Happy New Year Y'all

The Everything Everywhere All at Once New Year's Crazy Update Post

Dearest Readers n' Others Squattin’ 'Round the Campfire:

This New Year comes to us in real live Animal Farm World, as we sit (or stand on "two legs better"), listening rapt for news of hope (amidst harbingers of horrors anew) and hoping the planes (literal and otherwise) will bear friend, not foe, and ideally won't be equipped with nuclear warheads or double-jabbed pilots... while wondering WHAT in Sam Hell is going on here. Won't folks wake up? YET? yet nyet yet nyet???? Really?! Will a lucky shamrock bop 'em squar’ on the nose 'fore they fall back asleep like the Dormouse? Little Piggies, don’t you SEE the bigger piggies always have them clean white shirts while we’re mucking about in the dirt?

WHY does this New Year feel more surreal than any one EVER before? And thus and so...

So indeed... The last couple weeks have TRULY been, fer Daisy an' kin here, a very much "Everything Everywhere All at Once" roller coaster clown show ride into Hades an' back (if ya sawr the Everything Everywhere movie that's about the sense've what’s been goin’ down here in Daisyland).

Thankfully we're all in one piece (barely! har har) but I guess ya kin always say, "it could've been worse." There's a peppy Passover holiday song called Dayenu where you list all the awful plagues wrought on Egypt as punishment for enslaving (an’ killin' the first born sons of) the Jews so it's sung that even just ONE of thes plagues would've been enough--Dayenu! I'm reminded of this ditty cuz seems like WE (down in daisy-Moses land) got the 12 plagues've Egypt now, an' frankly just ONE've 'em would've been puh-lenty.

A PLAGUE ON YER (er… our) HOUSE ….

Below you’ll find some’ve our personal end-o’-2022 plagues (in the form of a Chatty Cathy update) while I intersperse my co-mint-tarry with some cheerful Happy New Year's greetin' cards ta keep ya in the Holly-Day spirit!

(Baby New Year, it’s COLD outside!)

OH THE WEATHER OUTSIDE IS FRIGHTFUL...

So we moved to the North Pole (feels like it at least, it's been as low as 6 degrees F. here and worse with the windchill...) and livin' in an uninsulated old (1814) shack with a creeky boiler (and oil prices higher than Mt Everest...) is a unique experience indeed. We are wearin' double longjohns and our coats and hats IN the house (aka shack) an' usin' some creative (but safe) ways to stay warm. We cain't boil water 'er soup (long story, see below) but we make both coffee an' tea in the coffee pot (which leaks all over the counter--it's old) an' then carry round hot cups all day like hand warmers (I got me some'a those too!) while we attempt to unpack (or, actually, while I / Daisy attempts to unpack and my girls play guitar an' read books n' stuff while my husband does gawd know whut but it ain’t unpackin’). So one thing that helps keep us less cold is some crazyass USB-heated vests (no emfs!) --by Arris from Chyyyna (in case ya need one too!) cuz sometimes ya cain't be picky and NUTHIN' is made in the good'ole USA anymore.

So agin' we're fine if a bit freezy cuz dang, it's like The Long Winter that Laura Ingalls Wilder wrote about (she too survived it).

Next, MEDICAL MAYHEM arrives at our door...'er...on our landline.

Four days after we moved in here (with everything topsy turvy chaotic and nobody kin find their socks ‘r undies…) I git a call from my step-brother(fuker) that my poore clot-shot injured elderly mama (Ma to me...) collapsed in some sort'a seizure-stroke delirium stupor an' nearly died an' then got rushed to the hoss-spittle (that’s what I think of these hostile joints today!) where she was kept fer a good week even though they have no CLUE even now what is wrong with her or how this came ta be (cuz vaxxxx injuries only exist on Substack…) despite daily brainscans an' electrode tests and all manner've torture for her (to wit, 72 hours with buzzy electrodes taped to her scalp and she could not lie down fully so as not to disturb the sensors). Fun, not. (Cheers! to their job “well done”….)

During her “hoss-spittle-eye-za-shun” I was not allowed to talk to her or any of her dok-turds there (they were never told I existed) cuz I'm a veritable persona-non-grata one eyed one horned flyin’ purple people eater 'specially since I KNOW it's jab damage an' (not bein’ able to hold my tongue). This factoid I told that to my evil Herr Step-vater (both on speaker phone cuz the old coot don’t wear his hearin’ aid and also in writin’ back in early ‘21 'fore the shots came to market as we had BEGGED my ma not to take 'em....), SO as a rabid vaxxxine sceptic, I'm silenced and kept outta the loop even tho it's my own dear mudder.

In fact (to my chagrin an’ full out stoop-ification) my effin’ step fambly told my ma that we didn't care about her! Yup, they said that, imagine! Soon as I learned she wuz in the hoss-spital I'd been beggin' them for info. daily an' wuz also givin' my step-brother(fuker) all manner of suggestions for vitamins an’ supplements fer my ma, and also wrote at length fambly medical hist'ry and more stuff like fambly adverse drug reactions, genetic vulnerabilities and yadayada; he ignored it all, natch. Never told them dok-turds either, never told my ma 'bout my/our attempts to inquire an' help and offer relevant an’ purdy essential info. With friends like that…..

Given the various drug cocktails they wuz givin' my Ma, some've which we knew she'd react to (includin' contrast agent for her MRIs...), I'd have to say my evil schtup-vater an' schtup-bruder were purdy dastardly in purposefully communicating nuttin' (none of this info) and thereby compromisin' my Ma's care cuz their egos came first. Gar!

Meanwhile my poor Ma was also exposed to daily nasal brain-pokin' “faux-vid” tests. It's all so humiliatin' fer her...she complains like the dickens now that she kin speak agin'.

lil’ piggies jumpin’ thru hoops, monkeys runnin’ the show…when the circus came to town

Anywho, she's thankfully a bit better now (no thanks to them fools that tortured her), still slurrin' her words an' fergittin' what ya tell' her but she kin talk an' even walk a bit with a walker (she had ZERO mobility issues 'fore the collapse), but she's trapped in a rehab facility now, stick ta her stomick from the bad food (step-fambly will not bring her decent food or readin' materials per her requests cuz it’s too inconvenient…), plus she's humiliated no end havin' them poke an' prod an' mess with'er (the mandatory sponge bath really got her dander up! such indignity), an' of course she’s completely miserable, beggin' me daily to git her out tho she's like 2000 miles away and I supposedly DO NOT EXIST and all my schtep-fambly can say is that THEY got her the most phenomenal care aren’t they wunnerful puff puff. ALL they’ve done for her!

Frankly I'm not even supposed to know where she is or nor should I be talkin' to her but I found out by luck where she was (I overheard an aside when the step brother-fuker was tryin' to get a wifi connection and mentioned the name of the instee-2-shun—so I figgered out her where'bouts) and thus ignored the bans pissin' them all off mightily—all 'cept my Ma.

My poor Ma's now got 'bout half her marbles left but enough remainin’ ta know she's in medical jail. While she's in stir (medically speakin') they redoin' things at her haus to make her a permanent invalid. Crazy stuff... medical bed in the middle of the livin’ room (livin? HA!), ripped up the carpet she’s not happy about, “redecorated” the kitchen to make it handicap-friendly….like they’re countin on her bein’ a permanent cripple — An' meanwhile, they're doin' their darndest (the Dok-Turds includin' Dok-Turd Mengele my evil Schtup-Vater who forced her to take all the jabs an' roosters, etc . cuz he's gotta God Complex) to maximize the misery and humiliation. Some New Year fer her supposedly bein’ in such “good hands”…..

Anywho, I'm tryin' to sneak in real calls to my Ma while I can (once home she'll have 24/7 surveillance). So all blessin's welcome as I'm fightin' 'best I can (as a canceled non-person) to save my poor ol‘ Ma... My girls only got one grandparent on this Earth an' it's her, so I'm angry as a hornet they're tryin' to take her away from us.

Doin' my best tryin' to fight from afar... surrounded by boxes and all manner of broken items from the move (oh yeah...Everything All at Once...) an' talkin' to my Ma daily now while I can--hopin' some stuff sinks in so she kin also fight fer herself!

PS Sorry this is such a long /personal rant but I figgered there is something universal to see here in the way these be-damned injections rip lives and famblies apart.

Medical Mayhem aside--
we ain't got NO INTERTUBES...

So, our new life here in what ma grannie would've called "yenemsville" (aka nowhereland) is...er...interstin' -- moves at a far slower pace than NYC fer sure. So we ordered internet over a month in advance and once they set it up we were only gettin' 30mbps upload (WORSE than our old 1990s modem setup!). I wrote this here postin’ offline but yer readin' this on sich a crazy connect-shun right now--uploaded at a nembutol-dazed-snail’s pace! So given this abominable non-connection speed (can’t even wartch a viddey-o) we called the cable innertubes company (no fios in da boonies) an' they came, they sawr, they left cuz they said "we cain't fix nuttin' as yer place ain't grounded so ya gotta call he 'lectric comp'ny"

Kafkaesque situations, so I’m learnin’, are not limited to cities….

So call we did then they (NYSEG...NY State Gas n' 'Lectric) came out the very next day an' the feller sez yup, there's a groundin' issue. You are grounded ok BUT yer neighbors down the road ain't grounded and all stray discharge finds the nearest ground—an' that’s you / your turf. (Who'd a thunk?) So you (meanin' us) gotta call them neighbors an' tell them they need a licensed 'lectrician ta ground THEIR place and then let'cha know when that work's done--so we (NYSEG) can come out and check out the work and sign off on it an' THEN (after all that) you kin call yer cable company back an' see if they kin fix yer cable issues. Messier than a plate'a spaghetti, right?

Wull, them neighbors up the road seem ta be outta town fer the hollydays so we're on hold, waitin' fer them returnin' an' then they'll have to git a 'lectrician over there (they may not be motivated to do so plus we hear that up here'bouts that takes a good week 'er 2 to find a person).. SO real intertubes fer Daisy here may be a wayz off.... I have YET to check my eeeeemail...I betcha there's like over 1000 messages...

City life was indeed far easier and (not to state the obvious) we’d be livin’ out our citified lives normally were it not for “plandemic 1.0” which threw us into this very unfamiliar world. Happy NWO Year.

Judy seems a tad spooked ‘bout the New Year (us too!)

The ol'CLAMPETT MOBILE BREAKS DOWN...

Meanwhile back at the ranch, our car was givin' us troubles already (pullin' to one side) but on Christmas day itself--it fully broke down after we spun out into a 2.5’ deep snowbank / ditch which somehow damaged it more. Luckily a kind soul stopped an' helped us outta the ditch with a tow rope (which got broke in the process but said kind soul wouldn't take a sou fer it) and we managed to git back here at the chilly shack (not to be confused with a Dairy Queen Dilly Bar) at 12mph with flashers on an' a pair've smashed foglights an' headlights.... Meanwhile most repair places don't open 'til after the New Year so we're stuck with a broken down auto-mo-bile fer the time "bean." Toot. Toot.
Everything Everywhere All At Once, like I said...

Side note: No cell soy-vice up here (suits me fine). Our landline's just 'about our only connect-shun to society now.

MOVERS AND SHAKERS (emphasis on the latter….)

Our move wuz true comedy (er, tragicomedy...). As we’ze fully broke due to us bein' unjabbed an' outta work since March o' 2020, we hired budget movers that do not deserve their glowing neon yelp reviews, 'specially since they subcontracted out to (sorry no woke-i-fried-offense meant here), totally unskilled and clueless illegal aliens who spoke ZERO English an' seemed to be better at runnin' the Break-O-Mat (you bring it in we break it fer ya) than knowin' how to move furniture (safely).

They had nothing but tape and used boxes (we had most of our stuff packed but anything they packed they wrecked….). These very young hombres not much more than mebbe 20 if that, had almost no movin' blankets and the few they had they foolishly used on our cheapo ikea kitchen cabinets (the stuff to go to the truck first) and thus had zero blankets for our "better" furniture. A few things got wrapped in giant saran wrap (affords no protection whatsoever), so nearly all our stuff got broken, scratched, dinged and messed up. A few busted pieces (6) were good antiques from our more flush days so this ticked us off no end.

The mover dudes spoke no English so despite our telling them where stuff went (kitchen! bathroom!) nothing got put in the right spot or the right room. We are STILL moving things to the right spots now (and we were NOT paid for the effort!); in this elegant dump shack we have an upstairs but the upstairs stuff went downstairs and vice versa. Office supplies in the loo! Girls clothes in the kitchen! And most things of value ended up upside down, squashed, broken or missing.

Not bad ‘nuff fer ya? How 'bout this fer a "topper"? They PEED all over the place outside. Folks, we have a first floor bathroom (we even fixed the septic!) and them boyz wuz welcome ta use it, but I guess they didn't know how to ask fer it? or they didn’t wanna ask? Or mebbe they’ze jus’ used ta peein’ anywhere they like? Kulchural diffs, no? But OY. an' big YUK. Thankfully the next day it snowed to cover the yellow "decoration" as we worried UPS an' the local mailman would think we were runnin' some illegal bar here--looked like an army was peein' all over on the trees, trucks, side'o the haus. etc. Anyone know what it looks an' smells like outside'a McSorley's Bar in the E. Village would understand our dilemma and the YUK factor. (It was even a yuk factor in the E. Village…)

My younger daughter first alerted us to the situation when she saw one'a them fellers whippin' out his churro right in broad daylight outside the winda. The feller heard her shriek an' scampered behind the truck to annoint the tires. But that was not the worst news of the day, nope (just the stinkiest).

So my BIL (hubby's brother / a CDL-operating “good buddy” himself) was curious and managed to git some info outta them mover boys in pigeon Spanish the fact that NOBODY had a driver's license let alone a CDL (they DROVE the 2 moving trucks fer SIX HOURS with NO licenses at all) -- Thank golly they didn't crash 'em! PLUS he learned that nobuddy wuz a US citizen—all showed cell photos of their families back “home.” You cannot insure stuff when the movers do not even use licensed drivers--sheesh! (Could’a been worse…. keep remindin’ myself of that…)

OH one more thing—when I said they didn’t speak English I failed to mention they DID know one word—BEER. And after they all left at the end of the day the ol BIL told us that them boys were tryin’ to hit him up for BEER. Yup they all wanted BEER (first requested in the morning upon their arrival—hmmmm that’s some breakfast of champions..) They dropped so much stuff sober I’m genuinely glad they did NOT get their free pints that day. And lest you think WE were “schnorrers,” unsympathetic, we fed them breakfast and had for them snacks including chips, and flavored seltzer (which I know that sounds hysterically bougie but hey). Their foreman bought them coke (the drinkable kind!) but we did detect some weed action on site too. Clearly the boys liked to work a bit buzzed. Whatever it was that adversely affected their coordination and brought forth multitudes of butterfingers oopsies, I can safely say it wasn’t anything WE bought them. But /again, they just sucked. Not their fault but they did. (I wonder what would’a happened if they got injured on the job—untrained for lifting stuff as they were….?)

So as I said, i twas CLEAR nobody in this crew had EVER moved anything before (at least legally!). The din of crash, bang, boom and bong (and/or OW!!!! /Oh la puta!) resounded chez Daisy for the entire horrible day-long event. Few things survived unscathed (my oven MITTS are in great shape!) Sigh. Talk about MOVERS AND SHAKERS!!!!

We'll be talkin' to 'em soon (well not them, the parent company—THEY do spreken-zie anglisch)... we would like some of our money back as it'll be Repairs 'r Us after that busy moving day at the Break o' Mat.

Oh an the reason we ain't got no stove an' cain't cook? THEY BROKE IT.
Happy New Year, nuttin’ like a cold meal in freezin’ weather…

Actually this is a “Tappy” New Year (given Ann Miller)

UPCHUCK as an UPDATE

So this is a not-so-brief lil' update that will have ta suffice 'til I kin get proper innertubes an' git back ta postin' and ta some sense o' normalcy (let's hope!).

Between my poor Ma in clown world on the ever-spinnin' “Medi-cull” merry-go-round, the move from Hell, the Old COLD Dark House, no innertubes, a broken car, no stove, an' two ticked off teens (okay, my eldest is technically a young adult but no alliteration there) that are non-stop fightin' like Rock 'em Sock 'em Robots (cuz this ain't no picnic), Daisy's got 'er hands full.

Oh, and I didn't mention--we have to live with the BIL who is not a fan of a) kids ('specially the autistic one that screams a lot...) b) noise (see last comment but also, he goes to bed at 9pm and we go to bed after 3am--and I'm used to playin' music...LOUD…sigh....), or c) ANYTHING that bugs him (like most EVERYTHING we do).... so as I said, this is more've an upchuck (or rant) than an update--lotta beans ta spill to end up the old year. (With kind thanks fer yer indulgence.)

AND YET...

Knock Wood (er knockers on wood Jayne…?)

We're all alive, healthy ('cept poor gran'ma)--and grateful fer that, and doin' relatively OK (thanx ta tinned sardines, pre-cooked broccoli packets, strong coffee, and the aforementioned usb-heated vests).

All this without mentionin' a country in freefall, geo-engineered weather: freezing and cloudy with a chance of ATOMIC meatballs, and SO much more...

so HAPPY NEW YEAR Y'ALL... may the insanity subside, and may PEACE ON EARTH return...at least...a little.

Now ya kin buy me a cuppa java if ya like, alwayz grateful fer y’all!
https://ko-fi.com/daisymoses

Thank ya’ll fer readin’ my various ramblin’s,
Daisy

ps I may not be able to read com-mints right away but I promise I'll git to 'em soons as I can "see" stuff online!

BONUS: the BEST of the New Year to y'all from the late, great, always bubbly...Mae West