Amy who developed the logo, we are open for business. Every single penny of profit will be going to the RSPCA as a thanks to them for Gorby, and to help arm their coffers in the war against animal cruelty, a war that is more stealthy that any I have ever known.

So please-spread the word. Pick up a bumper sticker, a T-shirt, or just let someone know about it. It's designed purely to benefit the RSPCA, we will not be keeping any money from the sales. I can also try to add things if there's a type of shirt or other product you're looking for, just send me an email and let me know via the "contact me" buton on the top of the page.

Again, the link is here.

Gorby and I thank you.

-H.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 05:19 AM | Comments (12) | Add Comment
Post contains 522 words, total size 3 kb.

1 Lovely. By the way, you might enjoy this: http://dogpage.mcf.com/misc/TributeToTheDog.html

Posted by: RP at April 26, 2006 01:26 PM (LlPKh)

2 I just bought a shirt and they look fabulous! Also, perhaps you could create a clickable box (I know they have some techanical name, but I don't know what it is) for people to advertise the shirts on their blogs. I would put a box on Kittysays! (not that anyone actually reads it, but I'm willing to try)

Posted by: kitty at April 26, 2006 02:10 PM (cyfSY)

3 Those shirts are so cute! Makes me all teary eyed just thinking about it. I got my sweet boy after he wandered up to my house with a rope tied around his neck (that he had chewed through). He had heartworms, tapeworms, and was 15 lbs underweight. Absolutely breaks my heart to think that anyone could neglect such a wonderful dog! I think it's a wonderful cause to support and I'm gonna try really hard to remember to order a shirt when I get home! (I'm pretty sure work frowns on "shopping online" while in the office.. just a hunch)

Posted by: Erin at April 26, 2006 02:38 PM (zw8QA)

4 My God... those stories are absolutely horrifying.It sickens me to think that people are capable of such evil, especially against innocent and defenseless creatures.Thank you for raising awareness of this... I think what you're doing is wonderful! I also adopted my dog from a shelter and she is the most loyal, loving little pup I could ever ask for. She was timid, skittish, underweight and sick when I brought her home five years ago, but with time and lots of love she has blossomed into a darling girl with tons of personality! Looking forward to getting a Gorby t-shirt and supporting the RSPCA!

Posted by: Liv at April 26, 2006 02:45 PM (AbDXn)

5 After careful consideration, I decided not to click on your links about the abused dogs. I tend to find such things both depressing and infuriating at the same time. I tend to start having very unhealthy fantasies concerning such people who abuse animals. Fantasies that would make Hannibal Lector proud. Anyway, I love to read about your concern and passion for your pets. Perhaps your caring for Gorby is part of your therapy. BTW, ever thought of becoming a "foster parent" for neglected or abused animals? (I think I asked you this before...)

Posted by: diamond dave at April 26, 2006 08:50 PM (QAKXw)

6 I hear tell there's places where people get specific breeds of dogs or cats. I never understood that... why contract for an unknown quantity when you can go to a shelter and have one pick YOU out? Or two, in the case of our cats.

Posted by: B. Durbin at April 27, 2006 05:20 AM (tie24)

7 I love it! I know someone who is getting one of those pooch T-shirts as soon as I can get to the credit card

Posted by: caltechgirl at April 27, 2006 08:29 AM (jOkK0)

8 Its too early in the AM to be in tears! My little rescue Chihuahua's thank you too... they are Star and Lilly.

Posted by: SaraJane at April 27, 2006 12:00 PM (t5Xsa)

9 All of our critters were saved one way or another - either adopted from the animal rescue league or saved from having to go there. We find they are the best animals! They are so loving and sweet. The ones that have been abused have taken years to feel comfortable with us, but now we feel so worthy that these animals trust us and know we'd never hurt them. How people can do these horrible things to an animal is mind-boggling. Thank you for sharing - and I'll be sure and link to Gorby's site and advert for you - and will for SURE be buying products. Thank you for your goodness.

Posted by: sue at April 28, 2006 01:24 PM (WbfZD)

10 I couldn't bring myself to click any of the links in your post; my chin was already wobbling just reading it. I hate to think of animals being mistreated. These are our companion animals, for goodness sakes! What's the matter with people! You certainly shouldn't treat a cow or a chicken like that, but a dog, who lives with you and adores you, should be friggin' obvious! On that note, I would like to inform everyone here of the opportunity to help some puppies in the Atlanta, GA area. It's all on my page: serotoninchachacha.blogspot.com.

Posted by: Courtnee at April 29, 2006 03:53 AM (Ffvoi)

11 James (our 8 year old cat) was abused in ways I still can't talk about without breaking down. If we hadn't asopted him our vet was going to put him down as he was classified as special needs due to the level of neglect and work he required in the first few monts we had him. It took him 2 YEARS to allow us to pick him up (that happens when the ony reason anyone has ever picked you up is to throw you against a wall). We have had so much joy from him and I'm sending you blessings for your work for this great charity. Hope it all sells like hot cakes.

Posted by: flikka at April 29, 2006 12:20 PM (dh/+g)

12 I just wanted to let y'all know that at least half the dogs in the puppy mill auction are now in good hands. According to Southern Comfort Maltese Rescue, rescuers bought 100 dogs. Hopefully, the rest went to people who wanted pets, not puppy mill operators. I know of two other recue groups, Southern Shih Tzu Rescue, Inc. and Small Dog Rescue that also saved dogs and could probably use some help with their vet bills if anyone still wants to help.

Posted by: Courtnee at May 03, 2006 06:35 AM (y6n8O)

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There's a cool chick I know that has a bit of an email routine going with me. In said routine, she always addresses her emails to me as 'Dear God'. I, of course, always respond as God. Before I start getting the hate mail, let me be clear-I don't think I'm God (I just play God on TV). I don't think I'm an all-powerful deity, I am not omnipotent. I'm just a chick who thinks-Yeah. I could do God's job. I'm all over it.

Or at least the morning shift, anyway.

Now, said cool chick usually emails me with requests like 'Can I help her get rid of her cold, God?', 'Can I please help her hide the fact that she just sent a $1.2 million purchase order for more staples for her company to the Addicts of Hamburglar Happy Meal House?' and 'Can I really trust Woolite in my machine?' These requests, they are easy to grant. No problem. Cold? Gone. Money? Transferred back to the staple manufacturers albeit the Hamburglar Happy Meal house has just fallen off the wagon and 21 pounds of ground chuck are now missing for the local abbatoir. Oh and no-please don't trust Woolite in your machine.

These emails, the "deity flavor of the day" have become a part of my daily routine-as I walk to the tube station in London, I mentally write a God letter. As I prepare dinner, a God letter is drawn up. In the grocery store? Talking to God, and that's not an analogy for hanging my head over the toilet in Exorcist-inspired hangover vomiting, although that said during those moments? Yeah. I talk to God too.

I'm not even the Christian version of said God letters, I'm just a God (used in capital letters, because old Catholic habits die hard.) A God of the other, less significant things that maybe you wouldn't want to burden whichever God your God is about. I'm thinking that for most people God is usually for the big things-Please don't let this tumor be malignant, Please don't let the IRS find out about that off-shore account of mine, and Please let the sudden enormous hole in the house be a sign of bad contractors, not that Satan is a little too eager to get his hands on me. These are Big God things, things that people who have a God need to address to the one who keeps his feet underneath the desk and has his full attention on things. Me, I'm someone that can't even remember where I left my car key, or, when I find it why I thought that potted plant was the best place to keep it, let alone focus on a serious and pressing personal issue.

Seeing as I'm not actually religious in the slightest (I usually put 'none' or 'agnostic' on those forms I have to fill out that feel it's their need to find out what kind of pew I'll put my knees to. And if you are religious-be it Ganesha, Buddha, God, Allah, Moonies or whatever-then that's cool. I'm not having a go at people who do have religion in their life, this is just my perspective), these emails are good fun for me (again, I don't think I am God, but it's nice to play a "What Would God Do" only without the whole serious undertone and massive naff-bordering-on-frightening conventions of people). It's nice to try to put myself in the role of some kind of benevolent role who's got it all together, as opposed to my usual 'Oh God my hair's on fire, oh look something shiny!' perspective.

Oh sure, I should do things like rid the world of pestilence and solve world peace, but again I'm filling the shoes of a lesser being, really. Being God is not without its perks, however rather like that magick side of things, it's probably best to not do too much for my own personal gain. That said, I would have a smite list, and it includes:

1) Destiny's Child. All of them. And all their hair extensions and spandex tracksuits, too.
2) That Black Eyed Peas song 'Pump It'. My hump? What the fuck is wrong with you? And the first person who comes to me and talks about my lovely lady bumps is going to get his ass kicked.
3) Hugh Grant (I think he's just wrong, in so many, many ways).
4) Tom Cruise (Cruisey? I actually like the name Suri, I have to be honest. But you? You're fucking mental mate. Consider decaf and keep dialing it down from there.)
5) The chap that invented Sudoku
6) Whomever it was that invented the low-slung jean as they thought that Thong Show-n-Tell was a good thing (pull up your pants!)
7) People that create car insurance commercials who think that screaming at us is a good way to get us to buy a year-long policy.
Charlie Dimmock. Charlie, get a bra (and pull up your pants!)
9) Whoever it was that decided Dead Like Me should be pulled off the air. And their smiting involves endless reruns of Knots Landing as punishment.

But lest karma get the worst of me, I do have a 'rewards' list as well, for those to balance out my smiting.

1) Whoever thought that macaroni mixed with cheese and baked in an oven would be good together will have eternal salvation.
2) John Cusack. '˜Nuff said.
3) NyQuil. The coughing aching stuffy head fever so you can rest medicine is a fucking me-send.
4) The RSPCA. For getting us Gorby and for being good people, even though they have to put doggies and kitties down, too.
5) New Zealand-good night and I love you!
6) Jacques Cousteau. Not only did he give us scuba diving, but he's got a cool name, one that just rolls off your tongue. Jacques Cousteau, Jacques Cousteau. See how nice it is?
7) Fireflies. They just don't seem to have them around anymore, and the pure essence of a warm summer evening where you lay in the grass has to be fireflies.
Sarah McLachlan and Joshua Radin. Thanks for the endless comforting tunes, babes.
9) Any vineyard of Colombard chardonnay.

See? I'm not so malicious.

Because this is my own personal 700 Club (which is really more like a 4 and 3 Quarters Club as my club is without the anti-gay and conservative slants) I'm taking requests, if you've got anything to add. Operators are standing by.

-God

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 08:48 AM | Comments (19) | Add Comment
Post contains 1099 words, total size 6 kb.

1 Okay, God. How 'bout a challenge to start your day? You've heard the song "If I Only Had A Brain"? Think you might be able to replace my son's with one more age appropriate and less inclined toward mainlining to Loserville? Much appreciated. Goddess bless.

Posted by: Jennifer at April 25, 2006 12:09 PM (jl9h0)

2 God, Can we please smite every IHOP on the planet? Or, at least let's relocate them to the moon or an island where they don't ever have to be seen again. Thanks, Ice Queen

Posted by: Ice Queen at April 25, 2006 12:53 PM (iubre)

3 Dear God, Not that I want to risk your wrath by pointing out a mistake, but "Pump It" is not the song about the humps. "Pump It" is the song to the tune of that Pulp Fiction tune. It's actually quite catchy. The humps, I hope they burn. To me, Hugh Grant is like David Spade - totally wrong and a bit ... squicky, but somehow still totally doable. Finally, please don't forget the sniffling, sneezing part of the Q ad. Here comes the advertising snob in me... "The nighttime, sniffling, sneezing, coughing, aching, stuffy head, fever so you can rest medicine." And now that I've corrected you twice and disagreed with you once, um... if you could help me get approved for a good loan wihtout a cosigner, I'd really appreciate that. MissDirected

Posted by: amy t. at April 25, 2006 03:04 PM (zPssd)

4 I saw this the other day at NeilGaiman.com: Firefly lights http://www.fireflymagic.com/ They may not be the real thing, but they look damn cool.

Posted by: LD at April 25, 2006 03:17 PM (EUyu0)

5 God, Please let the "business lunch" I'm about to attend not completely suck. As I generally am not good at making small talk with people I completely don't know (or care to know), let it be very very short! Thanks, Erin

Posted by: Erin at April 25, 2006 03:21 PM (zw8QA)

6 Dear God, It's me...marg...wait, no that was a Judy Bloom book. It's me. That confused soul that is wandering around wondering where she left her brain. (See above, "If I only had a brain - my theme song!) Could you please make it not so hard to wake up in the morning to enjoy your sunrises? This morning's was a doozy - and for the first time in weeks, I was glad to see it. Thanks. Lookin forward to see what you do with the sunset tonight. Scritch the Holy Hound Gorby for me. K

Posted by: Kellie at April 25, 2006 03:29 PM (/LqiV)

7 Smite: Mariah Carey, her wailing, and her overstuffed/underdressed outfits; 'formal' shorts worn with high heels; flavoured gum that you can smell across the room Rewards: dark chocolate, a crackling fire on a cold night, and books that surround you with their stories

Posted by: loribo at April 25, 2006 03:44 PM (RYVp+)

8 Dear God, Could you possibly do something about this minimum 40-hour work week thing? I don't mind it sometimes..but seriously? 40-hours..EVERY week? How about I work 15 hours but still get paid for 40? Then I can find time to do some of those good deeds you're all hung up on. That and keep my shower clean. I can't keep up with the soap scum with my current work schedule. (Hey, completely off topic here, but Helen..does Angus say "schedule" with the "shhh" sound at the beginning?) Okay, back to God now. One last thing. Could you please, PLEASE let me just have one erotic dream where I'm Sarah from Labyrinth in the ballroom scene? I know it's perverted but David Bowie in that movie..so so hot. Want to touch the hiney.

Posted by: Lindsay at April 25, 2006 06:09 PM (mHNC3)

9 Dear God, If your divine greatness isn't too busy this week, could you please smite the jerks driving huge trucks and suvs? Specifically, the ones that pull forward and block my view at intersections, park in 'compact' spots, back into spots so that their truck beds are hanging over/blocking the sidewalk, assume that my moped can (and will) stop on a dime if they pull out in front of me any old time... It's a big order lord, because these infidels are numerous. But for your most beauteous aid in this matter, I am willing to sacrifice 2 frat boys and 4 telemarketers in your most holy of names. Groveling in your wondrous glow, A Duck

Posted by: A Duck at April 25, 2006 06:18 PM (DsS6B)

10 Smite: All stupid people. Of course, there might as well be another flood, because the world is full of them. (note I do NOT mean the mentally slow - they can't help it. I mean the ones that know better and are stupid anyway). Also on the list: radio stations that do nothing but yak during your commute rather than play music (honorable mention - rock stations that broadcast ball games or NASCAR races during your commute home); radio stations that butcher the end of your favorite songs (like the one that yakked over the ending to SRV's "Little Wing" the other morning - ASSHOLES!!!); people that ride your bumper even though you're doing 15mph over the speed limit; selfish people; abusive people; anyone who even remotely thinks that dogfighting is cool; okay, I'll stop. Save: oh hell, I don't know. There are lots of good things in the world, we just have to open our eyes and look for them harder. Let's start with animal rescue agencies (excluding any affiliated with PETA); people that help those less fortunate than themselves; good massage therapists; those nice waiters/waitresses in coffee shops that don't get paid beans but wait on you like you're family anyway; the inventors of chocolate-chip mint ice cream; whoever thought up pumpkin cheesecake; Bonnie Raitt; whoever discovered the stomach-calming properties of ginger root; you get the picture.

Posted by: diamond dave at April 25, 2006 09:15 PM (pyPeZ)

11 Dear God, you can blame the lack of fireflies on the use of DDT. We outlawed it years ago, and now the fireflies and butterflies are more plentiful. Thank you for making them in the first place.

Posted by: kenjukenju at April 25, 2006 09:39 PM (2+7OT)

12 Dear God, Free tampons. That's all I ask. -T

Posted by: Teresa at April 26, 2006 01:10 AM (zf0DB)

13 Dear God, Could you please look under your holy couch cushions and get togther a few hundred dollars to send to me? I figure you have the treasuries of about ten industrialized nations in the crack between the driver's seat and the cup holder in your car, but you don't have to go all the way to the garage. Your couch change is glorious, oh Lord! Thanks.

Posted by: Courtnee at April 26, 2006 01:49 AM (wZLWV)

14 Dear God, Please help me speak cat-ese so that when my boys are meowing at me in the wee hours of the morning I can understand what they want. And to ask why they've got to lay down on the keyboard when I'm on the 'puter.

Posted by: Suz at April 26, 2006 04:09 AM (AW/a0)

15 These are some of the best requests I have ever seen. Well done! And duly noted about the NyQuil I want some firefly lights now...

Posted by: Helen at April 26, 2006 05:09 AM (jlj2o)

16 Maybe this is crass and ridiculous in the face of real fireflies, but check this out: http://www.signals.com/cgi-bin/hazel.cgi?randomizer=629530379&action=detail&item=HA7432

Posted by: Donna at April 26, 2006 07:24 PM (Aanzg)

17 Dear God, could you make it so that people who ignore stop signals, be they signs or lights or just an indication that SOMETHING'S GOING ON UP AHEAD, MAYBE I SHOULDN'T ACCELERATE, get a smack upside the head as though Sister Mary Margaret of the Sisters of Mother Cabrini's Parking Shrine had a handy eraser to peg at them? Every time they did it? 'Cause, you know, two hit-and-runs by those types really makes me angry at them. Thanks.

Posted by: B. Durbin at April 27, 2006 05:26 AM (tie24)

18 I seriously need a key-finding god. I realized I was really, truly, agnostic when the only time I ever prayed anymore was to find my f'ing keys. So, i'm thinking you're my goddess, H.

Posted by: trouble at April 27, 2006 01:33 PM (j2vfb)

19 Ohhh Dead Like Me how I do miss thee and weep for thee every day! Those people really should be put in jail for that crap. Yes,and the asses that took Firefly off so says the sci fi whore in me.

Posted by: Fawn at April 29, 2006 04:41 AM (4wDUo)

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I've heard stress impacts the immune system. Something about how too much of it can have a negative affect on the immune system, or something like that. I even decided to Ask Jeeves about it, since I figured it might shed a little light on my current situation. I found this:

''¦modern living often involves situations in which we are chronically stressed, and this means that our repair mechanisms and immune response are continually impaired.'

This from Healthy.co.uk. So healthy.co.uk thinks that stress is, basically, a bad thing. A very bad thing. So funnily enough, why am I constantly engaging it?

My nice therapist has been saying that I am chronically stressed and chronically exhausted, and he says that with lifting the lid off of Pandora's Box (aka 'Gee Helen, what a load of incredible fucking issues you are loaded with') the exhaustion and stress will come to the fore, that my incredible Broom Of Denial can no longer sweep things under the carpet. The truth is, there are a number of stresses running in and out of my life, some of which I don't blog about.

And the health, she has been suffering.

Two weeks ago I had vomiting. Like, Exorcist-style vomiting. I was standing in the kitchen making coffee when suddenly I knew. I knew, like you know a good melon, like you know when you are actually going to be audited, like you know when you're halfway down the motorway and you realize that you left the iron on during one of the few occasions that you actually could be bothered to drag the fucker out of the ironing cupboard. I ran to the bathroom, lifted the lid, and couldn't even get the time to kneel down before projectile water vomiting (all I'd had so far that morning was a glass of water) spewed forth. Gorby ran in and whimpered at my feet due to the demonic sounds I was ushering forth. Angus dragged him out of the bathroom to let me enjoy the fulfilling sensation of vomiting in peace, however this has set a pattern into place-I can't go to the toilet without Gorby coming with me and curling up protectively at my feet.

Makes it hard to poop when a dog's on your feet, but I appreciate his caring company.

I have had migraines periodically throughout the past few weeks. I am popping Migraleve like they're M&Ms, and the truth is they're about as effective as a hard-coated chocolate goodness candy as well. When I get a migraine any amount of noise is deafening, all lights are brighter than the sun, and I like nothing more than to have someone take my head and squish it between their hands as hard as they can. While Angus is willing to be my human vise it freaks him out a bit, even though I tell him that no matter how much I love his strong Popeye forearms there is no chance in hell that he will actually be able to force my head to pop, thereby squeezing my brain from out my ears. (For some reason, that last sentence? Yeah, all I can think of is Poe's The Raven- Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door! And it's said all in a Homer Simpson voice.)

A few weeks ago a cold rolled in, where it has since put in stakes, built a home and the new dishwasher it ordered comes next Tuesday. The cold means I wake up in the morning and I go to bed with a horrid dry cough, a cough that sounds like something you would expect Mr. Ed to lung up just after asking for Wilbur, a bushel of carrots, anda more dignified hat. It includes alternations between a nose that won't stop running and congestion, which consists of me making inhalation sounds whereby I try to snort back snot at what I suspect are speeds that exceed 100 mph. Accompanying the cold are the friendly companions swollen glands, throat ache and sputum galore.

I have also been suffering a gynecological issue whereby the discharge that a woman normally suffers just after the monthly ovulation (for the men folk, that's a clear white stuff that's not unlike a snail trail you see on your winter cabbage. For the women you know what I'm talking about, and if you've never had said discharge then you're one lucky cow.) has been appearing. Appearing in spades. As in I have enough lube to take care of an entire team of proctologists. As in I could sit down naked, but only on carpet as on hardwood floors it'd be more like a Slip '˜N Slide.

The final straw was this morning. Angus woke up and took the dog out for his long morning walk while I lolled about in bed. As I stretched I realized it was nearly impossible to open my eyes, particularly my left eye. Not because I was too tired, or hungover, or blinded by a migraine, but because I literally couldn't open my eyes. I rubbed them and felt them burn and water, so I stumbled into the bathroom where I found that they were wildly inflamed with allergies, something I hadn't suffered since I left the States (the Swedish winters were hard enough to kill any sign of any remote allergen so those were good days.) They were bright red and swollen and watery and'¦above all, they were bugged.

I had bug eyes. I could deal with my voice being funny and trying to explain that 'I'b find, whad?' is cold for 'I'm fine, what's your problem?' I could accept the cough and the constant companion of lozenges. I could even nearly deal with the snail trail in my shorts. But the bug eyes? I can't fucking take the bug eyes.

They were huge and red and swollen and sticking out. If I turned sideways I would look like Roger Rabbit. They were bugged to the extent that I look like that chick from Witches of Eastwick, the one who spews vast quantities of cherrie pits down the aisle of the church. I look as bug eyed as the woman in Alien who screams as she sits next to the guy whose chest explodes (come to think of it she is, actually, the same woman in Witches of Eastwick. She really has some fucked up parts. Maybe she needs to get a better agent.) I have allergies, or at least I'd better have-the only other option is that I am getting Pink Eye (conjunctivities) which I've had periodically in my life, and nothing puts me in more of a killing mood than Pink Eye (metaphorically speaking, of course. I'm a pacificist, so when I say "killing mood" I mean "sit around and wring my hands a lot while moaning the fact that there are no Gilmour Girls reruns to watch on TV here while recovering in seclusion").

So yeah. Medications being taken, eyes being maintained with hot compresses, and the beaver being attended to by multiple wiping sessions. The Merck Manual people will be dropping in any day now. Stress impacting immune system? I got your backup data on that, in fact-I'm a one woman research facility.

-H.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 07:00 AM | Comments (15) | Add Comment
Post contains 1222 words, total size 7 kb.

Sometimes I look around and think that I have someone else's life. Before, I had nights full of harsh sodium glare, a cityscape gouging out the humanity in me. Footsteps were loud and the rush of traffic drowned out my every thought.

Then came you.

You taught me that the sodium glare was from low pressure sodium, and to this day you continue to teach me what the lights are. You showed me that the cityscape can contain an endless forbidden hug on a street corner in days when we didn't know how it was our heart beats, we only knew they did. The city noise disappeared and all I heard was the sound of you telling me how you felt about me.

Then came you.

Today my day is built of little parts of you, as integral to the days as breathing and wondering about the nature of the world. I pet the dog and make our coffee. I pick our toothbrushes up and make them little sentries guarding a porcelain world. I smile at a Boston Bruins hockey puck and finger my black pearl a million times a day.

Our world isn't perfect. The lows that I have with you are lower than any swing I've ever swung from, but the highs are so breathtaking that I keep pumping my legs, incredulous with delight. We chose a life with passion and that's what we've got. We live, love, laugh, fight, cry, and rejoice a thousand times stronger than we ever knew life could let us do. I am more alive now in every moment of my life than I have ever been before.

Because then came you.

For the rest of our lives, I can promise you this:

I will always love and support you.

I will try to keep from sticking my freezing cold hands on you.

I will always want to have toys gracing my desk.

I will never be good at remembering the details like when the cars need servicing or what that cable is for.

I will love your homemade macaroni and cheese (speaking of which, can we have it soon?)

I will defend you, without question or advice and without the slightest hesitation.

I will cry at rescue animal commercials.

I will hoard the Corn Nuts.

I will also hoard all the Nacho and Sour Cream McCoy's Specials, and when you ask where they are I will pretend I don't speak English.

I will never tire of writing you love letters.

You are my boy and I am your girl. It's as simple and as complicated as that.

Happy birthday, Angus.

I love you.

-H.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 06:50 AM | Comments (22) | Add Comment
Post contains 448 words, total size 2 kb.

1 Beautiful. Happy B-day Angus!

Posted by: Teresa at April 20, 2006 12:53 PM (zf0DB)

2 *tear*

Posted by: Heather at April 20, 2006 01:05 PM (VkF/l)

3 happy birthday angus abs x

Posted by: abs at April 20, 2006 01:19 PM (gEJuu)

4 Happy Birthday Angus!

Posted by: wn at April 20, 2006 01:39 PM (BXsrx)

5 How sweet! Happiest of Happy Birthdays, Angus.

Posted by: Lisa at April 20, 2006 02:07 PM (ELUjU)

6 Awwww. You know, Helen, I started reading your blog when I was wickedly unhappy and alone, wondering if I would ever find what you have found. And, reading about you and Angus gave me hope that broken people can find each other, and heal each other. Your blog has given me so much hope over the past few months. Happy birthday, Angus. Happy life with the man you love, Helen.

Posted by: trouble at April 20, 2006 02:30 PM (j2vfb)

7 That's a wonderful letter to your boy. You both are so lucky to have found each other and to have been able to hold on to that love. Happy birthday Angus!

Posted by: Ice Queen at April 20, 2006 02:43 PM (iubre)

8 A happy birthday to Angus (please forgive me if I ever accidently call him Agnes, as that is what Gordon and I call his flatmate), and to you Helen, I must ask... Regular or BQ? I really hope you know what that's from, otherwise I just look silly...

Posted by: amy t. at April 20, 2006 02:44 PM (zPssd)

9 I started reading your blog a couple of motnhs ago, been going through a bit of a rough time but your writing has inspired me that it is possible for true love to work out well no matter what barriers are put in front of it.. thanks for writing.. happy birthday Angus!!

Posted by: Chris at April 20, 2006 03:39 PM (GrNp+)

10 Happy Birthday, Angus!! Such a beautiful entry.

Posted by: Lisa at April 20, 2006 03:46 PM (Fcr96)

11 Happy Birthday! Here's to a wonderful year!

Posted by: caltechgirl at April 20, 2006 04:22 PM (jOkK0)

12 Happy Birthday to Angus... what a beautiful post.

Posted by: sue at April 20, 2006 04:34 PM (WbfZD)

13 Wow, what a lucky and fortunate man. Or, are you the lucky one?

Posted by: Broken at April 20, 2006 06:19 PM (wypb3)

14 I wish I could express half the thoughts and feelings for my husband like you just did for Angus. Angus, I wish you a very happy birthday! Enjoy the best present you could ever esk for: helen

Posted by: Lindsay at April 20, 2006 08:07 PM (mHNC3)

15 Happy Birthday!!

Posted by: statia at April 20, 2006 09:43 PM (NsnoE)

16 Happy Birthday Angus!

Posted by: Madame Chiang at April 21, 2006 10:07 AM (68x1I)

17 That was so nice.. made me a little teary. Happy Birthday Angus!

Posted by: SaraJane at April 21, 2006 12:42 PM (t5Xsa)

18 Happy Birthing Day, Angus! xoxox

Posted by: Margi at April 21, 2006 04:16 PM (BRtaN)

19 Holy Shizzel! that is sweet. happy bithday lucky man.

Posted by: J.m at April 22, 2006 07:53 AM (kvDkc)

20 I've tried twice now to comment, I hope this one sticks...those of us who have been in bad or difficult relationships really know when we've found a good one. Describing yours as both simple and complicated is a hint of how many levels there are between you two, and how much love there is. You both are so lucky. A wonderful tribute! Happy Birthday

Posted by: Donna at April 22, 2006 07:29 PM (Aanzg)

21 Happy Birthday, Angus. And may the two of you celebrate many, many more of them. Together.

Posted by: Jennifer at April 23, 2006 09:41 PM (y4DOI)

22 Sorry to be late getting here, but I have been out of town. Please tell Angus that he is wished the best birthday ever!

Posted by: kenjukenju at April 25, 2006 04:57 AM (2+7OT)

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I have been dreaming about dogs for months now. Before getting Gorby, before ensuring that our new house was indeed ours, before all of that. When I go to sleep at night dogs lurk at the corners, they walk through the woods, they amble silently along corridors, their toenails clickless on the floors. The dogs are always large, and they are always a dark color.

They never intend any harm. I don't know how I know that, I just do. They whisper in and out of scenes in the endless monologues that are my dreams. Sometimes they pad in and out of my nightmares, when I wake from dreaming the world was on fire or something wicked this way came.

When I wrote my post at Christmas time about the Ghost of Christmas Past it was a natural progression that the ghost was a dog. Sitting down to write I simply checked my brain at the door and my brain came up with a ghostly dog. It could never have been anything else. It had to be a dog.

I gave those stories to my therapist to read, and the next time we met up he said simply that they were touching. I know that nothing goes unaddressed with him, that the stories will come back in a later session and will manifest into something that I didn't understand at the time. In psychotherapy everything is based in the subconscious, and my subconscious is one screwed up little fucker.

I talk to him of my dog dreams. He tells me that in many cultures, the dog is a guide. It's a symbol of loyalty, of strength. It is a constant companion, a protector, a representation of kindness. A dog is something innocuous to most of us, a sympathetic and benevolent figure that we seek for comfort.

I have always loved dogs. I love cats as well, I'm not picky about the animals I adore, but dogs have a special acceptance that the more independent cats lack-a dog needs you full stop. A cat may need you too, but only on their terms. I have endless love for my two cats but I do accept that I can give it to them only when they choose to receive it.

There is something calming in being with a pet. People, not so easy to deal with. A dog will accept you for your faults and love you regardless. A dog will not judge you. A dog will forgive and forget and will work with you to pull them out of their shell that they may or may not have been beaten in to, all the while unknowingly they are pulling you out of your shell, too.

Love is not patient, love is not kind, and love is not forgiving, unless it comes in the form of four softly padded feet.

Sometimes we have dreams that stay with us for our entire lives. Many, many years ago I dreamt I stumbled upon a lake, with children drowned in sleeping agony. That dream haunts me to this day. It will never leave me, and my therapist says that those children are all representations of myself.

I drowned a long time ago, but at least I know what happened to me.

And every once in a while, we have a dream that makes us think a little differently. Maybe it's a good dream, maybe it's a bad one, but there may be one that when we wake up, we think Thank God. There's something in me after all. I am alive, and long may it remain so.

A few months ago I dreamt I was in my childhood home. My family were being difficult and humiliating me. I couldn't find my way out of the house, I couldn't find a way to escape. I remember standing at a window and looking outside and seeing a tiny shed. I had never noticed that shed there, a ramshackle wooden house made of dark wood and a V-shaped roof.

I was suddenly outside, in front of that shed. I open the door and see permafrost on the ground. It has frozen into the hills and valleys that footsteps made when the ground was soft. The floor is dirt, and hard and uncomfortable. The shed is freezing cold, and my breath appears like whispy egg whites when I exhale.

There, in the middle of the shed is an enormous black dog. It has ice crystals frozen into its fur, droplets that hang in suspended silence. The dog is curled up motionless in the middle of the floor. I walk to the dog and kneel hurriedly, wrapping my arms around the neck of the great animal. I know without knowing that the dog is still alive, only frozen so deep down that it can't move. I know that the animal can come back to life as long as I keep trying. I know that I will spend whatever amount of time is needed to bring it back. I keep it cradled in my arms and prepare to help.

When I woke up I was rocked to the core. That dream stays with me. I can't shake it, nor can I shake the feeling of frozen black hair draped over my arms. My knees still feel what its like to be perched on the edges of frozen ground. It was so real I still wonder why it is I can't see that shed in our back garden.

My therapist smiled gently when I told him of this dream. 'What do you think the dog represents, Helen?' he asks softly.

'I'm no Freudian,' I reply. I am not sure what to make of dreams and he's not huge on dreams either, but he does think that sometimes they are composed of our subconscious thoughts forcing an opinion on us when our conscious stubbornly won't listen. 'But I know what it is. That dog is me.'

He nods. 'That's right. That dog is you. You have frozen all of your emotions, all of your thoughts, all of your progression into yourself as you surrounded yourself with coping mechanisms designed to help you survive. But the point is that although the dog is frozen, the dog is alive. And you know it's alive. And even more to the point, you finally know that dog is there. This is a big thing, Helen. You've finally seen that you are in there.'

I confess for a moment I thought: Is sometimes a dog just a dog? I don't do dream therapy, I can't subscribe to that, mostly because most of my dreams are such images of horror. But that dog was so heavy and cold in my arms. That dog had such a strong, slow heartbeat beneath my arms. I had such grave, deep concern for it, and even further to that it was curled up frozen in the backyard of my childhood, which had to mean something.

I can't decide what to read into this. So maybe I am in here, and in order to help me face me, my subconscious has neatly packaged me into a perfect metaphor, one that won't make me crazy. Months and months of therapy have passed and hopefully I am finally beginning to reach into my frozen and void core. Therapy is singularly the hardest and easiest thing I have ever done, and that's as good as I can get at explaining it. It's not an easy task to open packages that have been sealed since they were created. Therapy is manifesting itself in physical ways, too-I suffer from bouts of exhaustion which my therapist says is all part of the process-the body will break down when forced to confront some things. This exhaustion is something new to me, episodes when I literally can't move off the couch unless it's to throw my guts up, whimpering in silence. He says it will all get worse before it gets better.

Battling my way through BPD is sometimes a daily struggle as I force me to stay within myself, as I try to stop the movie that is my disassociation, as I take a pitchfork and rake over whatever tattered memories I hold inside of myself. I have to face all the things I have buried, and I have 32 years of burial to deal with. To get through the other side of this I have to undergo something called CBT, or cognitive behavioral therapy. This will basically take all of my coping skills, all of my behaviors, all of those things that make me so fundamentally fucked up and erase them.

CBT will teach me how to be a human being.

And finding my big, black frozen dog is maybe proof that there is a human being in there.

-H.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 06:09 AM | Comments (6) | Add Comment
Post contains 1476 words, total size 8 kb.

Our new house is at the end of an unmade road, off a side road that is traversed only by residents. It's nearly impossible to find the house without explicit directions, and even then so far every one who has come here has gotten lost on the way. The life we are living is about as rural southern England as it gets.

And I can't believe it. My whole life I've been yearning for the city life, achieving it for most of my adulthood. I never wanted to know my neighbors because I figured a flat meant that I would never need to know such information. I despaired even of anything smacking of the suburbs, I wanted to be in an area where the shops were open 24 hours and the bars were within walking distance. I wanted to be near my favorite funky boho shop. I deplored living anywhere but the metropolis of many lights. I wanted to be in the center of all of the action.

But now this. There isn't even a shop within walking distance, and none of them are open 24 hours, but my favorite shop? A family-run nursery with the healthiest looking plants I've ever seen. There is a pub in our neighborhood, and it sits opposite a smooth cricket green, framed by a duck pond and a clubhouse from the late 1700's. A milk truck brings deliveries and DHL needs GPS just to find our street. The only thing I'm a center of here is a field with bluebells popping up.

The theme song to Green Acres runs through my head all the time, particularly the part where Zsa Zsa chastises Darling I love you but give me Park Avenue.

I live in the countryside.

And I can't believe how much I love it.

We remark about it all the time-in the garden with me picking weeds, him soldering pipes, we can't believe how peaceful it all is. Laying in our bed with our heads under the windows, we revel in it. Looking out over the neighboring fields, we both sigh just a little bit.

Turns out rural (or, considering the fact that we live within an hour of London, I guess this is semi-rural) suits this girl just fine.

One of the best parts of the day is walking Gorby. When we have a lazy morning we tend to take the young lad for a long walk through a neighboring farm. A perk that I love about England is that they have footpaths everywhere-you have walking access on these paths and luckily they are prevalent.

The walk to the farm takes us under massive pylons that, in the morning, hum and zimmer with people waking up, and crackle with the power. The road is quiet, and we pass lush green fields spotted with horses. The farm has real signs of spring-everywhere you look there are signs of the babies.

He's just finished filming the next release of Babe.

Follow us! Follow us! We're headed for the new world!

If this kid doesn't make your ovaries* throb, then you are heartless. Heartless!

This character is called Houdini, and he's a goose gone wrong. He's about the ugliest creature I've ever seen, but he does like himself a nice Milk Bone. He can't honk, bark, or fly (due to a badly broken wing that healed incorrectly) so the farmer has taken him in and treats him as a cherished pet. The farmer's my kind of people.

The farm is also stocked with these creatures, called Rheas. I want to ride one, but am aware they can kick my ass.

Gorby is afraid of them, and barks at them.

Gorby is also afraid of sheep, cows, horses and goats so...well, what can I say.

What Gorby does like is a run through the woods.

And what we like is being there with him.

-H.

*unless you're a guy, then it's ok if your ovaries aren't throbbing.

PS-And despite the new city loving, I'm not going to wear a pair of fucking overalls, or walk around with hay between my teeth. I hate hay. Hay itches.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 05:55 AM | Comments (14) | Add Comment
Post contains 692 words, total size 5 kb.

1 What joyful photos!! Esp the ones of Gorby. Very very happy for you.

Posted by: Mia at April 18, 2006 06:29 AM (hNcyt)

2 You are very funny! Gorby looks great in full swing, it is very obvious he loves his new life too. Enjoy...

Posted by: Karen (Australia) at April 18, 2006 06:47 AM (PEzRO)

3 That duck there is a Muscovy duck. They are all over the place in South Florida - and they are ugly, except when they're babies. Who knew they were in England, too? I thought they just lived here. Muscovy ducks hiss - they don't quack. It is nice that the farmer is kind to him. Not every creature can be lovely....

Posted by: suze at April 18, 2006 10:44 AM (k1Y5v)

4 I deplored living anywhere but the metropolis of many lights. I wanted to be in the center of all of the action. that's how my husband is right now. I'm wearing him down, but he's a tough cookie. I'm so ready to get the hell out of Houston and move somewhere that we can actually afford a HOUSE. I'm so over living in an apartment. I'm tired of shitty, disrespectful neighbors, I'm tired of not having a yard, and I miss our nephew that we only get to see once every month or less. it sucks. I'm nto cut out for big city living. it's really wearing on my patience.

Posted by: girl at April 18, 2006 01:08 PM (HQuHV)

5 It's wonderful to read your happiness. Thank you so much for sharing.

Posted by: Lisa at April 18, 2006 01:19 PM (ELUjU)

6 Oh don't get me wrong, Suze-Houdini IS ugly. But he's so ugly he's careening back towards cute. You know, like "so ugly he's attractive", which is the premise Sandra Bernhardt works off of I think. I like ugly animals (except Shar-Peis. There's something fundamentally wrong with those things.)

Posted by: Helen at April 18, 2006 03:15 PM (JAkLK)

7 Im so glad you're happy! May spring bring you fertility of your own.

Posted by: That Girl at April 18, 2006 03:23 PM (QzfsY)

8 You forgot to take a picture of the telephone pole you use to call me.

Posted by: statia at April 18, 2006 04:20 PM (NsnoE)

9 You know, like "so ugly he's attractive", which is the premise Sandra Bernhardt works off of I think. LMAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!! ZING! POW! Good one, hon. Those pictures are absolutely wonderful. I especially love the action shots of Gorby. That is ONE HAPPY DAWG. xoxo P.S. To continue the theme, the pig should be named Arnold. Arnold Ziffel. *blink* It's a massive load of crap I've stored in this brain, instead of theorems and equations. Why else would I remember the PIG'S NAME ON GREEN ACRES?! *siiiigh*

Posted by: Margi at April 18, 2006 04:44 PM (BRtaN)

10 I'm with you. We lived out in the country for three years and it was so awesome. Gorby is so freakin' cute!

Posted by: caltechgirl at April 18, 2006 05:49 PM (/vgMZ)

11 Beautiful, beautiful dog.

Posted by: B. Durbin at April 18, 2006 05:55 PM (tie24)

12 "But I am the only gaaaay in this town!"

Posted by: Sir Henry at April 18, 2006 06:45 PM (19Fw6)

13 We live out in the boonies as well, and for the most part I wouldn't trade it for anything. Loads of open space and animals and trees. Sometimes I wish the grocery store wasn't a 20 minute drive away, but you can't have it both ways!

Posted by: Donna at April 18, 2006 07:15 PM (Aanzg)

14 I can't believe nobody has yet pointed out that the kid goat looks pretty much like Gorby's cross-bred brother! Muscovy ducks are apparently very tasty - even more bonus points to the farmer who keeps him as a pet instead of writing him off (and into a recipe). That first shot of Gorby is the word ecstatic personified; considering where you've brought him from, no wonder! Paul

Posted by: Light & Dark at April 19, 2006 02:59 AM (M9GWX)

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Today we are finishing up the goodbye jobs in our old rental home in Hartley Wintney and get ready to hand it over tomorrow morning.

Then we are back at our home for further work. This weekend is earmarked to install a shower in a our currently shower-less home (we only have a bathtub in this house. That's right. And there is no fucking way we're spending our lives with a cup in the bathroom in order to wash our hair.) This includes installing piping, tiling, painting, ripping out carpet and installing floorboards, and weeping copious amounts of tears.

It's unbelievable how much work is still to go.

Earlier in the week I noticed a large wet spot in the horrid carpet in the bathroom. I thought it was overspill from the sink but lo and behold! The truth is that the woman who owned the house before us was a hand over Bible believer in the power of bleach. She used so much of it it's worn the enamel joint off the soil pipe of the toilet. The wet spot? It's the toilet leaking as it gets flushed. There are whole new levels of fuck nasty in that carpet, I would call out a Hazmat team but instead the toilet gets repaired, the carpet gets ripped out and replaced with wood floors and I burn my hands off with a blowtorch afterwards in order to get the horrible "I'm covered with germs" feeling off.

The study looks like someone threw a couple of book boxes in it, ducked down and shouted "Fire in the hole!" and waited for the residual blast of literary goodness to rocket through the room. There are cables everywhere. There are, I think, cables for cables. It makes me want to cry thinking about the work that needs to be done in there, and it doesn't even include the floors or the walls which the truth is? We haven't done yet.

The living room has the sparsity of a university dorm room and about as much design sense to boot. It is the room that IKEA built when we moved in together two years ago and while we won't be swapping things out just now, we do need to do something with it. The problem is, we both have had the design bypass, so that living room? It'll be a while.

This doesn't include the hallways that need painting, the downstairs bathroom that needs a personality makeover, or the stairs that need to be freed of their magenta carpeting. This'll be our Easter weekend (we get Friday and Monday off of work). We'll be working on the Blackberries the entire time.

If anyone needs me, I'm in the kitchen with the gin.

-H.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 06:41 AM | Comments (11) | Add Comment
Post contains 472 words, total size 3 kb.

1 Are you doing that thing where you just stand in one spot and turn slowly around and around, looking at everything you need to do and having no idea where to start? I do that a lot.

Posted by: jac at April 14, 2006 09:44 AM (yWjEV)

2 good thing I am sending likker!

Posted by: stinkerbell at April 14, 2006 09:54 AM (QcMkT)

3 Pour the gin on the toilet and the bathroom floor; maybe it will disinfect the place and be a lot easier on your hands!

Posted by: kenjukenju at April 14, 2006 11:45 AM (2+7OT)

4 Hiya, just got referred to your site through a friend of a friend of a friend...I myself am an American girl now living in Ireland, so I look forward to reading your archives!

Posted by: Sarah at April 14, 2006 12:39 PM (lX7EW)

5 You should have stopped at "carpeting in the bathroom". The thought of all the pee that missed the toilet made my breakfast lurch. But no, you had to throw in "leaky toilet". Leaking from the bad end, no less. EEEEEEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!! (projectile vomiting in the trashcan next to my desk) If I were you, I'd burn the whole place down and let insurance pay to rebuild it the way you want it. Just kidding, you and Angus have sweated too much blood to get this place. Better yet, find the fucker whose idea it was to put carpeting in the bathroom and burn his (or her) ass instead.

Posted by: diamond dave at April 14, 2006 02:59 PM (xwgYX)

6 http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/uk/4881474.stm Saw this and thought of you...

Posted by: Jayne at April 14, 2006 03:13 PM (q5uvl)

7 It looks like you definately have your hands full and I would be doing the same thing..spinning around the house going OMG Where in the hell do I start!! It's getting there...

Posted by: Amanda at April 14, 2006 05:11 PM (838ff)

8 Gin after painting, love, or you'll have to do it all again. Although I suppose with enough gin that won't matter either.

Posted by: caltechgirl at April 14, 2006 06:39 PM (jOkK0)

9 My house has carpet in the bathroom. It's first on my list of things to replace but it's just not possible right now. I do wish you'd stop grossing me out with all the talk of urine everywhere. I can block it out when I'm at home but when I read your blog allll my walls of illusion come crumbling down. So, now I'm sitting here at work and my skin is crawling. I need a new house. Now.

Posted by: Lindsay at April 14, 2006 07:09 PM (mHNC3)

10 Okay, Helen? Deep breath. The trick to this is to take it in manageable chunks. At least we know that though you may be daunted by the appalling amount of work, you are not letting that stop you from diving in. But you need your priorities— and I think they're in the right place, what with the repair-rip up-replace mantra you've got right now. So I'll mention the next step, which is the design sense you complain that you're lacking. It's not as hard as you think. The most important thing to remember is to design your rooms around you rather than assume your lifestyle is going to change to accomodate the design. The principle is pretty simple. If you find that mail and keys and random grimple accumulate at one end of the couch, maybe you need an endtable there. And a trashcan. If you find yourself bumping a table everytime you bring in groceries, move it. If there's a part of the room you never, ever find yourself in, get better lighting— or move the dog bed there. Aside from that, hang pictures at eye level (unless you have a lot, in which case cover the wall) and try not to have more than one pattern in the room, no matter what the designers say, because they're on crack. And be comfortable, because this is your gorgeous lovely house and if you can't be comfortable there, what's the point?

Posted by: B. Durbin at April 15, 2006 01:53 AM (ypP8j)

11 I am cheering you both on but I just had to say Gorby looks so happy in that new pic...he's dog smiling!You're going to get a buttload of good karma for making that dog so happy.

Posted by: Fawn at April 15, 2006 02:39 AM (4wDUo)

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The older I get, the more green I am getting.

Seriously.

Now, I haven't always been a crunchy-granola kind of girl. Once upon a time I owned a shotgun and a few home alarms and supported the NRA. No it's true. I really did. Then a little thing called Columbine came and happened and I switched lanes faster than Paris Hilton switches fiancees, and I have never looked back. The older I get, the more hippy liberalism I embrace-abolish guns? Check. Vegetarian? Check. Buying mostly organic foods? Check. Gay marriages? Check (although I never was against that one.)

But it's not just me-Angus has taken to being pretty green himself. We are investigating solar and wind power for when we build on our extension in about a year's time. We are signing up for electricity from a renewable resource, which costs more but means we are trying to do our part. A composter the size of Milwaukee is now placed in our back garden and we dutifully trot out our compost once a day. Recycling bins are used more than the garbage in our house and all in all we work really hard to try to be even greener all the time.

So there's a show on TV every Tuesday now called It's Not Easy Being Green (those people should bow down and kiss Kermit the Frog's ass for stealing that line. Bow down, I say!) A number of ideas from that show are going into our home-a solar shower will be going into the garden for showers outside on warm summer days. Our back yard is huge and almost completely secluded. Angus and I have similar attitudes about this kind of thing, much like why we both hate curtains and don't have them-if you happen to be walking close to our house (which is set far back from the road) and look in the window and see us bumping uglies, well, that's your problem. Don't walk so close to houses you know don't have curtains (that said our guest rooms will have curtains as we figure that maybe not everyone who comes to visit us likes to do a floor show a few times a week.)

But the main thing that gets me about this show is the characters. The guy is a hard-core engineer who is devoted to making his home self-sufficient. So self-sufficient that he's even raising his own piggies, who will become Christmas dinner (that's right. Babe is going to be slaughtered after a life of enjoying life as a family pet. Sooo-ee!) His Mrs., who is clearly younger than him and not the mother of his children, is a bit of a hardcore "I miss the 60's" kind of nutter. She's into fairies and spiritual energy and palying a folk guitar at impromptu parties and whatnot. At one point she was at a Kiss Your Ass Fairy Convention or something like that, and they all held each other's heads to try to share positive energy. I am pretty sure she has the lyrics to Kumbaya tattooed across her ass, albeit in a henna sanskrit format. Her name is Bridget and she's become the basis against which I measure myself.

Yesterday shopping in Camden Market I bought an Indian-inspired skirt to run around the garden in during the summer (if summer ever actually happens here) while working on all the flowers I am buying up and will potentially watch fail in my green-growing process. It got the Bridget measure-"Angus, I like this skirt, but is it too Bridget?"

It passed (only just) and the skirt has come home with me.

We paint our rooms in colors that the Dulux guides recommend (because we are both seriously color-impaired and can't choose colors that should go together to save our lives. No really. If nuclear bombs were about to go off all over the world and the only thing that would stop it were if we could choose a complimentary color to "Moonlight Blue" you'd all be fucked.) These colors are generally soft and soothing, relaxing colors since we tend to be two stressy people. They have a range that I love which smacks a little too close to being Bridget, in that some have names like "Snuggle Up" and shit like that, but I figure it's far enough away from Bridget to be acceptable (besides, Bridget would likely have some kind of funky "swallow your tongue" orange walls or something like that.)

Angus now rages against 4x4 cars (unless you run a farm, in which case, you would need one. Like our old neighbors who had a Land Rover to help run their stables. Said Land Rover had moss growing out of it, so hey-giving a bit of oxygen back is ok, yes?) We don't use a clothes dryer (in fact, we don't even have one). We try to go for environmentally economical yet esoteric lighting. We are getting pinker with age and I wonder where we'll get to next (please note-such extent does not include making bathtub gin, recycling our own feces, and using Gorby as dog-fueled irrigation power. If I get to that point I hope someone will come here and take away my incense and explain that greed is the new black, so why not boil up some water and pour it on an iceberg, I'll feel so much better?).

But I'm never, ever getting a folk guitar.

And the first person who touches my head to try to share positive energy is going to get his ass kicked.

Green can only go so far.

-H.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 11:13 AM | Comments (11) | Add Comment
Post contains 944 words, total size 5 kb.

So I've been quiet again, for two reasons:

1) Yesterday I had a headache the size of Mt. St. Helens and spent the morning hurling my guts up over our downstairs toilet, losing even the water that I'd had that morning.

2) On Monday, I drove to a studio and was on a recording of The Weakest Link.

That's right. Little ol' me was on The Weakest Link.

I had a call a few weeks ago checking my availability. They film three shows a day twice a week, and I was asked to be on one of those shows. I had gotten through the paper shift, the audition, a producer's audition, and into the final casting. I felt quite proud of myself for getting so far.

I was also terrified.

The morning of I checked the clothes I had packed three times-black trousers, a salmon colored shirt (Janeville, Statia!), a burgundy Indian inspired shirt, and a bright turquoise shirt. The rules are quite strict-you can't wear black, white, pastels, spots, checks, bright red or cream. Basically, you can't wear anything that wouldn't be found in a peacock's tail or a bad 60's LSD flashback. My Cook Islands black pearl was in place, as was the Irish Valentine's bracelet that is so lovely it still makes me swoon. I packed everything up in my backpack, kissed Angus, took the GPS, and drove to the studio.

The studio, Pinewood Studios, is the BBC most well-known lot for TV and movie productions. It's also quite possibly the hardest one to find as it's smack dab in the middle of the English countryside. You're convinced you're lost until all of a sudden you see a massive soundstage and a number of buildings resembling airplane hangers. Once you see those, you know you're there. I drove up, and was checked off at security. I make my way into the building, and into the room where the others are.

The thing they don't tell you on the show is that although you don't know these people, you'll be spending the entire day with them. You get to know them. I got along quite quickly with almost everyone, particularly a theatre student that I wish I'd gotten her number from, as we got on great. The group was indeed diverse, as the show dictates-you can't have people of the same name, same occupation, same geographical location, same age. It all has to be different.

As you chat you get pulled out to check your biographies, which is on the card that Anne will read in order to humiliate you. It's not easy to sum up a life on an A4 piece of paper but somehow they manage to do it. The wardrobe staff come in and choose what clothes they want you to wear, and they press them for you. Make-up drags you out and puts slap on your face (they kept telling me I had great features and they put a lot of makeup on. Although I think I did look better for it, I did feel like I should be hanging around on a corner asking people if they wanted a date.)

We moved into a new green room, and all of a sudden they tell us this is the intro room and we need to all talk and be filmed doing so. Nerves started running high and the chatter died down. We realized we were nearly there. The cameras came in and we sat around pretending to be great mates. Then we stood up and it was time.

The show is 45 minutes long but takes over 2 and a half hours to film. There's a lot of saying things to the crane camera when the red light comes on. There's a lot of what they call "pick-ups", which is what happens when the microphone you have plugged onto your ass didn't pick up your answer correctly (I had a pick-up myself, where I had to repeat an answer I had given, which luckily happened to be correct.) The truth is, the show doesn't flow as fast as it does on TV-you vote off your weakest link choice and Anne takes a break, so we all get to stand down from our positions at our podiums and chit chat for ten or fifteen minutes. You stand around getting ready-makeup comes and does touch ups, wardrobe adjust your clothes, you laugh nervously and talk-and then suddenly Anne Robinson is on the set and they're shouting "And we're on in five! Four! Three!" then mime the rest and you're off.

It's terrifying.

First off, Anne is tiny. Like, you can put her in your pocket and carry her around if you wanted a miniature Rottweiler in there. It's true it's just a part that she's playing (she was very nice during one of the breaks as she made nice comments about a seeing eye dog that accompanied a blind woman off the set.) but still. She's fucking scary.

Round one started, and my biggest fear was that I would get voted off in round 1. I knew I wouldn't win-although my head is crammed with useless trivia my English general knowledge is not so great-but I wanted to make it past round 1. The round started and as there was one question before me that I didn't know the answer to (it was an English general knowledge question) when it came to me I banked. I got my question correct, and the one after that, but still. Money was safe. We hit the £1000 mark and it was time to vote. We wrote the name down then had to spend three minutes pretending to write to get those "writing off someone" shots, then took a break. Then Anne came back and boards flipped over and I breathed a sigh of relief as overwhelmingly the young nervous student was voted off (although the blind woman voted for me. Whore.)

We got grilled by Anne-I got really grilled by Anne as a "desperate American"-and then the student did the walk of shame. Actually, you do the walk of shame twice, so that the camera gets all angles, before being led offstage for interviews.

I had survived the first round. The second round, we voted off the blind woman (yes, we are all burning in hell for that one. But she was the weakest link in that round and since the bitch voted for me in the first round so she had to go. I do, indeed, have a problem with holding a grudge. You feel sucker punched when you see your name on those blue boards, I tell you.)

Statia gave me odds I would make it to at least round 3.

I did better than that.

The final round I was in I started off the round as the strongest link. We were only a few people left and it felt good to start it off but for me it quickly turned to hell-I was asked three English knowledge questions in a row, including one about an English cabinet politician in 1948 and one about a character from a 1970's TV show. I know I was the weakest link in that round and will look forward to hearing the voiceover (In a sudden reversal of fortune, Helen has gone from the strongest player in the last round to the weakest link in this round. But will the team notice?) When voting came there was a tie between me and another guy, also a weak player. The strongest link had to decide, and he voted against me, largely because, as he said, "I was an American."

Mother fucker.

I was voted off, and did my walk of shame. I have no idea when the show will air (they'll call us beforehand and let us know) but the bastard who voted me off won the game, unfortunately (I hope karma kicks his ass up and down the coastline.)

I didn't win The Weakest Link.

But I did make it to Round 7, and no sour grapes here as I honestly feel being that close to the end is something worth being proud of.

-H.

PS-if you do see the show when it's eventually shown here in England or have satellite TV, I guess you'll recognize me and will indeed learn my real name. Please don't blow my cover, ok?

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 07:04 AM | Comments (19) | Add Comment
Post contains 1414 words, total size 8 kb.

1 Aww, just when I'm leaving the country! Who knows, though, mebbe I'll catch it if it shows in the next two weeks...

Posted by: Orodemniades at April 12, 2006 10:36 AM (Bd74n)

2 Wow, how cool! You are you going to let all of us know when it's going to be airing, right? And it'll be on BBC1 or BBC2 - it has to be, because those are the only two British channels (except for BBC World) that we get in the Netherlands. Congratulations that you made it to round 7! It sucks being an American outside of America, sometimes, doesn't it?

Posted by: Hannah at April 12, 2006 10:48 AM (wR4yP)

3 Nope, Hannah-I won't be whispering a word of when it will be on. I actually don't know when it will be, but witnessing my downfall is not something I'm going to be broadcasting!

Posted by: Helen at April 12, 2006 11:08 AM (O5saq)

4 Comgrats to you-that is so cool. But that guy is a fucker-so what if your American? Fucker.

Posted by: Teresa at April 12, 2006 12:25 PM (zf0DB)

5 Oh god-I did not just really write comgrats to you, did I? Honestly...

Posted by: Teresa at April 12, 2006 12:26 PM (zf0DB)

6 That sucks, I would have loved to have watched it! I am going to be in England later in May so maybe I'll get lucky You know, it could also have been that he actually thought you were a bigger threat and just wanted to get you out. But of course to actually admit that would make him look insecure...

Posted by: Jadewolff at April 12, 2006 12:42 PM (cH5GO)

7 That's awesome! To know so much about another country's history and all...I couldn't even do it for America! That's a wonder.

Posted by: sue at April 12, 2006 01:08 PM (WbfZD)

8 Wow, you'll be the second American I know (well, as much as one can know via the internet) that's been on The Weakest Link this year. A guy from a US-UK expat forum I belong to who lives in Scotland was on two weeks ago - he didn't win either.

Posted by: tanis at April 12, 2006 01:46 PM (yyBtp)

9 I don't think we still get that show over here, but if I see it, I promise not to blow your cover. Congrats on getting that high in the game. You should be justifiably proud of that.

Posted by: kenjukenju at April 12, 2006 01:56 PM (2+7OT)

10 wait a minute? what? the weakest link is still around?????

Posted by: ali at April 12, 2006 02:10 PM (OWAad)

11 Seven rounds is indeed something to be proud of! Good for you! I loved that show when it was on in the US. In fact, when we were on our honeymoon in the Virgin Islands, I made a point to be back in the room at the right time so I could watch it. I love shouting out answers, no matter how right or wrong, along with that show.

Posted by: donna at April 12, 2006 02:44 PM (0b/IZ)

12 Wow, Helen, that's f'ing impressive! You should be so proud! i'm amazed, i know I could never have done so well under pressure like that. go you!

Posted by: trouble at April 12, 2006 03:07 PM (j2vfb)

13 I want a dvd copy so I can show all my friends.

Posted by: statia at April 12, 2006 03:22 PM (NsnoE)

14 Round 7 is *hardly* a downfall! Well done! Sorry about the headache, I hope you're feeling better today.

Posted by: Lisa at April 12, 2006 03:58 PM (ELUjU)

15 I'm going to show my lack of coolness here, but how many rounds are there? Because round 7 sounds pretty damn good! Unless there are 30... But there are only 10 or so, right? In which case, you were smarter than at least half of the folks taking the test, and 2/3 of the folk on the show, which means you did REALLY well! Add on the fact that you aren't a native (which gives everyone else an advantage), and I would say you kicked ass over that Butthead who voted you off! Congrats big time! And the makeup probably won't look so overdone on camera - trust the professionals, no?

Posted by: stephanie at April 12, 2006 04:26 PM (DsS6B)

16 What? Helen is not your real name? That can not be. Well done.

Posted by: Broken at April 12, 2006 05:07 PM (wypb3)

17 Congrats on lucky seven! And Helen, we would never blow your cover. Ever.

Posted by: Dana at April 13, 2006 06:14 AM (mY0KN)

18 Round 7. Hot damn! I feel smarter just knowing you. ;-)

Posted by: Jim at April 13, 2006 09:17 AM (oqu5j)

19 No black or white, because lighting is hell with those extremes in play. No pastels because they're apt to look like nothing at all, again, lighting. No spots or checks because of this nasty little thing called a moiré effect, the sort of trippy motion you get from one pattern (the clothing) crossing another (the lines of the TV set.) No red because, for some reason, red shows up utterly awful on 95% of televisions. Take a look at your favorite TV shows. Chances are that not one character will be wearing red— and if they do, it's an accent color. I suspect the deal with cream is that it would only look like dirty white. I'm surprised they didn't mention pinstripes. Those things are evil. And did they put lavender or yellow under your eyes? Or green? TV makeup is weird. (I majored in broadcast studies, does it show?) Oh— and awesome for making it so far, It's a tough, tough game, especially when you don't have the culture osmosis to help you out.

Posted by: B. Durbin at April 14, 2006 01:43 AM (tie24)

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We had lost internet access from Wednesday on, and suddenly we find, today, that in our new home broadband is working. I would say that there is a god but I am still a hardcore agnostic, so instead I give you this: Coke would like to teach the world to sing, and it has worked with me.

The past two weeks have been, without question, the hardest work I have ever done in my life. Sleeping tabs have become a thing of the past as I don't really fall asleep, I pass clean out from the minute I hit the pillow. I once fell asleep standing up at the kitchen counter, I got your exhaustion baby.

But today we have the PC set up for the first time. We downloaded the pictures of the past few days and we can barely believe it ourselves. We are covered with cuts and bruises, some parts of our bodies are so sore we can't stand up, and sex didn't even occur to us until today, when we lay in the sunshine and made the best use of the light imaginable. The upstairs is done. The kitchen is (for now) done. We will rip out the kitchen and re-build it when we build on an extension, but we want to live in the place for a while to see what it is we want.

The before pictures amaze us.

Remember the kitchen?

Or the horrid guest room with the shag carpet?

This was the other guest room, with the dark green carpet and the terrible wallpaper.

But it wasn't as bad as our master bedroom, with the dark blue carpet and the 80's throwback wallpaper.

The house got worse before it got better.

Some days we were all too tired to go on.

And everything was covered with a fine layer of sawdust, as we exposed wood floors that haven't seen the light of day in decades.

And slowly it got there. The floors finished Thursday morning. The walls were stripped and re-plastered. Windows and skirting board re-painted.

We still hate the layout of the kitchen but we painted it to live with it. In the dark kitchen's place is a kitchen we think is full of character, with our Swedish street sign gracing the wall and reminding us of where we came from.

And then the walls were done. The horrible shag carpeting room has become the room Jeff will use when he stays with us. The closet doors still need to be painted, but above the window hangs the airplane we bought together in New Zealand, and the room is full of light.

And the guest room has become a room we can hardly recognize (this is not a great shot of it, but we need a wide-angle lens to get a great shot of it. All in good time.)

And our room has become a room that I completely adore.

Amazing what a new bed, new sheets, new lights, new wall paint, new floors, and a garden for a headboard can do for the soul.

The work is so far from done it's unbelievable. There is a study and a living room to do still, but Melissa and Jeff arrive tomorrow, so there will be a bit of peace in a home that we are all madly in love with.

-H.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 09:43 PM | Comments (32) | Add Comment
Post contains 570 words, total size 5 kb.

We are so close, we are nearly there with the upstairs bedrooms.

I am so tired, sore, depressed, stressed, and flat-out exhausted I could cry.

So I think I will.

-H.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 10:00 AM | Comments (9) | Add Comment
Post contains 35 words, total size 1 kb.

1 Some days a cry will do you good....

Posted by: Mitzi at April 05, 2006 11:37 AM (Vp6CN)

2 Well, thank you for posting anyway. I love how the time difference works to my advantage and no matter HOW EARLY I get into the office, I can always count on Helen to have a new post up. Take a bath, my dear.

Posted by: SaraJane at April 05, 2006 12:09 PM (t5Xsa)

3 A good cry + a hot bath may be in order. That is my prescription, anyway... Then, you can watch all your cares go down the drain. Hang in there! Dr. Serena

Posted by: Serena at April 05, 2006 12:25 PM (OX+n1)

4 Helen: You and Angus are amazing on the decorating/renovating front. I've been in my house for nearly two years and STILL haven't finished the bedrooms. Or anything else for that matter. Have a good cry, under a Lush bomb and have a hot bath. Almost there.

Posted by: karmajenn at April 05, 2006 12:37 PM (fx1A8)

5 ditto on the fact that sometimes a good cry is all we need. try to get some rest and hope you feel better soon. moving is really very stressful and tiring and emotional. like any other kind of change, for me it's always been a process...someting that had to run its course. try to keep your eye on the ball....and remember that we loves ya!

Posted by: wn at April 05, 2006 04:31 PM (Wk/Yw)

6 Sometimes a good hard cry is the only thing that will help. Hope you get it all done in good time, and are happy with it.

Posted by: Judy Carrino at April 05, 2006 06:06 PM (2+7OT)

7 Do indulge in a nice hot bath. With plenty of yummy bubbles and then I think a riotously funny movie would be a nice thing too. And don't forget the chocolate, too

Posted by: caltechgirl at April 05, 2006 10:40 PM (jOkK0)

8 Here's a hanky...go ahead and let it out.

Posted by: Marie at April 06, 2006 03:51 PM (PQxWr)

9 In those moments, tears seem to be the only thing that makes everything worth it in the end. Blood, sweat, and tears...the reward of a job well done, no??

Posted by: Dana at April 07, 2006 02:06 AM (EmSR+)

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So my birthday was lovely-great presents and then we spent the day sanding floors and painting, and then when we were done with that, we painted some more. And more. And after that, Angus packed us up for a fabulous meal at a fantastic place (the waiter didn't comment on the paint stuck on my collarbone. I was pleased as I couldn't get said paint off). Then we went back to the house and had a champagne-fueled shag.

The new house, that is.

We stayed our very first night in our new house the evening of my birthday.

Of course, we are doing what I call the "Mary Kay Letourneau Honeymoon Style", which is a mattress on the floor of the living room and two cats thinking they have found nirvana, but still. We are sleeping in our new home (we knew we had moved when the coffee pot went over. We are coffee whores, and where our coffee goes, so goeth we. Or us. Or whatever you say (I don't care, I'm fucking tired.)) When we blow our nose dust comes out, despite us wearing dust masks. It's just that much fun Chez Angus and Helen.

What were we talking about?

And now I have internet access for 1.21 jigawatts and to deliver one important message. Amy, over at Mogeno, sent me an email with a great idea she'd had. It was so great (and her design style so fabulous that Angus and I hate her just a little bit we are so infused with envy) that I wanted to see how you think about it. Amy suggested that we take a picture of Gorby, put it on a shirt, and sell them on the web with all proceeds going to the RSPCA, which is the animal rescue society which saved Mommy's Little Cupcake.

So that's what we're going to do. Amy's done the graphic and in the next week or two (once my hands have finished vibrating from the sanding) I will hunt up some T-shirts and a screening company and try to arrange this. So if you would like to help out, I can offer the following:

1) If you are a blogger and you buy one and post a pic, I will link to you and fawn over you and tell you how great you are because you are, indeed, a very good person.

2) If you are not a blogger and you buy a shirt, if you send me the pic I will post it and once again, dote on you for giving to the RSPCA.

3) If you buy one and want to be anonymous I will still adore you from afar.

4) You will be giving to the organization that saved Gorby and, in many small ways, help save me.

5) You will have the picture on your chest of a damn fine looking dog, if I do say so myself.

I haven't done any research yet, so I don't know all the details (like cost, but as I am not Paris Hilton and (hopefully) neither are you they won't cost the earth. I hope you're not Paris Hilton because I like making fun of her, and then it would go against the above points 1, 2, and 3.)

Just saying.

If you're interested, then leave a comment or if you click on the "contact" tab at the top of this website above, you will find a link to send me an email that says "Write me an email!" (Click on that and it will give you my email address, which is not the Yahoo! address. I have to hide the email address as the spammers? They are evil.) You can let me know that way if you'd prefer to remain in the fog of Lurkville.

It's for a good cause, I promise.

-H.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 07:12 PM | Comments (16) | Add Comment
Post contains 651 words, total size 3 kb.

1 I would love to have a shirt, but I would need to be able to send a check or money order, not buy with a credit card. Is that possible? Glad you had a good birthday and spent the first night at Blackberries!

Posted by: Judy Carrino at April 03, 2006 07:37 PM (2+7OT)

2 Judy-yup, I will see about payment methods, I think that should be fine

Posted by: Helen at April 03, 2006 07:41 PM (+oSRT)

3 That sounds like an excellent idea. Count me in for a shirt (though I don't have any pics of myself in computer form). I can always use a good dog shirt, especially for a good cause. We adopted our dog Maggie from the LASPCA and that was the best decision we ever made.

Posted by: kitty at April 03, 2006 07:52 PM (cyfSY)

4 Glad the birthday was good; WonderfulBoyfriend took me for a weekend trip to the Galveston coast for mine...Isn't is great having wonderful boyfriends??

Posted by: Mitzi at April 03, 2006 08:34 PM (Vp6CN)

5 I love it. Love it!

Posted by: caltechgirl at April 03, 2006 08:36 PM (/vgMZ)

6 Why not do one at Cafepress? Then, you can market Gorby from mugs, t-shirts, and whatever crazy paraphenalia you might think up.

Posted by: Just A Friendly Lurker at April 03, 2006 08:55 PM (eYLfN)

7 Hey you - I like the CafePress idea, too. Or if not, at least have available the girly-cut tee and the cami-shirt options! Because I like those. Because I am girly. And because Gorby is divine and gorgeous and I love him and I want to wear him.

Posted by: liv at April 03, 2006 10:14 PM (+Ao+X)

8 I will want a shirt too!

Posted by: Donna at April 04, 2006 12:19 AM (2r5TM)

9 Hey! i stumbled across the site and it was my birthday on the 3 of April! when is your birthday?

Posted by: Zya at April 04, 2006 07:00 AM (lVC6g)

10 That's a great idea, would I be able to get children's sizes as well? 'Cause then I could have a whole Gorby family!

Posted by: Gill at April 04, 2006 10:11 AM (TsRom)

11 I'm game for the t-shirt

Posted by: Jadewolff at April 04, 2006 12:53 PM (cH5GO)

12 happy birthday and would love your tshirt of gorby

Posted by: mei at April 04, 2006 03:02 PM (MkvJX)

13 I'd be game for a shirt.

Posted by: Scott at April 04, 2006 03:03 PM (rShyX)

14 happy birthday ! and would love a tshirt of gorby

Posted by: mei at April 04, 2006 03:04 PM (MkvJX)

15 I want one too! And I recommend CafePress as well-you could go nuts creating Gorby merchandise!

Posted by: Teresa at April 04, 2006 05:00 PM (zf0DB)

16 I would LOVE to help out. Unfortunately, I am stuck between a rock and a hard place between putting food on my table and having gas money to get to work. (My husband was injured at work and can't work...he was our primary source of income). How long will you be offering the shirts? Perhaps, in a few months (if surgery isn't required) and we are back on our feet, I can help out. Please, keep me posted!!

Posted by: Dana at April 07, 2006 02:04 AM (EmSR+)

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