Friday the 13th & Knights Templar

I've done a ton of research on this over the years and this is the best explanation I've come across.  And the one that makes the most sense.  Some might say that I'm romanticizing the Knights Templar and maybe I am.  But only a little.  If I tend to ramble on a bit, forgive me.  I love medieval history!  On the other hand, this is really just an overview.  There will be details left out.

First of all, in 1065 a.d. the Turks captured Jerusalem and slaughtered 3000 Christians and treated any remaining Christians so badly that people were stirred to fight in crusades.  In 1099, when Crusaders took back the city of Jerusalem, the Knights Templar (originally called Poor Fellow-Soldiers of Christ) were formed to protect people making pilgrimages to the Holy City.

Pilgrimages were made to confirm faith.
Some were made for healing, others for forgiveness, among other reasons.

The Knights had no church and no particular place to live.  In 1118, they were given space to live in the sacred enclosure of the temple on Mount Moriah.  Since this was being exhibited by priests as the Temple of Solomon, the knights were then called the Knighthood of the Temple of Solomon.  The name was shortened to Knights Templar.

Over time, the Knights were given land and, eventually gold, silver and other coinage.  As to why they were awarded such things, I did not investigate that deeply.  However, I am sure some was given as compensation, some was given in gratitude and some was given as bribes.  Some might even have been...appropriated.  The Knights were still men, after all.

Eventually, the Knights moved to France (where their first land grant was located), established rules of order and were honored by Pope Honorius and several kings.  In 1139, Pope Innocent II issued a Papal Bull which decreed that the Knights should pledge allegiance to no one but the Pope.

Pope Innocent II

Overall, the Knights were honorable men with strong ethics.  For example, Edward I of England ransacked the Knights treasury, taking the proceeds to the Tower of London.  Yet, in 1271, when Edward I was poisoned during a battle, it was the Knights' Master who sent the drugs that saved Edward's life.

In 1307, King Philip IV of France, who was already heavily in debt to the Knights, was refused a further loan.  In a fit of pique, he ordered the arrest of all Knights Templar in France.  It is recorded in French Masonic records that Templar ships left France heading for Scotland two days before the arrest of many of the Knights.

Now we get to the point!

It was Friday the 13th of October 1307 that the Grand Master of the Knights Templar, Jacques de Molay, and 60 of his senior Knights were dragged from their beds and charged with heresy and homosexuality.  Some were hung or burned that very night without due process.  Most gave admissions of guilt after several days of torture.  Pope Clement V (who was in cahoots with Philip IV) initiated enquiries into the order and thousands of Knights across Europe were arrested.  Most of them put to death--in various horrific ways--or imprisoned.  Death was preferable to prison since most of the imprisoned Knights were tortured or left to starve.

The chosen method of execution for Jacques de Molay, Grand Master of the Knights Templar, was immolation.

In 1312 the order was dissolved by the council of Vienne.  Anyone harboring a Knight was subject to excommunication or worse.  Much of the Templar property outside of France was transferred to the Knights Hospitallers, and many of the remaining Knights were accepted into the Hospitallers as well.  Of course, any property and assets that were in France was seized by King Philip IV.

King Philip IV of France c. 1295

So there you have it.  Most of this is backed up by records in various places.  I got some of my info as to dates, places and names from: http://www.middle-ages.org.uk/knights-templar-history.htm

Some information I have gleaned from various books and manuscripts that I've read over the years.  Aside from Jacques de Molay, whose execution was recorded, I will admit to a little bit of conjecture as to methods of execution and imprisonment, but that is based on what I have learned about such things in the Middle Ages.

So don't wish anyone a Happy Friday the 13th, because the original was anything but happy!

Life Goes On

It's been a week since I had to put down my sweet, blue-eyed kitty, Khai Namh.  He was such a funny cat and loved everybody.

Khai in his beloved basket.

I have the cutest, silliest pictures of him.  Due to injuries, he couldn't jump or climb very well, but sometimes, he just had to show me he still had it.

Climbing up to knock over the watering can full of water.

Mostly, he was all about finding unusual, but comfortable places to sleep.

He had a playful side.

And a pensive side, also.

I get through the days by knowing that I did all I could to get him well.  He just seemed to give up.  He wasn't eatiing, but as long as he was drinking, I was force-feeding him.  But once he stopped drinking, I knew that was it.  Maybe he had cancer.  Maybe his back and nerve problems bothered him more than I knew.  I may never know.

Still, I miss his him.  We used to call him "Fur Pen" because he was like the Pig Pen character from Peanuts, except with fur.  I had to vacuum a lot because of his fur.  I haven't had to vacuum since he passed away.

He was also the last direct link to my mom.  He was the Siamese she had wanted for so long.  When she got a call from the vet that he had a Siamese kitten for her--for free--back in November of 1999, she ran over the garbage cans in her hurry to get to the vet's office before he closed.

Ostensibly, Tabitha was brought home for my mom, but from the beginning, Tabitha chose me as her person.

I've kept busy this past week.  Trying to keep the sadness at bay, I've unpacked my books, hung curtains, sorted through boxes, cleaned out drawers and played with Tabitha.

Life goes on.  I've tried to sell some small pieces of furniture to replenish my bank account.  (Vets are not free.)  I can't believe how picky these resale shops are.  The only thing I could sell was a wooden rocking horse.  I kept lowering my price expectations and was still discouraged at what I got for it at Once Upon A Child.

And life still goes on.  I have to plan on doing laundry and getting my hair cut.

My sister and I are going to a cousin's wedding on July 24th.  Because it's a five hour drive downstate, we'll spend one night in a hotel and return on the 25th.  I wanted to go to the wedding.  To support my cousin and to see other cousins who live out of state.  Unfortunately, I learned that her brother from Massachusetts can't make it.  My daughter said that weddings are always fun.  My cousin is marrying a minister.  I imagine it'll be fairly sedate.  Nothing wrong with that!  I'm just disappointed there are cousins I won't be seeing as I hoped.  But the food should be good.  Church ladies usually are good cooks!  And I get to spend some one on one time with my sister.  She can be extremely funny.

I need to figure out what to wear.  I'm told it will be a casual wedding.

And life goes on and on...

Be Careful What You Ask For!

As I mentioned before, I've been watching a lot more television in the past year.  While I look forward to a few prime time shows, I mostly watch reality TV.  No, not Dancing with the Stars, Survivor, Biggest Loser, or American Idol.  I like  shows like Caught on Camera, My Cat From Hell, River Monsters and Haunted Collector.

You wouldn't think a show like River Monsters would have much in common with a show like Haunted Collector, but you'd think wrong.  The people are looking for something.  It's often hilarious when they when they find it!

Jeremy Wade wrestling a River Monster

It's funnier when you can hear the screams and swearing. I do not understand why they get so upset when they actually find something!  That's what they wanted, isn't it?  That's what they're getting paid for!



I most emphatically do believe in ghosts and psychic ability.  And I'm sure I'd be scared witless to actually encounter a ghost.  But I'm not out buying expensive equipment and charging people to find them.

In any case, I keep watching these shows and finding myself more amused than frightened.  Whether it's a ghost or a fish with a nasty set of teeth, I find it rather encouraging to see people do what they do best--even if they do shriek like a little girl.

A Woman's Gotta Do What a Woman's Gotta Do!

After years of dealings with places like the Social Security Administration, the Department of Health and Human Services, the Illinois Department of Employment Security and even the Department of Motor Vehicles (now called Drivers Services), I swore I would never again voluntarily sit amongst the masses waiting for my name to be called.  Never say never.

My apartment has little or no insulation.  There's no weatherstripping around the front door.  When I found out last summer that the building was in foreclosure, I didn't bother to even purchase curtains for the living room windows.  The mini-blinds don't offer much protection from the cold.  I have electric heat.  My electric bills have been, therefore, astronomical.

No longer a "service" provider, ComEd is a cold, inflexible entity staffed with drones and run by androids.  I have called them almost every month for the past 14 months.  Nobody I have spoken to was able the offer me any solutions other than refer me to their CARE program which in turn refers me to the local Will County Center for Community Concerns office.  It's a non-profit agency that helps low- and moderate-income people with programs like LIHEAP and HUD-based housing.

Don't get me wrong, it's great that there are places like WCCCC.  But why are they always in old buildings with outdated and/or worn furniture and bland colors?

 At WCCCC,  you can make an appointment for some programs.  For most things, it's a first come, first served basis.  What I needed was in the "most things" category.  You go, sign in and sit and wait. And wait. And wait.  Just to make things more interesting, the closest parking spaces are all metered.  They do make easier to take your money, though.  They have meters that accept credit and debit cards.  Isn't that nice?

I had checked Google Maps and found the location was less than five miles from me.  About a 10 minute drive.  They open at 8:00 a.m. but I got there at 8:30 a.m., hoping the initial rush had abated.  The place was full, but not packed.  I had optimistically paid for an hour on the parking meter.  After signing in, I found a seat and regretted not bringing my paperback book to read.  So I entertained myself by people watching.  There was a wide mix of ethnicities represented.

There was the family with four kids under the age of six.  They had to be there for some type of assistance and I thought about suggesting that the price of contraceptives would save them money in the long run.  The dad was this huge guy.    I imagine he had a hard time finding clothes if he was low on funds, however, I have to believe he could find a belt somewhere.  His pants kept falling down.  I was just glad he wasn't going commando.

Then there was the lady that was about my age.  She seemed perfectly innocuous.  Until she started talking to the kids in the above-mentioned family.  The oldest girl, who was about 5, was a pretty little thing with long lashes and a sweet smile.  She eyed the strange lady warily, but was always polite.  I have to say the mom taught her kids well.  Be polite, but watch out for strangers.  And the older lady was the epitome of Strange!  I didn't hear everything she asked, but she fired off questions like an AK47 fires ammunition.  What's your name?  What's your brother's name? How old is your brother?  What about your other brother?  Oh, that's your sister?  What's her name?  How old is she? And on and on.  The mom got called in and left dad with the four kids.  He was immediately encumbered with the baby boy, who decided it was time to eat.  This left the oldest girl to field the questions and shield her siblings.  Fortunately, mom came out quickly.  She quickly assessed the situation and hustled her family out.  Dad carrying the baby in one hand and holding his pants up with the other.

After about 50 minutes I realized I needed to feed the meter.  I was able to find out what number I was on the list at what number they were currently serving.  They were on number 14 and I was number 20.  So I trotted out and down the two blocks to my car and put in enough for an hour and a half.

Then came two ladies pushing an enormous stroller.  One stopped to sign in while the other parked the behemoth and sat down with the baby.  In the row in front of me.  Where I could see up close and personal the bright green bows the woman had affixed to her hair just above her temples, right at the hairline.  It took most of my self-control to keep my mouth shut.  I badly wanted to tell her she looked ridiculous.  It wouldn't even look cute on a child!  I tried to look elsewhere, but there wasn't much going on at the time.  The baby was fussing and, judging by the way he kept arching his back, was probably gassy.  But these two geniuses gave the baby a bottle.  Turns out, the one I thought was the mom was not.  The mom, who was more interested in her cell phone and pocket mirror, paid little attention until Green Ribbons got up to get another bottle.  The mom started berated Green Ribbons for only bringing four ounce bottles.  She was yelling that her son needed a full eight ounce bottle and Green Ribbons was stupid, blah, blah, blah.  The mom noticed me watching with undisguised disgust on my face and shut up.

Among the other notable personages was the one whose gender eluded me.  And the woman who used the bathroom every ten minutes.  I really prayed that I wouldn't have to pee while I was there!  Finally, my name was called.

The first thing I was told was that I did not qualify for LIHEAP assistance.  I was surprised because I had looked up the qualifications before going there.  Turns out there is a different qualification list for people on disability.  The rep helping me must've seen the dismay on my face because she quickly said they have a hardship program in place now.  She looked through my paperwork and said that she needed proof that my Social Security income was for Disability.  So we finished and signed the paperwork and she gave me a form to bring back with my proof of income type.  She told me to go to the Social Security Administration.  Forget that nonsense!

I went home.  I fed the cats and ate lunch.  I signed onto ssa.gov and printed out a Statement of Benefits.

I drove back and found a parking space right in front of the building.  Then I realized I had no more quarters.  I was not about to use a card for 25 cents.  I considered just leaving it, after all I would only be a couple of minutes.  Then I found another quarter.  It was a dirt-encrusted quarter stuck at the bottom of the cup holder.  I figured it was worth a shot.  As luck would have it, it worked and I got a half hour on the meter.

I brought my paperwork in and was glad for the meter time because it took almost ten minutes for the receptionist to make copies and staple them together.  I also made point of saying they need to get to the rep asap.

All in all, I spent about four hours with all this, but it was worth it.  Three days later, my very large past due amount was paid.  Yay!

Now before you judge me, you must realize that I'd had $300 electric bills three months in a row.  When the fourth $300 bill came, I had to make a decision.  Pay the electric bill or buy groceries and sundries?  I decided on groceries.  I treated myself to a few luxuries like disposable hot cups, Puffs tissues and batteries.  Oh, and I went whole hog on a package of mini-pierogis.  Mmmm-mm.

I will not say I will never do this again.  But I sincerely hope and pray that I don't have to!

To Sleep, Perchance to Dream

I had a very vivid dream last night.  Or rather early this morning.  Lucid dreams are at the end of the sleep cycle.  Anyway, this is what I dreamed:

I'm in a public sitting area, like at a library or a conference center.  I'm reclining in a comfortable arm chair with my feet propped up on a coffee table, ankles crossed.  Against the wall I'm facing are racks of books or magazines.  I'm talking on the phone and I think it's a business call, although not especially important.  In the dream, I am the same middle-age I actually am now.  I am not as fat as I actually am but still overweight.  However, I feel confident and upbeat.  I don't remember the phone conversation, just that I was talking when I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye.  A forgotten but familiar dread creeps through my stomach as I realize who is there.  It is M-.  With him is his youngest son, all grown up of course.  I can hear their voices, but not the words.  I miss a beat in my phone conversation, but turn my attention back to my caller and hope that M- and son do not see me.  Slouched down as I am, and facing the wall, it's possible they won't.  The dread flows out of me and I am calm again.  I am speaking when I hear his voice hissing at me in anger.  Startled, I struggle to finish my sentence.  Suddenly, M- is in front of me.  His face is a bit older and hard.  He starts throwing money at me and saying something I don't catch immediately.  I end my call and focus on M-.   While I'm taken aback, I'm surprisingly unafraid.  I open my mouth to speak, but the money he is tossing at me gets in my mouth.  I sit up as I finally understand what he is saying.  He's telling me to do the job he taught me to do.  He taught me to kill and I am very good at it. A memory of myself as a young adult learning to shoot a rifle flits through my head.  He wants it finished.  I know who he wants killed, although I don't know.  He walks away while I spit out the last of the money.  I stand up and let the bills fall to the floor.  Fists clenched, I face him and his son.  I shout "No! Not anymore! I won't be a party to your evil!"  I am firmly resolved in this.  I will die myself before killing anyone.  Both men are surprised and...I wake up.

My waking emotions are calm.  While thinking it was a strange dream, I was not  disturbed by it.  Usually, I forget my dreams within an hour or so of waking.  This time, it's been much longer and I still remember almost all of it clearly.

I know what it means.  I didn't until I was halfway through typing it up.  I can even break it down into smaller parts which have their own meaning.  Such as talking on the phone indicates that I have a purpose now and have not been dwelling on the past.  But I won't belabor all the smaller points.  The gist is that I've had this "demon" lurking in the back of my mind for nearly 30 years.  I shut it up behind a brick wall, but every so often I would hear it roar and it always had a claw in my heart.  With this dream, my subconsious and the Holy Spirit helped me to evict the demon.  Is it dead?  No, I do not think so.  But it no longer occupies space in my head and the claw is gone from my heart.  A small pinhole sized scar will always be there, but it's very tiny and scars are signs of either stupid mistakes or battles won.  In this case, it signifies both.  Thank God!

Procrastination

"Procrastination is my sin. It brings me naught but sorrow. I know that I should stop it.  In fact I will--tomorrow!"  Gloria Pitzer

I have found myself falling into the very bad habit of procrastinating.  Case in point, this blog.  All kinds of ideas come to me at various times and I think "Oh, I will write a blog post about that!"  Even this post.  I've had the idea for over a week.

"Never put off until tomorrow what you can do the day after tomorrow."  Mark Twain

The way my life is right now, procrastination isn't such a problem--except to my peace of mind.  I can list some stuff on eBay today.  Or not.  I can write today.  Or not.

Even chores are not that big of a deal.  Who will see the sink full of dishes?  Who will care that the rug needs vacuuming?  However, I do stay on top of things like scooping the cat litter and sweeping.  And I cannot even get dressed without making my bed.  Could be my OCD tendencies.

Of course, there comes a time when those dirty dishes start to smell and the carpet has taken on a new coloration.  Sometimes something inside me just clicks on and I attack those chores with determination.

I could blame my Bipolar.  While that does make up a small percentage of my laziness, I think most of it is just a lack of enthusiasm and inspiration.  And accountability.  Approval from others is important to me, but if nobody is around, I get lackadaisical.

Then there is the need for resources to get some things done.  The most common resource needed is money.  I am not a good steward of my money.  I try to be.  Each month I have every intention of being careful.  I make lists for shopping, but I always find other things I need.  I still have a hard time buying for just one person. The urge to stockpile is quite strong.  I am my parents' daughter.  So, for example, when I find the need to do laundry, there is no money for the laundromat.

Ah well, I got this post done today!

"Tomorrow is often the busiest day of the week."  Spanish proverb

 

Blame it on Squirrels

I have a bird feeder.  Specifically, it's a suet cage that I suspend from a shepherd's hook.  I placed it in front of a window so the cats could watch the birds.  Unfortunately, the squirrels like to climb up and eat the seeds, too.

The squirrels love to tease Tabitha.

When the squirrels jump off the shepherd's hook, sometimes the suet cage falls off. Of course, I have to go out and pick it up and hang it again.  Seriously, I can't deprive my cats of their entertainment.

Last night I noticed that the cage had been knocked off again, but I waited until this morning to get it.  When I'm running outside for something quick, like taking the garbage out or rehanging the suet cage, I don't usually bother with a coat.  And I leave the door open or just pull it to the jamb.  Fortunately today I grabbed my jacket because when I pulled the door to, it went too far.  When I heard the snick of the latch, my heart sank.  I literally felt a lump in my stomach.

You see, when the management group took over the building last summer, they changed the locks.  My door knob locks automatically, unless I twist the button on the inside to completely unlock it.  Except I hadn't twisted the button inside.  So when the door latched, it was locked.  With my keys inside. And my phone inside.  And me outside.

After berating myself for a couple of minutes, I went ahead and rehung the suet cage.  Then I considered my options for getting back inside.  I walked around the apartment and checked all the windows.  There were only two that were unlocked.  They were the two that showcased my Christmas tree--both at the front of the building.

I started with the side window because I could get to it more easily from the outside.  With Tabitha meowing and pawing the window from the inside, I was able to push the screen up out of the way.  The window took a bit more maneuvering since there was little to grab onto.  By shoving my fingers under the lip of the upper, fixed window, I was able to push the lower window up and open.

While blocking Tabitha from escaping, I assessed the situation.  The bottom edge of the window was even with my chest.  There was no way I could hoist my plus-sized self up and through the window.  I thought about dragging the outdoor storage box around from the front, but I happened to look at the front window and realized what I could do.

I replaced the side window and screen and went around the corner to the front.  Since I had placed most of the statuary in the storage box, I was able to get to the window fairly easily.  I raised the screen and the lower window as I had on the side.  Tabitha almost immediately tried to jump out.  Quick reflexes caught her as her leg muscles were bunching for the leap.  I credit those online games for keeping my hand-eye coordination strong!

To my left, inside, between the door and the window I had opened, was my small butler table where I kept my keys.  And, thank God, my keys were actually there!  Every once in a while I toss my keys in my purse, but this wasn't one of those times.  Finally, I had caught a break!  Now, I just had to reach them.  And keep Tabitha inside.

I tried to pull one of the plastic candy canes from the ground so I could snag my keys.  But the ground was too frozen and the candy canes wouldn't budge.  I thought of the straw broom, but that was too big.  And too dirty.  Getting more desperate, I turned sideways and reached to my left as far as I could with my right hand.  The keys were just out of reach, but I was able to grab the watering can I keep there.
By turning it upside down, I finally snagged the keys with the spout.  Thankfully, Tabitha's attention had been focused on my efforts, so she didn't try to get out again.

I replaced the window and screen and with a sigh of relief, let myself back into the apartment.

Interestingly enough, no cops showed up.  This was both a relief and a concern.  I did not want to have to explain my stupidity.  However, I hope that people knew I was the resident and that's why nobody called the cops.  And the fact that it was broad daylight.

Oh, I have subsequently locked both those windows.  What I'll do if I ever lock myself out again, I have no idea.