Several years ago, a good [online] friend of mine encouraged me to go back to school to get my Divinity Degree, which I did. And I did it all on student loans — and a few grants. I had no clue how I was going to pay it back when the time came, but my friend encouraged me to just do it. So I did.
And I loved just about every minute of earning that degree (and I still intend to start my own para ministry just as soon as I can start focusing on something besides keeping this lofty roof over my head…)
Well, over the weekend, that time came to start paying back my student loans, and guess what happened, gang? Yes! They forgave all $37,000 worth of loans that I owed! That’s right! I don’t owe anything! What a miracle! (It had something to do with my advancing age, my receding income, high overhead, tax returns, and GPA…) (And also probably because I got a degree in something that you really can’t earn much of a living at without becoming a televangelist. Haha)
Anyway, yes, a miracle.
And now all I need is another one! My roof has sprung yet another leak and this one is leaking right over my bed. I desperately need a new roof and have nothing at all that resembles the money to pay for it
Several weeks ago, I made up my mind, yet again, to put my house on the market, just sell it as-is to one of the many, MANY house flippers who are always contacting me, and try to find a cheaper way to live… but a real estate agent came to look at the house and encouraged me to get it refinanced first. So I am in the process of doing that but it’s taking a while. (Forever, it feels like, as my roof develops more and more holes.)
Still, I am hopeful. I never, in a million years, expected that miracle re: my student loans. So you never know, gang. I might just get a new roof. I’ll keep you posted!
Meanwhile, have a terrific Friday, wherever you are and whatever you’re doing! Thanks for visiting. See ya!
You may recall that I recently wrote a post about my art project — a “Chore Chart” I made for my cats (see somewhere below) in order to get help with the housework around here and about how poorly the cats were doing with keeping up their ends of things.
Finally, it all came to a head the other day, when I unhappily discovered that all my cats had fleas and all the housework had to be done, by me, alone, posthaste. Yes. Cats that never go outdoors; cats living in a house that has had the central AC on all summer long; a house that sits on a property that has had professional lawn care (including certain insecticides) all summer long. And still all 10 cats had fleas.
8 of the 10 cats are either feral or semi-feral rescues that no human being on earth can touch because they are terrified of people touching them, including me, so they require oral, tuna-flavored, meds that I have to buy in bulk from out of state. Luckily they arrived within 2 days.
Friends tried to comfort me in all this by assuring me that it wasn’t somehow “my fault” and that “fleas are really bad this year,” but it didn’t make the chore of getting rid of the fleas any easier. It took about 4 1/2 hours to launder all the various bed linens, furniture throws, throw rugs, etc.; then vacuum everything, wash down the floor, and then spray everything with Knockout flea spray. (Oh, the things you learn while eternally fostering a feral cat colony in your home. It used to take me several months to get rid of fleas, now it takes me about a quarter of a day…)
When I was finally done, and after I’d taken my shower and collapsed on the bed, ready to get lost in a terrific Erle Stanley GardnerPerry Mason mystery that I’d gotten from the library, my little cat, Fluffy, the one who has cancer, promptly had a stroke right there next to me on the bed.
The immediate after-effects of the stroke lasted nearly 2 hours and required two more loads of laundry from all the projectile vomiting and temporary loss of bladder control (hers, not mine) and then she settled down into a very deep sleep.
However, in the middle of the night, for two nights running, she woke up with a burst of energy and was doing weird things around the bedroom that she hadn’t had the energy to do for several months and it kept me from getting any decent sleep. At every weird sound she made, or every unexpected thing she collided with and knocked over in the dark, I kept lurching awake, saying, “Oh my God, Fluffy, why are you doing that?” as if her little bewildered self needed to explain to me that she’d very recently had a stroke and was also dying from cancer.
She has since settled way down and is somewhat “back to normal,” all things considered.
Then, yesterday, it was my turn to crash. I didn’t wake-up until 9 a.m. — I am usually up by 5 a.m. Twelve hours of sleep. And I was still exhausted. So, unexpectedly (and rather happily, as it turned out) I stayed in bed all day, read my library book in its entirety — The Case of the Stepdaughter’s Secret-– and even began re-watching a series of Midsomer Murder DVDs. I watched 3 of them — a total of 6 hours’ worth of Midsomer Murders in one lovely, rainy summer day. I’d been wanting to re-watch them because I’d recently read Caroline Graham‘s terrific mystery that launched the Midsomer Murders TV series, The Killings at Badger’s Drift.
So it was a day full of mysteries on every front — and I found myself making all kinds of notes for The Miracle Cats series, the series I’m writing with my friend, Val, in Brooklyn. (Sadly, her dad passed away over the weekend after a really long illness, so our series has been on hiatus.) As well as notes for my current novel-in-progress, The Tea Cozy Murder Club: A Murder at Parsons Ridge.
I also managed to eat an entire 14 ounce container of Häagen-DazsChocolate Peanut Butter ice cream. All by myself. While spending an entire day in bed.
I have to tell you, gang, it was not the worst way to spend 24 hours! I had a blast. And thanks to the flea infestation, I had an extraordinarily clean house to waste all that time in. I couldn’t have asked for a more delightful day.
Time to find out what song I am playing OVER & OVER & OVER again on the CD player in my 2001 Mercury Sable LS Premium as I drive all over town with all four windows down, the breeze blowing in like crazy because I have no AC in my car….
You are certifiably CRAZY if you are not listening to the same song, gang!!
I regale you with this amazing song here. Have a great day, wherever you are and with whatever you’re driving around listening to (if you’re foolish enough to not be listening to this, that is)! Thanks for visiting! See ya!
First and foremost, I have made a chore chart for everyone who lives here and I’ve posted it prominently in the kitchen! I’m trying to get everyone to take on their fair share of the cleaning duties around here because I do not have enough time to do everything. So I’ve made the kind of chart where you give each person a little colored foil sticky star that indicates how they are doing as far as accomplishing their chores goes. You know, sort of like this:
Chore Chart
Then I stick a little star in the “day of the week” column. Gold, of course, means “excellent”. Silver means “showing improvement”. Green means “needs improvement”. Blue means “lacking initiative”. Red means “poor”.
YES, I do realize that everyone who lives here, besides me, is a cat! But that shouldn’t be an excuse for getting a free ride! So far, Fluffy, who, albeit is dying from cancer, has the difficult chore of “sleeping at all times” and she, even in her poor, fragile condition, is the ONLY ONE who consistently gets a gold star. EVERYONE ELSE hovers in the “lacking initiative” and “needs improvement” zones…
When I try to point this out to them, they insist on regarding me blankly. Some even have the audacity to look at me and then glance at the fridge, as if treats might be coming! (Have you ever known “lacking initiative” or “needs improvement” to equal treats?? I have not.)
I am NOT KIDDING about the chore chart, however, it is only an art project I made for myself in order to remember to laugh when I look around at the regrettable state of the house. No one (me) is dusting. No one (me) has washed the kitchen floor in several weeks. No one (me, again, as it turns out) has vacuumed in about 10 days. I’m actually up to my eyeballs in writing projects, so that is a really happy thing. Still, I stress when the housework doesn’t get done.
But, on that merry note — the actress in NYC (the one I’ve been working with on the original one-woman musical) came back from the pitch in Toronto with excellent news. The response to the project was incredibly great, so we are almost to the final draft that will be shopped to theatrical producers, etc. It is so exciting. She’s been working on this musical (she wrote the play and all the songs — it is about her staggeringly unexpected life) for about 5 or 6 years. And I’ve been working with her (editing, advising, tweaking) (not implying any use of meth amphetamines when I say “tweaking”) for about 3 years now. But it is a really great show, gang, and I know it is going to get funded.
Anyway, so that is getting ready to go into high gear, while I am also in the throes of writing The Tea Cozy Murder Club: A Murder at Parsons Ridge, the novel.
Remember how — many, many posts ago — I proposed the idea of writing 5 pages a day on the novel in order to have it done by Labor Day? Yeah, well….
I’m trying. It’s now looking more like late September. (Assuming that on your calendar, “late September” actually means October… hahaha.)
It has been a rough summer, gang. An expensive summer. An “every time I turn around, a week has disappeared, where is the time flying to?” summer. Hence, the chore chart, to remember to keep my sense of humor.
All right. Well, it’s a lovely, sunny, ungodly humid, hot Saturday here, gang! Luckily, the central AC is kicking butt this year!! Yay!! My house stays at an always-comfortable 72 degrees!! I’m going to get crackin’ on the novel. (Okay, I’m going to go down to the kitchen and get another cup of coffee, then get crackin’ on the novel.)
Have a great day, wherever you are and whatever you get crackin’ on in your neck of the woods!! Thanks for visiting. See ya!
Me, getting crackin’ on the novel! I know, it looks suspiciously like me “tinkering” in the previous post. Trust me, there are shades of nuance when I’m getting crackin’ and when I’m tinkering.
In my obsession with cats, both hither and yon, I neglected to post here that the much anticipated meeting in L.A. to pitch my TV script/series, The Tea Cozy Murder Club: A Murder At Parsons Ridge, had been re-scheduled for this past Thursday (7/28) and the meeting went SPLENDIDLY!
You may recall that the producer (who is agenting the script for me) (you’ll note that the word “agent” is not only a lowly noun, but also becomes a highly active action verb, simply by adding “ing”) had injured himself pretty badly while working out in the gym a while back, and so the first meeting had to be postponed.
However, as I just said, the meeting was re-scheduled and it went great and so I am sending the script off in the mail on Monday!!
Yippee ki yi yay! (part 1 — the” part 2″ part comes when the production company gets the script, reads it, and swoons, “WE LOVE IT!!”) (“swoon” being not only an action verb, but also a type of speech when used incorrectly in a sentence!)
Okay, gang! I’m off to tinker with my show bible, before sending it along with the script on Monday morning. Have a wonderful Saturday! Thanks for visiting, see ya!
The SCPA International sent out an urgent request last night for donations to help rescue 70 homeless cats living around the Rio airport in Brazil.
In preparation for the upcoming Olympics, authorities in Rio are putting out poisoned food for these cats, in an effort to kill them. Two are already confirmed dead from the poisoning.
The SPCA is trying to stop this cruelty and to rescue the remaining cats.
You can donate here. I donated through the link to Paypal at the top of the page, because I couldn’t get the form to work last night. But it might be working now. Either way, you can easily donate online.
Loyal readers of this lofty-though-sporadic blog will no doubt recall that I acquired a new used car recently. It was supposed to be an interim car, pending the settlement of a car accident, however, I wound up falling in love with my interim car and now I am hoping to keep it for all time!
Yes, it’s that 2001 sparkling silver Mercury Sable LS Premium sedan! I paid $950 cash for it. The first — though somewhat lowly — miracle was that in the car’s ashtray, I found $1 in loose change. I guess that was a rebate of sorts, so I really only paid $949 for it!
In all seriousness, though, gang, I really, really, REALLY love this car.
It has a 3.0 L DOHC Duratec 30 V6 engine — 200 horsepower. The same engine used in the Jaguar S series that year. The car is fast, gang. I can get to Kroger, to Sur La Table, and to the ATM in nanoseconds!
And yesterday, I discovered that the strange plastic thing attached to the inside of my (really, really spacious) trunk, the plastic thing that has a Compact Disk logo on it that befuddled me because, as far as I could tell, I could only play the radio or cassette tapes in my car, even though it had all the indications that it could play CDs…
Anyway, I finally discovered that the plastic attached thingie in the spacious trunk is, in fact, a 6-CD changer! OMG!! I immediately ran into the house, grabbed 6 CDs, loaded the thing, got into my car and hit the CD button, cranked the volume and, WOW, the car has an awesome sound system, gang! I was so overjoyed!!
I sat in my car, in the garage, all the windows up, the doors closed, and I punched the “shuffle” button, and what to my wondering ears should explode into the speakers, but Tom Jones, singing the Green, Green Grass of Home.
I was overwhelmed by the surround-sound-ness of it!
I was instantly transported to a better time, a better place! Think: Cleveland, 1960s, gang. When I was just a wee bonny lass, unaware that life was going to go on and on and mostly suck!
If you have never heard Tom Jones’ original version of this song, I regale you with it here! Maybe listen to it with headphones on, with the volume cranked so that you can sort of experience what life is now like in my amazing car! Oh, and, while listening, imagine you are a wee bonny lass in Cleveland, Ohio, that it’s still the 1960s, and you are unaware that life is going to go on and on and mostly suck!
Fluffy surprised me yesterday evening by getting out of bed all by herself, walking across the room and sitting happily by Lucy’s food bowl! I came in from the kitchen and found her, unexpectedly sitting there, very alert. I was so thrilled.
Fluffy, out of bed by herself!
PS, gang: She also got back up onto the bed, by herself. And that is usually the harder part for her. She’s been having a few good days & nights in row.
Marilyn's Room 