You have HOW many kids!!?

I Watched My Heart Crumble Last Night

2010-08-25T09:22:00.001-04:00

Last night, Jordan came to the realization, at the age of fifteen, that he is "different". There is little more heartbreaking for the parent of a special needs child than to see his face as he says, "Mom, I just want to DIE. I don't fit in anywhere and I'm different from everybody else.I want to be dead."

I wish he had stayed oblivious to his differences. I wish he knew that he DOES fit in; with us, his family and those others who care about him. But I know that at fifteen, for even the "normal" teen, that isn't enough, so how can that be enough for a child who struggles for every that we take for granted? Things like counting out change, buying a meal at McDonald's, walking into a crowded room, having a girlfriend.... hell, having a FRIEND, are things that he strives for on a daily basis. We however, think nothing of most of the above. We may periodically feel grateful for the abilities, gifts and friends, casual and otherwise, that we have, but we rarely contemplate what it must be like to not have them at all.

I have said before and know that I will probably have reason to say again, that every time some well meaning soul comes to me and gives me a pat on the back and tells me how hard it must be to raise a child like Jordan, how strong I must be, I will will continue to tell them that no matter how hard it is to raise a special needs child, how much harder must it be to BE one?

How must it hurt to finally have come to that point of knowing "Hey, I'm different. Not everyone has these problems, not everyone feels this way."?

How must it feel to know that the "cool girls", the "pretty girls", aka the so called "normal" girls will never give you the time of day, will never ask you out, will never be a part of your life in any way other than to smile politely or in some cases, as has happened to Jordan before, to play with your mind and act flirty just so that later they can go to their friends and laugh over how they messed around with the "retard"?

How must it feel to want to be so much... a scientist, an archaeologist , a computer programmer, even a cross country truck driver and know that chances are it won't happen because you can't even manage basic math that well, much less higher studies?

Last night, my son lashed out at me and at his stepfather. He did it because he knew of no other way to ease his own pain. I have no broken bones, no bruises. The only thing that broke last night was my heart.... and his.

Health Care or 1984?

2010-03-22T06:43:00.001-04:00

When you can no longer get a same day appointment with your childs pediatrician because his case load has increased 10x and appointments are booked three weeks in advance...

When that same doctor, who used to be so conscientious, now rushes through appointments because he has 45 people in his waiting room...

When you spend 17 hours in the ER waiting to get your screaming, in pain child seen for a simple ear infection because you couldn't get an appointment at that same pediatrician and everybody else had the same idea...

When that antibiotic they finally prescribe to that same child no longer costs 4 dollars at Wal Mart but is now 25 dollars...

When you watch your next door neighbor get evicted because they could no longer afford their rent because the premiums were too costly on the "free" government healthcare everyone has to pay for or get fined for not having...

When your 70 year old grandmother, who is still active, who has always worked and been a productive member of society is denied treatment for a recurring condition based on "quality of life standards" and age but your 30 year old unemployed living on welfare neighbor, an illegal immigrant, gets taken care of for the same thing...

When Euthanasia becomes a "viable option" because it saves money...

When your newborn, who could live many many happy years with medical care is denied it and allowed to die because of those same quality of life standards...

When abortion becomes an accepted form of birth control...

When the cost of everything from that coffee you're drinking to the electricity you made it with becomes more expensive as taxes are raised and then raised again to cover the price of this little bill...

When, in the coming years all of these things come to pass... tell me THEN that you like the new health care reform.

Saying that that can't happen in the good old US of A?? Go read up on socialized health care in Canada and Europe... the numbers and the statistics don't lie.

And beyond all of that, tell me... if they can push through a bill ignoring the Constitution in the process by making a "rule" saying it is legal, what next? What will they deem best for us.. for YOU... next? Where does the line get drawn before we say "enough!"?

Cheatin' Songs

2010-02-11T15:11:00.001-05:00

I was happily listening to yahoo radio a while ago and a song came on that up until that moment I had liked. It's called Stay and the story in it is how the woman seeing a married man is begging him to stay when his wife calls. She talks about how she can love him better than his wife can. Ultimately she sings how she has realized that she deserves better than how he treats her and how next time he can "stay" with his wife because she herself has discovered some inner strength to let him go. The song leaves one with the idea that we are meant to admire her for this strength and applaud that she has let him leave.

When I heard the song this time, something struck me that never had before. When did this become ok? When did it become the norm that we are expected to sympathize with someone who willingly went into a relationship with someone they knew they had no right to be with?

I saw an interview about a year ago where the singer of the song admitted that the tears she shows in the video for the song were real because she had been in that situation so the song hit real emotions with her. The interviewer was completely sympathetic and talked only about how difficult that must have been.

Why was she not asked why she became involved with a married man in the first place? Why was she not asked how she thought this mans wife (and maybe children) felt knowing about her?

I understand that people cheat in relationships. Been there had that happen. In all honesty, as shamed as I am to admit it, though my ex and I hadn't lived together in many years, we were still legally married when Russell and I got together. So technically I too could be accused of cheating But I certainly expect no sympathy or kudos about that. I state it only in the name of honesty.

I don't know; maybe I am intolerant and utterly old fashioned. But I can't sympathize with many of the current ideas society says we should be upset about. Cheating is just one of them. I realize some people are in open relationships and while that's not for me, I don't put it in the same category as cheating because that is a choice they are making not something done TO them.

Is there a point to this note you may be asking? I have no idea. Maybe it's just me venting; maybe it is me shedding a written tear for what seems to me to be yet one more unraveled thread in the fabric of humanity. When we don't bat an eye at songs, movies, books, TV shows, what ever, that casually show cheating as the norm and seem to suggest we feel sympathy for the cheaters rather than the victims, I can't help but wonder how far society will go. What will we become inured to next?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zPG1n1B0Ydw

Friendships

2010-01-25T14:27:00.003-05:00

Why is it then when you disagree with a friends thoughts, that another (usually non-mutual) friend has to jump in and say something like "Well; you can always "unfriend" so and so if you don't like what they said!"?? Has real friendship grown so rare and so damn shallow that all it takes is a disagreement to end the supposed friendship? Have we become so technologically "advanced" that we are willing to dispose of people and relationships by pressing a button and then never think to look back; never wonder if we were wrong; never think we should have seen past the disagreements to what made us friends in the first place??

This is the same society that considers ones first marriage a "starter marriage" as if it is just a way to teach oneself about marriage; a stepping stone to "the real thing". What have we become as a people?

I have lost somewhere in the vicinity of ten to fifteen "friends" online. Why? Because I am a die hard Christian and because I can't stand our current president were the main reasons. Well, also because I didn't like the mother of a couple of them and how she lies and treats her kids but that's another story. But as for the other reasons, I had the nerve to stand up for my opinions on morality, on Obama and on God. THAT lost me friendships. God forbid that those people remember when they used to say how much they liked my humor and my style of writing and or/ even my personality.

It's too easy today to say goodbye. All it takes is the click of a mouse and you can forget you ever knew a person. It could be a person with whom you shared secrets and laughs, bonding over tears and memories. But that doesn't matter if they don't like what you say. You're just a click away from non-existence. Don't answer emails; delete delete delete. Simple huh? Shazam!! You never knew a person and owe them not even the smallest courtesy of a reason why. Am I the ONLY one who finds this horribly terribly sad?

I refuse to watch my words. Of course, I will employ politeness and tact but I won't say "oh yeah, I agree with you" if I don't. Even if it means losing your friendship. Because as simplistic, cliched and trite as it may sound, if all it takes for me to lose you is to say that you're wrong, there was never really a friendship in the first place was there??

Christmas poem :-D

2009-12-24T03:34:00.001-05:00

My Silly Christmas Poem
If I could have one gift for Christmas
It would be for peace of mind
They're out of stock at Wal Mart
So that makes it hard to find

I cant afford the bigger stores
They'd probably have a good supply
But if I have to use my Visa
Not sure I want to try

I looked it up on Ebay
Thought I'd find it there
But I guess no one is selling it
Cause they don't want to share

I tried to knit some in my spare time
But I made a tangled knot
It came out looking more like
Some road kill that was shot
So it looks like this is not my day
To wish on a Christmas star
So I guess I'll have to settle
For a stale Hershey bar
CHOCOLATE!!!!!!

yes this is SUPPOSED to be silly and stupid :-P

The Soldier

2009-08-28T14:10:00.001-04:00

He had never thought of himself as having been a good soldier. He drank too much and partied too hard. He sometimes took his work too lightly and his fights too seriously. But he was old enough to fight in Vietnam and had no reason to run from what he considered his duty, so he went... and he fought. When he went home, he realized he no longer fit in. Seeing so many people worry about their jobs, their money, their small annoyances when every day the men and women he had known were dying so that they could worry about those things annoyed him. More than that, it hurt him.

They hated him. They hated what they thought he stood for and what they thought he had done. The cries of "baby killer" and murderer" tore at his heart. To have people think that he and his buddies were killers, that they killed just for the sake of it made him wonder where the spirit of the country had gone. He knew that his fathers war had been different. WWII soldiers had come home to cheers and people who thanked him for saving mom, apple pie and The American Dream. He, on the other hand, had come home to sneers, hatred and signs saying he was no better than a modern day Hitler.

So he went back. He went back to the swamps, to the mud, to the sweltering heat and to the people he now considered his. He went back to the women who treated him like a god as well as the ones who had bombs strapped to their chests as they took their own lives just so that they could kill soldiers like him.

He did this for three tours of Nam. By then the war was ending and they sent him stateside. But he no longer felt like he was at home. So he drank more. He took various drugs to help him forget. He had made it through three years of Nam without a scratch physically. But the scars on his heart and his mind were irreparable. He no longer knew how to survive without somebody shooting at him. He tried to get help but no one would listen. He was just one more wounded soldier without a scar.

One day, he decided he had had enough. So in a small hotel room in Indiana, he took a gun and he put a bullet through his brain. He left behind one son and a handful of friends. He also left behind a note saying he was sorry. He asked everyone to forgive him but said that he could no longer handle the pictures in his head and the way the world treated him and others who had fought in what so many considered a losing battle. he also said something I have never forgotten. He asked that if this ever happened again that we remember that the soldiers were just doing their job and not to hate them for it.

Sometimes now I wonder... have we listened to him? Or are we repeating the sins of the past and hating the men and women who serve our country during a war that most of us hate?

Twenty Four years ago tomorrow Jerry killed himself. What legacy did he leave behind? What legacy did all the soldiers like him, who suffered for us, leave behind? Do YOU remember them? I do... every March and every time I hear about one more soldier dying. So next time you want to rant and rave over the war, please... can you remember Jerry for me? He was only 33 when he died.

Dear God...

2009-08-28T13:59:00.002-04:00

The first thing I want to say is that I hope this letter finds you well and that the questions enclosed in this won't decrease my chances of getting that Godiva Chocolate from Santa later this year. I know you have some pull with him and could convince him to give me coal or even worse, Russell Stovers Candy *shudders*

So please keep in mind that as I write this, I do so with the utmost love. I just have some questions and some things I wanted to say. Some of it will be things you have probably heard 10 million times but I figure if anyone doesn't mind answering things over, it will be You. Some of this is serious stuff and some is just various things I've wondered about.

I have to start with this one. As I sit and drink my cup of Mocha Coffee with it's 30,000 calories per sip, I wonder why You decided to have food be the way it is. Couldn't You, in Your infinite wisdom, have made say, Cheetos, Chocolate cake, Twinkies and other tasty things be the ones that are good for us? Why does it have to be Liver? And Soybeans? And raw carrots? Would it have been so hard to make Liver bad for us? "No! Don't eat that liver! You'll get fat!" would be a wonderful thing to hear.

You know me Lord. You know the one thing I've wondered for almost 15 years now is a simple "Why"? Why is my boy like he is? Is he more special to you so You wanted to mark him? Is he disabled to teach something to me and others whose lives he has entered? But the thought just entered my head that Your son left this life with many marks on him. Maybe in a way, my son is blessed. He has been a blessing to me and many other people. But Lord you know I meant it when I said I would gladly go to You now if it would mean He could be normal. Just say when. I'll be there.

That boy who died in that crash, that drunk driver, those children who died at the hands of their parents, the woman killed by her ex husband... why God? Why? I know life can't be perfect but why do You take the innocent? Why must the weak and the defenseless be hurt? Please... when we meet, can You explain this one to me?

My sister is dying Lord. After two bouts with breast cancer, it has settled in her bones and is killing her. She is only 48 and will leave behind 8 children. She isn't perfect. She and I don't even have a relationship and she can't stand me but she is my sister and I love her. Why God? Why? If she dies, what purpose does it serve? She is one woman, no one important in the scheme of Your Creations. But she is important to people here. Can't you take her later?

I have to ask it. I know you've heard this one too but I'll ask anyway. Platypuses, God?? Ummm...why? Was it just to give us a giggle? They are adorable and all but certainly prove nothing other than you have one hell of a sense of humor. No offense with the hell part. On the subject of why did you make this creature, you know I'm wondering about mosquitoes. Yes yes I know other creatures eat them but they could enjoy a tasty dinner of gnats or fruit flies instead couldn't they?

God, I'm still waiting for You to tell me what You want from ME. You must have a plan for me, a way for me to touch the lives of others, to be of some use on this planet, this small corner of Your creations. I badly want to help people, to serve a purpose, to leave a footprint. So far I keep getting turned away from the places I thought might be where You were leading me. Please don't take too long ok Lord? I want to help... somewhere, someone, somehow.

If I could ask a favor, could you have an Angel who likes to play and read and likes Chocolate be the one who is in charge of those of my children who are up there? When I finally get to meet them again, I'd love knowing they had known of Dr. Seuss's "Green Eggs and Ham" and "Where The Wild Things Are" as well as the joys of chocolate smeared hands. They didn't get to have that here.

Last but not least, thank you for the beautiful weather we've been having. My boys are loving it and Your world looks so fresh and clean. Thank You also for the people I love, this high calorie cup of coffee, the way I feel when I hear a bird sing or see the wind whispering through the branches of a tree on a Spring day. There are many more things I could name but somehow I think You know already. So thanks.

Oh yeah... before I forget. That thing with Your son? That was pretty damn cool of You. Thank you for that gift. I don't say it often enough but I appreciate it.

Love, Janet.

P.S.- You're gonna talk to Santa right? About the Godivas?

P.P.S.- Could you say hi to my dad for me? Maybe give him a hug? I miss him still. Every single day.

I Believe

2009-08-28T13:57:00.002-04:00

I believe that cats are intelligent beings with distinct personalities. I also believe that dogs have the approximate IQ of a rock. Any animal that hangs it head out windows at 75 mph & drools & growls at passing cars needs help. I also believe that my first husbands’ family evolved from mutant pit bulls. No insults to any mutant Pit bulls who may be reading this.

I believe in God & Creationism in addition to The Big Bang Theory & evolution. I don’t believe the two are mutually exclusive but that the first explains the second.

I believe that when God said we were made in His image, he simply meant as intelligent beings capable of rational thought and compassion. I also believe that He might have put sentient life on other planets that we may never find.

In saying that, I also believe in the egocentricity of the human race. Who are we to believe that we are the one & only or at least the first? Maybe when the Bible says "we" were made in His image, it was really referring to some being on planets light years and/or galaxies away and WE are the ones thought of as a lower species.

I believe Chocolate is better than Vanilla, but I also believe neither is as good as either Cherry Garcia or Baskin Robbins Winter White Chocolate. I believe chocolate CAN make you feel better, at least temporarily… until you get on the scale.

I believe real love of any kind can transcend all the laws of space & time if you are open to the possibility. I believe this because I have experienced being held by a person who was hundreds of miles away. That person also remembered it.

I believe forgiveness is sometimes easier said than done, but I also believe that if you don’t forgive, it becomes an open wound that festers & only poisons your own heart.

I believe that dreams can give you clues to what you need to do in your life & where you are headed. I also believe that this theory dies a quick death when confronted with the naked flying sort of dreams. THOSE are just weird.

I don’t believe Witches, Wiccans, Pagans, etc. etc. etc have green skin and large noses (well some might if they are ugly and hung over) but that they are your doctor, your bagger at the grocery store, your cousin whom you share many memories with or even your local journalist reporting on the world’s ills.

I believe that those who say their religion is the only correct one and if you don't believe it, you are damned (in whatever way their religion damns a person) prove my theory about the egocentricity of mankind.

I believe in alternative healing right along with Western medicine. I believe there is a plant to cure or at least treat any condition or diseases. I also believe we are killing most of them at a fast rate as our forests get cut down, thus killing ourselves ever so slowly.

I believe in the healing power of ones own mind, but not to the exclusion of getting help. I also believe those parents who watch their children die because they believe that if they wait God will heal them ought to be horsewhipped.

On the matter of another form of death, I don't believe in Capital Punishment because I don't believe that we have the right to make a judgment call like that, no matter how heinous the crime committed. That makes us no better than the criminal.

I believe that there are honest politicians, but sadly, I also believe power DOES corrupt and most people are eminently corruptible.

That said, I believe that the vast majority of people are inherently good with a few sick twisted minds turned evil thrown in for good measure to test the mettle of the rest of humanity throughout time.

I believe that a hot bath and a steaming cup of tea can make one feel better. Especially if you follow it up with the aforementioned chocolate.

I believe that children are instinctively the way we should all be but tend to forget when we reach an age where we learn that people are different & we learn to hate… don’t hit, if you’re nice to the others kids, they will be nice to you, share your belongings, and if someone is sad, give them a hug… it makes them feel better.

I believe that Racism is not dead; it has simply been given a nice media & governmental induced sweep under the rug because it is not politically correct right now. I also believe that someday in the future things will come to a very ugly head before we truly learn racial tolerance.

I also believe in Karma & know that sooner or later, it WILL catch up with all those sick twisted minds *cough...current administration...cough* him & they will learn what it is to fear. If not in this life, then in another.

I believe that Chicken Curry is the food of the Gods… along with a nice dessert of anything chocolate & highly caloric. I also believe anyone who doesn’t like Curried foods needs therapy, but I believe I may be being a bit harsh in that assessment.

I believe that the Natives of any developed country (translate… taken over by whites) are still, to this day, the most downtrodden forgotten races, be they American Indians or Aborigines or South African Blacks. They have the highest rates of poverty, illiteracy, preventable disease, death and suicide of any other races.

I believe in equal rights for women. I also believe that in our enlightened society, we still haven’t reached that point. Not when a woman only makes approximately 73 cents for every dollar a man makes for comparable work. That said I also believe most hard core feminists are lunatics (no offense to any hard core feminists reading this. I LIKE lunatics).

I believe I live in the best nation on Earth. I also believe that for too long, we haven’t acted like it. There are third world countries that take better care of their young & old, their disabled & their veterans than we do. With all the wealth and luxuries we have, we need to do more to shoulder the responsibility that entails and quit turning a blind eye thinking it is someone else is taking care of things.

I believe that anybody who can look at our world & see how meticulously it is all put together, how everything is worked out, or look at a gray sky while the sun tries to play peek a boo through the clouds or watch a baby smile up at them in innocent joy & still say that it was all just happenstance, all just a case of the right atom in the right place at the right time & that no higher power had a hand in it isn't seeing what i'm seeing but that's cool.

I believe that our friends can feel like family & we can love them as such & that family can sometimes not even be friends & we can react to them as we would a stranger on the streets. I also believe that when one finds a friend one truly cares for, you need to hold on with both hands because God alone knows when someone like that will come along again. This I also know from a losing experience that still hurts.

I believe that for every action there truly IS a reaction… I also believe in Fate & that fate has many different paths for each action, so the reaction we get depends on which road we follow.

I believe that a kiss from someone you love can make even a dark dreary cold day suddenly seem warm and bright. I know this one is true because I have experienced it.

I believe that there are many more things I could list from the mundane to the deep, but I would much prefer to hear what YOU believe and maybe I’ll elaborate on my beliefs some more some other time. Peace and God bless.

Cat Fight

2009-08-28T13:31:00.002-04:00

This is an old post from my old journal. I wanted to post something silly but I'm too tired to think of anything hehe.

Cat Fight
No gentlemen, not THAT kind so put away the camera and the sex toys, you sickos.

If you've read my journal, you know I have three cats...one half grown kitten who thinks he is tough but still has a kitty screechy voice, one eunuch who is fat and no longer feels he has to prove anything other than he really is God, and one who is a bit** and is proud of it.

Well, Merlin, the kitten, has been practicing his pouncing "Yeah buddy i'm a tough dude" skills lately & I often find myself watching, belly hurting, as I laugh hysterically watching him get his butt whupped. Merlin weighs MAYBE two pounds and who does he pick for his opponent? Yep, you guessed it... Ferret, the 20 pound freak show cat. I have always said cats have very definite personalities and todays episode clinched that in my head. Merlin kept torturing Ferret, whose usual response is to raise one paw, lazily swat merlin into a wall, then walk away while merlin sits like a cartoon character shaking his head and whimpering. Today though, I guess Ferret had had enough and while this will sound unbelievable, I swear to you it really happened.

Merlin came over to Ferret and started his usual "my voice hasnt hit puberty yet" growling and hissing. Ferret looked at him and hissed a warning, just the ONE warning. Merlin did a two step backwards as if he couldn't believe his playmate was talking back, then while standing as far away from Ferret as he could manage, reached out his front paw and swatted Ferret on the face. He did this a few times, alternating it with the usual pounces that got him batted to the wall. Ferret had not moved from his spot and had not made one sound since the first warning, but the look in his eyes would make ME hesitant to meet him in a dark alley (my cat...the mafia goon).

Suddenly Merlin did one LAST pounce. Ferret jumped back (I didnt know blubber boy could move that fast), leapt into the air and landed on top of Merlin. He still uttered no sound... what did he do instead? He laid down... ON MERLIN. He then looked over at me laughing my ass off, meowed sweetly at me once, and lifted his paw and started cleaning himself. Merlin was stuck under fat boy, all I could see through my tears was a twitching tail and I could hear a muted whimpering meow. Ferrets belly kept bouncing up and down, and I'm not sure if it was him deliberately bouncing to increase the torture or Merlins wiggling to escape his furry tomb that was doing it. Not ONE bit of that cat was visible other than his tail LOL.

Ferret calmly continued to clean himself with a look on his face that can only be described as smug and satisfied lol. Finally, not expecting a response, I stopped laughing long enough to say to him to get off of Merlin before he smothered him. He looked at me, meowed again, got up without even one backwards glance and jumped on the computer keyboard (his way of saying hi). Merlin got up, walked in a crazy little circle for a sec, then staggered over to the couch, ostensibly to regain both his breath and his dignity. Personally, I think it's a lost cause. No way he is going to live this down. I am pretty sure he will be a headline on the 11 o clock kitty news.

An Experiment

2009-08-28T13:25:00.001-04:00

Will you all try something for me? This is going to sound sappy& stupid but that's ok. I can take that reputation just fine :-D

You'd all seen or heard of the movie Pay it Forward right? Now what I'm suggesting isn't go out and change 500 lives by doing some drastic act for the good of mankind. No fiery protests, no giving your life savings to charity.

But try something for me. Today or tomorrow or in the next few days, do something for a stranger. Pay the bill for the person behind you in the drive through of McDonalds or the toll of the few cars behind you in the toll lane. Give that homeless man/woman you pass everyday a few dollars. Smile and hold the door open for a few people coming in at the same time as you somewhere. Find a journal or a profile here (preferably same gender or sexual orientation as yourself so it doesn't backfire) and just say something like "hi, just wanted to say I loved your profile and/or your picture. No response required. Not hitting on you. Just wanted to let you know. Hope you have a great day." Smile at that woman with the noisy kids and say "I've been where you are. It gets better" in the grocery instead of complaining loudly to make sure she hears it.

Just.... do something. Something that spreads the joy, that makes the people you do it for feel good that day. Then come back here and tell us how it made you feel.

We may not change the world, certainly not if it is a one time deal, but as sappy as it sounds (though those who know and like/love me deal with this nasty trait of mine, poor souls), maybe we can change somebodies viewpoint for a moment. Possibly even their life. Maybe even our own.

Will Human Beings Ever Change??

2009-08-28T13:19:00.001-04:00

I had to get a little bit of groceries today. Got my stuff, paid etc. remembered I had forgotten cheese so ran to Kroger. The bagger was an elderly black gentleman.

The man in front of me seemed pleasant enough. He was polite to the cashier, a middle aged white woman. The gentleman bagging was moving rather slowly. He had to be about 70 years old and by all rights should have been lounging around his home playing with his grandchildren but we won't get into my feelings about how our elderly are being treated (well maybe we will in another entry now that I think of it).

The man in front of me made a big show of tapping his fingers on the little check writing counter and giving these deep sighs. When it came time for some unbagged fruit he had bought to be bagged up, he stopped the bagger, saying "do NOT touch that" and he grabbed the fruit and put it into a bag. The old man said nothing, didn't even look up.

When all the stuff was bagged, the man asked the lovely customer if he needed help out. The man gave a snide laugh and said "I don't have that kind of time. I'll do it myself." As he passed by the old man, I heard him say under his breath, "Stupid old ni****" I was stunned and the cashier stood there with her mouth open.

I looked up at the old man, feeling like I should apologize for the jackass who had just left. He was standing there, head down, tears dripping down onto the plastic bags. My urge to kill became red hot. I paid for my cheese, said "I'm so darn sorry for that, sir" to the bagger. He laid his hand over mine on the counter and said "it's not your fault honey." I practically ran outside searching for that man. I saw him two lanes over, putting his groceries away. I knew I had to control myself or I was going to end up in jail because what I wanted to do was go over and punch him in the face, which is totally unlike me. But he had committed two sins in my eyes. He was a racist and he picked on an old person, a group of people I have a soft spot for.

I ran over to him and said "sir, I was behind you in the line in there."

He said "yeah, I saw you. Can I help you with something?"

I couldn't control my mouth. I just said "yes you can. You can cease going out in public and embarrassing everybody in the world with white skin with your disgusting shows of bigotry. You and people like you make me sick to my stomach. That old man in there that you said that nasty word to is worth fifty of you. Do the world a favor and crawl back under whatever rock you came out from and just stay there."

I then turned around and walked away, shaking like a leaf. Other than my anger making me shake, I had just openly confronted a large man, something I am still not great at, though in all gratitude to Russell, I can say that without his respectful way of treating me, I never could have done that today. I heard him laugh and say "stupid cu**". I just kept walking back to my car

Did I change anything today? No, I know I didn't. But maybe, just maybe, that is one man, who while he will feel the same, will be less openly hurtful with it. Plus, please God, maybe that old gentleman can know that not everyone is like that.

Right now... i'm ashamed of my skin color.

Bobby Kennedy Said It Well

2009-08-08T00:52:00.000-04:00

It is from numberless diverse acts of courage and belief that human history is shaped. Each time a man stands up for an ideal, or acts to improve the lot of others, or strikes out against injustice, he sends forth a tiny ripple of hope, and crossing each other from a million different centers of energy and daring, those ripples build a current that can sweep down the mightiest walls of oppression and resistance. - Robert F Kennedy

Pillow Talk

2009-07-07T20:45:00.001-04:00

Ahhh good old pillow talk... one hears that phrase and many things come to mind... well unless you're me then many stranger things come to mind because my brain is wired as differently as a Martians is. But I digress. Most people hear that phrase and they either think of the sensual sexual talk between two lovers or the sleep talking secrets that lead to a divorce court.

For many years, my bedtime companions vacillated between five children of varying ages and three psychotic cats. Or is that three cats of varying ages and five psychotic children? Anyway, with those choices as my sleeping companions the pillow talk lacked something in the way of sensuality and sexuality was a word I eagerly listened for on The Discovery Channel just to get a cheap thrill. I was the only woman alive to get aroused by nature shows depicting the mating habits of red butt monkeys.

Jordan was always the most interesting one of my offspring to sleep with. First because he was a cuddler and I would sleep next to Sasquatch if he could keep me warm, but mainly because I never failed to get a laugh from him. He had/has a habit of giggling hysterically in his sleep; he has been doing that since infancy. I like to think that because he can't live the same normal life we have, God gives him an extraordinary sleep world. He will out of the blue go from silent sleep to outright laughter to the point where he practically about to roll off the bed he is laughing so hard. All this with closed eyes and then like a switch has been flipped he stops.

Then there are the times he talks in his sleep. Once I was privileged to be there when he talked to God in his sleep and from the sound of it was getting replies. The product of an unstable mind some may say but they weren't the one there getting chills while he talked.
Jordan- "But I didded good today in school didn't I? I got a level three and got to have pizza. Do they have pizza there? I don't remember."
Then a pause...
Jordan- "Dink... I'm glad cause if YOU say I can have pizza maybe then mommy won't say it costs too many dollars. Can I have Lemonheads for breakfast"?
another pause...
Jordan- "Yay!!" then he paused... then... "can I really fly when I live with you?"
A pause...
Jordan- "Oh...ok... well... that's ok... but if you change your mind I want purple wings ok? When I am borned next time after I get old and get to be a baby again, will I be smart and will people like me and not call me names?"

Another pause as I leaned in closer to better hear his quiet mumbles... but this time there was no verbal answer from Jordan... then he smiled very big and drifted back into quiet sleep.

Now, to some this may sound unbelievable. Even to those who know me that may be the case. But I was there... I was the one who was practically in tears by the end of his conversation. THAT is pillow talk with Jordan.

Now Zachie man is on the other end of the spectrum. When he sleeps he becomes a very vocal mixture of snoring and snorting and dreams that involve him saving the world from destruction while seemingly making his cruel mother who makes him eat yucky things like beans for dinner beg for his benevolent mercy. He is a snoring blond Captain Planet mixed with a little bit of The Joker and a touch of Jack The Ripper. I am quite sure he is going to grow up to be a serial killer... that or the President.... not a lot of difference. He is the only 11 year old who has been known to chuckle maniacally in his sleep. Mind you there was also the time he was sound asleep and out of the blue started laughing loudly and screeched "Stop tickling me mommmmyyyyyy" I of course was on the other sound of the bed reading quietly and got scared out of ten years by that outburst. He woke himself up with it and we both giggled like loons for a few minutes before he went back to sleep.

Rachel was always a quiet sleeper... no pillow talk with her... she is dainty even in sleep. She is like me; little movement unless she is having a bad night and no vocalization.

Cammy used to be under rule to bring his own pillow because otherwise by morning I would have to change the pillowcase because he drools like a fiend in his sleep... his only pillow talk is the sound of slurping lol (Lord I'm glad my kids don't read this journal.. I would be killed)

Jared was always the "big kid" and stopped the sleeping with mom stuff fairly young in comparison to the others... last time he did he was maybe 11... and when he was there so was Cammy so the pillow talk there was the two of them comparing bodily noises and smells... I usually left the room to be queasy.

The Pillow talk I get now is mild in comparison to what I got used to. Russell snores to wake the dead... I can leave the room and be coming back and hear "ZIUTRWUYOTFDLHAKGDTG...snort snort snort". It's not exactly "come here you sexy woman you and let me do wonderfully obscene things to your body" but I've grown rather fond of it.

His and Hers Housecleaning

2009-07-07T20:36:00.001-04:00

As you read this keep three words in mind please. TONGUE IN CHEEK!!!

How to clean the kitchen...her way.

Start at the top because it makes no sense to clean upwards...everyone knows that. Clean the shelves where you store things and dust and windex all the little knick knacks until they are glittering enough to make an ADHD person stop and say "oooo, shiny things!"

Clean the counters and other surfaces with a steaming hot soapy rag making sure to lift up things on the counter to get the nasties trying to hide under and behind them... germs...ugh!!

Get the Clorox wipes and re-wipe everything after thoroughly drying the counter...germs...UGH!

Look into the cabinets and see how the flour has spilled onto the shelves some. Take the flour out to wipe up the spill and then notice that other things look disorganized and think that there is no way you can cook in a kitchen like that. Take everything out of the one cabinet and straighten it out, again using the Clorox wipes. Get thoroughly grossed out when you find a piece of old stale bread that has somehow gotten shoved to the back of the cabinet. Gag a little as you throw it out.

Notice how nice that cabinet now looks in comparison to the others and with a happy OCD sigh start on the other cabinets, whistling as you alphabetize the spices and make sure all the cans are grouped by food category.

Clean out microwave using boiling water/vinegar method also making sure to move microwave to get anything trapped underneath.

Clean kitchen window, inside and out, cleaning any fingerprints and marks in the door also.

That done, get out mop bucket. Fill with water that is about half a degree away from boiling. Put in enough Pine-Sol and disinfectant to scare away any germs within a 45 mile radius. Mop floor...twice. Then get out floor wax and on hands and knees, cover every inch of the floor in a shiny coating making sure to wipe down baseboards as you work.

Open refrigerator with trepidation because you never know what new mess you will find in there. Take everything out, throwing out anything past it's date or that looks as if it could be an experiment for Dr. Frankenstein (or is that franc-en-steen?). Clean off the shelves with diluted bleach water, again steaming hot. Sigh as you wonder why your kids have opened 3 different containers of mayo and 4 of the same type of jam. Put everything back in, making sure to put the oldest near the front in the vain hope that it will get used first.

Finally done, reward yourself with a cup of hot tea and something chocolate. Relax....for five minutes...until the kids enter the kitchen and ruin everything you just finished. Start over.

His way....assuming he doesn't live with a woman.

Go into the kitchen to get a beer. Notice that to get to the refrigerator, you had to navigate past three full trash bags and a sticky floor stain that you are pretty sure is from when your bud Joe got sick last week after too many brews and nachos. Damn, you thought you had cleaned that. Lean down and inspect it a little closer and think to yourself that Joe really needs to chew his food better; that had to have hurt coming up.

Decide maybe you should do something about the kitchen. Women like a clean man so if you can brag about your spotless kitchen, you may have a better chance of getting laid by that chick at the office with the big knockers.

Search for 30 minutes for the cleaning supplies finally finding a dusty bottle of Windex, some rags and some Mr. Clean under the kitchen sink from the last time your mother cleaned up the apartment for you. Wonder where the hell all those pots and pans under your sink came from and what you're supposed to do with them; doesn't everyone order food in every night? Look at the picture of Mr. Clean and think he has nothing on your buff body. Do some poses for a few minutes in comparison then get to work.

Take the trash outside to the dumpster. Come back in breathing heavy and tell yourself you have to start going back to the gym. Get out a beer from the fridge, recoiling at the stench and sit down in front of ESPN Sportscenter for a few minutes... that was hard-ass work and you deserve a break.

Finish the beer and go back into the kitchen after taking a leak and doing some more Mr. Clean poses in front of the bathroom mirror.

Get the rags and the Windex and spray about half a bottle on the counter figuring more is better. Sop it up with the rags not bothering to move any of the crap on the counter; you'll toss that shit in a new trash bag when you're done with the smelly spray stuff. Sneeze a few times cause of the ammonia smell and wipe your hands on your jeans after looking at the snot on your palm.

Take the now dripping smelly goop covered rags over to the microwave cause you figure nows the time to clean it too since the door has to be pulled with brute force just to get it open cause it's sticky as all hell. Wipe the insides out with the rags laughing a little as you remember when you and the guys blew up one of those little plastic cans of beans in there a few months back cause you forgot to take the lid off. Clean up the beans still stuck to the inside top of the microwave and wonder if that's what fell into your TV dinner a couple nights ago. Oh well, who cares? It tasted fine.

Figure that now that the rest of the kitchen looks so damn good, you should do the fridge and the floor. Shit, that girl at work is gonna fall all over you when you tell her what a housekeeping god you are!

Get one of those pots from under the sink...least they're good for something anyway and fill it partway with cold water and then dump the rest of the Windex in there. Go get the mop from your deck where you were using it as a field hockey stick one night about a year ago to try to make beer cans fly over to the dumpster.

Dunk the mop into the pot and slop it all over the floor. Work on the puke stain for a bit. When it doesn't come up, figure at least it looks like clean throw up now and leave it. You're getting tired; you can always buy one of those girly rugs to cover the spot. That'll just add to your housekeeping/decorating god status.

Finish the floor. Use the mop to have an imaginary sword fight with someone, flinging filthy water all over the counters you "cleaned".

Open the fridge and recoil from the stench again. Find some Chinese take out from last week and sit down and have a bite to eat, scooping away the crusty parts. Set the container on the counter when you are done and toss the plastic fork in the sink.

Go back to the still open refrigerator. Take out a...a...a... something green and hard and smell it. Realize it isn't the source of the smell and toss it in the garbage scoring two points for the free throw. Dig around a little, moving the mayo jar with no lid, the 12 take out containers, 4 McDonalds bags, 36 beers and that tofu your last girlfriend left there in '05 to the side.

Finally, near the back, you find a slimy dripping piece of what you think used to be KFC. Smell it, realize you have found the source of the smell and start to throw it out. Change your mind with an evil grin thinking you will hold on to it until this weekend when Joe comes over to watch the game. Figure you'll let him have a few brews then offer him a snack... this should be classic! Wrap it up in foil so at least it won't reek anymore. Wipe your now windexed, beaned and slimed hands on your jeans. Look around the kitchen and feel proud of yourself and mentally leer at the cleavage of "office girl" as you imagine her nude on your kitchen counter. Get another beer, leave the kitchen and go watch TV. Repeat in six months.

Nineteen and Perky Boobs

2009-07-05T19:57:00.003-04:00

We all have our ONE "drunk story" that never fails to crack us up, even years later. Here's mine.

It was a dark and stormy night. Wait, wrong story. Sorry, I'll try again.

Once upon a time there were three bears. What do you mean you've heard that before!? Fine fine fine. Pooheads.

When I was 19, I lived in Cleveland for a time with a penny ante drug dealer named Dave (wth is in my life with men names Dave? Ok, moving on.). When I moved in with him, it was with the understanding that we would NOT sleep together unless I decided I was ready. I had my own room, he had his and never the twain did meet. Which I guess pissed him off enough to get his revenge.

One night, we had an evening of heavy drinking at the local watering hole where we and all our friends hung out. At least I assume there was heavy drinking. I don't remember that night, just the next day. They quite possibly were feeding me toilet water and I was slurping it up and giggling.
The night passed as they all seem wont to do. The next morning, I woke up bleary eyed and with a tongue that had been coated in dirty St. Bernard fur as I slept.

In his car.

With no clothes.

Just a half slip.

It was laid out neatly on the back of the seat.

I woke up at mid morning. This was a fairly quiet neighborhood but not dead so there was traffic of the foot and human variety that time of morning.

After sitting in the car for a while trying to figure out just how I GOT there and where the hell my clothes were I knew I had to make a run for it. I grabbed the half slip and pulled it on. Pull too high and my naked crotch and butt were hanging out. Leave it too low and there were my nice perky 19 year old boobs greeting the day. Pull the slip up... grimace and think I really need to start shaving. Pull the slip down and think that my nipples would be getting out of the car before me.

So I compromised. I pulled the slip down, got out of the car, hunched over like Quasimodos sister and ran like hell for the front door. The door that was always unlocked.

RAN!!!! Holding onto the slip for dear life of course. Grabbed the knob!!!! Fell on my ASS when the door didn't open like it was supposed to. Wth!? That door was always unlocked. I lived with a very friendly dealer!

Being a rational human being, I did what any rational hungover practically nude person would do. I started beating on the door and yelling to be let in. Quietly stand there and hope that he would answer? No way. My way got much more unwanted attention, car honks, wolf whistles and outright laughter.

No answer was forthcoming. So I did the Quasimodo Shuffle to the back door, just KNOWING inside my still half drunk heart that somewhere just out of view, somebody was taking pictures of my wiggling arse and bouncing boobs as I was running around the house.

Got to the back door, tried the knob. SHIT! Locked! Banged again, all pretense of civility gone while at the same time I was able to be outside the situation enough that I was laughing my uncovered self silly as I banged and cussed a blue streak.

Suddenly, from the corner of my eye I see the little old lady from next door slowly walking over. She gets to the back door and stands there looking at me. She sniffs a few times, wipes her face and is very obviously trying not to laugh at this mad woman/child with the mussed up hair, lovely slip and various uncovered body parts as I pushed and pulled the slip in embarrassment.

"Honey, you looking for your man?"

"Yes ma'am" I answered as I turned the color of a ripe Autumn Apple.

"He was here earlier. Saw him take some clothes out of the car. Didn't know until I saw ya running from it that you was IN the car."

My clothes!? You saw him take my clothes?! What did he do with them? Did he take them inside? Tell me he didn't take them inside."

"Oh no honey, they aint inside." At that I saw her glance upwards, biting her lip at this point so as to not laugh.

I followed her glance but saw nothing. "Ummm, Mrs so and so, where are my clothes?"

Her mouth quivering under the strain, she pointed to the roof. There, laid out like a little flat Janet, hanging over the edge of the roof and held down by rocks, were my clothes. My blouse, my skirt and yes even my shoes set next to them.

That was all I could take as well as all Mrs. So and So could take. Looking at the roof yet again and watching the hem of my skirt wave gaily at us, we both burst out laughing in loud unrestrained whoops. The demure old lady and the slightly wild mostly naked teenage girl had bonded... over my lack of clothing.

She brought me to her house and we tried to find something I could wear. But I was 5'8" and she was 5' nothing. I ended up with her dead husbands robe.

I knew where Dave was. His best friend Scott lived about a mile and a half from our place. So gathering all my inner aplomb and dignity, I belted up the robe and struck out on this sunny Saturday morning to go find him.

That mile and a half trek was the longest walk I've ever taken. Yet, also in it's way, the most fun. I've always had an overdeveloped sense of the ridiculous as well as being a ham, even as shy as I am.

Got to Scotts house and walked in. There were Dave and Scott, smoking a joint on the living room floor. Dave offered it to me with a grin. I refused as I always did... but with a grin.I then picked up his morning beer, took a long drink and poured the rest in his lap. Then as he started laughing hysterically, I got a glass of pop and sat down and we proceeded to have a pleasant day. That is... AFTER he gave me the clothes he had brought with him for me. He knew i'd find him.

We split up a few weeks later. I refused to ever sleep with him and he wanted more. But you know what? We split up amicably. Nicest guy I've ever lived with for all that he was a loonbunny from Hell.

Who needs fillings? I have glue!

2009-06-24T02:46:00.003-04:00

Last night I was, well, rather buzzed. Ok ok I was pretty well blitzed. Well, I have some herbal supplement drops I take every day. At about 9pm, I drunkenly realized I hadn't taken then yet. In a fit of alcohol induced responsibility to my body, I went to go take them.

Just like most people, I can walk through my home in the dark with no problem. I know the path; I do it often. So when I went to get the drops out of my purse, I didn't bother with a light. I grabbed my purse off the bathroom floor and got the drops out by feel. Or so I thought. I shook the bottle feeling like such a good girl that I was remembering to take them, hiccuped a few times, then experimentally shook the bottle. Then shook it again because I was SURE I had had more than that in there.

But, being the drunken fool that I was, I just assumed I had used more than I thought so I opened the bottle and tipped it up over my mouth. Nothing was coming out so I squeezed harder... then harder. Suddenly some spark ignited in a few sober cells in my brain and I turned on the light and looked at the bottle. I had just squirted a half a bottle of Nail Glue (Super Glue) in my mouth.

"OMG... ACKKKKK... I'm gonna glue my tongue to my teeth!!!", I screamed as I turned the water as hot as it would go after flinging the culprit glue behind me. I started gulping hot water trying to dissolve the glue before it glued my wiggly thingy in my throat to my tongue or something. Yes, I know it's called a Uvula but wiggly thingy is more fun. I grabbed my toothbrush and practically killed myself trying to brush my Esophagus. Screw my glue coated teeth. I had visions of my throat sticking to itself and dying on my bathroom floor with my uvula stuck to my tongue. I had no intention of the legacy I left my kids being a headline on the 11 o clock news saying "A local woman died tonight after she drank super glue and her wiggly thingy got attached to her esophagus and she choked to death."

After I calmed down and realized I wasn't going to die of glue poisoning or a glued throat, I started laughing. Only in MY life could this happen. Never again will I look for ANYTHING when I'm buzzed.

My teeth feel funny. How do you get super glue off your teeth???

Chicago In The 70's

2009-06-24T02:42:00.001-04:00

Memories are made of This

AKA "Chicago in the 70's
Living in inner city Chicago even in the 70s was not exactly a thrilling or safe experience. After a false accusation from a boy in my 3rd grade class that I had stolen some of the teachers play time costume jewelry (the court case is still pending; I may be going up the river anytime), the other girls in my class decided that I, the token white girl in my very large school must have been the one that stole that danged barbie doll way back in kindergarten. No, that is NOT racism... I WAS the only white girl and they actually said it had to have been me because I was white...racism works in all directions sad to say.

Thus began my history with toilet stalls. Fascinating things, toilet stalls. One can learn a lot of new words from the graffiti written in them; to this day, I STILL don't know if some of the things described in that legendary writing is even physically possible but as an adult I can say now that some sure sounded interesting *grin*. It sure makes me a hit at cocktail parties though when we play word games and I try to describe them. Now I can see you scratching your head and saying "toilet stalls; what IS this woman talking about?"

Well, think back to your own school days; remember that one child in every class that was heckled, spit on, tortured and tended to hide in the toilet stalls every day after school to avoid the daily thrashing that she/he knew was coming for looking at someone wrong? Though mind you, I can speak for all those kids and say they never looked at anyone wrong simply because that's difficult when one is constantly keeping ones eyes downcast out of fear. Well, in my school, I was that child; thus the thing with toilet stalls (I still cautiously peek out of them when leaving to make sure there is no one waiting with a rock).

I remember my first black eye. I didn't wait long enough that day (I guess I had read everything and was bored) and ended up cornered by 2 boys and 3 girls who wanted either the 13 cents I had, my very long blond hair as a trophy or for me to give back the stolen Barbie I had never taken. I am fairly sure that I have since seen them all on repeats of Americas Most Wanted and if memory serves even back then they were all six feet tall and about 250 pounds (remind me to tell you about the fish I caught.)

Have you ever had your face stomped on? Not a pleasant experience as it happening but for an 8 year old it DOES have a good side effect; it leaves a hell of a sweet black eye to brag about! I remember running home and as the eye was so swollen I could see it without benefit of a mirror, running in the house grinning from ear to ear, and screaming "Hey mom look at my eye!" She wasn't thrilled with the blood dripping on the carpet; after all we WERE renting; but she was impressed with the eye. I still have flashbacks of her piercing scream saying "OMG, your EYE!!! EWWWW, watch out; you're dripping on the *&^*#&*%^* carpet!" Even now, I hear someone scream and I hit the floor and start crab crawling towards the nearest bathroom.

There is little more humiliating though than having your mother chasing a bunch of kids around the next day pulling you behind her while she screams threats at them. Well, other than going to school in kindergarten and forgetting to wear underwear under my dress but that entry will have to wait. I don't undress unless I know you better. I still have a cartoon vision of myself flapping in the wind on my mothers hand while she ran after all the laughing kids in the schoolyard with me trying to keep up and breathlessly answer her questions of which kids did it. But that did NOT help my popularity any I'll tell you. For weeks after that, I had to listen to a plethora of "yo mama" jokes as they beat the tar out of me.

Anyone who wants to help save future generations from such torment should send a donation to www.scaredflushersunite.org. We are a small but proud group. Union meetings are held every other month in varying members bathrooms. Bring Your Own Tissue.

Curiousity killed the cat

2009-06-24T02:36:00.000-04:00

I am never sure how others see my way of thinking though with some exceptions. As I told somebody recently, a good friend of mine has equated my way of thinking with a train track covered in super glue among other things. He will get stuck on one railing and I will already be off and slopping glue onto a totally different railing (translate- subject). Also that the way I think is like getting all comfy in a train ready to enjoy the ride when WHAM up comes the captain to announce that you boarded the wrong train and the one YOU want is that one zooming past on the other track. I've never been quite sure if being described this way is good or bad.

Anyway, getting to my point, the other day a gentlemen posted on one of my entries saying something to the effect that he would look through car windows as he passed people driving and wonder about those people.

I have always done things like that. When I used to walk many miles a day, one thing that kept my mind occupied was looking at peoples houses (AT not IN... i'm not a peeping tom) and wondering about the occupants. Were they happy? Did the husband and wife love each other? Were they all going to sit down to dinner together tonight or would they all go their separate ways because there was no connection between them?

I see people in the grocery store and wonder things like that too. That heavy woman buying the ice cream and chocolate cake from the bakery? Will she be embarrassed when she gets to the check out because people will be thinking (at least in her mind if nothing else) that buying things like that is why she is fat? Or the man buying the TV dinners. Is he lonely... alone... wishing he had someone at home with whom he could share a REAL meal?

It is when I see the elderly and children with the angry parents that my mind really gets whirling sometimes to the point of giving myself a choked up feeling. I will see the elderly... that little old man putting cans of beans in his cart or that stooped lady carefully using a calculator as she slowly walks through the produce aisle checking prices... and wonder about their lives.

I have a soft spot for the elderly brought on by I guess my own personality and by working at Home Health Care and seeing how forgotten many of them become. That little old man with the beans... does anyone come see him or does he eats them alone in front of his TV wondering why his children never call and wishing that once, just ONCE, he didn't have to choose between paying his bills and eating decently because his Social Security doesn't stretch far enough? Or does he deserve his loneliness because he was an ornery bugger in earlier life?

That old lady? Is she a widow who is just sadly waiting for time to pass so she can join her husband or is she just a grouchy old biddy too cheap to NOT use a calculator? Does she still roll over in bed at night and feel the cold on the other side or is she used to it now?

That woman with the ice cream? That man with the TV dinners? I see them and others like them and I can't stop my vivid imagination from seeing them in their homes... alone... wanting company but having none. I want to guide them towards each other and say "hi you don't know me but I've watched you... how 'bout we introduce ourselves and would you like to come over Friday and play some cards"? But that is a quick road to a loony bin.

Those children with the angry parents? You know the ones I mean. Not the child who has actually done something to deserve rebuke but the one who is choking back a sob with fear in his eyes because he has been told that if he makes one more move or one more sound he will "get slapped and slapped hard dammit". I see those children and wonder what their futures hold and wonder if my fiance would kill me if I started bringing home stray kids like kittens.

Sighhh... so may people... so many stories. I want to know them all and write them down so we never forget the connection between us all.

Me Being Fanciful

2009-06-07T19:45:00.001-04:00

I read somewhere that there is a moment in every day when one feels the most at peace, is at one with the world. The theory was that that time, that one moment, is the time of day or night when you were born. For me, that one moment will be in about ten minutes...I can gauge that because so often I find myself standing on my porch if the weather is nice or looking out my back door if it's not.

It is somewhat cloudy right now with a soft breeze; hot but not so bad that one can't stand outside. I just enjoyed my "moment". The shadows fall on the trees in the mountains, leaving them with a shimmering golden tint as the branches sway in the wind. I watch and it makes me wish I was standing there in the dappled sunlight of the woods.

At this time of early evening, one can look at the mountains and imagine it filled with laughing dancing Fairies and Sprites filled with all the joy and awe at the beauty of creation that we humans sometimes fail to recognize. They are out enjoying the last moments of sunshine. I can picture them throwing back their heads and turning their faces up to the fading sunlight as if to soak in enough to keep them safe and warm throughout the coming night. Around them the snakes and the coons and the possums must glance at them wondering what these creatures are but knowing they belong there just as much as they themselves do.

These otherworldly lads and lasses will be starting their fires for the evening...doing what they must to inhabit a world that becomes dark and fearful after twilight. They gather 'round and tell stories of majestic dragons, ladies fair and the Knights who fought for their hand, of kings of old and days when the Unicorn was more than a myth.

Sometimes...at night, if you stand very still and listen with your heart not your ears, you can hear them. They sound like a night breeze and what you will think you are hearing is the whisper of the wind and the rustle of the trees. Really though it is the laughter of the Sprites and the gentle movement of the Fairies wings as their bodies vibrate with joy and laughter at just being alive.

I Want I Want I Want

2009-06-07T19:41:00.000-04:00

All my life I have people watched. I've mentioned before that I have a soft spot for the elderly. So many times, especially here in this rural area where marriages tend to last longer, I have watched old couples.

Forty years, fifty years, sometimes more they have been together. They will slowly walk side by side, her hand with its soft paper thin skin tucked neatly into his weathered palm. They come to a door and he will open it as his other hand slides to the small of her back or to her arm and he helps her through the doorway.

Forty years, fifty years, sometimes more they have been together. I see them in restaurants. She will pull his plate over to her as he sits and picks at his napkin or his hat with trembling fingers. She will slowly, carefully, cut his food for him. Then with a smile and a pat on the hands, she will push it back to him and look at him with loving eyes as he eats his meal. She may not have prepared it this time but I wonder how many meals she has made for him... how many times she has helped him as he aged.

Forty years, fifty years, sometimes more they have been together. Bad times and good times, watching family members die, maybe even outliving their own children. Being poor, maybe having times with money. Fighting, making up, loving each other throughout it all.

Forty years, fifty years, sometimes more they have been together. They've spent it sleeping in the same bed, sharing each others warmth, maybe sleeping by hospitals beds crying and praying for the other to get better.

Forty years, fifty years, sometimes more they have been together. They watch as the other goes from young and strong with firm limbs, shining hair and bright eyes to a person who walks stooped over on frail legs. The hands that used to tenderly hold them in the dark hours of the night now shake and have lost their strength. They see dark hair turn to silver, bright eyes lose the luster of youth. Yet, they still seem to see that graceful girl they danced with or that young man who held their first child oh so tenderly.

Forty years, fifty years, sometimes more they have been together. Then one day,one of them has to stay in that hospital bed or just doesn't wake up in the morning. A lifetime of memories...of wants...of needs... hopes and dreams. As hard as it must be to be the one left behind, I want, I want, I want. I want those memories... those wants, those needs, those hopes and dreams. I want the hand on the small of my back as I slowly walk through a doorway. I want my hand held, my hair stroked, my warmth shared. I want the fights, the making up, the silvered hair. I want the magic.

"Where've you been I've looked for you forever and a day
Where've you been I'm just not myself when you're away

They never spent a night apart; for sixty years she heard him snore.
Now they're in the hospital in seperate beds on different floors
Clair soon lost her memory, forgot the names of family
she never spoke a word again, then one day they wheeled him in
he held her hand and stroked her hair, in a fragile voice she said

Where've you been I've looked for you forever and a day
Where've you been I'm just not myself when you're away
no, I'm just not myself when you're away"
"Where've You Been"- Kathy Mattea

Memories Are Made Of This

2009-06-07T19:37:00.002-04:00

was talking to a friend a while ago. As usual, I think my brain frightened him as did my inability to express what I meant. It's doubtful I can do better here but maybe it will make for interesting discussion nonetheless.

Memory is a fickle thing. I can remember the smell of Alabama in the morning yet not what my grandparents house there looked like. I can remember getting stung by a weird greenish bee type creature when I was about seven but not where I was when it happened. I remember chowing down on a bottle of Bayer's Children Aspirin and the dress they forcefully took off of me at the hospital before pumping my stomach, but I have handily blocked the rest of the memory.

I remember as a child, thinking of adults only in terms of where they fit into my own life. Now though, I remember them differently; almost as peers and I wonder about those people who were adults when I was but a wee lass. Were they married? Did they argue with their mates? Were any of them gay in a time that didn't accept that and if so, what effect did it have on their lives? Were they happy? Did they sit in front of the TV at night by themselves, feeling isolated and alone? Were any of them party animals who went out clubbing at night?

Why do I remember my fifth grade teacher Miss Kuester sitting at her desk one day eating her lunch and how it made me feel suddenly and inexplicably sad for her because she looked lonely?

Why now, at almost 45, do I remember things such as that yet can't remember where I set my coffee cup?

Will I be 90 years old and still have vivid memories of Miss Kuester eating lunch or the time my sixth grade teacher Mr. Benkhe dumped my desk on the floor and laughed yet not remember how to feed myself?

What makes some things, trivial as they are, stick so hard that we remember them decades later? Why can I remember my father smelling of Irish Spring soap one day in 1983 when he hugged me yet I can't recall the moment he died with such vivid clarity even though it's only been three years?

When I'm an old lady, will Russell still be in my memory... will my kids... will ANY of you? Will these days that have meant so much to me, the good AND the bad, fade and I will be left remembering only childhood nonsense as I idly pick at the blanket covering me?

What makes a memory? What makes it leave? I want to keep them all. Every single one.

Thanksgiving day For 'Coons-Otherwise Known As...

2009-06-07T19:23:00.001-04:00

"The Day The Raccoons Turned My Porch Into Kings Island"

I have lived here in the sticks for just about twelve years now. But in some ways, I will always be a city girl. While I have come to be annoyed by wild animals digging in my garbage, I am also still fascinated and can be found watching them and giggling before I shoo them off the porch.

About eight years ago on Thanksgiving night, I was too pooped to worry about the turkey carcass and the foil pan it was in. So I set it on the back porch with the twin hopes that animals would cart the whole thing off leaving me nothing to mess with or that they would at least come onto the porch and I could get in some giggling and animal watching

They exceeded even my expectations and years later, I shake my head in disbelief over what I saw with my own eyes. About an hour after putting the pan out, I heard a mad scramble going on on the back porch. It sounded like and was, more than one animal. I snuck to my vantage point at the edge of the back door window to check it out.

There were three fairly large Raccoons on the porch, chirruping away as they fought over the turkey carcass. One would push its way through to the pan and the others would push back. The pan was coming precariously close to the steps and was in danger of overturning. Suddenly, one of the Raccoons pounced into the pan with the carcass, figuring I guess that if he was on top if it, he had the benefit of possession is nine tenths of the law.

That was the proverbial straw that in this case broke the turkeys back. As the other Raccoons pounced to get in there with him, the tray started a quick slide down the back porch steps, looking like nothing other than a greasy bone filled roller coaster for large rodents.

The Coons squeaked like they were being butchered as the pan went down and hit bottom. When it landed, tilted somewhat but still on the bottom step they jumped off, sniffed around it and then walked over to the poor turkey, which had itself been thrown from the pan and landed in the yard. They took a few seemingly obligatory nibbles off the bones then one at time walked over to the pan, still squeaking and chirruping madly. I was watching through the window, hands to mouth to cover my increasingly loud laughter.

Suddenly, one of the Raccoons shoved his snout into the tray and began pushing it upwards. After a few attempts, he got it moving back UP the stairs. The other two Coons followed behind him, chattering excitedly.

When it got up to the top, it quickly became surreal. The Coon who had pushed it up to the top got into the pan and started squeaking loudly. The two followers, after a bit of sniffing and trying to shove him out of it, seemed to decide it wasn't worth the effort. They then, together, nosed the pan and sent it flying down the stairs with the lucky fellow getting the ride squealing like a young boy taking his first ride on a loop-de-loop roller coaster.

As I stood there in total amazement, they did it again... and again...and again...and again. This was no accidental shove. This was a deliberate act of fun for these animals. They would work together to get the pan up the stairs then take turns (more or less) getting into the pan and being shoved down the stairs with whichever coon was in the pan doing what I am sure was a Raccoon laugh... a squeal of pure delight. About 30 minutes later, the allure of the grease soaked pan seemed to pall under the pull of the real food presented by the carcass lying in the yard and looking lonely in the rising moonlight.

One by one, they sniffed at the pan lying at the bottom of the stairs then went over to the carcass where the biggest of them started to pull it towards the overgrown field by the side of the house.

They were gone but I stood there at least another twenty minutes hoping they would come back and knowing that there was no way that anyone would ever believe my tale of the Thanksgiving night that the coons turned my porch into a thrill ride.

Cloud Watching 101

2009-06-07T19:00:00.001-04:00

I was sitting outside making pictures out of clouds until the mosquitos drove me back inside. On a tangent, I think I was found by the only mosquitoes on planet Earth that are immune to and addicted to DEET. The bastards.

What was I saying? Oh yeah...clouds. Yes, I'm drinking. What of it? *Grins*

I saw a cloud that looked like a DNA strand. That was followed by one that looked like a silhouette of Beethoven. As I was preening over finding such intelligent shapes, Bart Simpson eating a Kitty Cat and an erect Penis floated by. Damn my freaky brain for the cheap cloud 'ho that it is.

On another note, I am up to Chapter six in my book. I'm standing at a bit over 10k words now. I finally feel comfortable calling it a book, not a story. Anyone (that I trust and know) that wants to read and critique what I have done so far, let me know. I am all up for honest opinions. Don't suck up just 'cause i'm adorable. :-P

Jordan Tidbits

2009-06-07T18:57:00.000-04:00

He has had a case of "the sneezes" recently and every time he sneezes, he gets this surprised look on his face, laughs and says, "oh. Bless me!"

The other day, he came to me and said "mommy, I will always love you. No matter what happens or even if you get old and ugly, I will always think you are a cutie pie and a sweetheart and I will love you.............. even if you're mean."

When I said thank you and that I would always love him too, he started to walk away then came back and said "did I look real cute when I said all that mommy?"

I laughed and said "yes you looked cute but you shouldn't fish for compliments"

He just smiled and said "But I'm practicing mommy. I hafta look real cute so the girls in 8th gradel with think I'm a hottie."

Allllllrighty then. Can't mess with that logic.

There Was A Time...

2009-06-07T18:55:00.000-04:00

...when I wanted to be like you and the people you call friends. You were outspoken, you were snarky, you didn't take any crap from anyone. Being as shy as I am, I thought this was cool. I mistakenly thought that that sarcasm, that cockiness, the outward shows of arrogance and even anger translated to a certain level of intelligence and sophistication I didn't have. It's certainly how all of you thought of yourselves at any rate.

Time passed though as it is wont to do. With it I began to gain a small amount of the wisdom that comes from age and experience. I began to look at you and others like you from a different viewpoint.
You're scared all the time aren't you? You're scared of being disliked, you're scared of being liked, you're scared of seeming dumb, you're scared of using your intelligence for anything other than trying to belittle others; certainly not for any real cause. Because then you couldn't blame others for your failures could you?

You're scared of what you are, you're scared of what you aren't, but mostly you're scared and angry over what you'll never be. A decent human being. You truly don't know how to be one, do you? You try to act like it's how you want things to be in your life, but in reality, the words you say and the ones you don't say reveal so much more than you think.

Every nasty word you say to someone else to make yourself look more powerful, every dig at what you perceive to be their flaws, it's really a dig at your own flaws isn't it? The things you hate the most in us are the things you know you can never have; not in the long term anyway.

I'm shy, I'm soft hearted, I've been called too gentle. I do my best to help those around me even if they are strangers. I'm also smart and funny and have morals, values and principles that nobody can take from me. I won't bend them to fit in, I won't change them to make you like me and that annoys the crap out of you doesn't it? With me... with people like me, you just can't win, can you?

So you poke and prod and try to find the little thread of our personalities that you can pull on in the hopes of unraveling the whole thing don't you? But it doesn't work. Every time you pull a thread, we just sew it back up as we smile at you while you glare back and foam at the mouth and it makes us stronger at that spot. In the meantime, you're so busy poking and prodding at everyone else to find their weak spots, you don't even see yourself falling apart at the seams. You don't even notice that you are rotting from the insides out.

But it shows. While we find love and healthy companionship with people who care about us as much as we care about them, you find temporary solace in the company of people like yourself. But like any pack of dogs will do, sooner or later the most hungry of you start to gnaw at the psyches of the weakest of you, like a dog with a bone and eventually you turn on even each other, don't you? You have nothing to lose because there were never any real emotional ties were there?

I don't want to be like you anymore. Not even a little bit. Call me names, look for loose threads; enjoy yourselves. Know what i'll do in the meantime? I'll be happy. With my life,with my personality, with the very deepest parts of my soul. Because I like who I am. Can you say that about yourself or do you only look in the mirror to brush your hair because to do more gets you scared all over again?

How Do You Get That Lonely?

2009-06-07T18:50:00.001-04:00

There is a song I know with that title. The chorus goes

"How do you get that lonely

How do you hurt that bad

To make you make the call

That having no life at all

Is better than the life that you have?

How do you feel so empty

You want to let it all go

How do you get that lonely

And nobody know?"

Really? It's not hard. We as grown ups are expected to be completely self sufficient, utterly strong and to never let anything, certainly not a romantic relationship gone south or personal pain, get us down. That just makes us weak right? Means we are fools who should have known better huh? Bullshit I tell you. Bullshit!

The loudest sound our souls make is the keening for love. We bury it with alcohol, with quick fixes in short lived relationships, with our jobs, our kids, our friends and our hobbies. For a while, the whimpering in our hearts go silent. We have quenched the fire in the belly of the beast.... for a little while. It never lasts for long though. The fire burns again. Our hearts feel the need to find a kindred spirit; one who can love us for all our finer qualities and in spite of all our flaws. The keening grows louder, the cycle starts over yet somehow...ultimately... we end up alone again. That's how we get "that lonely."

It's so easy to go from the joys of heaven where every sound, every touch and taste and smell are heightened by our own happiness into an ecstasy heretofore unknown to us.

Then.... the crash. Nothing tastes good anymore. Music, which had echoed our own hopes, now only speaks of our heartbreak. You just don't care anymore. You are ugly, stupid, useless, unlovable and undesirable, at least to anyone who is worth it; only Satan's Spawn could want someone like you right?

Getting past that feeling is the loneliest thing in the world. It doesn't matter how many well wishing friends you have. No amount of "you're better off without him/her" helps. You....don't....care. You just want it all back. If only I had done this... said that... maybe I shouldn't have emailed... maybe it was that last phone call. Did I smell funny... taste funny... is it my nose??? It's easy to get to the point where you just can't take the pain anymore. Then you decide to quit trying. That's how you get that lonely. You get impatient and convince yourself it will never get any better; that this feeling you have now is it for you. It's all you have and worse, all you're worth.

Ok.... NOW... this long entry aside that came from God knows where other than seeing the pain of someone I know, I will start writing the post about what happened to me. maybe on seeing it, this person can realize that what they are going through, hellish as it is, WILL pass. Not soon... I won't lie. But it will pass.

Ma, They Threw Me Outta The Trailer Park!!

2009-05-01T16:10:00.002-04:00

With a mother born and raised in Alabama, over 20 years in Kentucky and also a year in Texas, one would assume I would be more country, more southern by now than I would be Yankee wouldn't you? That doesn't seem to be the case though. Other than an obsessive love for the word y'all and way too much of an interest in Southern cooking (mmmm, fried chicken, collards and corn bread... I'm pretty sure they are on the Heavenly menu), I am still a city woman, ok let's be specific, a Chicago woman, at heart.

I have never quite fit in in the rural south (I do fine in Lexington but here?? Uh uh) and you know what... I think I'm glad of it. I have admitted to Elitist tendencies. I've never been one to be Politically Correct; I've always said what I thought, gotten on my soapbox to espouse causes I believe in, but never because it was trendy, simply because it meant something to me and part of that not being politically correct is that I haven't been able to bring myself to believe in the dogma of "everyone is the same; nobody is better". To that I say a simple hogwash. See, this wasn't the general theme of this entry but there I go again... getting on my soapbox and not being politically correct hehehe.

I was out getting some stuff done yesterday and I saw wayyyy too much "country" for my taste. I think I got stuck behind or gleefully saw others stuck behind about 6 tractors. Added to that was the truck full of blissfully ignorant cows being led to their slaughter so that their flesh can grace our dinner tables. Yeah yeah I know, there I go again... and I'm not even a vegetarian. I was a vegetarian once.... it was the longest day of my life.

No seriously, I was one for over a year because it DOES bug me that they are raised just for our food. Then my "lets go off on another path" mind will think "ok what if we DIDN'T eat them? What then? Would Cows soon become the next trendy pet?" I can see it now. "George, the cow got out again and I think it ate the little boy next door. We're gonna have to move again gosh durn it!" Or soon Cow Poaching and Pig Poaching would become federal offenses and people would serve time because that telltale trace of BBQ sauce on their chin gave them away "I give you exhibit one your honor! We have here a photograph of Mr. Joe Bob Inbred eating, yes I said EATING, his neighbors pet Pig Wilbur!!!" Meanwhile, Wilbur's owner sits in the courtroom wailing inconsolably. Mind you they are only wailing because they had been growing Wilbur nice and fat for themselves and now that hush hush family picnic complete with Piggy flesh was ruined but still...it was THEIR pet! Also, say we all decided en masse to never eat another animal (yes I know...humans decide ANYTHING en masse... but this is MY warped entry damn it), how long before we are overrun with cows and pigs and chickens and cute little lambs and they are the new animal enemy? "Breaking news!! Family terrorized by a group (gaggle, herd, whateverrrrrr!) of hungry pigs.... father still missing; stay tuned for details!"
Pet stores would have to totally change their floor plans to fit cages sized for 800 pound Bovines who enjoy munching on dead grass and pooping where they stand. "Our pet of the day is Buffy; she's a 1200 pound pregnant cow who just adores chasing string & being rubbed under her chin; we've had little success getting her litter trained though. Nobody makes a box large enough"
Wow, this changed from my original planned entry. I know how surprised you all are.
Where was I? Trailer park... thrown out because I'm too city... piggies and chickens and cows oh my... well maybe I'll save the original idea behind this topic (assuming I can even remember it) for a new topic. I'm off now to find some animal flesh to heat up and make crispy for dinner. Skin anyone??

Quote Of The Day

2009-05-01T16:08:00.000-04:00

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

~Nelson Mandela~

The Tale Of Nakkie-Man

2009-04-24T23:01:00.001-04:00

In 1984, I was working at TJ Applebees in Houston. One night during happy hour, a rather large gentleman came in. He ordered a pitcher of our Happy hour Margaritas and a basket of 10 cent wings. He specified extra hot wings. In our restaurant, that was NOT smart because the line chef who made them had an evil sense of humor about his wings.

This man had a very ummm... healthy appetite. Four baskets of wings later (about 80 wings), he was on his third pitcher of margaritas and feeling no pain. Every minute or so, he would let out a huge belch and then giggle like a little girl, complete to covering his mouth with his hands and blushing. This activity coming from a man about 6'5" and maybe 300 pounds was comical as hell.

Fianlly he walked off towards the restroom and I used the chance to try to clean up the mess. There were chicken bones all over the floor, drawings of various obscenities on paper napkins, about 6 glasses on the table (he frequently requested a new glass and also very INfrequently allowed me to bus the table) and dirty napkins everywhere.

I went into the kitchen with my twelve foot high load of junk to get rid of it all. About three minutes later, another server came into the kitchen, laughing so hard she was practically turning blue.
"Janet... table 28... oh my god... get out here... oh SHIT... anyone have a camera... where the f**k did he leave his pants?!"

Somewhat leery but knowing that I had to go out there because our management had an in house policy of "your customer your mess," I walked out and stopped dead in my tracks as I got near table 28. My customer was naked... and eating wings. Well, he wasn't totally naked. He had had the foresight to leave on his tie to tuck his napkin into. But other than that and his shoes and socks, he was butt naked.

From right behind me, I heard the giggles of practically every member of the staff, down to the cooks. Mysteriously enough, the manager was absent. My mess huh? Gee... thanks.
Luckily, we weren't very busy that night, so I did my best to shut up the other staff and convinced them to go do what they were supposed to be doing. The giggles of course, kept going as they walked away as well as the comments of "Hey Jan... maybe he likes you and wanted to get to know you better" to "Damn Josh, what the hell did you put in those drinks!?"

I walked over to "nakkie man" and tried to talk without either sinking through the floor or bursting out laughing, both very distinct possibilities.
"ummm...sir... you're... where are your... I think you might wanna.. Sir... YOU'RE NAKED!"

"I know honey. I was BURPPPPPP oh my... so sorry... that was rude of me giggle from him... I was hot, so I just figured I'd sit here and watch the game on TV and eat my wings. Can I get another pitcher of Margaritas please?"

He was drunk right? He HAD to be drunk. Yet he was talking perfectly logically, no slurring.
"Sir... you can't be in here naked. I mean, the other customers... I mean sir your, at this I looked down and pointed and probably blushed redder than ever before or since ummm it's illegal. You have GOT to get your clothes back on sir or I'll have to ask you to leave."

Ask you to leave??!! WTF Janet? The dude is NAKED not being drunk and hitting on you! I gathered my thoughts together and vowed silently to kill my absent manager.
"Sir? I have to insist you get dressed!"

At that, he stood up. "What's wrong honey? You've never seen a naked man before? What's the problem? I was hot cause of those wings so I got comfortable."
At this, he grabbed himself and started shaking "it" in my direction. "It's just a dick honey. See? Harder shaking to where I was worried he would pull the damn thing off but as I said he was feeling no pain Just a dick. We all have 'em. Well, maybe not you but you got a cute ass and some nice tits. And I've got a DICKKKKKKKK"

Ok, I was done. I was totally and completely embarrassed and also laughing my ass off as Nakkie Man began to prance around his table, eating a wing with one hand and grabbing his penis with the other, chanting "I have a dick. I have a dick. She has nice tits but I have a dick!!" The restaurant was a madhouse of people leaving but mostly of.. I am not lying... people taking pictures and laughing.

I walked away and went to the phone and called the police and between laughs and stutters managed to explain that we needed some help because we had a crazed naked drunken man dancing around in house. After the dispatcher clarified between his own guffaws what I was saying, he sent out a car.

Nakkie man had sat back down. The bartender had brought him a pitcher of margaritas and Nakkie man was again happy, eating wings, mopping his face and drinking. About five minutes later, the police came in, guns drawn, expecting I don't know what.

We pointed out Nakkie Man. They walked over and quietly conversed with him, one of the cops waving his hand and obviously refusing Nakkie Mans offer of a drink. One of them went into the bathroom and retrieved the misplaced clothing, with the other leading Nakkie Man out by the arm as he kept saying "But I wasn't done yet. I still have some margaritas left and some wings. Hey, doesn't she have some great tits and what an ass huh? Can I get my wings?"

Nakkie Man was gone. Every customer in house at the time was offered a free meal voucher and their desserts from that night comped (hush money so to speak). The manager suddenly showed up gee imagine that and told me I had done good. How the hell would YOU know bozo? You hid.

Three days later the manager on duty came out to me as I was getting ready to start my shift and handed me an envelope, already opened but with contents reinserted. the envelope was adressed to "The Waitress on duty when there was trouble on October 23rd" (guessing at the date here; can't remember) It contained a short letter from Nakkie Mans wife, apologizing profusely for the nights incidents, explaining that Nakkie Man had various mental issues and with a hundred dollar bill enclosed "for your trouble"

I don't waitress anymore.

Things Childhood taught Me

2009-04-24T22:49:00.002-04:00

Alternately Titled
There IS a Boogey-Man Under The Bed

1)When your mother tries to feed you something she has nicknamed garbage soup, you're not going to like it.

2)Mud pies are not; I repeat are not edible no matter how pretty they look. For that matter, neither do butterflies taste like butter. They taste rather like dusty paper.

3)Never challenge yourself to see how much water you can drink. You can drink a lot and you will regret the knowledge.

4)Mothers of my moms generation learned to make oatmeal at the Acme Glue Factory.

5)No matter how hard you try, you can not catch fish from a rain puddle using a stick with thread tied to it. You can however catch a whipping when your mother realizes you used a whole spool of her thread in the attempt.

6)It is imperative to jump onto the bed quickly if the light is already off. Otherwise the boogeyman under the bed will grab your ankle and pull you under there and eat you. Also never let your foot or hand slide off of the bed. Just.Trust.Me.

7)If you sneak a bag of cookies to run away with, your mother will take the cookies but let you run away. Sneak carrots instead. She'll let you take those in the firm knowledge that she will get them back. Then you can dump them in someones trash can and feel vindicated.

8)If your older brother dares you to drink a 16 oz. bottle of pop in under a minute, don't do it. The after burps are killer.

9)You can suck jello through a straw if you try hard enough, but it hurts like heck if you laugh and make it come out your nose. Though it has its benefits if it was lime jello.

10)You can not hide garbage soup in your pants.

11)Nothing anyone can do can disguise the taste of liver. Not even liberal amounts of Ketchup work.

12)Black eyes look awesome when you're eight. Major status symbol and great way to get candy sympathy.

13)It is a moral imperative of kid-dom to never eat Corn Flakes without first putting so much sugar on it that you can spoon the wet masses out of the bowl after you eat the cereal.

14)Never believe anyone who tells you it ruins Christmas to sneak and know all your presents ahead of time. It was a blast. I preplanned my Christmas Vacation activities in November.

15)Bicycles do not fit through basement windows. The person riding it however can have enough momentum to go flying through said window.

16)The same bicycle also does not win against an oncoming police car. But policemen who feel guilty over ramming into 9 year old girls offer five dollar bills as hush money.

17)When you toss a prop Turkey off the stage in your fifth grade Thanksgiving play in a winning attempt to get a laugh, no one ever believes it was on purpose. I'm 44 and my family still thinks I just dropped that son of a bitch.

18)Last but not least, if you sit quietly on the bottom of the public pool, you can giggle over knowing who exactly it is that pees in the pool. This is especially fun when it's the popular kids.

Parental Rant

2009-04-22T00:55:00.003-04:00

Last night we went to my youngest sons school where they were having what is called "Spring Fling". The chorus, of which my boy is a member, did a few selections, then they had an auction and then the kids did a short musical based on Schoolhouse Rock (another post entirely lol).

During this, I couldn't help noticing something. Nine out of ten of the children present there (as well as their parents) were very overweight. I don't mean baby fat that a teen growth spurt (or a few days of being careful in the case of the parents) would take care of. I mean obese. The girl who was the lead in the musical was wonderful. Charismatic, funny, all around great. Also, ten years old, about 4'10" and probably weighed 160 pounds. It pisses me off.
Not at the children though. They are just that; children.

I have six kids. The only one carrying any extra weight is my daughter, who is also the mother of a fairly young child so I am confident hers will come back off. She's been working on it. All of my boys though are fine.

I am somewhat overweight and because of that, I was determined that my kids would not follow my lead. I watched what they ate (still do with my 12 and 14 year olds), was careful about snacks. Pop is a rare treat for them, candy also. They get candy on "kid candy holidays" like Easter, Halloween and Christmas and for "just because" treats every once in a while. I keep canned fruit (in it's own juices not heavy syrup), sugar free jello, a constant supply of Apples and Bananas, stuff like that. Their meals are portioned out to contain more veggies than meat and if they are still hungry when they finish, I ask them to wait for a bit to make sure they really ARE hungry before allowing more. Most of the time they decide they aren't.

I see these children, these precious being entrusted to our care, literally waddling like a woman 8 months pregnant and I want to beat the tar out of their parents. What the hell are they thinking letting that happen?!

Too many people go by the notion of "food is love" and I want my child to know I love them. Hell, I bake for my family. Made cookies yesterday as a matter of fact. My boys had 1 last night and have had 1 today. That's it for them. It's enough. Why isn't enough...well... enough for some parents?

They love their kids as much as I love mine. I know this. So how can they be blind to what they are doing to their kids? The health risks are obvious. The weight, no pun intended here, feeds on itself, making it hard for the child to do the same activities as his or her peers thus making them heavier from lack of exercise as well as segregating them from normal friendships that are so based on action in childhood. If you can't keep up, you're out.

Beyond the health risks, there are the social risks. Sure, there are some, like that girl in the play at my sons school, who get past the weight and you can watch them and know they will be popular no matter their size. Sadly though, that's rarely the case. Those kids will be ostracized, outsiders among the most social of creatures.... children. Then to make them feel better, their parents will give them some cookies.

Dammit... look at that child before you throw edible comfort at him! Give him a hug and go out walking with him. Go bike riding. Go hiking. Something. But teach him to push the plate away when his stomach says he is full. Teach him he can't fill his heart with an extra serving of mashed potatoes.

Gary Fulsom

2009-04-22T00:44:00.000-04:00

No matter what she did that night, she couldn't get warm. December in Cleveland was a bad time to be temporarily homeless. Being only nineteen, she knew better than to go over to the crowd of men huddled around a garbage can fire. There was no friendship waiting there;only problems.

So she pulled her knees in closer to her chest and tucked her arms under the thin sleeves of her shirt and looked longingly at the bright flames and the bits of food the men were passing amongst themselves. She had no extra clothing, no coat. Those had been kept in a fit of temper when her ex-roommate kicked her out because she didn't want to go farther than being a roommate.

She saw the aged man coming towards her and tried to make herself invisible behind the dumpster. It didn't work.

"Hey Blondie. Why ya hidin' back there? Scareda us gents over there? Well, you should be. We're a nasty lot of lost souls." He smiled at her showing a mouth full of broken teeth and sat down near her, waving a hand and telling her to sit back down when she arose and looked frantically around for the help she knew wasn't there.

Sitting back down as far away as the limited space behind the dumpster she had been calling home for the last week allowed, she waited quietly thinking if she just let him ramble, he might leave sooner.

"Frightening looking old shit, ain't I?" He spread his arms wide as if to show himself off. He wore a faded Army uniform with tattered old sneakers. His hair was halfway down his back and looked like it hadn't seen a brush or shampoo in weeks. His right arm hung strangely and he favored the left, using the right only to cradle the bottle he periodically swallowed from.

He gave a snorting laugh and smiled at her. Something in his smile eased her fears a little though she still kept silent. "I wasn't always this bum you see now, sweetheart. I'll betcha didn't know I was a vet huh? The uniform ain't just for looks honey. I served three tours in Nam. Had me a good life going until I got hit. Had me a wife and a couple of kids waiting at home." He took a long drink and was quiet for a long while. She thought he was finished and started to doze lightly, comforted by the presence of someone older. She awoke with a start when he began to talk again. "When I got hit, she couldn't take it cause I ain't a whole man no more. She took the kids. Got herself remarried. I lost touch with the kids 'bout 10 years ago. They'd be pretty much grown now."

"VA didn't help me much. The arms never worked too good since then; can't really feel much in it. The rest... well, ain't much they could do to make me a man again ya know?" She didn't answer, knowing it wasn't expected. She just sat with her head on her knees, listening and trying to keep warm.

Suddenly he looked at her as if really seeing her for the first time. "Shit honey, ain't you freezing?" He walked away towards the rest of the men. She heard some low toned words being exchanged and he came back with a dirty woolen blanket. He tossed it at her along with a sack of cold burgers that she knew had probably come from a dumpster behind the local fast food joint.

Grabbing both, she wrapped up and started to eat, hungry enough after three days with no food to not care where it came from. He nodded, looking pleased to see her eat and continued talking.

"I like it out here ya know? Lotsa us out here. Nam... well, it fucked us up pretty good. You don't forget; you can't. No way to forget it when you see a pretty VC woman kill off your buddies like they was so many roaches. Can't forget it when you watch a little boy blow hisself up in the middle of a crowd because someone paid his family ten bucks to let them wire him up." He took another drink and offered her the bottle which she refused with a shake of her head. "That's ok honey. More for me," he said with another snorting laugh.

Suddenly he started digging in his pants pocket. "Honey, you got a family somewhere?" She nodded. "Can't get back to them, can ya? Hmmpphh, know what that's like. You don't need to be in this place honey. It ain't safe for you. Pretty girl like you. You're sure quiet but I can see smart in yer eyes. You need to go home." He pulled out a wad of grimy bills and thrust them at her.

That's when she spoke up."I can't take your money. Thank you... but I can't. I don't have any way of paying you back."

"Yeah you do honey." Seeing the fear light up in her eyes again, he laughed. "Not that; told you... I ain't whole... and anyway, you're 'bout the age my daughter would be. I wouldn't want her out here. Take the money honey. Go home. Get back to yer people before you lose your soul here. You can't live this way and keep it or your mind. Go home. You can do something for me by keeping me in yer head. It'll be nice to know that somewhere out there somebody remembers me. My name is Gary. Gary Fulsom. Remember that ok?"

She thrust the bills down into her pocket and got up. "Thank you. I don't know why you're doing this but thank you...Gary. My name is Janet. Again... thank you." She turned to go, leaving the blanket lying next to him.

When she was a few yards away, she heard him call out to her. She walked back and waited as he fumbled out of his coat. He looked down at it, looked up at her, then back at the coat. "Take this; it's fucking cold out here. I got the fire. You need a jacket. Now get the fuck outta here before I change my mind. Get your ass to the Greyhound station and get the hell outta this place. Go!" He pushed the coat at her and turned away. She held the coat for a second, knowing he had had it since the days when he had had a better life, when he had had love; a family.

"Gary!?", she called out and ran after him. "Thank you... for everything." On a feeling, she reached out and wrapped her arms around his waist for a second. He didn't respond at first, then she felt his hand rest softly on her hair.

He started to speak and cleared his throat when his voice broke. "G'wan. Get outta here. You can prolly get a bus out tonight. Just remember ol' Gary k?".

I still do.

I Remember

2009-04-22T00:31:00.003-04:00

Chances are this will be a long entry. The ones that swim placidly in my head as I try to sleep at night tend to be that way.

Most of the people I know were born after 1950. Some I know were even born in the late 70's or even later. But for all of us, even the younger ones, have you ever realized how much has changed since our births? Here, in no particular order are some things & events I remember in my lifetime; things that either no longer seem to exist or weren't around when I was born in 1964. Some are mundane, some were world shaking. How many do you remember?

I remember Swansons TV Dinners in little metal trays with their glue flavored mashed potatoes and the cherry cobbler.

I remember when the troops finally came home from Vietnam. My minds eye can see on TV what ultimately became that famous picture of the teenage girl jumping into her brothers arms.

I remember penny candy that actually cost a penny and candy bars for five cents that were twice the size of the ones now. When we were kids, a quarter gave you enough candy to get gloriously sick on.

I vaguely remember when men walked on the moon in '69. I also have very vague memories of my mother and father both crying and talking about the deaths of Martin Luther King and Bobby Kennedy.

I remember school drills we had in case of nuclear war.

I remember seeing The Berlin Wall up close in real life and then having shivers go down my spine as it was torn down just a few years after that.

I remember the first computer I ever used being a Commodore 64. My fascination with the machines hasn't ended.

I remember being able to make a call in an actual phone booth and it only costing a dime.

I remember black and white TV with only about five different channels and yet always being able to find something to watch.

I remember the days when a child could play outside from dawn until dark with no parent having any idea where we were and no parent even being the slightest bit worried.

I remember when Satellite TV came into being and the dishes took up half of a persons backyard.

I remember when Andy Gibb and Rod Stewart were so cool and every little girl wanted to grow up to be either Jaclyn Smith or Farrah Fawcett.

I remember Disco (shudders)

I remember the Reagan assassination attempt

I remember John Lennon's murder.

I remember always being able to find something to do and I did it without batteries, without computers, without toys that talked, walked or answered questions. My favorites toys were dirt, sticks and my imagination.

I remember the FIRST Gulf War and the day Israel was bombed. My then husband was over there in the Army and I was scared to death.

I remember when country music was called Country & Western and only rednecks listened to it (supposedly)

I remember when the movie "The Day After" came out and got everyone terrified about nuclear war all over again.

I remember when common courtesy was common.

I remember Luke and Laura :-P

I remember when Prince Charles and Princess Diane got married and how that event heralded in the British Monarchy being once again in the public eye.

I remember watching Creature Features late at night while eating a bowl of popcorn that had popped on the kitchen stove not made in the microwave.

I remember when said microwaves came out and the average cost of one was about $500

I remember eight track tapes and cassette tapes being the way we listened to music; not on computers and IPods

I remember AM being where all the good radio stations were.

I remember Hippies... real 1960's ones not the modern equivalent... love beads, long dresses, bare feet, communes.

I vaguely remember when Charles Manson and his "group" went on a rampage.

I remember Richard Speck killing an apartment full of young nurses in Chicago. That one stuck because it happened not far (mere miles) from where I lived

I remember when AIDS was first noticed and how many thought that this was it... the human race was on it's way out.

I remember the Tylenol Killings and how before that, everything had screw on lids. That event was what created tamper proof bottles everywhere from the drugstore to the grocery stores

I remember when we thought our biggest threat came from Russia and the middle east was just a place where they had fought among themselves for centuries

I remember Watergate ..."I am not a crook"

I remember phones with rotary dials and phone numbers that started with letters

I remember when Civil Rights was still a MAJOR issue

I also remember being a little girl in inner city Chicago and wondering why it mattered to anyone if I played with the little girl next door, who was black.

I could probably do this for hours and many more paragraphs but this is enough. Add to this... tell us what you remember that I have neglected to have here. I am sure that there are so many common memories for us all... no matter the age, no matter the country we live in

I Am The Woman

2009-04-22T00:05:00.003-04:00

There is still a meme roaming the WWW called "I am the girl" that talks in increasingly sappy ways about what kind of girl this writer will be for her b/f. It is juvenile, unrealistic and says such things as " I'm the girl who says,"ok, but you owe me..." jokingly not because I actually want something, but because it means I get to spend more time with you... or... "I am the girl who will love it when you don't let go of me when I'm mad at you, even when I say let me go". Well, this is MY version of that meme. And I'm not that girl... this is written by a woman. ME.
There is a post that has become a virus of sorts running rampant here. I won't touch on all of her sections plus will probably add my own...

I am the woman who will make you feel every inch The Man in our relationship in private, but will not hang on you in an embarrassingly teenagerish way in public.

I am the woman who will not say "you owe me" anything because there will rarely be a time we are not on equal footing though I know there will be times you are in control of our relationship and other times I will be. We both have our weaknesses and strengths and that will dictate who is doing what at any given time.

I am the woman who has high standards but when in love will happily hold YOU all night long if you feel the need. I know when I need it, you'll do the same. BY the same token, I don't EXPECT to be held close every night. Sometimes we will be too tired... or will simply not want to be touched and want our own space. That's cool too. It changes nothing about my feelings.

I'm the woman who will dress to please us both in the bedroom and am more than willing to wear what you like sometimes to please you and arouse you in public but I am also my own woman with my own rather funky style.

I'm the woman who sometimes does give up hope but then is blessed to be brought back to reality by you...just as I'll do for YOU when you're down.

I am the woman who you can talk to about what you feel comfortable with. I will do my best to respect your privacy and will not press you to tell me details just so that I feel you trust me. If I fail at that, I will apologize.

I'm the woman who will fight with you if I disagree and not tell you you're right just to make you feel better. I'm also the woman who will never play coy or with-hold affection after an argument just to get even.

I'm also the woman who will come up to you with an apology and a kiss when I am wrong...if you'll accept it. If you're not ready for that, i'm NOT the woman who will pout over that.

I'm the woman who will listen when you talk but who also expects to be heard.

I'm the woman who still has enough of the giddy girl to love it when you brush the hair away from my face and kiss me gently.

I'm the woman who also has enough of that girl to enjoy being called your baby or some pet name... but please... not in public?

I'm the woman who will enjoy pampering you and taking care of you and not expect that doing that means you have to do it back. I do it because it gives me pleasure to please you.

I am the woman who will give 150% of myself to you sexually and enjoy every moment, but who is not here to belittle myself for your fantasy pleasure.

I'm the woman who honestly doesn't expect Diamonds. Think of me when you go to the bookstore or rub my back for no reason and you've just given me a gigantic gift. I'm not hard to please.

Im the woman you'll find extremely hard to please in other ways. I expect your loyalty, your love, your heart, your wit, your body and your values. In other words... I expect you to give me exactly what I'll give you, nothing more. But I promise... I'll never expect your soul. That's yours and only yours.

I'm the woman who is old fashioned enough to think you are the man and I am the woman but doesn't think that means you are better or I am your servant. It means there are parts of me, inside and out, that complement parts of you. I am your equal and you are mine.

I am the woman who will stand by your side no matter how tough things are.

I am the woman who expects you to defend my honor if I have been unjustly wronged... but guess what? I'll be right there to defend yours also.

I am the woman who will be there to help you reach your dreams. I will cajole, yell, sooth..whatever it takes to see you be what YOU want to be. By the same token, I will never expect you to be more than you are capable of being.

In The Beginning

2009-04-22T00:02:00.001-04:00

She had no idea how she had come to be in this place. The last thing she remembered was setting the controls to take her back to the time just before first historical record of The Black Plague. Everything was worked out; she was to go back there, vaccinate as many people as she could via the new airborne vaccine medical science had discovered. In so doing, they anticipated at least half of those who had died from the plague would now survive thus leading to the birth of how many people who might have the answers they needed now to help the human race survive this latest plague. It was their last hope as even the most genius of the genius were getting nowhere back in her own time.

This though... this wasn't England. At least not any version of England she had ever studied. She had been stuck here for eight days now. Her food had run out over twenty fours hours before and she was starting to feel afraid; very afraid.

Where were the people? She had traveled at least a ten mile radius over the past days and hadn't seen a soul. All she could see was never ending vegetation, a series of sparkling streams which while beautiful and helpful in keeping thirst at bay, never seemed to lead to any larger recognizable body of water. All of it seemed to be surrounding one large tree. Her remote didn't seem to be working. She had signaled to be taken back at least once an hour but nothing had happened. She was stuck here... wherever here was.

Up ahead she heard a rustling emanating from the forested area. She ran towards it, not worrying that it may be a wild animal or even a possible enemy. All the animals seemed strangely tame and showed no fear of her presence and at this point even someone intent on harm would be better than nothing. She was convinced she could defend herself.

Before she got very far into the forest, a large man burst out and ran towards her. He was completely nude and while looking much the same as any other man did, the look on his face; part anger, part relief and partly a deep desperate longing, frightened her enough to cause her to start running back the way she had come, all her bravado gone.

He caught her easily. He carried her back to a small lean-to made of mud and branches as she struggled to get away. The only thing her struggling succeeded in doing was tearing her clothing and leaving her name plate in the forest behind her, it's shiny silver surface glinting in the sun that broke through the trees.

Once they entered the lean-to, he blocked the entrance and began to talk to her in a language she couldn't comprehend. The words were strange but the hand gestures and body language made his meanings quite clear. She was his now... she had been given to him as a gift. As he smiled gently and came towards her she understood one word he said as the one that must be his name and she began to scream.

At the edge of the forest, a Hyena cackled as it nosed a shiny silver nameplate that simply said "Eve".

Peein' On A Jet Plane..Lalalalalaaaaa

2009-03-30T00:49:00.001-04:00

I'm not much of a flier. I'm not scared of crashing, not scared of turbulence. I'm such a brave soul that I'm not even scared of eating the in flight meals. Ok, maybe a little scared of those. What really frightens me about flying is the possibility of having to go pee. I have good reason. Read on.

On the way to Little Rock to meet an ex b/f the first leg of the flight was to Memphis. Well, part way through the flight I realized I had to go pee reallyyyyy badly. I thought I could wait and tried for a while; finally realized it was a situation of go now or not look so great when I saw the b/f hehe. Went up to the front of the very teenie tiny plane and entered the restroom. It was approximately the size of a carrier for a large dog. One had the room to unzip, sit and that was about it. Men had a definite peeing advantage here. Being tall, my knees were shoved somewhere in the vicinity of my sinuses but I managed...

Well, I got up, managed to get re-zipped with only 14 lacerations, 12 bruises from knocking into the walls, 32 very colorful words and only one foot shoved down into the funny blue water.

I went to leave just as I heard the pilot announce "Ladies and Gentlemen, we are now making our descent into Memphis. Please make sure your seats and tray tables are in their upright positions and your seat belt is fastened." I was like ..."Oh SHIT, gotta get moving... if the plane is gonna crash on landing, I sure don't want it being ME that is in the headlines as "And one woman's body was found in the restroom, head stuck in the toilet; no one has been able to identify her yet as her face is an amazing shade of bright blue."

So I unlocked the door and turned the knob.... nothing happened. Thinking nothing of it except I must not have unlocked it all the way, I tried again... again nothing... by the third try, my sense of the ridiculous had gotten a hold of me and I was standing in this claustrophobic space snorting with laughter as I cussed a blue streak. I tried a few more times... unsuccessfully. I was now totally embarrassed knowing I was stuck in an airplane bathroom yet finding the whole situation totally hilarious.

Finally realizing the plane was soon to land with me still caught in the friggin loo, I knocked on the door. Nothing... Knocked again... still nothing. I had visions (which I don't think were too off actually) of the flight attendants standing on the other side, tittering and saying "why is there always ONE idiot who does this?" Finally, I banged loud enough to get a response. The door was unlocked from the other side by the 1 MALE flight attendant, who was literally biting his lip and smiling, obviously trying not to laugh. He said simply "you kept locking it back; the occupied sign kept going on and dinging." I started laughing again thinking "Oh great so the whole teenie tiny plane saw that; lovely."

I told him thank you as I laughed, aware that my face was so red as to feel flaming, and walked past him, past first class where a vast majority of the people sitting there were smiling openly. I just nodded, attempted to keep my dignity while at the same time trying to get a laugh (this IS me after all) and looked at them and saying "you might wanna stay out of the restroom; it's vicious; makes the shower scene in Psycho look like Disney and I'm pretty sure there is a hidden camera." I got my laugh.. I am quite sure that the passengers on that plane had a funny story to tell about the idiot lady and her continual re-beeping of the occupied sign on the restroom... lol. I of course have decided that any further trips I make by plane will be with a catheter....

Top Ten List Of Things I Don't Understand

2009-03-30T00:45:00.003-04:00

Before I get to this, with it being in the forum it is, I feel the need to qualify it by saying please remember this is 1) meant to be light for the most part and 2) is a list of things *I* don't understand not a list of things I am judging nor a list of things I expect you, whoever you are, to necessarily agree with. If you don't agree with some (my last one springs to mind) more power to you. This is MY list. Personally, i'd love to read some of yours *smile*

1) This baffled me when I was a child (yes I was a strange kid who wondered strange things) and while I understand it now, simply because it stumped me for so many years I'm giving it top list space.
How, when you take medicine, does it know where to go and why it is going there? Again I understand NOW, but I always wondered... say you have a headache... how does aspirin know to go to your HEAD and not say your left pinkie toe? Or say you have a headache AND a left pinkie toe ache. Do you end up with one gosh danged confused aspirin in your system saying to itself "no I need to go THIS way.. no THAT way...ACK!" and even then why doesn't it go to say, your spleen in confused self defense?

2) Remember as I say this that I AM a white woman who many years in the past did this same thing (now I revel in my ghost white skin and utter lack of wrinkles in middle age)-
Why oh WHY is a deep dark tan considered to be the sexiest look around and considered to make a person look "healthier" when we are still, in the year 2009, surrounded by racism, i.e., prejudice against those of a darker skin color? Why is it great to voluntarily work towards the color that so many of those people out tanning themselves towards melanoma would hate to have had because of birth?? Hmmm

3) Smoking- I can't figure it out. To paraphrase how someone else has put it, what IS the thrill to make one start in the first place? You are taking a plant that has been dried, shredded and wrapped in a paper tube, then burning it and inhaling the fumes. WHY!?? What insane caveman started the trend anyway?

4) The preponderance of "pretty boys" in the movies these days- One night my ex and I talked about how neither of us understood what happened to real ACTORS. There are so few of them left... nowadays it is all about how hot you look, male or female. So many movies I can think of would have been fantastic as opposed to just mediocre if they had had stars who could act, not just smile.

5) Chewing Gum- I periodically will chew some minty gum for ye olde fresh breath reasons or try some of the weird flavors that come out just 'cause there is a large part of me that is still 12, but when I chew it, my natural inclination is to SWALLOW (shut UP, you pervs!) the gum. It just feels wrong to be chewing this wad of gluey "stuff" and not swallow it. Humans were meant to swallow what they put in their mouths. Can't figure it out.

6) Why do some people REFUSE to use their seat belts while in a moving 2 to 3 ton piece of metal and fiberglass that is subject to the whims of the person behind the wheel and other drivers on the road who have been doing God alone KNOWS what before they get behind the wheel? There are actually people who say that they don't use them because it will "mess up their clothing". Yeah buddy, and flying through that windshield is going to leave you neat and pristine huh? Wrinkles are much easier to straighten out than body parts stuck to your blouse.

7) Lazy people- I'll never understand lazy people. Case in point; my own darling children and both my exes. Please explain to me how these people, including the children that I trained to know better, could eat food, then "forget" to take the plate into the kitchen or see something on the floor but actually step OVER it rather than bend down and pick it up?? I have forced myself (and believe me for a neat freak Virgo this was hard) to test this and see if what happened. Once, I left plates on the living room coffee table that Cam and my ex had brought out there and forgotten. They sat for FIVE days untouched. I cleaned around them and they still sat there. What did they think? That I was using them for new decorative purposes? When I finally pointed this out, I got "oops" as a response. God help me. I also left something right in plain sight in the middle of the floor and got the same thing happening.
Another case in point; they will actually carry the plate or bowl or whatever back in the kitchen and then leave it on the counter; the counter that sits directly over the dishwasher. Sigh.

8) Cheap sex- Now I may be in the minority here, but I am one of the few people of my generation who has NEVER had a one night stand. Not even a two night stand or a three...well, you get my point. I have never understood having such a driving need for sheer physical release that one would go home with a stranger whose name you might not even know and engage in life's most intimate act. Now mind you, I love sex... but to me (and thank you Lord to the man I am with though I'm sure he has had his illicit moments; none of my business though) sex is NOT something that can be done CORRECTLY without intellectual and emotional closeness being involved and somehow I think it would be rather hard to achieve that with someone that one has barely exchanged names with. Subjective opinion here but hey it's MY list gol-dang it.

9) With the last two, I choose serious topics- this one here... well, I can't understand abusing someone you say you love, be it a spouse, s/o, child or the new "trend" of parental abuse (of the elderly and/or incapacitated). Having been in the situation as a child and as an adult and hearing as a kid the phrase "I'm doing this because I love you" and as an adult, "I love you but you have 'provoked' me into this". I CAN'T figure it out. How does one justify leaving bruises and welts on someone they love? Emotional abuse is part of it too. How again, can one justify what they do under the guise of "helping", i.e. calling somebody names, trying to change the make up of a persons personality, telling them they are a failure, and so on and so forth? How can ANY supposedly rational human being find a concrete logical reason for physically or emotionally scarring a person they say they LOVE just because they have been momentarily pissed off by that person? I... just... don't...get it.

10) Last but not least, and I am not trying to offend those of you who are "non- believers", but I can't understand how some people can look at the complexities of our universe and of ourselves and not see the hand of a higher power in that. How can anyone look at this Earth for example; at it's beauty and say that all happened by chance, happenstance... just a bunch of atoms or cells or molecules or what the heck ever that HAPPENED to get together and have a party in JUST the right way, at JUST the right time to form the trees you love to watch sway in that gentle summer breeze your soul embraces, or that man or woman whose body your touch savors and who makes you laugh & makes you cry or leaves you feeling at alternate times such anger or such a well of tenderness that it leaves you breathless? All of that was CHANCE?! The oceans, the tides, the birds, the way men and women fit together perfectly? All CHANCE? Just a twist of fate? I can't wrap my head around that idea and I am a logical woman.

I'm sure I could come up with more... the differing ways men think than women do is worth about ten alone lol, but I'll save it for now.

So You Want To Go To A Titty Bar?

2009-03-30T00:40:00.002-04:00

alternately titled "I just KNOW this entry is gonna get perused just because some men will see the word Titty and pounce on it". But this is actually a rather serious albeit warped entry. Yes, there are funny stories about working there but I have a headache and am not feeling funny right now. Maybe tomorrow I'll be humorous for ya again.

Once upon a time, when I was young and pretty, I lived in the land of Strip Club. It was an odd odd land, populated by women wearing duct tape around their breasts and necks when off stage and men who thought five dollars meant you owned a woman body and soul. Well, for a little while anyway.

But alas, that was, as I've said, when I was young and pretty before the twin demons of childbirth and middle age spread set in and my own perky friends became downcast and sad.

Back in those days, in that odd little land, I worked as a cocktail waitress at a strip club. I was one of those young women who was fully clothed though admittedly scantily so and went and sat down with the lonely looking men and got them to buy me a five dollar drink. This drink they bought me had no actual booze in it of course though the customer didn't know this. It was from one of many special bottles kept under the counter for us girls with our choice of fruit juice, cola or tea in them. Yes, we were ALLOWED to drink and many of the girls did; alcoholism is a job hazard in that environment but I didn't because I was scared of not being in control sitting with some man who hoped the drinks would lead to more.

There are many many things that those of you who may frequent those clubs don't realize and I'm here to enlighten you. So come to attention class because there will be a quiz at the end.

1) That woman dancing on your lap and gyrating as if she is right where she wants to be??? She just wants your money because nine clubs out of ten, the women receive no real wages. They are dependent on those bills you shove in their g-string. She doesn't REALLY think you have "the worlds greatest package" nor does she have any intention of doing anything with that phone number you gave her. In the majority of cases, the women feel disgust for these men who they they see as so hard up they can only get a woman's attention by paying for it.

2)The room where the private dances go on? It AIN'T private. Other than a camera recording every move, there is usually a large peephole tucked away somewhere so that if the guy gets a little too close (closer than the woman wants anyway... it's usually up to the dancers discretion) the big burly bouncer named Hal can come in and throw you out... he loves his job.

3) Ya know the drinks they bring you in that private room?? Many is the time when a customer that the girls were scared would get too frisky unknowingly scarfed a drink that was loaded with downers. The man gets woozy, the woman keeps asking for more money for increasingly LESS attention paid to the guy and he goes home much poorer but not remembering why.

4) Speed is the drug of choice. It is taken before the shift starts, a while before their twelve comes up, after they're done because they're exhausted and before they leave because they have real world tasks to attend to or are planning to go party with friends... or customers who flashed a lot of cash.

5) Technically, the girls aren't supposed to partake in paid sex. Technically because the owners and managers know the letter of the law. But I saw more than one girl get fired because she refused to set up "dates" thus lessening the cut the club made of her money. Any money the dancers make they have to "share" with the club. They pay for their dance time, their room time. It is rented out to them and if they can't make enough money one night, the cost is rolled over to the next night. It gives new meaning to owing your soul to the company store.

6) This one is humorous in a painful sort of a way. Many of the girls will duct tape their breast as high up as they can, putting the tape over their necks and partway down their backs. They do this all day when not at work and until their twelve starts. The effect of the tape is to give them more "lift". It last for a few hours.

7)Many of the girls have been known to ummm... stay clean using things such as diluted bleach or pine sol because of the many instances of a customer getting too friendly or they themselves doing a little work on the side. They didn't know where that hand had been. A lot of the girls became quite germ phobic.

8)95% to 100% of the girls had drinking problems. We waitresses weren't as prone to it because our job was easier. We just had to flirt and make the men spend money. The dancers however were encouraged to drink because it loosened them up and made them more willing to show off on stage. The management keeps full bottles of each girls favorite liquor in the dressing rooms (assuming there are any... many clubs don't want to waste the money and the girls change in the restrooms) and encourage drunkenness 1) for the less inhibited dancing and 2) so that there is more chance the girls will take dates.

EDITEDTO ADD NEXT TWO PARTS-
I am adding this next one in a little bit later. I hadn't put it in the original text because serious though this entry may be compared to some of my stuff, I didn't want to push it. But... heck with that. Strip clubs are a sordid business and what I am writing is nothing less than the truth.

9) The suicide rate amongst dancers at clubs such as these is sky high. In the four months I worked at the club, three girls killed themselves. One after a rape by a customer, one because she could no longer handle the shame of what she was doing for money. She was 17; shouldn't even have been there legally but she had been abused and had no family to back her up so fell into the life to survive and one girl killed herself in the back of the club rather than continue on the path she was on with drinking and drugs. Her suicide note still rings in my head when I think about those days.

10) The instances of abuse by the owners of and managers of (and the bouncers) towards the girls is disgusting in it's frequency. Again, the bulk of these girls/women are there because they feel they have no choice. Either they come from abusive backgrounds or poor families where there is no hope of education or from immigrant families who need the money to survive. So when they are told that they WILL perform oral sex on the owner to keep their job, they are stuck between a rock and a hard place. Say no and end up on the streets or say yes and lose what little shred of self esteem they have left?

All in all, what the customer sees in the front... bright lights, loud music, dancing women who seem to be having the time of their lives is beyond any falsity Hollywood can put on it. It is one step up from prostitution, sometimes not even that, populated by single mothers who have to do it to feed their kids, young women lured in by the promise of easy money and stuck now by their own drinking or drug habits, & older women who know they are the clubs "lone old fat bi***" who is kept there for laughs but who suffers that humiliation to pay the bills. Next time you go to a T&A club, look in the eyes of the woman there. Smile AT her not at the guy next to you in a comradely leer. Be that one guy in a thousand who even though he is there actually still shows the women there some respect. You'll make her day and maybe even be the reason she doesn't feel so damn UGLY and dirty at the end of the night.

God, I'm glad i'm not nineteen anymore.

Pee Pee, Poop And Wee Wee

2009-03-30T00:36:00.002-04:00

Let's see how many THOSE words draw in hehehe.

Today I am going to write about words. Or words that have been deluded into thinking they are words because they have vowels and consonants but that are really just...well... vowels and consonants. Being me, there is a good chance I may branch out into a rant on other things up to and including weird names for anatomical parts, why my nose runs when I'm cold and why we haven't outgrown the juvenile love of fart noises. In other words, a perfectly typical entry from me.

I am aware that the "word" ain't is considered an accepted part of the English language now. Personally, I am thinking about running for the presidency just so that I can pass a poo-load of laws concerning proper English and the use of the death penalty for saying something like "I don't gotta because I done ain't ___________" fill in the blanks there, most likely with very colorful swear words that promise to fulfill all of Micheal Jackson's sex fantasies with one of his Llamas.

What really gets me about the word ain't though is the penchant of some to misspell this ummm... simple homey word (there that didn't sound too offensive... we all know what I REALLY meant was "this stupid string of letters that makes you look like an idiot if you use it in real conversation" but there's no need to say that.

It is spelled a-i-n'-t NOT ai'nt. What the hell is an ai'nt?? The use of the apostrophe is to signify the missing letter in the word not (though nobody has ever figured out what an ai is).

Moving on to my next non word word. How 'bout y'all??? Now I admit that after 20 years in the south (sobs in memory of big cities and Yankee accents) I use the word y'all. It is useful and has a nice quaint sound. But again... SPELLING people SPELLING!!! It is a contraction of the words you all thus meaning that it is spelled y'all not ya'll. I ask again about this one; what the hell is an ll or a ya??? The apostrophe is to signify the missing letters in the word you. Grr I say... grr grr grr.

We humans (I was going to say Americans but then remembered some rather colorful slang used in Europe) love to take anatomical parts and make up many names for them. It has gotten to the point where Vagina, Breasts and Penis sound almost obscene and rather stupid because we are so used to using the naughtier terms. But I would like someone... anyone... other than a horny twenty year old male please... explain to me how a woman's breasts came to be called Hooters??? Personally, mine have never hooted. Nor have they howled, grunted, whined or laughed. They just lie there quietly saying nary a word.

Add to the collection of breast names Honkers (mine don't honk either... did I miss a gene when I was made perchance?), knockers (mine aren't tiny... I suppose if I swung them around enough, I could knock someone out), and Bazombas (I don't know what to say to THAT one... maybe mine bazomb and I just don't know it because I don't know what it means?? *Looks down at breasts in fear).

Then we have the names for the Penis some of which I can't even print here because of decency laws and my own predilection for blushing at simple Viagra commercials. Though in passing, I WILL mention that I seriously loathe Bob from the Viagra commercials... he and his wife scare the dickens out of me.

Dickens... hmmm; leads to one of those words. Dick *blushes*. Now how did a cute little things (ok ok quit glaring at me men... a manly LARGE thing! Sheesh!) like a Penis come to be called a Dick?? Did some man named Dick name his after himself (which leads to the question of why do men names their appendages? I just call my parts...parts.) and the name stuck and now all men, whether named Frank, Stanley or Joe now have another name of Dick?

What of Pee-Pee and Wee-Wee. Isn't the latter rather offensive to men? Wouldn't they prefer we call it say.... a Huge-Huge? Also, does Pee-Pee signify that you are doing it twice?

Moving on... how did the act of relieving oneself come to be known as going Pee or Poop?? What person decided that the act which we all do or suffer dire consequences (especially after too many Spam Smoothies. Don't ask.) needed to have it's own little euphemism and how in the name of all that is holy did they end up with Pee and Poop???!!!

Then there is Tinkle (when I go, it doesn't Tinkle nor do any Angels get their wings from the act), Piss (huh??), numbers one and two (who decided which was number one??? Is this a weird chicken and egg thing here?) and Taking A Leak (if it's leaking you either need Penicillin or Depends)

I give up. I think I'm going to make up my own language....

By the way why DOES my nose run when it's cold and where did the word Boogers come from?

How Women Take Baths 101

2009-03-16T18:06:00.002-04:00

For all you men who have ever wondered how it goes, here's your chance for a peek into the private world of women.

1) Gather up candles, glass of wine, trashy book, bath oils and bubble bath, 12 dollar shampoo and conditioner, after conditioner conditioner, razor, peach scented shaving cream, body lotion and radio.

2)Plug radio in, find appropriate station.

3) Set up candles... look again, realize you don't like the way the light shines on your face and makes you look wrinkled and yellow and rearrange the candles to be more flattering. You never know if your mate is going to need to get into the bathroom.

4) Add bubble bath to the water then look at it in disgust when it barely foams. Stick your bare feet in the water and kick furiously creating scads of foam and a mess on the wall. Feel triumphant.

5) Realize that during the course of all this, you have finished the glass of wine. Go to get another then say to hell with it and just bring in the whole bottle. Wonder why your fiance looks at you funny as you pass by with it on your way to the bathroom.

6)Undress, look in the mirror and wonder why Mother Nature has to take its toll. You used to have such NICE boobs. Contemplate for a few minutes how you'd look after uplift surgery wearing a wonder bra. When you finish laughing and snorting wine through your nose, pour more wine and climb in the tub.

7) Get back out, dripping water, because you forgot your book and the box of chocolates.

8)Get in, open the book, laugh hysterically at the sex scenes knowing there is no woman alive who wouldn't kick a man in the balls if he tried any of that "he pulled her with rough forceful arms into his chest as her bosom heaved" crap.

9) Drop book in water when reaching for the nearly empty wine bottle and giggle for a few minutes over how well it floats... until it doesn't. Pull up the sopping mass of paper and ink and toss it towards the sink, laughing hysterically when it misses and splats on the mirror. Have more wine.

10)Get razor, look at it for a minute wondering if you're still safe to wield sharp objects. Decide you are. Lather on half a can of shaving cream after using it first to draw obscene pictures on the wall of the tub and to give yourself a Santa beard.

11) Get out of tub, swearing loudly as you wrap a hand towel around your bleeding leg. Grimace and try to smile when your boyfriend knocks on the door and asks what's wrong. Put a spin on it to where it is his fault you cut yourself.

12) Get back in tub after drinking more wine, this time for medicinal purposes. Wonder if your fiance snuck in and drank some because you know you didn't empty the bottle. Burp loudly and then giggle with your hand over your mouth as you hear your boyfriend laugh.

13) Finish shaving with no further incidents. Wash your hair, again using the foam for things it was never intended for, forgetting to rinse out the soap.

14)Drip candle wax over cooling water just to see it get hard. Giggle over the word hard being in your mind.

15) Get out of tub and walk out to fiance wrapped only in a towel and a smile. Wonder vaguely why the world is spinning so quickly and when your boyfriend became twins.

16)Wake up the next morning with no memory of your bath and wondering why your leg is wrapped with bloody tissue and your mirror has shredded book pages all over it. Look in said mirror and scream when you see that your hair is as stiff as a board and covered in what resembles dried snot.

17) Glare at your fiance, who is laughing so hard he is crying and go take a shower. You never did like baths anyway.

That Makes Scents

2009-03-16T18:05:00.001-04:00

I am a big fan of scent. In the different areas of the house, on myself, out in nature; you name it, I love it. I have a scent for every mood. Such as right now I am wearing Bath and Body Works Sweet Cinnamon Pumpkin (I smell like a rather comforting dessert) because I was in need of comfort and that is one scent that seems to offer it. Another I just ran out of (Sobs sadly not knowing when I'll be able to get more) is Demeters Laundromat Scent. Weird name but it a subtle again very comforting smell... like clean clothes but NOT like those nasty linen scented room sprays.

I also can be brought to many different stages of my life by different scents.... the smell of Emeraude or Wind Song Perfume brings my mother to mind.... the smell of alcohol and cigarettes puts me with my father (it's not a bad smell...really...). The smell of Lilacs is Spring to me as well as anything that reminds me of the smell of a breeze or rain. The smell of Onions and Celery sauteeing puts me in mind of Thanksgiving (as they are used to make stuffing/dressing)

What scents have memories for you? Or have an effect on you in any way? Why? Do you wear or use in your home certain smells for certain times? What makes you smile when you smell it and what makes you grimace??

Go Way Marykin, Go Way!

2009-03-16T18:04:00.001-04:00

You always knew when she was somewhere up ahead. Traffic would be crawling at a snails pace and there would be a lot of cussing and horn blowing. Yet... the cussing was rarely directed at her nor was the horn blowing. It was at any "newbie" drivers who seemed to be getting frustrated at her slow progress and didn't understand why this old woman was allowed such a free rein on the roads.

She had to have been at least 80 years old. This tiny Korean woman was as much a part of the bases family as any soldier. Nobody seemed to know if she was somebodies mama-san or housekeeper or just one of the many Koreans who had come here years before and become forgotten.

She didn't seem to understand or care that the sidewalks were for human traffic and the roads for vehicles. She walked straight down the middle of the lane of traffic that was heading in the direction she was going, pushing her heavy beat up shopping cart in front of her. When there was a stop sign, she would stand there as if she too were a car, waiting for her turn to go. If a light turned red before she could finish crossing, she would simply stand in the middle of the road and wait as traffic would carefully go around her, soldiers greeting her with "hi mama-san; how are you today?" as they passed, most handing her folded up money or a small sack of groceries they had bought for just this purpose. Periodically she would just stop and sit down in the road to rest.

Inevitably, when she would sit down, the driver stuck behind her would offer to give her a lift to wherever she was going. Her response never varied. She would stand up, brush herself off with an inate dignity few humans can match and would wave both hands disdainfully at the offer saying, "go way marykin; go way. I walk goodly."

Yet in her cart, sticking out, was a faded American Flag wrapped in plastic. If it rained, she would quickly pull it out and protect it under her clothing, hunched over to make sure no water hit her obviously precious burden.

At 5pm, every night, all traffic would come to a standstill as evening reveille was blown and the flags were taken down for the night. Soldiers all over base would get out of their cars or come to a standstill wherever they were and salute until it was done. Mama-san was no exception but her routine was known to have brought more than one soldier to tears.

Every night, as the sounds wafted through the air, she would get out her flag and lay it gently on the top of the shopping cart. She would then stand as straight as her aged body would let her and raise a trembling hand to her forehead in a salute as tears streamed down her face and the other hand softly stroked her plastic wrapped treasure. When it was over, she would tuck her flag back into place, wipe her eyes and continue her seemingly never ending walk.

She was found dead one day, flag in her arms, sitting upright in front of the Post Exchange when the staff got there in the morning. There were no identifying papers found in her cart or on her person. The soldiers of the base created a fund to give her a funeral and a proper burial. At her funeral, it was standing room only for this little old Korean lady known only as mama-san. Her dignity and her love for what was assumed was some long dead American soldier had won her a spot in the hearts of an entire military base. In a cemetery in Mannheim Germany is a tombstone that simply says "Mama-San; she was one of ours"

She has a place in my memory today, over twenty years later. Rest in peace mama san.

Tolerance

2009-03-15T14:20:00.002-04:00

What is tolerance? It is the consequence of humanity. We are all formed of frailty and error; let us pardon reciprocally each others folly - that is the first law of nature.
- Voltaire

About a week ago I read a journal entry by a young woman with very firm opinions which is usually something I admire. While I could admire this woman's strong views and obvious intellect, I couldn't even begin to agree with her viewpoint. She had blogged her opinion on whether people with low IQ's should even be allowed to be born. Her opinion was, in a long entry and very vehement terms, that "retards" should be culled from the gene pool as soon as we have the technology to know that they will not be "whole and a good addition to society". I remember that part verbatim because it stuck with me.

I have six children. Four of them have been blessed with above average intellect; it's too early to tell with my baby though he seems very alert and intelligent. The other, my fourteen year old son, has been blessed with other traits. He is mildly retarded with an IQ of about 70, mildly Autistic, has ADHD and is Bi-Polar and the doctor who sees him has said recently that my son has begun showing signs of Schizophrenia and Psychosis. I can see some of you there shaking your heads and feeling sorry for him (and me by extension) and saying "how can she say her son has been blessed?" While I wish with every fiber of my being that my son had been given the brains that my other children have and the possibilities that lie before them because of it, yes, I still say that Jordan has been blessed. As have I and so many others because of the birth of this boy who is not "whole and a good addition to society."

Jordans not perfect. He wears no Halo and he hasn't sprouted wings though I'm sure he'd love the havoc he could wreak with flying abilities. I am not going to paint a portrait of the sweet retarded child who makes every day Heaven by his very presence. My life probably would have been 1000 times easier had he NOT been born. He can be aggressive and physically violent. He can be sly and sneaky and has a talent for lying that a person of greater intellect and larger malice would envy. But had he not been born, I also would have missed out on some very valuable lessons. Jordan makes me think outside the box much of the time. To keep up with him, I have to.

People have asked me, with pity showing in their gazes, how I manage raising a child like Jordan. They say as they pat my arm how hard it must be to be the mother of a boy like that. I say to them what I have learned from watching Jordan I now know to be the truth. Yes, it is hard to raise him. It is a lifelong challenge that has worries that will probably follow me into the afterlife. But, I tell them, as hard as it is to RAISE Jordan, what must it be like to BE Jordan?

What must it feel like to be fourteen years old beginning to like girls and knowing that these girls look at you with disgust because even though you're good looking on the outside with a wonderful heart, you're different and fourteen isn't an age to be different? What must it be like to see your peers moving on socially and intellectually while you still struggle with second and third grade books? What must it be like to be so filled with hurt that sometimes it spills over into a physical rage? What must it be like to look at the teacher you adore, whom you have known since you were five and see the black eye she has now because you head butted her in a moment of uncontrollable anger? What must if be like to have people look at you like you are an alien when you are just a little boy who would willingly run naked through the front yard and give away every toy he owns just to hear someone say "I'm your friend, Jordan?" What must it be like to feel different, misplaced, alone in a crowd, disliked... retarded?

Yet for all of that, for all of his problems, for all of his incessant whining which sometimes leads me straight to the straw and bottle of Baileys, he has taught me so much.

Look at Jordan and say "dink" or "aboo" (his favorite "words") and he will give you a heart wrenching grin and say them back as he hugs you. Lesson- the little things can make you the happiest.

He can see road kill on the side of the road and not think "ewww". Nope, his reaction will be that that is so sad that that animal died and mommy shouldn't we stop and pick it up and bury it so it can go to God? Lesson- it may not be pretty but it's still Gods.

Let Jordan see a man with a "homeless, will work for food" sign and after it is explained to him why the man is there, he doesn't have the reaction so many of us "normal" people do. He doesn't say or think that the man is probably a druggie who deserves it or that maybe we should give him a dollar or two so we can feel good about our compassion. No, he gets right to the heart of it and says that the world needs to change so that people don't have to have signs like that and isn't it sad that that man has to do that because it must make him feel really bad when people laugh at him. Lesson- awww heck, if you can't see that one, I'm not even going to try to put into words what the lesson there is.

All in all, yep, things would be easier if Jordan hadn't been born. I would be able to get and keep a job because I wouldn't have to be going to his school a few days a week to calm him down which makes it impossible to work a normal schedule. I wouldn't be worrying constantly about what will happen to him when I die. I could sleep peacefully at night not jumping at the slightest sound worrying that it is Jordan going to pour yogurt over the cats just because.

I also might look at that homeless man and see just a bum. I would probably see road kill and never would it occur to me to be sad because one of Gods creatures had been killed. Good chance that in my nice white bread life, as liberal as I am and as tolerant as I am, I wouldn't be nearly as accepting of others faults and flaws as I am now. From him, I have learned tolerance of the most basic kind; tolerance not of that annoying person who cuts you off in traffic or your crazy sister in law who can't stop talking about her favorite soap opera but tolerance of the frailty of humanity; tolerance of the flaws that we all have, "normal" or not.

So yeah, people with low IQ's should be allowed to be born. Not because they are so angelic and so gosh darn wonderful but just because they have as many things to teach us as that History Professor you like so much or that Parish Priest whose words you quote to all. It's just a matter of whether or not you're willing to learn things from someone who may a slightly different way of teaching and whose favorite way may be with a hug and the word "dink". Personally, I like it.

Kids Say The Darndest Things

2009-03-13T22:59:00.000-04:00

Jordan came home from school and 1st thing he said to me was "mommy, Bethany wanted me to kiss her at school today, but mommy I couldn't cause it would just break your heart, I mean really break your heart" (this said with the most woebegone look) My reply was , "well you're awfully young for kissing but why would it break my heart sweetie?" and he said "Cause mommy if i kissed her, that would mean I loved her more than I did you, and that would just break your heart... but boy mommy she sure is pretty."

LOL, ya know...those who say he is a "special" child sure are right but not for the reasons they think

Jordan Speak

2009-03-13T22:58:00.001-04:00

As I was tucking him in last night, he suddenly started pulling at his tongue and says... " bleh... I have hair on my tongue... and I haven't even been licking the cats." Oh my....

Dum Dum Suckers?! Awwww Mannnn!!!

2009-03-13T22:54:00.002-04:00

Otherwise Known As "Halloween Memories"

My son Zach went trick or treating last year. He was a werewolf...again. He has a fascination with them. I haven't decided if I simply need to hide the cats during a full moon, wonder if he is Lon Chaney reincarnated or just get him therapy. Zach constantly bemoans the fact that he hasn't yet grown enough body hair to make a Spyhnx Cat happy much less a werewolf.

I still remember when I found him and his older brother Jordan in the bathroom cutting each others hair and trying to super glue it to their faces. After I stopped laughing and wiped my eyes, I had to figure out a way to get the hair and the glue off their faces. I was tempted to just leave it there and let them go to school looking like the bastard love children of Tiny Tim and The Bearded Lady but the mental image of myself trying to explain to the Child Protection agency why my sons were covered in glued on hair made me think better of it.

Moving on. My father, who died in April of '06, loved Halloween. Ok, so he was a diabetic who loved any excuse to eat candy but he did adore Halloween. Every year we went through the same routine. I would take him shopping and he would buy six or seven of the HUGE bags of candy. You know the kind; the ones with enough in them to feed either a small third world country or Nicole Ritchie on a binge. Most would be the mini chocolate bars with one or two bags of Smarties and Sweet-tarts. I would nag him about not needing so much because we lived in a rural area where we are lucky (or blessed depending on your viewpoint) to get ten kids coming to the door. He would say that what didn't get eaten he could give to my kids *snorts... uh huh*.

Come Halloween, an hour after trick or treating would start, I would invariably find him sitting in his lawn chair, candy wrappers around him as he dozed in the blissful dreams of a mini diabetic coma and dreamt of Kim Novak hand feeding him Nestles Crunch bars. He would be surrounded by neighborhood cats and dogs sniffing through the wrappers trying to find some crumbs of forbidden chocolate heaven. I am fairly sure he alone was responsible for quite a few animals dying a sugar induced death. The children loved him though. Where else could they go and grab handfuls of candy without the watchful eyes of an (awake) adult telling them to not take more than one or two?

Every year, the day after Halloween, he & I would go through the kids bags. Ostensibly it was to sift through it and get rid of anything iffy. In reality though it was to take all the good stuff and then when the kids asked where it went to, to point the sticky finger at each other. Last year, the popular item seemed to be Dum Dum Suckers. Lots and lots of Dum Dum suckers. I tried for months to figure out what to do with all. There are only so many times one can serve Dum Dum Roast for dinner with a side of Mashed Dum Dums before the family refuses to eat. Now I just sneak them in like most mothers do Spinach. "Here you go honey... eat your Dum Dums first then I'll get you some nice chicken... c'mon it looks sooo good doesn't it? You used to love the Cream Soda flavor".

I had to laugh when Zach got home with his goodies. He dumped the bag out, got the most disappointed look on his face, turned to me and said "dum dum suckers?! Awww man"!!! My father was surely laughing himself silly as Kim fed him Snickers bars and Three Musketeers.

Dum Dum Au Gratin anyone???? I'll share.
Ahhh dad, Halloween just wasn't the same without you this year.

Postscript- I have put this here from my old journal. I want to get things moved from there to here a bit at a time so forgive the Halloween reference in March lol.

Who Plans For This?

2009-03-13T02:50:00.000-04:00

When I was young, I had my ideal life all picked out. I think a lot of us do that don't we? I was going to be a doctor or a singer, I was going to have a lot of kids and a husband who doted on me and never ever said an unkind word to me or made me feel bad as I thought was the norm in relationships. My children would be perfect angels with good grades, wonderful manners and sky high IQ's and the personalities to match.

Enter real life.

I'm now in my 40's. I have six much loved children, am working on my third marriage; finally with that man who dotes on me and am a stay at home mom. Now ask me if I mind. But really... who plans for this?

It never fails to amaze me how someone somewhere knows much better than us what we need in life.

One of my kids is my 14 year old son Jordan. He is a sweet sweet boy. He is also mentally and emotionally disabled with an IQ of about 75, high functioning Autistic, Bi-Polar, OCD, ADHD and periodically Schizophrenic with some violent tendencies . Who plans for this?

When you are young, you pick out your future children's names and can mentally picture every aspect of their personalities and lives. Jordan was going to be a doctor. He was going to be six feet tall, was going to adore his mother and was going to be my bright and shining fourth child. He was the hope for my second marriage, the reason to stay.

Well, he is well on his way to six feet tall lol. He also adores his mother to the point of not being able to have me leave his sight without a meltdown and while he will never be a doctor, he has spent plenty of time around them in his short life. Be careful what you wish for huh? Who plans for this?

I don't think any parent can ever be fully prepared for raising a special needs child. There are no classes to take to tell you how to breathe when your son pours strawberry yogurt all over the cats. There is no book to read to teach you how to handle it when your sweet tempered child gets suspended from school for the 4th time because he gets violent in an attempt to get sent home to be with mommy. There is no online class to take to help you adjust to the fears and the nights of shed tears because you worry how your child will survive should you die. You become paranoid about your own mortality. I feel like I need to live to be 135 just so that I can be there to take care of him because if I don't, what will happen to him?? Who will love him like I can? Who will make sure he takes his medicine and doesn't run out into the road and doesn't think that every stranger is a new friend? Who plans for this?

By the same token, when raising a special needs child, you learn so much from them. I am never allowed to forget how wonderful it can be to sit and watch Tom & Jerry chase each other around the TV screen. Nor will I ever take hugs for granted. For many years, my boy didn't like to touch or be touched. I am learning that every new milestone is a gift, every learned task is a blessing. When I see him cuddle his five month old brother and ask me "mommy, am I a good big brother?" I can honestly say that yes he is. He may be a little too loving at times for a baby to handle but he is never aloof, never distant, never the teen boy who wants nothing to do with the baby. Someday my baby will outgrow the brother who is 14 years older than him. But until then, my biological youngest will have a big brother who will always play hide and seek, who will always be willing to get down in the dirt with him and push around matchbox cars. Who plans for this?

From Jordan, I have learned what unconditional love is. His is the purest love I have ever received. Even on days when I am impatient and harried, he still loves me and thinks I am the best thing since sliced bread. Nobody else in the world looks at me and says "mommy, you need to relax more! You work too hard! Let me bring you a blankie and a glass of milk." Of course I don't drink milk but that's not the point lol. I have learned to GIVE love in ways I never thought possible either. When you have kids, it is with the tacit understanding that they are on loan to you, that one day they will grow up and move away and your relationship with them will change and deepen. Not with Jordan. he will always be my little boy. In that, he has taught me to be more unselfish, more giving than I ever thought I was capable of.

Really... who plans for this??

DVDS??

2009-03-10T15:35:00.002-04:00

Yes, I know that I have described my coming blog as a family style blog that will talk all about my family and our rather offbeat lives but I can't resist commenting in a vague political style today.

He gave them DVDS??? Oh. My. God. Yeah, that's classy. What will he give other allies? Spinny toothbrushes? Maybe a full set of The Brady Bunch DVDS?? Free Pizza Coupons?

Ok, I lied. My blog won't JUST be family things. I have opinions darn it!!! I do I do I do!!!

Sorry. I'm calm now

DVDS!? *Giggles*