Another brick in the wall~

It got started with a simple foundation

The groundwork began

Bricks were laid one by one

Side by side

Built up from the ground

By hand, with no plan

It was to be a mighty wall

Time stood still

Some bricks fell

Work resumed on the wall

Bricks were laid one by one

Side by side

The pattern repeated itself

The wall just kept on growing

If you stood on either side

Your view was solid ~ wall

To this day, the wall grows

It is reinforced with a steel will

New plans for the wall

Where there were none before

It will make it stronger

Bricks won’t fall one by one

They will remain, side by side

It’ll protect what it houses

A fortress offering its shield

With a sentry by it’s door

But you won’t see it

You won’t see much

It’s all inside~the wall~

Dang chocolate crapsicles!

From the archives….do you think the ancient Egyptians ever got curious? (You know, after all that hard work mummifying people, sucking their lifeless brains out through their cold, stiff nostrils, and pumping them full of concoctions of salves and just taking a peek to see what is in there. Boy # 1 had a fascination with all things Egyptian…) And if they ever did, don’t you think they saw how the flesh was all beat up and crunchy, and how the limbs were all shrivelly, and how the body was clearly no use to anyone who already had a smelly, wrinkly paperweight lying around. Don’t you think they saw all of that and exclaimed, ‘Dang chocolate crapsicles! This stuff ain’t working!’ Come to think of it, did they have chocolate back then and there? I dunno. Cats, yeah. Scarabs, sure. But chocolate? No idea. But what the hell good are scarabs and cats, if they’re not covered in chocolate? Makes no sense.

Anyway, I’m just saying that if those guys took a look at their handiwork, maybe they’d have had second thoughts about the whole process. Maybe they’d have started using real preservatives, or vacuum-sealed freezer bags, or something.

Or maybe, just maybe, it took thousands of years for those corpses to start rotting. If those pharaoh-stuffing fools looked at the time, the mummies might have looked perfectly normal. For all I know, they unwrapped them and sat them up for tea socials and dinner parties. Hey, who knows….maybe those bodies look so bad now because their previous owners have been using them in the afterlife all this time. Who the hell are we to say?

Egyptian gods~

And dammit… what the hell have I been talking about? This shit doesn’t even make sense to me. Egyptian gods of crapsicles?

Starting a new adventure~

Last week I was reading our local paper online and came across the volunteer section…I didn’t get past the A’s as I landed on the Alzheimer’s ad – I looked it over and on impulse I shot an email to offer up my services. I have volunteered in other areas in the past…other groups and such…but Alzheimer’s has touched me and I am hoping to help out where I can.

This Monday I met with a couple of ladies that head the volunteer group here and I committed to help out at least once a week for a couple of hours. My head churned with the possibilities of where I can make a difference…it felt good to have my mind race with possibilities as to where I can apply my organizational and computer skills.

Yesterday was my first day, no phone calls came in, no people came in, and it was pretty quiet….but that gave me plenty of time to read every single informational pamphlet in English and Spanish. Let me tell you there was quite a bunch, everything from the first stages to the end of life, financial, caregiver, general information.

Now the only thing I’m thinking I will need is to take a couple of my pillows, it is hard to sit without them, but I was able to get up and move around…by the time I left there I was ready to get home and medicate myself.

I do wish I could do it more than once a week but I’m not there physically, I still have to concentrate on my healing, who knows later on I may be able to give more of my time and energy.

of my grandmother

I do this in memory of my beloved grandmother who suffered with dementia and in honor of all those others who didn’t have anyone with them at the end.                                                                                        

Walking a land mine over religion…




Ruby Triggered~

A land mine is usually a Ruby-triggered explosive subject which is intended to damage its target via inflammatory and/or tumultuous fragments of offensive and inoffensive commentary. I’m writing this as I was talking to my friend Tracy who earlier wrote a blog and was looking for an answer to a simple question….W.W.J.D.? She didn’t get her answer…seems we get the runaround but never a clear answer.   
Sorta where I am~~

 I dread the topics of religion and politics. But if I had to go with one over the other for the sake of the safety of my sanity I would pick politics. Religion has proven to me to be a subject I am not proficient in navigating. It doesn’t take much diarrhea of my mouth to offend someone’s beliefs. Which at this point I am not looking to offend, nor is it something I talk about for fun. I’ll be the first to admit I am way out of my league when it comes to bantering about religion.

In my experience anytime I’ve asked questions I’ve wanted answers for, just by the virtue of me asking I am offending someone. Which is just a crock of shit…if someone doesn’t know the answer, I’d much prefer they just told me they didn’t know, more often than not I get someone who professes to be this “Christian” know it all. Yet a simple question I may ask will offend. And why is it offensive to want an answer? How else am I too learn if I can’t figure it out on my own and I go to someone who professes to know it all? 

At this late stage in the game, I know that asking God to cure me ain’t gonna happen. I would be satisfied with a straight answer as to why I had to be one of the defective children. Too many times I’ve heard God doesn’t make mistakes….well HELLO…I’m a mistake…instead what I get is that I was chosen for a special purpose….easier for someone who has full use of their body to say that, but live a day in my body and you might be asking what special purpose you are really serving. 

I’ve tried over the years to have an open mind and I still have a long ways to go on that one. I’ve had my fair share of Holy Rollers let me know where I’m headed…to HELL…well HELLO again…I already live in hell….and I’ll take a thousand lashings with a wet noodle for the pejorative use of the words, Holy Roller, Jesus Freaks, Bible Bashers, Happy Clappers,Shakers and Bible thumpers. Get in line as I’m sure there will be at least a couple already lined up and ready to lynch me.

Something that confuses me about Christians is whether they learn in their bible how to judge others or if they come up with that idea on their own…it just baffles my mind. 

 Religious wars also confound me religiously motivated groups attempting to spread their faith by violence, or to suppress another group because of its religious beliefs or practices. Why? Is there one GOD? I was taught there was one GOD, but when you have the zealots trying to push their views on others that too gets crazy…we see countries at war with one another all in the name of religion. Is it right to kill in the name of GOD? Am I going to HELL with these same people that are trying to tell me that their views are the right way to get to heaven…do I want to go to heaven with someone that is filled with so much hate that they show their disgust at crippled people, gays and lesbians? 

Christian's in action~



I have these thoughts…the are petty, especially in a nagging…annoying way…I sit at my desk and I look outside my window, I see the one legged man make his daily trek to the building up the street, I see countless other people drift in and out…day in and day out…I am not quite sure what they join up for…but they belong to something. I don’t belong. To anything. But my house. My pain. It has always been this way. I have belonged to groups here and there…I say groups…because they were groups, I was just a temporary stand in. My usefulness has passed.

I just started reading another book, I’ve got about 400 more pages to go. I’ve also found homes for several of my books. Tomorrow I will work on getting another to go box to my favorite freecycle friend. There will be magazines, books, shoes, clothes and a bunch of other stuff…I don’t want to have crap accumulating.

So nothing spectacular going on, day in and day out pretty much blends from one day to the next. My outings are short and almost pointless…I am so worn out from any getaway that I just prefer to stay in…I also don’t want to be around people, I don’t want to run into anyone and have small talk going on…I just don’t have the energy for that. Not that I know too many people…which makes it nice…did I mention I want my life back?

Today is a day of mourning at Casa de Ruby. I’m off to mourn. TTFN

Let me tell you a little bit about creativity~

Creativity is a mental process involving the discovery of new ideas or concepts, or new associations of the existing ideas or concepts, fueled by the process of either conscious or unconscious insight.

It is often useful to explicitly distinguish between creativity and being a bitch. I failed at distinguishing my creativity so that I may invite hostility and hate into my world.

CW~ I Have Cancer

“I Have Cancer” ~~~ Disclaimer: I Ruby, do not have cancer. CW= Creative Writing……Admittedly when I heard the news I was not shocked. I’ve been numb since I got back from the clinic. Everything was routine, the yearly exam, the blood work, the much dreaded PAP, every bit of it was routine. What wasn’t routine was the call back, there is always apprehension when the nurse calls back from the lab with the results. If they even call back, most times it is a standard no news is good news. Today was not standard, was not the norm, today is a nightmare.

How will I tell my kids, how will I tell my family? Will I die soon, will I live long and in agony? What about checking my kids? How long have I had it? I have a million questions, they wrap around my head a thousand times over. They spill out. I walk around with a notepad. I stop and I write down the next question. I keep it hidden from my kids, I tell them I’m just writing another short story.

I want to claw my skin off, I want to scratch my eyes out. I want to throw up, again, I’ve been throwing up over and over again. Is it because I am just a bad person, further proof that I am not worthy of any happiness? I just want to end it all. I have pills. I need to stop taking them. I need to refill my prescription. I need to know how many it will take. I can’t be here. I have to end it.


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