On Handsome Is as Handsome Is:

So, I was still feeling sorry for myself and feeling sorry for Mountain Man. Because although men are not suppose to cry, there has been crying on both our parts on and off.

And finally I had to say, ‘Get thee gone and mope somewhere else for a time. I just can’t take your crying feeding mine.’

Now the house was feeling quite large and lonely without Lady Long. No longer were we greeted when we came in the room. Sir Laidback does not do this and never has.

With Mountain Man gone the house is even more large and lonely for me. I’m wishing that he would come back soon, wet eyes and all.

The day marched on. And on. And on. I waited for his return.

The day was getting older and he was still gone.

Finally the car came up the drive and Mountain Man had returned. But he didn’t come into the house. What was he doing out there for so long, you ask?

He was walking the new puppy. Sir Handsome. He is 4 months old and cute as a button. A Chiweenie. Mom a long haired Dachshund and Dad a long haired Chihuahua.

Loving, happy and inquisitive. Mountain Man gave me him and his little bed, a crate for night time, toys, food, harness and leash.

Sir Handsome gave me so much loving he wore himself out. Couldn’t you just eat him up he is so cute and sweet?














Mountain Man gets some handsome prince points too.

On Got a Little Lost Filling a Hole:

Well, I’ve been looking at puppies. Mostly on the web.

I doesn’t matter what kind they are. Any puppy will do. I’m not quite ready to bring one home just yet. But it does my heart good just to look.

I did discover a kind of dog new to me. A Chiweenie. It is a Chihuahua/Dachshund mix. Kind of like a mini, mini dachshund. (Of course there are some that are more Chihuahua, but I’ve found them to be more rare so far.)

Anyway, here is a video for your pleasure too.

On Pet Connections:

First I’d like to say thank you for all those kind words over the loss of my long time dog friend. It really means a lot to me.

I do have more I need to say about my connections with Lady Long.

I think that this one is harder for me, mostly because she was the last pet we had that was still alive before my son died.

I have memories of the two of them playing on the floor, he a large man child and she a wee puppy. She would win the day, mostly because the uncontrollable laughter she created in him. I would remember that when I’d look at her many times over the years. And now that connection too is gone.

They are only dogs, pets, playthings, you say? Hardly! Is my reply.

They are roots to ground us, laughter to lighten us, repetition to mellow us, love to carry us, faithful to sooth us, mates to fill our souls.

Sure it takes time to walk them, money to feed and keep them healthy, and energy to clean up after them. But what they give to us is so much more than we give them.

If you have never had that with a pet, I feel as sorry for you as I am hurting at the loss of it right now. It is a wonderful thing.

It is why we hurt so much when they are gone. They leave a mighty hole in your life when they are no longer there.

But life does move on. I will feel better as the days move forward. I may even get another pet. But there will always be a piece of my heart only for my Lady Long.

PS: I’ll try to be in a lighter mood tomorrow.

On Long Sad Days:

Lady Long is no more.

It was hard these last few days as she got sicker and sicker with nothing we could do but try to keep her comfortable. She was 13 and a half years old.

Lady Long had been such a good little princess. No more then a little handful in size when she got here. She was also my willing worker, as she single handedly eliminated all snakes, small or large, that came anywhere near the house.

Her real name was Nelly Long-belly, a fitting name for a dachshund. And she was a dear friend of a dog. She had a good attitude, no matter what happened, all of her days.

But her time came to an end. She breathed her last and we laid her to rest close to her long time friend, our past dog Lady Short or Abby as she was known to us.

Sir Laidback keeps looking for his nighttime companion. And although they were never what you would say friends, as he is a blind loner and doesn’t do much of anything but sleep, they cohabited together nicely.

She loved our walks in the woods and going to the mailbox and back each day until she could no longer walk.

She liked to help out in the garden, although she was allergic to the pumpkin patch. She killed the garden varmints with abandon each year, proud of her accomplishments. And I never had to worry about any rodents that got into the house. She would have them taken care of in short order, usually before I was even aware that they had gotten in.

Lady Long was my evening cuddle buddy as I watched TV or read in bed. She loved our special time in the big bed each evening. I will miss that most of all.

Goodbye my dear little friend. You are missed.

On Reality, TV and Goth:

As you know, if you’ve been reading my blog for some time now, I am against ‘Reality TV’. We all know that they practice creative editing to make things look one way when in fact it was not that way at all. So I just don’t watch it or much TV since that is a large part of the viewing out there.

But there is one thing that will make my break this fast and hard rule of ‘No Reality TV’ I’ve set down for myself. Goth!

I can’t get enough of Kent and Vyxsin on ‘The Amazing Race‘.

Like the first season that they were on, as soon as they were/are removed I will drop the show like a hot potato. I really don’t care who wins, I just want to see ‘my’ Goths for as long as I can.

I watch on Sunday nights and then again on Monday mornings on the web to catch the parts I missed the first time around.

I live in a Goth poor area and other Goths in my age group are nonexistent. So any little glimpse of Gothiness warms my Gothy cold dark heart.

Tuesdays, of course, is my Abby Sciuto fix for fictional perky Goth. But knowing that she isn’t really a Goth, but just plays one on TV, doesn’t fill the need despite that I love the character.

If I could I’d live near another Elder Goth. We could have a friendship different then that of my other friends. I could be me, with no eye rolling or the “Can‘t you look like us just for once.” comments.

Some days I’m tired of being the only one in the crowd. I hate all the dressing down I do. I hate having no one to drool over my Victorian Mourning dresses. I hate no one to share tips and accessories with to expand my and their wardrobe.

Being a lone Goth is not something I chose for myself. It has been with me for most of my life. So you would think I’d be used to it by now.

But every spring I hope to see another Gothy person emerge from winter entombment out and about in the grocery or department store. Even my local magazine stands stopped carrying Gothic Beauty magazine for lack of buyers. So now I must get it in the mail and loose the hope of finding another Goth picking up the magazine when it came out each month like I did. Even if they were quite a bit younger, at least I’d know that they would be out there.

I just one old Goth calling out in the night. ‘Friend or Foe?’

On A Picture Talking:

A picture is said to say a thousand words. How about two?

Well this is what we woke to. Eight inches and it is snowing once again.

On Never Ending Winter or ‘Time for Spring I Say‘:

Not that I‘m complaining, because I’m not. I’m not a summer person. If I ever have to move, it will be north not south.

Mountain Man does not like this year of the never ending Winter. He can’t wait to see green things growing and play outside all day again.

We had Spring for a day on Spring the first. And woke to inches of white stuff on every outdoor surface the next morning.

Today wet and tomorrow more snow of the plow-able kind.

I refer you to the cartoon that we watch ever year on the first of Spring. I hope it helps you through the days until Spring is finally here for good.

(It might be cut off on the side in my blog so if it is just click on it and you will go to YouTube and see the whole thing.)

On Emotional Hair:

Well with Spring right around the corner, I decided to get my hair trimmed.

This sounds like a simple statement. But considering the hair loss from the cancer and the fact that I’ve had long hair most all my life, it was a kind of a big thing for me.

Now don’t get me wrong, I loved my bald head. It was sensual and exciting. But at the same time I was sick and miserable. It didn’t have the fun factor at the time I needed to keep it that way.

So I waited it out. All through the odd and awkward stages of hair growth, not a trim did it get.

I was going for length here. And I got it. All the way to my butt. But once there it was weak and scraggily at the ends.

For the first year or so of the long hair it was curly enough to hide that fact but as my hair thinned out this past winter (Summer is my hair growing time of year.) I felt that it was time to clean it up and make it look nicer.

I don’t go to the hair dressers, partly because I’m frugal and partly because they always cut off far more than I want cut. (What is with their need to cut long hair off?)

And so out came the scissors. Mountain Man kindly assisted as my guide and hands at different parts of this story. (I would not see my daughter before I wanted this done, so I went with hubby who had helped me cut off my hair just before the chemo took it.)

No Matter how or who was cutting, it just didn’t hang strait.

So in the end the hair that was down to my butt is now only just below the shoulders. The trim turned into a cut, and most of my curly post cancer hair is gone.

I’m now still trying to get used to it. My long braid I was used to sleeping with is gone. A short stumpy one in its place.

It is not so short that I can’t still put it up. But the piles of hair are no longer there to play with and style. I’ve wanted to cry since the day we did the deed.

I know it will grow back, given time, but I’m emotionally attached to my hair.

On Inching Myself Back:

I had to just get away for a while. I was spending way too much time watching that what was going on in Japan. And feeling so inadequate for not being able to help more.

I needed perspective.

I took long walks in the newly wakening woods. I didn’t even take my camera. Just me, the powers that be, and nature. I needed to get my thankfulness back, too.

The crocuses are starting to push their heads up through the softer places in the still frozen earth.

Fresh air came into my lungs, revitalizing me.

It was slow going picking my way through the frozen leaves and underbrush, but that was all for the better.

More time to think, more time to breath, more time to find my way back to my place in this world.

I’m still hurting for the people of Japan, and doing what I can in my small ways. But it is enough for now.

On Earth Shaking:

I like so many other have been mesmerized for days by the earthquake in Japan.

Morbidly, my mind reels with the many ways a body can die at such a time.

The loss to us all in just creativity and history of all those people has made the world a less fruitful place to live.

The fact that the Island Nation was moved eastward by about 8 inches in places and earth was shaken off its axis by a few inches is hard to comprehend.

It was just another push, pull and bump of the earths crust, moving as always toward its final resting place, once the earth has finished is cooling long after we are gone.

For days I couldn’t get near my computer without hunting for more info and hopes of miraculous rescues. My video games left forgotten and my TV reruns on hulu still waiting for my return.

I didn’t want to know how many people I was once chatting with on line would not be there any longer or that others had friends and or family missing. I didn’t want it to get that close. I hope for the best to all who have come into my sphere of my existence, no matter how briefly the space or time.

And then there is the ‘me’ factor. I’m safe here in Northeastern Pennsylvania right? These are older mountains I live on. Rounded and shortened by time. No, not so much. I’ve lied through and felt tremors from small insignificant earthquakes even here.

I hope and pray that all who have or are destined to die from this slip of the earths crust do so with little or no pain, discomfort or suffering and that those who live through it recover in as short a time as possible. I have little else I can offer at this time, and that hurts me too.

On So Sorry, All My Fault:

It’s the weather you see.

We just realized it is all my fault.

Back in November, Mountain Man and I were talking about the winters when we were kids. The good old day stuff all us oldies supposedly talk about endlessly.

Anyway I said to him that, “I’d like to see a winter like the kind I had back when I was in grade school.” And I really wished it to be true at that moment in time. (Who knew I had so much power?)

And so here we are. A long drawn out winter that won’t stop and can’t decide what to do with itself.

I didn’t really want to impose it on everyone along with me.

But the weather gods are fickle. They like to go all out and show what they are made of.

So I’ll say it again publicly, “I’m So Very Sorry! Its All My Fault. I should watch out for what I say in case the weather gods are listening. And I shall in future.”

Sincerely, Lady Euphoria

On Knight Wear:

First a joke: Which is heavier? A pound of feathers or a pound of rocks?

The chain mail is a pit heavier then you’d think despite being made of aluminum links. It’s a volume thing. The more of them the heavier it is. But not too heavy to wear for a few hours. The head does seem lighter when it is off though.

You’d have to be pretty strong to do a real suit of armor and be able to still fight. A younger persons game.

I should pull out my chain mail gauntlets, if I can find them in all the boxes of my older Goth stuff. They were a pain to put on because I linked them together on me. They didn’t have catches on them to get them on or off. I should redo them with tied up bits of ribbon or some such thing. You can’t lace them up because it pulls on the links wrong.

I love that Miss Mousie from Knotty Mouse has a chainmail top. Sorry no picture here or there. (I’m sure it can be brought back up to its former glory with a little help.) That is how I got started making my own. I helped fix someone else’s chainmail at a fair once.

I’d love to have more chainmail clothing. Like a top or two, one waist length with no sleeves and the other long with long sleeves. But that would have to wait until I have more money and time. And maybe less of me to have to get around.

(For those that haven’t heard that old joke before.) Answer: A pound is a pound. They weight the same. You only want to say rock because one rock is heavier then one feather.

On Knights and Days:

I took my own advice and pulled out an unfinished craft project.

(Sorry for the model quality. The picture of me in it didn’t come out good enough to see the Chainmail Headpiece well at all. It is an up ended bowl on top of a large, round box of oatmeal. And yes, that is my messy desk in the back ground.)

I started making myself this chainmail headpiece some time ago, but I ran out of black 12 gage wire, half way down the face. It sat in a draw undone for about six months.

Mountain Man combed the craft stores and bought me a bunch of the aluminum floral wire I was using for the job. (5 yard lengths, found in the floral section of craft stores. And it comes in other colors too.)

I still have some inches of collar length to go. But I couldn’t wait to show you. I think it is looking good so far.

My hands hurt from bending wire for so long at a stretch. I couldn’t stop making it.
















You take the wire and wrap it around a rod or dowel, the size you want the links to be.
















You cut the Curly-Q wire down one side of the coiled tube you made and you have links all the same size.

Open them up and link them closed on each other and together you have chainmail.

(There are a lot of good tutorials for making chainmail out there on both Youtube or written out, so I will spare you my teachings here.)

I’ll try to finish it off today or tomorrow depending on what Mountain Man has for me to do. I heard thoughts of a new jigsaw puzzle coming my way. It may have to wait.

On Rumors of My Death:

Rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated. Just a series of unfortunate and not so unfortunate events, my friends.

True, I have ‘not’ been on the web at all for over a week. And I’ve greatly missed the fun and friendship. Hearing all the news and interesting things out there and comments from readers and commenting on others writings.

Lets see what was going on here at Deathwatch manor.

There were things like the day without electricity (storm damage) and another few days of a gall bladder attack (chocolate induced) in that time. Also a melt down of my computer, Sims 3 related.

Other things were an unexpected visit from a distant relative and going to a great impromptu birthday party for a friend.

I am dubbing this year, at least for me, ‘The Year of the Physical Trials’.

I broke two toes cleaning out the chest freezer. Dropped a large freezer pack for the big cooler on my foot.

When I’m up and about again I’ll be in the market for a pair of steel tipped boots and a suit of armor. And lets see… mattressing for the floors and I’ll be cleaning out all snack foods from my house too, much to Mountain Man’s distress.

(Don’t you just hate seeing that bag of snack food from your chair and knowing that if you eat it, it could send you to the hospital?)

The weight loss this passed week has been almost nil. I didn’t eat much while I was ill, but I didn’t move much either. And then there was all the chocolate calories I ate at the party that helped start the gall bladder attack in the first place.

(Chocolate I love you, but we very much must part company. You have been an evil master and not treated me with the love and respect I deserve. I‘ll miss you, but I have better things to do in this life than deal with the troubles you bring me.)

So I’m back on the mending trail again. And I’ve made some new friends at the emergency room. I’m a repeat customer you see.