All posts for the month August, 2014

8908 and Me – Part 2

Published August 28, 2014 by Liz Ault

8908 and Me – Part 1

It’s me again, 8908. Wanted to update myself. After I lost my ass and my top on August 7th, everything else turned to shit. When you’re as old as I am, and a mirror is finally put in front of you, you get a major shock!!

The heavy equipment operators never got the whole band-aid analogy. VERY, VERY slow tear off. They took my chimney, my dormers, my legs in one day, but they left my broken parts in a hole far too long. They (the workers) never got the concept of the early bird catches the worm. My broken and damaged parts would lay bare until noon to one each day. Then they (workers) would run away like little sissy girls by four.

Two weeks ago, my parts had finally been hauled away. My limbs, what were left, were still not removed. I’m done talking about it. I’m gone now. My history is done. My address will live one for many years. I will be 8908 long after my family is dead.

I didn’t mean to let them down. Tried to protect each and every one of them. Sometimes evil and circumstances just get in the way. I did nothing to deserve the death sentence. Didn’t even get my last meal.

Oh, hi. It’s Liz again. Trying, still, to figure out why I’m almost morbid about this whole thing. Why do I need to keep looking out the front door, then the back, then taking a break, then rinse and repeat. Maybe it’s the fact that I was relinquished and feel I’m always looking for things that don’t exist. Maybe it’s that my kids were deeply hurt by both 8904 and 8908. Maybe it’s that I was a fool to trust that the spouse of the next generation would try to make the marriage work, but instead set out to destroy my youngest and 8908. He succeeded in handing 8908 over to the executioners, but accidentally freed my baby.

Thank you, 8908.

Now, I’m going to start working on NOT going to the front door, then the back to peer over the yard of my next door neighbors to stare at 8908. I will get this. One minute, hour, day at a time, just like when I became a recovering smoker. The earth dug out where 8908 used to stand is way deeper than it ever stood before. I know to many it sounds funny, weird, or like I’m delusional, but I hope the land heals. I want 8908, Jr. to be a blessing to the young family who will eventually occupy it.

I want to let it go. I so want to let so very much go.




WTF am I?

Published August 25, 2014 by Liz Ault

My son ended his first “long term” relationship a little over two months ago. He moved back in with me when he did.

Four days ago he reentered his plentyoffish account with updated info. Within an hour he had left messages for 6 different women. Shortly after sending these messages he got a reply. They visited for hours.

I won’t say this young lady’s first name, not fair, too new. Lets call her Rita. Yeah, Rita. Is that subtle or what?

Before they even had a first face to face date, she did a dump. An emotional dump. It was a total “here is everything that might send you running, or make you do a polite bye bye.” He was impressed – so is mom. He did one also.

So in just 5 or so days, they are very much in “like.”

Here is where I say WTF. The W is not for what, but for who. Who the fuck am I? I struggled for 59 years. I’m almost to the point where I am bordering on okay. This young woman tells my son that she is a misfit. She is a goth. She has a totally art worked body, and she doesn’t give a shit what anyone else thinks. Either accept her or walk the fuck away.

This young lady blows my mind. She gets it. 

My progress is getting ramped up. Who the fuck am I? Dang, just me! And I’m pretty damned cool. What I would have given to have that understanding at 26.


Published August 16, 2014 by Liz Ault

Walked through Ferguson, Missouri today. Actually went over night. Kids were bringing their own laundry baskets, trash bags, waste baskets into the store that was the “one” that Michael Brown supposedly looted.

Interesting as the Chief of Police Ferguson chose to preview his “naming the cop” message with a message of “gosh gee whiz did you see these funny pics of strong arm before he was gunned down?” Bad move on Chief Ferguson’s behalf.

KSDK decided in a stupid moment to release a picture of Darren Wilson’s home. No wonder the violence picked back up Friday night.

I may piss some off, but, I’ll take that chance. STOP LOOTING YOUR OWN NEIGHBORHOODS!! The businesses that you are destroying pay taxes to your neighborhoods and your schools.

Biblical history – the chosen wandered the dessert for 40 years. The “we will overcome” folks have been wandering for over 50 years. Look at things differently.

Take up your mantel. Pick up your children. Move forward.  I pray for all. MOVE FORWARD! Peace out.

8908 and Me – Part 1

Published August 7, 2014 by Liz Ault

Hi. My name is 8908. Houses don’t get names as often as cars and pets.

My people have been in several places – 8904, 8908 and 8900 from 1955 to present.

My back porch was knocked off today. My ass hurts. I also lost my right forearm (just the bricks, not blood vessels yet). I’ve been empty of humans for months now.

Many in my neighborhood think I’m foolish. My last mom is feeling so weird at seeing a family home of 60 years, and her generation of family for almost 20 years, get knocked down in bits and pieces. Why can’t they knock me down all at once? Sort of like life support – unplug me.

I will be replaced. Once I’m knocked down, I will be replaced with a “McMansion.” Replaced with an extra wide double car garage with a small front door next to it. That will be my new “front.”

My little city/town has been replacing the small homes with the McMansion’s for a few years now. My street is the last one without one of these. My life will be replaced with one. Sorry, I keep repeating myself.

The other thing is cost. Okay, I know I’m a cheap little shit house. I tried to serve my families well, but failed miserably. I have bad something – not Karma, but something. My value is way higher that what I was purchased for. My human lived there, but was crushed in spirit. She left her husband to get away from suffocation. The husband made the owner feel like all was well, but nothing was well. I changed hands and that signed my death sentence.

Hi, my name is Liz. I was screwed out of my home. But that home didn’t bring much joy. So, why am I so intrigued with the extremely slow progress with tearing it down? I prefer the bandage be pulled off quickly. I have some guilt because it was in the family so long, and I failed it. But I can’t keep my eyes off it. I live two houses down and go out the back door and the front to see the progress. Damn.

My kids don’t care about this family house. They know it caused pain. It caused them the most pain. It cost them their innocence. So why do I give a shit?? Why do I have so much trouble letting go?

8908 and Me – Part 2

This year isn’t over yet – I will let go.