Friday, August 30, 2013


Swear, swear, swear! I had endured the embarrassing and painful colposcopy procedure (see posting on July 6th) only to learn that the results were inconclusive. As a result, I had to procure Misoprostol medication, Cytotec is used to “relax” the cervix. I had to insert two pills into my vagina 24 hours and 12 hours before the procedure. The pills are round so they are painful to jam in and its gross to have to use my finger. I wish it were available in a cream form, like what is used for yeast infection. The medication is also prescribed for abortions but no chance of that due to lack of sex. Oddly, the same drug is used orally to treat ulcers.

The pills gave me cramps, which Aspirin was enough to squelch. The same doctor performed the procedure and she apologized for the mistake made last time. She added a Para-cervical Block, which washes Lydocaine over the cervical area. It numbed up the region and I barely felt the poke. She was confident that it reduced my muscle tension along with the medication so that the sample was good. I sure as hell hope so. I never never never never never never never ever want to endure that procedure again!

I took Tramadol two hours before the procedure to numb the cramps in advance. The community clinic is within walking distance of work. I wasn’t too loopy at work. The medication had worn off in the afternoon so cramps were uncomfortable as I departed work. The pain became awful so I took another pill when I got home and fell asleep on the couch. Consumed one more pain murderer before bedtime so that I could sleep. Sadly, the Cytotec medication triggered my menstruation. I spent almost $130.00 at the community clinic, which raised my financial fears. I wish that the Sage Program covered the cost of the procedures, lab tests, and medications.

If you or someone you know needs to have a Colposcopy (cervical biopsy), make certain that a Para-Cervical Block with Lydocaine is included. It will reduce the tears. I had to wait over a week to get the results of the second test. Good news, the tiny sample did not indicate “abnormal cell growth” aka cancer. Bad news, because the sample was so small the doctor recommended that I endure an ultrasound and D & C procedure.

Really bad news, it costs a lot like $500, which I cannot afford. My highest priority is to pay my mortgage, monthly bills, and my auto needs brakes and tires. My cervix and uterus will have to wait until I get a better paying job. The doctor suspects polyps or fibrosis and that would lead to a hysterectomy. I absolutely cannot pay for that surgery. Getting older can really suck sometimes.

Buggery Bits
Copyright (c) 2013 by Ima B. Musing; All rights reserved.

Tuesday, August 27, 2013


Life is suffering, is a well-known concept. Alas, my friend Morton was in constant misery. He had a litany of illnesses and bad luck. Though he was constantly in pain he would smile, laugh, and crack jokes. He was at peace with his myriad afflictions and was truly graceful.

I grew up in a small town. We knew almost everyone or only had a degree or two of separation. My mom was acquainted with an older lady who had grandkids who would visit from the Cities. There were lots of kids in the family and they were called “hippies” because the boys had hair that was down to their collar and the girls wore fashionable clothes. During the 1970s that was a big deal. I got to know the younger kids, which included Morton. He was a few years older than me but friendly.

My family was at the local park for a church vacation bible school picnic. Morton and siblings were visiting his grandma. The curlicue was the funkiest slide. It was made of steel and well worn. Somehow, a small piece of the slide was pealed upwards on the interior of the slide, probably because it had been hit by a lawnmower.

I showed Morton how to take a handful of sand to sprinkle on the surface and sit on a little to reduce friction to slide faster. He loved it. However, one time he forgot to tilt to the right as he approached the bottom. He gashed is thigh on the bit of metal and began to bleed. He did cry or yell but began cursing because he liked the pants. Morton’s sister ran for his grandma and I got a tea towel from my mom to press on the wound. His grandma scooped him up and took him to the hospital for stitches. She washed the towel and returned it to my mom. She was a formidable woman and threatened to sue the city for hazardous playground equipment. The city fixed the slide and paid for Morton’s hospital bill and new pants.

Morton and I lost contact after his grandma died when I was in high school. About eight years ago I began attending a friend’s Game Night, which I have written about before in this blog. Morton was there with his hubby and we had to chat a couple times before recalling shared memories. It was odd and cool. Unfortunately, he had already suffered so much. Morton endured car accidents, being hit by a piece of a building, being in a coma, cancer, being paralyzed, and so much more. He had been married and had two kids.

Many Game Nights I would take him home because his partner wanted to stay and play. I was always worried that it would be the last time that I would see him. As I mentioned before, he was diagnosed with internal organ cancer. He was on a transplant list but was never well enough when one was available. Apparently he was stable until a few days before he died.

A couple weeks after Morton made the transition, his widower held a Celebration in a swanky hotel. It was a beautiful location and a good crowd attended. Morton had been cremated and wanted people to scatter his ashes far and wide. I procured two small boxes. I smudged, cried, and deposited his ashes with bone flakes in my flower garden, which he admired. I will take other to disperse in the small town park of our shared reminiscence on my next visit.

Several wedding receptions were also being held in the hotel. Towards the end of the evening a slightly drunk man wandered into our gathering. He made a beeline for me and propositioned me on the spot. I was rather shocked. I said no thank you but he persisted saying, “we can have some fun.” I responded, “This is a funeral memorial and I don’t like one-nighters.” He got the hint and departed. I was truly not in the mood. Sex with strangers can be dangerous and it is unfulfilling. I still have flea welts on my legs and the tail-end of my period, yuck. Morton would have laughed and laughed and told me to go for it. Perhaps I ought to have...

Fly high Mort!
Copyright (c) 2013 by Ima B. Musing; All rights reserved.

Sunday, August 25, 2013


Home improvement is good but it’s a bit creepy to have strangers crawling around the house. They see all you messes and its rather embarrassing. Due to my continued poverty, I qualified for the Heating Assistance Program to pay for part of my heating cost. I was then eligible for a visit from the Home Energy Squad to help with some minor insulation and installing florescent bulbs. A Home Energy Audit followed with a comprehensive examination of my home’s energy use. I was thrilled to qualify for more assistance with insulation.

The first step was to replace my twenty-year old hot water heater. The new unit is large, quiet and gray. I think I shall call it Ellie the Elephant because the exhaust pipe sticks out the foundation like an elephant trunk. In fact, I’d love to paint the pipe dark gray. I’d commission a head of an elephant created out of sheet metal and nailed to the side of my house. A bit closer to my dream of an art house!

The second step was installing an exhaust fan in the ceiling of the second floor bathroom. The workers had a heck of a time since there was no easy access to an electrical outlet. They had to jerry-rig a connection to the bathroom light, which is attached to the medicine cabinet. I had the foresight to empty the entire bathroom before they began but I didn’t expect them to pull out the cabinet from the wall. It took two days for them to figure out the proper connection because whomever installed the bathroom light did it wrong.

They added insulation to the slants in the roof since the house is a 1.75. The second floor intersects with the roof at about five feet and the energy audit showed very little insulation. I’ve had a horrid problem with ice dams in the valleys of the roof so I hope that this will help. Insulation was added to small roofs over the kitchen and bay window. They also fixed an exhaust fan in the kitchen.

Unnerving to hear all the drilling, cutting, pounding, and other sounds of the house being torn asunder and replaced with new parts. During the repairs I was healing from the fleabites and somehow twisted my left knee. It hurt and swelled up. My health insurance at work doesn’t start until the first of the month. Actually, I will probably be rejected due to “preexisting” conditions.

The cats were placed on the porch while the workers were in the house. I knew that Zozo would be traumatized by the noise and huddle behind the couch. I didn’t want to risk Tilly running outside. Zozo complained bitterly whenever I visited them on the porch. She would try to run into the house. I had to use the water sprayer to keep her at bay. I felt bad but its better that they are safe than in trouble.

After the contractors finished with insulation they had to do a blower door test. I had to move the cats into the bathroom with little notice. Tilly went okay but Zozo was upset. The test took about ten minutes and then I had to return the cats to the porch. Zozo freaked out and scratched me. I had to chase them onto the porch and wipe blood off from the wound on my chest. Not fun. The house is better insulated but I had to clean the dust and debris before letting the cats back into the house. The contractors deposited hand smudges on the walls and it was rather annoying.

Fix this ol’ house!
Copyright (c) 2013 by Ima B. Musing; All rights reserved.

Thursday, August 22, 2013


Learned on Facebook that a childhood friend had died of cancer. Morton had been ill with myriad illnesses for years and was on a transplant list. I had last seen him in November and he had the “gray” aura. We spoke about death. He was okay with making the transition but would miss his teenaged kids and hubby. I cried as I read the news at the computer. Morton was a terrific person. To reduce my malaise I spent time more with friends. Due to being out and about I didn’t notice until a couple days later that the fridge was 62 degrees. I lost a lot of food, had to spend time buying ice to salvage what I could, and arrange for another repairperson to fix the first person’s fuck up.

There was an odd Electro-Magnetic vibe in my garage for three days. My auto’s door opener and garage door opener remote would not work. Thankfully, the car battery was not drained and I could use the regular garage door switch to open and close the door. The car’s remote worked fine elsewhere but not at home. I had recently smudged the house and now I need to do the unattached garage and shed. Was it Morton???

Exhaustion threatened. I was sleeping at night (I’m happy to get 6 hours of sleep but its more like four). I kept falling asleep on the couch. I had trouble staying awake at work and doused myself with caffeine. There were lots of activities that I wanted to attend but I just could not drag myself out of the house. I really needed to mow the lawn. I was afraid that I’d fall over when I got done and have to crawl into the house. Thus, the grass grew as a result of the rain. I felt guilty for my sloth but my body demanded rest.

It was probably a combination of a stressful schedule and depression about Morton. His hubby is planning a celebration party and I will attend. It is always better to have a party than a sad ass funeral. During the two wild weeks, repair people came to my house five days. I’ll write about it later. Janice did apologize for not treating all her cats for fleas before she departed. Apparently the pests don’t bite her.

Seeing solice.
Copyright (c) 2013 by Ima B. Musing; All rights reserved.

Monday, August 19, 2013


Black specks leapt from leg to leg. Oh crap! The mosquitoes are thick this year but inside a house? My calves and feet were covered with leaping critters and now are laden with 100+ welts. Red, itchy and infected mounds of flesh. I am officially flea bitten. An acquaintance from my faith community, Janice, asked me to watch her four cats while she enjoyed a two-week trip. No problem, I like her cats and she would pay me a bit. Unfortunately, she permits two of the critters to venture outside and they brought back fleas before she departed.

On my way to work, I would drop by her house to give the cats food, fresh water, and scoop the poop. She was kind enough to offer her washing machine and I did a load every time that I visited. I then took the cleaned articles home to dry. I switched back and forth with her neighbor so I only had to visit every other day. After a few days the cats began to act lonely so I spent time with them. The result was fleabites. Fleas aren’t deadly but the bite itches for days and feels the worst at night. My lower legs look like they have the chicken pox or measles.

I gingerly searched Janice’s house for flea treatment paraphernalia but found none. I will have to watch my cats for signs of fleas. It only takes one pregnant female or a male and female and I am doomed. Janice only paid me $100 for the two weeks and all that money will probably be spent on fuel and flea treatment. I am totally pissed off that she didn’t bother to rid her house of fleas before she departed. She should have warned me that I could take them home to my cats. I would have bowed out of watching the cats because the cost is too high.

My week had already been hectic. Two friends from out of town are on their annual visit and each wanted to spend time with me. Hours increased at work, which is good, though it still isn’t enough money per hour to pay my bills. A repairperson came to add insulation to my freezer to reduce frost but he didn’t reconnect the fan. Went out with one of my friends, cried at the Dakota War 1862 exhibit at the History Center, got rained on (which was okay), and then my friend’s car got a flat tire at 10pm. Thankfully, his niece was kind enough to drive me home since I had to work the next morning.

To be continued…

Bit and bewildered.
Copyright (c) 2013 by Ima B. Musing; All rights reserved.

Friday, August 16, 2013


Did you know that Reading is the NUMBER ONE hobby/leisure time activity of adults in the Twin Cities? According to a survey commissioned by KARE 11 it is consistantly is ranked high, especially for busy females. Perhaps winter serves a purpose afterall!

How to Greet Strangers by Joyce Thompson Three and a Half Worms
Spiky humor and complicated faith, Santeria, are intertwined with an intelligent mystery. Confounding when the main character switches personas like a new pair of heels but very clever.

The Boy from Reactor 4 by Orest Stelmach Three Worms
Prologue unnecessary, it spoiled the thriller aspect of the book. Well-written complicated plot with a lot of adventure and violence.

Always Watching by Chevy Stevens Two and Half Worms
Psychiatric examination of the main character’s past. Well versed in mental health treatment but she would have been disciplined for violation of professional ethics. Some elements of the book were not logical. Ending was rather abrupt.

Deep Down by Deborah Coates Two Worms
Disjointed sketches of underdeveloped characters. A good story that jumps around but does not explain itself in a satisfactory manner.

A Call to Arms by William C. Hammond Two Worms
Historical fiction regarding the Tripoli-American war. Heavy on the nautical terms, thankfully there is a glossary available as a reference. Light on the story about the people involved. Did not resolve the fate of the Cutler family, which was a disappointment. Needs a map of the Barbary States.

Mix it up, read a new author!
Copyright © 2013 by Ima B. Musing; All rights reserved.

Tuesday, August 13, 2013


I hiss, flick tail, and purr
I am feline

Haiku Tabby
Copyright © 2013 by Ima B. Musing; All rights reserved

Saturday, August 10, 2013


Why pay for using fancy exercise equipment when you can get in shape at home? My washing machine broke and I don’t have money to replace it so I now wash clothes in the basement sink. I soak them for a day and do the whole splish-splash thing in the deep tub. Wash in the detergent, drain out the dirty water, rinse and slush, rinse and slosh, add some fabric softener when the water looks clear, stir, and drain. I squeeze out as much water as possible and hang up the drenched clothes to drip into the tub for a few hours. Sometimes I leave them overnight to dry a bit before depositing them into the clothes dryer.

Public laundromats really freak me out. I’ve found some really disgusting things in the washing machines and dryers. Another reason why I didn’t enjoy renting an apartment. Bed bugs are often found in laundromats and I don’t need that extra pain in the bum. Though it is a hassle, I’d rather wash my clothes at home rather then schlep them to the shared facilities. It is quite a workout. My arms, back and abdomen feel the repetitive movement for a couple days.

A friend took pity upon my situation and offered her washing machine for my sheets and towels. I was profoundly grateful and was thrilled to get my linens washed properly. I remember Grandma Daisy saying that the washing machine, refrigerator, and the dishwasher were the best inventions because they freed up so much time. I completely understand and agree.

No more stink.
Copyright © 2013 by Ima B. Musing; All rights reserved.

Thursday, August 8, 2013


Americans pride themselves on being individualistic nonconformists. No self-appointed hereditary leaders (aka royalty) can tell us what to do. Our ancestors rebelled against the Crown Heads of Europe to establish an elective Democracy. We have the freedom to think, say and do almost anything. We are the champions of our own destiny. Right? Ha-ha-ha!

Many citizens of the United States of America suffer from the delusion of individualism. Perhaps a few self-sufficient hermits reside in the countryside qualify but they are an exception. We are interdependent upon others for electricity, clean water, food, waste removal, security, and every other variable of life. Perhaps you can grow your own calories during the warm months. The remainder of the time you must rely upon farmers, processing facilities, and the distribution system.

We are all interconnected. What affects one person affects everyone else. It may not be readily apparent but the whole concept of six degrees of separation is actually a lot closer. Social media shortens the gap. I know that people from around the world read this blog, which boggles my mind. We may never speak in person but somehow my odd life affects the reader’s life. If only to make you smile or laugh for a moment, we are linked. I am honored when people “Friend” me on Facebook because then I can learn more about their lives and make a closer connection. I have a couple Facebook Friends who have a parent with Alzheimer’s. When they write about their sadness, I understand completely. I may never have the opportunity to meet them but we are united in our loss.

I grew up with the concept of “All My Relations.” My grandfather and Dakota (Native American) kin emphasized that we are inextricably joined together. Of course, you have blood-kin who share your DNA and concern extends to others in the neighborhood (your band) and community (the tribal nation). But it doesn’t end there. Relationships broaden to all the affiliated tribal nations and beyond to ALL. ALL as in every creature, plant, and everything seen and unseen.

ALL is sacred, ALL is linked. Every single molecule, atom, quark, and components smaller than the most powerful microscope can examine. Matter, dark matter, its ALL bonded. The connectedness is wider than the sky, beyond what our telescopes can view. Humans are just one type of animal but we are aware. We can wax philosophically. I am thrilled that CERN scientists are proving the All My Relations concept with the Higgs-Boson Particle. It is what many indigenous cultures have taught, long before any written language was created. We are one; one is all. We all have to care about each other and everything seen and unseen. Period. End of Discussion. What have you done to help All Your/Mine/Our Relations today?

ALL is we.
Copyright © 2013 by Ima B. Musing; All rights reserved.

Tuesday, August 6, 2013


Gaze out yon windowpane
Open to welcome the summer breeze
Squirrels leap from tree to tree
Birds flutter and tweep
The cat sighs as she sleeps
‘Tis good to sit on the porch
Its summer-time.

Sloth is Good.
Copyright © 2013 by Ima B. Musing; All rights reserved.

Sunday, August 4, 2013


75 degrees Fahrenheit, low dew-point/humidity, light breeze to blow away mosquitoes, partly-cloudy sky, half an inch of rain overnight so it smells of fresh ionized air. Mmm, the perfect summer day. I love to putter in the yard, take a shower and then sit on the porch with the cats. I sip a beverage and read a book while they dream or look out the window.

Owning a home can be a real pain in the buttocks. I hate shoveling, painting, and repairing broken items. I love gardening and sitting on the porch. My century-old+ home has character. It needs constant attention, such as painting but it isn’t bland. I can do what I choose, within budget and reason. Sadly, my budget has evaporated so I can only do repairs with the supplies on hand. So much is delayed by lack of income.

My friend Allie asked if I wanted to sell and I told her no. I still owe about $100 thousand dollars to the bank and the value of the house keeps being dropped by the County. Good for taxes but bad for resale value. $100K is a huge amount of money and I despite being in debt but I hate living in an apartment. I love having a garden and porch. It’s fun to entertain and sit in the backyard with friends. I like being able to play music loudly and knowing my neighbors. They are all friendly and we help each other.

I rarely knew my apartment neighbors. Some were loud and frightful. One lady who lived in the apartment above mine purposefully stomped around at night after I asked her to please observe the building’s quiet hours from 10pm-7am. I was in grad school and needed some quiet time. Another occasion someone brought in huge cockroaches when they moved into the building. Enormous, as in three inches long. I had to get my apartment fumigated. In a different building a dude who lived above me beat up his girlfriend so I called the cops. I had to meet the cops at the front door because I didn’t want him to hear me buzz them into the building. They arrested him and he gave notice. The caretaker complained to me since the man was a “good tenant.”

A bunch of teenagers decided that they didn’t like someone who lived in my building so they lit “McGiver Bombs” in the entryway. It caused a lot of smoke and damaged the tile floor but thankfully they did not include shrapnel or start a fire. After the third bomb I noticed a pattern and called the police. They stupidly sent a marked squad car to sit across the street. There was no bomb that night but the caretaker figured out who it was and spoke with the parents. I started a petition in the building and we lobbied the owner to install security buzzer system. The owners actually installed the buzzers and then used it as an excuse to increase the rent. Buggers!

No one has control over my cost of housing. I’d love to refinance at a rate below 5.875% but can’t afford it right now. My monthly payments increase due to insurance and tax rates. However, it is worth the money. Per square foot, it is cheaper than renting. Less stress in some ways and more in others but I find bliss on the porch. I do read inside during the winter, but its much more fun on the porch. I want to stay in my home until I am physically or mentally incapable.

Sweet is Home.
Copyright © 2013 by Ima B. Musing; All rights reserved.

Thursday, August 1, 2013


My friend’s daughter, Matilda, begged me to read the Hunger Games series authored by Suzanne Collins so that we would have something new to discuss. I obliged and consumed the books in quick succession, pun intended. Matilda and I had a terrific conversation and she agreed with my rankings. Spoiler alert: characters and plotline will be discussed.

The Hunger Games (first book) Three Worms
Catching Fire (second book) Two and a Half Worms
Mocking Jay (third book) Three and a Half Worms

Of course, the overall review begins with the first book. It covered the material that I already knew from chatter about the movie, which I have not viewed. The main character, Katniss, is filled with internal angst amplified by the horrendous situations that she must face. The storyline is morbid but sadly somewhat plausible. The second book is a bit more hurried. The internal workings of the other characters was lacking. Katniss’ whining and endless physical ailments become rather tedious. The plotline of the final book is foreshadowed so the conclusion is easily anticipated. Katniss would have worn the special suit under her military uniform for the final venture, though.

The series offers a good exploration of the psychological repercussions of war and violence. The final chapters were rushed but show that trauma runs deeply and never truly fades. The three books should have been expanded by at least one more to expose the internal turmoil and make a stronger connection with the second-string characters. However, it the writing is solid with few errors and the series does merit reading.

Battle Royale by Koushun Takami Three worms (Reviewed in 2012)
Disturbingly violent twist on a survival story. Intensely violent with minimal character development. Don’t read if you are prone to nightmares. [Translated]

Ban children warriors.
Copyright © 2013 by Ima B. Musing; All rights reserved.