This will mark how many Sundays that I haven’t gone to church? Who could count. I stopped going to church a million years ago, have visited a few times because of weddings and funerals, but overall, church is not a thing for me. I do believe in God. I just believe that God is with me all the time and in the elements around me and I don’t need to go to church to prove to someone that I believe in God. One could argue that in church, one receives comfort and a sense of belonging with like-minded people. I say good for them. There’s nothing wrong with going to church, just like there’s nothing wrong with being married, you just have to want to be there. I don’t.
On the thought of God and the elements around me, I went for a walk yesterday with Amy, my next door neighbor, and we went again this a.m. We met at 7 and strolled down the block…so to speak…what would you call them anymore. Blocks ain’t like they used to be. I always appreciate getting out into the air and looking at the earth, the trees, the mountains, the animals, and of course, listening to the fucking dogs. It’s a given. But the route we took today wasn’t as dog noisy as the route we took yesterday.
So my Sunday started off with me, communing with God in my own way, visiting with Amy, and the beginning was perfect. I then viciously poured pest killer on a infestation of big black ants across the road, and put a stovepipe type of chicken wire around two of the catsclaw vines that are climbing up my block wall. So I’m a mass murderer and a helper on Sunday too…interesting that I have so many faces – and those are only a few.
The catsclaw vines are a study in themselves. There are three. Two of them have been hanging and windblown (which is quite often), swaying with the winds that try to rip them from their base, in a makeshift string of plant tying plastic that I tied around them and then nailed to the block wall, hoping they would vine up it. Nah. Hence the chicken wire chimney. The other one started at the ground, ran over to the block wall, and climbed up it, firmly attached all the way, and is quite a little remarkable thing of beauty.
The rabbits still line up to dine on the pampas grass at different points during the day. They were out this morning in the yard. There are blades that stick through the chickenwire that the rabbits can reach, and they do. I stood completely still in the yard the other day and one came right by me, stopping at different points to sniff and look around, the wind was blowing toward him and it surprised me that he wouldn’t pick up something and go the other way, but he didn’t, he passed within six feet of me. If Riot had been here, the rabbit would’ve been gone in a heartbeat because Riot still believes he will ‘catch that rabbit.’
Speaking of Riot, haven’t seen him now since I left him after he spit on me. Sad…not the spit.
Back to the subject of lies. Text messages are wonderful since you always have proof, if you do in fact want to prove to the liar that they are a liar which they would find a lie to get out how they got there.
On last Monday – Moi: Coming into town tomorrow, can I pick up Riot since he’s not in school anyway?
Liar: We’re going to the lake, how about Friday?
Liar: I’ll bring him out to you.
Moi: Not sure, will have to get back to you.
On Friday, several texts and a phone call leaving a message asking about Riot coming to visit.
Liar: He’s in Utah with friends. I had my surgery.
The surgery is supposedly a complete hysterectomy.
Moi: WOW! Thought you were going to the lake. How are you feeling?
Liar: In pain.
Liar: I didn’t want ‘so-n-so’ to know about the surgery because they tell everything to ‘so-n-so.’
My next text was about taking it easy and getting better everyday.
Liar: thank you.
Liar: I’ll have Riot call you when he gets in tonight or tomorrow.
No call. But who expected anything any different? Certainly not me.
Saturday Liar was out giving a massage and Riot was with someone completely different than was stated in the Utah text. What an amazing fucking recovery. Perhaps God did a miraculous healing on Liar. Surgery? Yeah, right! Who didn’t know it was a lie from the beginning? For a variety of reasons…one is no insurance, the other is no money. Gotta love a liar…I guess…I don’t but perhaps since it’s Sunday, I should just dig deeper into my heart and rip out the piece that would like to believe Liar but just can’t get there.
*****
Subject change to poker.
Today is the WBCOOP tournament hosted by PokerStars. All the bloggers that participated in the 2008 WBCOOP were invited to the freeroll which awards a $109 ticket to a WCOOP event. 1st-18th win a ticket and right now there are 337 players registered. It begins in about an hour.
I played two tournaments on Full Tilt Poker yesterday, placed in the money in one and really thought I was going to place in a $24+2 $4 bounty. I did knock out 2 players and got back $8 off the buy-in. I picked up Aces…dah..ta-dah-dah…take it nines. I went busto. I haven’t played on Full Tilt in some time and it took a big download to update the software. I have to say I like the new game play much better than the old.
So…Sunday…a little poker, a little kick back, a trip into town to restock on soy milk and wunnerful stuff for smoothies and such. Just little ol grannie, living the good life in the desert, one day at a time.