It's Cyber Warfare!

I was attempting to complete an artist's statement for some work I wanted to submit and I thought I'd go on my website to check the wording of a particular description of a piece that I had up online. I googled in my web address: ritavalley.com and I was horrified that instead of my art work, some (what I thought at the time) Chinese gibberish appeared.

 (Yup. That's my address in the upper left hand corner). Turns out that it's Japanese...
I tried three times more to reach my website and finally went to my pages through the hosting site where I can add pictures and edit it and stuff. It came up just fine through the host site. I then called Ipage to see what was up...
Turns out that my domain name was supposed to be on "automatic renewal" but was on manual, meaning I was somehow supposed to be on top of when it came due (to the tune of a princely $12 a year). Ipage doesn't handle the domain and the domain registry company either never contacted me or it somehow went to spam or out with the garbage. The upshot is some crazy Japanese computer geek registered my name, I guess in the hopes that they could sell it back to me.
I said to the Ipage representative, "But I'm an artist! What do they want MY name for? We never get any traffic anyway!" And while there was an email address I can't say I see the wisdom in emailing these cyber thugs and saying, "Give me my domain name back!" They'd probably just want to extort lots of money from me, or take my credit card information and use it or send the Yakuza after me.
But it's sucky that my name is associated with what looked like a Japanese dating service:

 The guy at Ipage assured me that it was some sort of Japanese horoscopes. But really? I feel like my online identity has been violated! Who am I?
The only thing I could do was register ritavalley.net as my new address but it just isn't as easy as dot.com. And someone who doesn't know me well will probably google www.ritavalley.com, come up with that stupid poser website and forget all about me!
My next best hope is waiting for these creeps to get sick of paying for my name and then I'll have to jump on it and re-register it for me. I know that people make a business out of registering domain names, but seriously? My name? It's not like I have the name recognition of a Kardashian or a Bush or something! (I heard that the republicans were not really swift about Internet use and people made money selling their names back to them.)
But this is the third time I haven't had my own name available. Initially, it was this real estate agent in Illinois or Indiana. Then it was (just as strange as Japanese) a British chemical company. Then I scored my name serendipitously late one night when their ownership lapsed. Let this be a lesson to the wise: register- permanently if you can- your own name!

Paranormal Activities at the Ranch

Bob and I don't really put much stock in poltergeists or numerology or other worldly phenomenon, but we do like our occasional horoscopes. I'm a Cancer and both Bob and Jules are Tauruses (Tauruns?) so that makes us all wonderfully compatible. (It's anyone's guess when Maggie's birthday is; for some truly stupid reason to do with horse racing, all horses are said to have January 1 as their birthday).
Anyway, we religiously read "Free Will Astrology" and have for years; otherwise, how would we know what to do with our lives? I can't say that Rob Brezsny is any more or less "accurate" than any other astrologer, but he's funnier and more provocative. Don't worry; we haven't gone all Nancy Reagan.
But now that I've confessed this much, one member of this household is always eager to look up the horoscope printed in any of the fashion magazines that I get. (I get these magazines for art purposes, like the porn magazines. That's another blog posting...) These horoscopes tend towards the "hot month to ask that new himbo at the water cooler out" persuasion and to give zodiacal tips on making sure your bag matches your shoes, especially if that catty Saturn is in your third house, which rules all things hosiery. This explains why we always look so good...
On a useful note, I think that remembering one's weekly horoscope is a good at home test for Alzheimer's Disease. Half way through the week, Bob or I will quiz the other with, "Do you remember what your horoscope was?" Typically, we remember one or the other; rarely both.

Our house is generally quiet when it comes to spooks and things that got rat-a-tat-tat-tat in night. When we were looking to buy a house, we always inquired about hauntings/ possessions/ apparitions and the like. I for one do not wish to mess where I shouldn't be a-messin', and things that visit from astral planes and parts unknown are in this camp. I have spent several (distantly past) uneasy nights in houses that were haunted and had no desire to purchase one. While Bob and I aren't superstitious, I think we're both cautious.
Having said that, I will allow that occasionally things disappear, such as the scrubber thing for the dishes in the sink (Both Bob and I are certain that that has gone over to "the other side"). And my socks... some spook with fifteen legs is having a field day as my socks are constantly disappearing. Perhaps I should ask Planchette for guidance.
A psychic whom we had visit to confer with our previous horse (to determine why he was so miserable) said that there are many Native American spirit residents of our property and that they liked us. We never really figured out what was bugging Crispin the Horse but at least the indigenous peoples think well of us.