Smokey Mountain Breakdown

Well, I've been trying today to de-Babe-ify the house. Since Baby couldn't be neutered due to his heart condition and was 15 when he came here... and, well, sort of senile...okay, really senile…he had no problems hiking his leg indoors. Actually, he would spend an entire day sunning himself outside and come inside to pee. Anyway, I’ve spent the last three years following him around with a mop and bleach. So, I went and got a really powerful enzymatic urine neutralizer and a black light to attack the house, now that the little old guy is watering those hardwood floors in the sky.

I was sort of afraid the first time I turned the lights off and turned the black light on. I was afraid that I’d be in one of those horrific CSI scenes where they turn the lights off and the entire room glows. Luckily, the bleach I’d been using made it so the floors didn’t glow. But I did find some interesting places on the walls. I really didn’t think he could aim that high.

I also took some time to do some cleanup on the blog template. It’s hopefully a little easier to read. I’m constantly having my content ripped off by sploggers and I decided it was time to start reporting the thieving bastards. So, the new button on the sidebar is there for them. If you are on my blogroll and I know you…we are cool just as we have been going. But if I don’t know you…or don’t like you…it’s not okay.

I don’t keep Creative Commons licenses on my site because they don’t seem to have anything that means…”It’s mine, mine, mine, all mine.” Really, I’ve had to live very close to the edge my entire life, I’ve died and been brought back, I’ve literally had my chest open to the heart for weeks, I’ve lived in poverty for the most part and all of this, and so much more, is why I can write the way that I do. It comes from pain. It’s my written expression of the blues.

When you steal my work it makes me mad on so many levels. There’s a reason they call it a “violation”. Don't be a rapist.

At least mostly today is.

I collect vintage toys and antique dolls...and McCoy Cookie Jars. Dreadful dust collectors the lot of them. My favorite toy is a rustic hand-made wooden replica of Fireball Roberts' racing car. Anyway, it's a huge chore to take each of these things down and clean them. It must be done very carefully. They live in high places.

My favorite doll is my 1880's German doll. She's the size of a three year old child and sits in a high chair on the chiffarobe. She has to be high up because she scares the dogs.



Anyway...I'm at that scary point where I've created more mess during the cleaning than I had to begin with.

I'm weeding through some things. I think it may be time to say bye-bye to the Little Miss Creepy Doll.

But I do still love my composite black baby. And big white composite baby still has a place of honor. But yeah....Little Miss Creepy should probably go. Just keep the 1930's and previous ones.

Gotta get back to it.




Itunes to clean to....