A few days of being homeless -- not a problem. I can do this standing on my head. Surviving the 6.8 earthquake on Feb. 28, 2001 and being an "insurance baby" has taught me to make do and expect the unexpected. In just a few days I will be in my new home -- well, new to me.
I pull the Cropper (my RV) into my daughterís driveway and in a way it is nice. I will be able to spend time with the grandkids. I have lights and a little cubbyhole to sit and drink coffee and a little place to lay and sleep. I can even stretch my legs at night, if I am really careful. Besides that, I traveled clear across country with MeMe and her didgeridoos in the tub in '97.
Just like then, I canít get to the stove, the sink or anything else, for that matter, and Ms. E.T., the cat, loves the Cropper anyway. She is so happy to be out of the apartment and a happy cat counts for a lot right now. Canít have an unhappy cat.
We fall asleep about 3 a.m. and by 7:30 a.m. the kids think it is time for me to get up, and I do. Like every morning, I call to check on my move-in date and, like every morning, no one knows. I have only been here three weeks and I know the routine. Just be patient, I am told, it will happen soon.
Videotaping shows has become an almost impossible undertaking. I am totally out of money, with nowhere to hook up the computer, and it is hard to get phone calls. The phone bill is only $529.54 -- low for a cell phone, the phone company tells me. I need to have my phone number sent to a different phone to avoid that. Impossible, because of the prefix. The friends have a hard enough time keeping up with my dilemma and should not be expected to remember a new phone number.
"Lady, I donít care if you sent it on to outer space," I told the phone person.
"Iíll call you back," she said, and she did, late that night. "We sent the number to a satellite and are beaming it back to your cell phone. It will arrive there tomorrow. All for only $31 installation and $16 per month."
Every so often the kids would knock on the Cropper, telling me I had a call. It took a while to figure out that the satellite beamed it to the wrong cell phone. We fixed it by the third business day -- no problem. For the next two weeks no calls. No one loves me! The truth of the matter is, we donít know who is getting the calls. No one seems to know, least of all the phone company.
I am now in my fifth week of homelessness. I am still patient.
As I was doing things in town each day, just to keep from losing my mind, I was talking to myself in a shop and a man named Doug answered me. It turned out he was a homeless person and so he offered to help in the studio, and we hung out at Jack in the Box for a burger.
I experienced what it feels like to be homeless, without money, and how people look at you as soon as they see you coming. I still mentioned that I was the "earthquake homeless person from their TV set" on Wednesday and Friday. BIG DEAL! It is so expensive to live in the street, even with a Cropper for safety at night.
By now I have driven 1,320 miles since the earthquake, to take care of things. In town the car does not make the freeway, it is too sick.
I finally get the papers for the nonprofit I had applied for: Temple of High Strangeness. I thank Universe. Now that I am a "Temple," the friends can help more freely and deduct any donations from their taxes. It will be good to get back to work. I go from shock to hysteria to depression, to just being in awe of the whole thing.
In one of my better moments I thought I should consult the cards, to see what is holding up my move-in date. It told me that the problem was not with the bank back East, as I was told, but rather local. I related that in my morning phone call and I am sure they were as tired of me calling as I was having to call there. It is now July 1, 2001.
The landlord at the park I had signed the lease with was wonderful and did not make me pay space rent on a place that I was not able to move into. Instead of help, I got advice and more advice, to the point where I quoted my friend, Edie, who says that when one gives unsolicited advice, they donít respect their own judgment.
No calls, no readings, just the wait, and I am not a nice person.
I consult the cards again and again. It tells me the problem is local, not with the bank.
Up to this time I have not cried or even grieved for what had happened. I am now getting whiny and that makes me angry. My nerves are very stretched and I want to jump out of my skin. I know there is a divine force at work here, but I wish I could understand what is going on.
One evening, right about July 5 or so, a lady called and she sounded like she had the voice of an angel. She said she had heard about my troubles and she had a mobile for sale. She said she knew about my financial situation and she would settle for half the selling price and would move it to anywhere I chose in just a few days.
I was so moved and shed a tear about how there are people that do care. I called the landlord at the park where I was supposed to move to, and asked if there was an empty lot. There was, and it was possible to shift the lease to the new lot, 300 feet from the place I had bought and couldnít move into. Oh sure, they said. So I looked at the lot and it was the biggest one there. I checked everything there was about it, even poked in the dirt to see if the ground was stable. Trees were everywhere except on the lot. No power lines or transformers. The only thing I could get hit by would be the planes that land at the nearby airport, if they ever miss a runway.
I checked with the two psychics I trust and my higher-up, and it was a go! A safe place and 300 feet from where I thought I was going. I was still disappointed about not being able to live in the Indian place and I so liked the repo.
The money for the repo was refunded and I felt panic for a bit, because I had patiently gone through all this trouble all these weeks and didnít want to give up now. The human thing, you know...
I agreed to buy the place the lady had offered so graciously and I hated it! I hated everything about it, especially the kitchen. We agreed on the price and I made her aware of how that is all the money I had. She assured me nothing else was needed and I would be up and running in no more than five days.
The fourth time I went to the lot, a grass circle appeared right in the front. The circle I had always hoped for at the old place, just to prove to the neighbors that they did exist. I had only ever seen two of them, this one being the second. I thanked Universe for the confirmation and promised to change my attitude about the place.
The lady allowed me to take most of my belongings out of storage and lay them flat on the floor inside the place till it was where it needed to go. That saved me $100 and I was grateful.
I no longer felt homeless... for a day or so.
The five days came and went, and there was no movement at all. The lady said it was taking longer because it cost more than she thought and her kindness was a little in haste. She asked me to be patient.
Ten days came and went. PATIENCE. Fifteen days came and went. PATIENCE.
Finally, a call. A cement slab had to be removed. It was the only thing holding up the move. I called the friends and they came right out with sledgehammers and picks, and we -- including my 10-year-old grandson -- took my frustration out on the cement. Problem solved, slab gone. All 4 inches thick and 5 feet in diameter.
As soon as it was known that the mobile was leaving, the neighbors in the very ritzy neighborhood came with wheelbarrows and stole all of the flowers and bushes. By the end of that week, on Saturday, I went there to see how the work was going and the place was finally on the road somewhere. I said to the neighbors: "First you steal the plants and now the whole house." It felt so mean, but the look on their faces was worth it!
When I got to the park with my lot, there was the place, all on blocks already! It was an awesome sight. It looked huge. All my crates were still flat on the floor, and I had a home!
NOT SO FAST!
The nice mover said it would take several days (three or four) before inspection. That involved hooking up plumbing and electric, skirting and a porch with realigns and legally I was not to live there till then. A pink tag kept me out.
The landlord agreed that I could stay in the Cropper for three days, so I could start my move in.
I thanked the kids for having me as their neighbor for such a long time, and got ready to leave. The Cropper did not start. Someone had messed with the switch box the day Kanashibushan had stayed with me after a viewer sent for her, so we could tape an update on our predictions, because 27 of them had happened already and it was only July. We had gone to the Mima Mounts, a very special place, and recharged our own batteries, if you will.
The Cropper battery was dead, so I bought a new one. I was not able to install it, so Bernie, my director, just happened to come by with a mechanic who informed me that I had fried the alternator and the voltage regulator and NO WAY was I going to be able to drive 10 miles with even the new battery.
I called AAA and they towed me. The little guy came with an even smaller truck. I tried telling him it was not going to work. After much debate and struggle, he agreed and left Cropper in the middle of the street for almost two hours, and then finally delivered it to my new home. On Thursday. He forgot to connect the driveline and when I was ready to duke it out with the tow truck lady, it was Monday. She informed me that "God" was always testing people with hardships. I told her that Universe had thrown every Anal Person on the planet my way in the past five months, and to please leave God out of this. If she was unable to move her boss, I would do it for her. I did. On Tuesday.
Twelve days have gone by. I have a place in a sink hole with a red tag. I have a place on blocks five feet in the air with a pink tag, and I am not allowed to live in either one.
No activity. No sign of workers.
The lady calls me and tells me that I did not give her enough money, and in order for me to finish for inspection, I would have to pay more for electric, plumbing, skirting and porch. I reminded her that I had purchased the place on the new premises, not the old. Her rules had changed. She reminded me that by her doing me this favor and discounting everything, I was taking money from her family. I wanted to ask if she was short on the BMW payment, but I did not get to it. I started to cry.
She said, "Donít cry," in that sweet voice I had heard when she made me the offer.
I said, "You donít understand." I was so angry, had she been there I would have decked her. It is sad when a lightworker is put in a position for that to occur.
After three days I was unable to sleep in the Cropper, because I was unable to drive it to the store parking lot in its present condition. I am unpacking, befriending my home, and have the lady holding me hostage by not sending the workers. I spend some nights at friendsí houses, but because I have to be there so early, decide to hide out at night and just sleep in the place.
The electrician comes and after 14 days I have lights. A plumber comes and tells me he will be back after sundown. That was Friday three weeks ago. He never came back.
In tears I give my report to a friend and within a day her husband and nephew come and connect the plumbing. They hook up the antenna, so I can watch the news.
All the appliances are broken. The water tank is rusted out. I struggle for every nail and screw I have, to produce for more repairs.
We forgot to ground the antenna. There it was, 8 feet in the air on the roof. The neighbors noticed it, but thought there was no danger of lightning this time of year. Little do they know that CHANGO visits me quite often and lightning appears over my house when there is not a cloud in the sky. I bought a grounding rod and, as I pulled in, noticed a man in a truck with a ladder.
I stopped him and asked what would he charge to ground the antenna. He looked at it and, after he was done, said I was welcome. He started talking about the Wing Makers and how some of the neighbors have watched my evolution of moving in, and how they knew I was coming and needed to move 300 feet from where I thought I was going, in order to be the point of the triangle where the other lightworkers live.
I go to the post office 11 miles away to check my mail. A Star Beacon reader from South Carolina sends me a wonderful letter and five dollars -- more than he can spare, being sick himself. I bought lunch, a hot meal I so needed after many days of snacks. My soul thanked him so much, and I will forever remember lunch because of the loving way it came about.
Two days later, I have a card from a Star Beacon reader, a lady who called me a "Kindred Spirit." A $100 bill of which I took $98.14 to the hardware store to buy piping for the plumbing that had just given out. My soul thanked her and I realized that the Temple of High Strangeness is not for people of like mind, but rather for "kindred spirits." What a revelation!
I hooked up the computer and prepared for the shows on the Antiterrorism Bill that followed the shows on the Oklahoma Cover Up news Expose Show. From throwing the printer out of the window and moving so much, it is broken.
The artifacts I managed to save have been glued together and found their proper location in the place.
The $5 bed from the garage sale sleeps great!
Everything is unpacked and nailed and glued in place for the next shaker.
Forty-seven days after the call from the lady to come to my rescue, I have passed the first inspection, with the help of some of the friends who hammered and sawed and nailed and listened to my stories.
After 21 days of no water and electric, I have cooked my first meal. The neighbors have shown me more kindness than the old ones in 16 years.
The repo got a new tenant the same day I was "legal" in the place. She and I moved in on the same day.
The mover worked out a deal with me for the skirting that will be installed in two weeks after he returns from vacation.
The friends from up North will build me a permanent porch in a week. Treated wood for it will have to fall out of the sky, and will.
The Temple got its first donations. A green Ď74 Fury a friend donated and had her son bring from east of the mountains, almost 250 miles away. Does it ever do freeway!
A green lawn set to sit on under a tree and meditate with the friends arrived early on. Great!
I have given the anger I felt for the lady for having tried to cheat an earthquake victim/survivor to Universe.
I understand homelessness and connect with the wonderful spirits of the people I met during that time.
I have made a friend with my new home, even the kitchen.
I appreciate the friend who helped me along this far.
I ask for help to carry me to the completion of this task. I was your scout. I did come home wounded. I am healing and reporting to you, so you can be safe.
Time for the lawyers. They have started to call. I guess it will be a while before this story comes to a close, so stay tuned in every respect.
I HAVE LANDED!
Lilian Mustelierís address is 9011 Old Highway 99 SE, #406, Olympia, WA 98501. She may also be reached by e-mail at Psygeria@aol.com.
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