HNT

 


MY Christmas spirit is showing. SHhhhhhhhh, don't telll anyone. 

Move Over Eowyn

The Warrior Princess

You are strong, courageous, and dynamic, a woman of
action. You have an iron will and a sharp
tongue. Indecisive, weak, or wishy-washy people
test your patience. You tend to grow bored
quickly and yearn for excitement.

Role Models: Brunhilde/The Valkyries, Xena

You are most likely to: Lead your people to victory
against an army of orcs.


What Kind of Princess are You? - Beautiful Artwork (Original Music is BACK!!!)
brought to you by Quizilla



That means I get to slay the Witch King and end up with Faramir - YUM!

Thanks to Chunks for the link

A Long Tail

I haven't posted about Julietta, my loving needle-nosed greyhound, in a bit. I have funny short story to tell.

Julietta was feeling rather frisky and wanting to play. She grabbed one of her rawhide chews and jumped on the couch. When I say "jumped", I actually mean she carefully climbed up one leg at a time. It's a sight to see her crawl up so gingerly.

She tried to place the chew on the back of the couch (she likes to put them places, the coffee table, and empty box, any shelf available) but it fell down between the cushions. I was sitting on one end. That took away some of her space to move.

She is a big dog and all legs. It's not easy maneuvering those stilts on couch cushions that sag with every step. She stumbled a bit while trying to recover chew toy. She got so excited when she did finally grasp it that she wagged her tail enthusiastically whilst simultaneously leaping off the couch. Only to hit Tabitha, who was resting on the back of the couch next to me, square in the face with that bony tail.

I looked at the cat and the cat shot flaming daggers of death at me from her green eyes. I've never seen such a dirty look from a cat. It was if she was saying "It's your fault for bringing that ginormous leggy beast in to MY house, bitch".

I was laughing so hard, I fell off the couch and my son came out of his room to see what the commotion was.

Never a dull moment.

The Best Gift

Stopped on the way home and picked up Dad & Grandmas gifts. I just have that little angel Maren to get and mail.....I'm not sure what they need for her, so a good old Amazon gift card will be sent. Then they can pick out exactly what Little Miss Maren needs. I need to post a more recent picture of that beautiful babe. She's 8 months old now and her smile just steals your heart away. My Grandmother recently received one of Maren decked out in pink Red Sox garb, cap & all. It rocked. (My cousin & his wife are huge Red Sox fans).

I've brought in plates of cookies & chocolate/peanut butter cheesecake to work two days in a row now. Everyone moans about the calories.....But it doesn't stop them from eating them! Hell, it's Christmas people! Calories don't count! One cookie won't kill you. Bitching about the calories won't burn them off. Just shut the hell up and enjoy some Christmas cheer will ya?! ;)

I do love the baking. Son loves the eating. He was disappointed that I was taking so much into work........Well if he hadn't eaten the 1/4 full cookie jar in one night (and it's a BIG cookie jar!), he'd have some cookies left too. He just hasn't found what's hidden in the back of the fridge.......Yet. There'll be more made too.

At least he will carry a good memory of the house filled with all kinds of good smells and treats for the holidays. We all need those good memories. Just like our habit of watching National Lampoons Christmas Vacation & Home Alone while wrapping presents.

It's those traditions that will stay with him. He's not going to remember one gift he received in 10 years, but he will remember getting cozy in our PJ's on the pullout couch surrounded by treats & munchies, and laughing our butts off at the same scenes of movies we have watched countless times. That's the best gift I can give or receive.

What are some of your family traditions?

Where's the Christmas Spirit?, I mean Panic

There has to be something drastically wrong, something major I am forgetting.

Thursday I spent 4 hours wrapping the presents I started purchasing back in July. So much easier to do when the prying eyes are staying at Grandma's. I still have 5 gifts to get, which isn't all that bad considering years past. I'm usually up till 2AM on Christmas Eve wrapping the gifts I bought Christmas Eve. I'll finish shopping tonight and wrap those (since none will be my sons he won't be interested in them). Then I'll be done, finished. I can bake cookies for the rest of the week. This is highly unusual.

But, I'll take it over the panic riddled, stressed out Christmas past. Thank God for the internet and starting so early!!!!!!!!

No, I still won't send out Christmas cards - and I'm not sorry.

HAPPY HNT

My first HNT PIC.

A different View

I gave my girlfriend Darla a ride to work today, her car is in the shop.

She told me she wished her mother could ride with me one day, then she wouldn't think Darla was so bad.

Wut?

It was pretty much a typical ride. I kept it under the speed limit. Traffic wasn't all that bad. It certainly wasn't anything like yesterday was! I voiced my frustration at a couple ignorant drivers. I didn't have road rage or anything like that. I failed to see any kind of a problem, but obviously there was one, since she felt compelled to comment.

I guess the stress is starting to seep out and I am unaware of it.

Maybe I should be more aware of how I express myself. Maybe I should learn to be more patient and not say anything if I don't have anything good to say. Maybe I should start smoking pot to mellow out. It's pretty hard to be pissed off when you are stoned. Maybe a little self evaluation is in need here........

Nah.

I'll just drink more.

Furnace fixed

to the tune of $189.83. Oh, and there could be an additional $80 charge for the after 5PM call yesterday.

New glasses to replace the ones my kid broke: $168
Replacement fan motor for furnace: $189.83
150 gallons of oil for tank: $369

Christmas: totally fucked

Livin' on the edge

So, I'm driving to work today in the center lane with the usual bumper to bumper rush hour traffic, I am half a car length behind the SUV in front of me. My front bumper is directly next to the drivers door of the car in the lane to my right.

Driver to my right decides he wants to get in my lane so he puts on his directional and starts pulling into my lane.

I beep my horn.

He keeps coming.

I lay on the horn, pissed now because this guy is just being a pushy dick.

I finally have to back off because if I don't, he will hit me.

He pulls in front of me......And stops, puts the car in park and gets out, in the middle lane of the highway, during the morning commute.

I probably should have been a bit nervous. I hear about all the road rage incidents on the news. One guys beats another with a tire iron because he threw a cigarette out the window and got ashes on the guys car driving behind him. People have been shot for cutting off others in some places. I wasn't thinking about that though. I was running on very little sleep and I was just plain pissed off that this jerk figured he owned the road and could push his way in wherever he wanted.

What did he think he was going to prove by getting out of his car? Did he think he could bully me verbally like he did physically with his car?

He approached my window waving his hands and shouting "Didn't you see my directional?".

"Didn't you see my car?!?"

"Didn't you see my directional? I was pulling into the lane". He shouted louder, with an accent from where I didn't really care to try and fathom.

"Didn't you see my car? Where were you trying to pull into, my front seat? Didn't you hear my horn?! Did it look like I was letting you into my lane?! Do you think just because you put on your turn signal it gives you the right to cut someone off? To push your way into their lane?".

He started retreating back to his vehicle waving his hands some more and called me a bitch. To which I responded "Get back in your car and learn how to drive dickhead!".

He has no idea how close he came to me driving my car right up his obnoxious ass.

Do not mess with a tired cranky Irish Taurus woman, she'll kick your ass.

Murphy and his laws live at my house

12 days before Christmas and, of course, something major has to go wrong. It wouldn't be my life, if it didn't. You see, I live with Murphy and his silly law. You know: If anything can go wrong at the worst possible moment, it will.

The blower for my furnace shit the bed tonight. It had been making squealing noises for the past two days. I was hoping it would hold out until after Christmas, but noooooooooooo.

The repairman came & removed the blower. He then informed me he had nothing to replace it with, he would bring it to the repair shop tomorrow and hopefully, be able to reinstall it by tomorrow night, that is, if the repair shop had the time to fix it. (He fixes all kinds of small motors, after all.)

He inquired if I had any kind of a metal box fan about 7x9 inches. Right, I keep a couple just that size in the shed. Without a fan to push the heat into the duct system, the furnace would heat the closet it's housed in, and not much else. Great. On the coldest night of the season so far.

The "oh, so helpful" repairman, leaves. I phone Superdad for assistance, twice. Son and I head out to our local hardware store (Grainger isn't open past 5PM and it's now 6:30PM) in hopes of finding some kind of fan.

The helpful clerk informs us that fans are usually in isle 48, "but, we usually store those items off season". Sure - take away my one glimmer of hope.

We find isle 48 stocked with space heaters. Well, if it's that or freezing.... Isle 47 has 4 or 5 actual fans in it. One is a 14 inch industrial strength all metal fan. It will have to do. It's the only one on the shelf and the box is open on both ends. It appears too big to fit inside the furnace where the blower was, but I'll have to make it work.

I ask the girl at the register if she can give me any kind of a break on the $41.99 price because the box is open on both ends and the fan is held in by a large twist tie. (Hey, it doesn't hurt to ask.) She calls over the manager and he asks if there were any others on the shelf. "No, it was the only one". I get 10% off the full original overprice. (Told ya, it didn't hurt to ask).

We get home and confirm that the fan is too big to fit into the space that previously housed the blower. The weak box fan blowing into the vents on the front of the furnace door has kept the house temperature at 60 degrees, so there is a glimmer of hope for this much more powerful fan.

We manage to bungee cord the fan to the front of the furnace door on high. Eureka! Heat is produced from the floor registers. The temperature manages to jump to 64 degrees in just a half hour.

I probably won't sleep a wink tonight between, listening to the high velocity fan constantly running and worrying about the pipes freezing, but, here's to good old New England ingenuity and it being 68 degrees inside when it's 8 degrees outside.

Smile, You're on Candid Camera

A big thank you for your responses and advice.

I should tell you what I have done so far.

I had met with the manager and one of the partial owners (An ownership acquired by a shady deal. He was, and still is the park accountant. He bought out one of the four owners without giving the tenants first right of refusal.) and they told me to document and inform them of every infraction. I did this for many months. I have many, many E-mails to prove this. Some of the infractions were dealt with (junk cars parked in the driveway that the kids kept playing in at all hours - right under my living room windows)They were removed. Trash all over the yard (would be cleaned up and replaced by more trash). I was told to contact the police about the noise. Which I did at least twice a week over the summer and into the fall.

I'm not even sure who the other owners are. I believe they live in Florida and just collect the checks.

There was a family finally evicted from the park because of the trouble they caused, three boys and a drugged out Mom who let them run wild. For years, these kids caused trouble. Police knew them all by sight & name. I had run ins with the two youngest boys, why? Because they hung out with the boys next door of course. I was informed by the park manager that there was a no trespass order against this family and if I ever saw the boys next door I should call the police. Well, I did that several times. The boys would spend the night and sneak out in the morning. Their mother or older brother would wait outside in a car and they would bolt from the house to the car. The times that I saw them arrive I phoned the police - they would show up and ask if the offenders were there. The grandmother & mother would lie and say no, the cops would leave. Half the time I don't think they actually knew the offenders were there because they were hiding in the boys bedroom. Neither of the adults in the house know where the kids are most of the time anyway.

I'm getting off track here. Anyhoo, I did this for several months and kind of gave up because it just never stops.

Izchan hit the nail on the head: These people don't care about anyone but themselves. The law doesn't apply to them, as far as they are concerned. The mother went nuclear on her kids one night during the summer. She was ranting and raving like a mad woman, running over bicycles in the driveway. One of her kids told her to shush because of me. She then proceeded to go off on me and minding my own business..Etc...Etc (It was quite vulgar and to tell the truth, scary - this woman is not dealing with a full deck.) I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs "I would love to mind my own business and I would, if I didn't have to constantly listen to yours!"

I would move, if I could. Any other parks in the area are at least twice the rent. They are also more like the majority of the place I currently live - 10 foot lots. Believe it or not, I live in the best area of any manufactured housing community around. I also couldn't afford to move my home. Most parks do not have free lots to move a home to. You have to move into existing housing - which, is usually a 30 year old shoe box. So, I am stuck. At least, until I can save enough money to possibly buy a real home. At the current housing prices in Massachusetts, that should be about 2025.

My son and I have discussed getting a surveillance system. A wireless, motion activated camera that records on VHS. I've already invested in an alarm system because I got broken into back in 2001 (by teenage girls, no less). This seems to be my only logical choice. That way I will have videotaped evidence. I will start a log book of all the shit I put up with as well. I will look into getting a camera system after Christmas.

It amazes me that this woman still has custody of her children. DSS has been involved several times. I feel bad for the kids. They didn't ask for this. It's not their fault that they are being dragged up instead of brought up.

Isn't it funny that you need a license to drive a car but, anyone can have a kid. It doesn't matter whether or not you're qualified or can support them. Ironically, I'm paying the welfare to support those kids. Ain't life a bitch.

Trailer Trash Neighbors From Hell

I'm seeking advice from the internet.

Let me preface by saying, I live in a trailer park. (Hey, it's all I could afford when I got divorced and I didn't want a condo (Read - expensive apartment). It's really not that bad. I live in the newest section (1987) that has large lots and nice "manufactured housing". I'm talking cathedral ceilings, skylights, garden tubs with a separate shower, my son even has a half bath in his bedroom. I have a decent sized yard that allows me to have a nice garden & room for the dog to run.

The drawbacks are that you pay rent & mortgage and....You live fairly close to your neighbors. One side of my home is my yard - the other is my neighbors. Most everyone in the neighborhood is pretty cool, quiet and keep to themselves. That is except for the ones that live next to me.

You've all heard about neighbors from hell, well....I live next to the definition of "trailer trash".

Seriously, I've put up with a lot over the last 11 years.

Here are some examples:

snowballs thrown at my house
rocks and eggs thrown at my house
soiled diapers thrown in my back yard
my son sucker punched so hard it broke his nose and he is constantly verbally harassed
plants trampled in my front garden
loud booming stereo (this is constant and ongoing with many calls to the local PD)
A grown man peeping in my windows (a complaint was filed and he was found guilty, got a slap on the wrist)
constant noise - yelling, screaming, cursing
comings and goings at all hours of the night
Revving engines and exhaust fumes
Listening to mental, emotional, verbal & physical abuse
fish heads left on my doorstep and car

There's more, but you get the idea.

When I first moved in, things were fine. I lived next to a woman and her husband, their grown son lived with them. There was some loud shouting, but that ended when the husband died. Then the son went to jail for some reason and things were quiet, until the grandchildren moved in.

At first it was cool, my son had kids his age living next door. He played with them for a while, until their behavior became a problem. The two boys, 6 and 5 (at the time my son was 6) basically ran amok with no supervision. The only time Grandma was outside was at 4 o'clock in the afternoon to hose down the driveway. A tradition still in effect 9 years later. (I swear, "a broom" is not in this woman's vocabulary, and the words "water shortage" just don't apply to her).

A short time later, their mother, her husband, and their daughter moved in. Three adults and three children living in a two bedroom trailer. They continued to breed and produced two more children. Now, there were 5 children and three adults living in a two bedroom trailer. I found out later that this woman actually had six children by four different fathers, she started having babies at 16. She only has custody of five of the children though. What a surprise.

So, you get the basic idea, loud, noisy, abusive, dirty (the trash and mess are a sight). They have no respect for anyone. A family that represents the cycle of abuse and welfare abuse. A couple years ago charges were brought against the eldest son and friends for sexual abuse against his stepsister and another 8 year old. Nice.

The abusive father was finally thrown out about a year ago. This is the man that I caught peeping in my windows 4 years ago. A man that convinced his wife that I pressed charges because I made a pass at him and he refused. PUUULLLEASE! The guy looks like a 5 foot Neanderthal. I'm talking nasty here. But, she bought it, hook, line & sinker. And believe me, she's no prize, this woman has a face only a mother could love. My son has even commented about how homely she is.

Recently - he's been back though. With his loud Trans Am and loud pickup truck, spending nights here and there. She's just dumb enough to take the SOB back. Then I'll be able to enjoy the sounds of him beating his wife and children again.

Basically, it's hell living next to these people. I've complained to the park manager till I'm blue in the face. They were supposed to be evicted 5 years ago. They're still here. It's a park rule that "guests" cannot stay more than 30 days. The Grandmother is the one that owns the home. The daughter and children are considered guests. They've been there 10 years! The manager and owners are nothing more than slum lords that want to sit back and collect the rent checks. No help there.

This family is like the Munsters. They don't come out until 8 o'clock at night to play in the driveway, right next to my open living room windows, during the summer. Then they make all kinds of noise. Just at the time when I am winding down and want to relax. I've been woken several times at 11PM by pounding base of vulgar rap music. Nothing like being woken up by Eminem rapping about fuck this and fuck that. There is the occasional toddler in pajamas at noon time dancing on the car without an adult in sight. I'm talking quality parenting here.

I want to make one thing clear - I HAVE NEVER DONE ANYTHING TO THESE PEOPLE. I mind my own business and have even lent them tools and helped them out on occasion. I've called the police department countless times about the loud music and fighting that never seems to end, but only when things become completely intolerable. I let a lot slide.

So, imagine my surprise when I got home tonight to find that "someone" had gone on to my property and shoveled 4 feet of snow on to my doorstep. No shit, it was 4 feet high at my front door. The tracks in the snow show that two individuals went on to my property and shoveled snow from the driveway on my steps. Do I need any other evidence to think that it was the delinquents next door? I think not. Nevermind that I left my house at 6:30 AM and didn't return until 7PM to find 14 inches of snow in my drive, plus what the plows left.

My son wants nothing more than to throw rocks through every window and beat the shit out of the eldest boys. I have to say, I don't blame him, I'd love a piece of that. He & a friend spent 8 hours today snowblowing and shoveling driveways in my parents neighborhood. He worked so hard that he woke up shouting that he couldn't feel his leg 20 minutes ago. He was writhing in agony at the muscle spasms in his thighs. But, I'm also afraid that these same freaks will burn my house to the ground while I'm at work if he does. It serves no purpose to get into a pissing contest with these losers.

I'm at a loss here.

I can go to the police department tomorrow and file a complaint. I have no proof that it was my neighbors and nothing will come of it. Complaining to the park manager is a joke.

So, what do I do? What satisfactory recourse do I have? How do I get these total waste of a human life things to leave me alone? Does anyone out there have neighbor horror stories and how they dealt with it? Ideas? Anyone? I wish I could deal with them as tactfully as MM dealt with his Really Big Home Improvement Store problem and get the satisfactory results that he did. Help me people. I'm just left of going postal here.

What Kate Did..Doesn't hold water

Am I alone in thinking the writers dropped the ball here on last nights Lost episode?

I have to say I was disappointed with the real reason behind Kate being a wanted woman. The conversation with her father was bizarre - he didn't tell Kate Wayne was her real father because he knew she would kill him? Wait a sec.......He knew when Kate was born.......They didn't divorce until Kate was like 4 or 5...WTF? Like a 5 year old would kill her real father just because she doesn't want to be like him?

What's up with that? They missed the mark and gave us a pretty lame ass excuse, IMHO.

The rest of the ep was good - loved the oh so Hurleyesque "So Rose's husband is white... Didn't see that coming."

My fav line was Mr. Eko to Locke "Don't mistake coincidence for fate", especially after he told that elaborate story before giving Locke the film! I look forward to more Mr. Eko/Locke interaction.

Now we have to wait till fucking January to see what happens next????? That's wrong on so many levels.

Oh well, it looks like my Wednesday nights will be free for Christmas shopping....

The Eyes Have it

Your Eyes Should Be Brown

Your eyes reflect: Depth and wisdom What's hidden behind your eyes: A tender heart

What Color Should Your Eyes Be?

They should be brown.............but they aren't.






 


They're green.
Besides, I always thought if you had brown eyes you were full of shit. That's an old joke people. I don't want to offend any brown eyed souls out there.

Your Eyes Should Be Green

Your eyes reflect: Striking attractiveness and danger What's hidden behind your eyes: A vivid inner world

What Color Should Your Eyes Be?

Hmmmmmm, there's some food for thought.

Mixed Feelings

Thanksgiving was tough. First one without my Grandfather.

It was tough to look at my Grandmother. She was fine, cracking jokes and talking with food in her mouth, as usual. But I had to go to the bathroom and blow the snot faucet several times and wipe away the tears. I think I caught my Dad's eyes filling a couple times too. He was the only one that mentioned Papa a couple times in the conversation.

I wanted to say something poignant about Papa, remember him on this day. But, I didn't, I couldn't, at least not out loud.

We always celebrate my Dad's birthday on Thanksgiving (it's actually the 27th)He turned 60 this year. My Dad, 60. Doesn't seem possible.

The food was wonderful, delicious. It was worth fasting for 24 hours for. Worthy of the nap afterwards.

Thanksgiving just isn't the same anymore, not because my Grandfather is gone, but because the whole family cannot be together anymore. There are circumstances that prevent this, that I cannot go into. Two Thanksgivings now.

I don't know which is harder, staying home with my son and missing the family, or being there, knowing that the whole family isn't. I hate the holidays.

It's that time again

TGIF
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia.
Jump to: navigation, search
TGIF is the abbreviation for the phrase Thank God (or Goodness) It's Friday. Commonly used in American conversation, it has become a common element for advertising and promotional materials, to connote a sense of partying and the weekend.

It's too bad that my idea nowadays of partying is having a cocktail and putting on my PJ's early....................with my big fuzzy slippers of course.

I'm such a badass.

Stolen from KFarmer & the Dells blog, who stole it from Lecram Sinun's blog who stole it from Addict's blog.

Your Hidden Talent

You're super sensitive and easily able to understand situations. You tend to solve complex problems in a flash, without needing a lot of facts. Decision making is easy for you. You have killer intuition. The right path is always clear, and you're a bit of a visionary.

What's Your Hidden Talent?

Damn! Gonna have to work on that tough chick image.

You Are Not Scary

Everyone loves you. Isn't that sweet?

How Scary Are You?

No wonder the kid doesn't listen to me.

Heard in the living room last night

"You shouldn't let the dog on the couch. She's going to ruin it."

"Have ya looked at the couch?! Besides, where do you think all the grease & dirt stains already on the couch came from? That's right, from your greasy work clothes. Julietta has spent her entire life in a cage, only being let out to pee & poop or race. She's earned the right to sleep wherever she wants. Besides, it's my couch. Now, go to your room!"

Kids.

They're Coming to Take Me Away Ha-haaa!

I know, I know - I've been MIA for a bit. I could give you all kinds of excuses about being busy and such, but that's not why. Let me explain....

People have asked me, "How do you do it?". Married couples cannot fathom ever doing it alone. I simply answer: "You do what ya gotta do". Just like every parent.

It can, at times, be easier being a single parent. As Stallone so aptly put it, "I am da law". What I say goes. There is no playing one parent against the other, no disagreements on discipline. No power struggles. The drawback to that is - you don't get a break. You are it, 24/7. There is no power in the words "Wait till your father gets home", cause Papa don't live here. I'm lucky that I get a break once a week. My wonderful parents take my son overnight most Thursdays for me. That's my alone time. That's the time I have to recharge my batteries, be calm and quiet. That's the time I have to regroup and get a firmer grip on my sanity. A grip I am fighting to hang on to.

Children can tire you out with their endless energy, questions and exploration, but they are easily manageable. Mom & Dad are in charge. That fact is not in question. We can protect them from danger, teach them and make them laugh.

Yes, children can tire you out, but just wait. Teenagers are exhausting.

Common sense, reason & logic are out the window. At least your common sense, reason & logic are. Everything you do as a parent becomes questionable. Every boundary, every responsibility, everything you say becomes a barrier to the life they feel entitled to. The humor and silliness that once made them laugh results in sullen looks and slamming doors. Protecting them from danger becomes a slippery slope of giving them the freedom to make their own decisions and wanting to keep them from the consequences of the wrong ones. They have, after all, forgotten everything you have taught them to this point. That, or they dismiss it as nothing more than you being overprotective or trying to baby them. They have become all knowing, invincible, immortal. They think they are masters of their own destiny. They know what's best for them. The fact that you have more than twice the life experience of them just makes you, old. You want to give them freedom to become their own person. You want them to become responsible adults. You want to kick them in the ass for being so opposed to accepting the wisdom of experience. You want scream at the top of your lungs, "Since you're so friggin smart, get out and support yourself!"

But, you don't. At least, not with meaning. There is still a thread of the umbilical that whispers the truth. The thought of leaving the safety of home is too daunting to risk. It's a thread you both hang on to. Teenagers tug at it, parents let out some slack. There comes a point where there is no slack left and the connection breaks. Then, all you can do is hope and pray they take enough of what you have given them to flourish in adulthood.

We are not there yet. But I am having one hell of a tug-o-war!

I have been too exhausted to form coherent thoughts. The creative juices have receded into the recesses of my brain like a pair of testicles in a cold pool. The mental and emotional energy necessary to get through a 24 hour period with a teenager could solve the worlds natural energy depletion, if we could harness it.

This is the dark side of being a single parent.

I am being eaten alive, one molecule at a time. I can feel it happening, but there is nothing I can do about it. I catch glimpses of myself in the mirror. There is a haunting, empty look in my eyes, much like what I saw in my Grandfather near the end.

I can picture myself in a mental ward. Drool on my chin, unable to focus on anything tangible. People will look sadly upon me and ask "What happened to her?" The Doctors will reply, "TEENAGER", and all will nod sadly, knowingly, sympathetically.

Food for thought

The Keys to Your Heart

You are attracted to good manners and elegance. In love, you feel the most alive when everything is uncertain, one moment heaven... the next moment hell. You'd like to your lover to think you are stylish and alluring. You would be forced to break up with someone who was insecure and in constant need of reassurance. Your ideal relationship is lasting. You want a relationship that looks to the future... One you can grow with. Your risk of cheating is zero. You care about society and morality. You would never break a commitment. You think of marriage as something precious. You'll treasure marriage and treat it as sacred. In this moment, you think of love as something you can get or discard anytime. You're feeling self centered.

What Are The Keys To Your Heart?

Most of this is freakishly true, cept for the part where it says: "you think of love as something you can get or discard anytime. You're feeling self centered" Neva been that way, neva will. Maybe that's part of my problem. One thing is for certain though - once you hit your 40's, (man, the sound of that really fucking sucks. I am not that old!) your tolerance for insecurity is much lower.

Basically, it boils down to: Be good to me. I will be good to you. I will not screw you over. I want what I want. This is what I want. If you cannot deal with that, or you choose to screw me over, then bubye.

It actually took me 35 years to get up off the floor and truly learn that concept.

Human beings have been practicing this relationship thing for many thousands of years now. I want to know why we aren't better at it. Why do we still tolerate abuse & mistreatment? (I am guilty of it). Why haven't we written down the rights and wrongs of relationships? Why is it just the three "r's" and not the four: reading, writing, rythmatic & relationships?

Why is the formula for the theory of relativity more important than; the formula for raising a child to adulthood successfully or the formula for having a happy, fulfilling life & marriage?


And, why the hell don't children come with directions???

Territory Wars

I called to the cat howling in the kitchen window. There must have been an intruder in the yard she was warning off. She ran down the hall and leapt on the bed with a "reeeeoow!"

This caused Julietta to bolt upright and trot down the hall to the living room rug. I turned on the nightstand light only to be greeted by a "RUFF!" The first time she had barked since moving in with us. It was an assertive, insistent bark.

I walked down the hall to see what that was all about. She looked up at me with eyes that said "Get that thing out of our den or I'm sleeping on the couch!". It wasn't until she sniffed the entire bedroom and was convinced the unwelcome feline was gone that she settled into her crate.

Next I'll be hearing "Maaaawm! She's touching me. Am not. Yes you are! I'm not touchiiing you......"

Stealth Tactics

Julietta is settling in nicely and I think the pussies have resigned themselves to the fact she's staying. Neither of the cats had set foot in my bedroom where Julietta's crate is since she arrived. Until last night.

I had just climbed into bed and turned out the lights. I opened my eyes to see a silhouetted black cat slinking across the nightstand. I heard her purr as she rubbed against my cheek. She stayed for a few minutes of scratching but then retreated to the safety of the living room, after all, "that thing" was in here.

This is fine for now - it's still warm out. Warm enough to leave the windows open every night. Unseasonably warm. That will change though. We will see how long it takes before the call of body heat becomes stronger than ego.

The Patch

Trying again

Friday night I had my last cigarette. Saturday morning I woke up sick as a dog with a bad cold. Either someone up there is trying to help me, or has a twisted sense of humor. Using a nicotine patch definitely helps with the cravings. Plus - you have very vivid, intense dreams.

Last night for instance - I dreamt that I found out my son was buying drugs from hearing him talk in his sleep. Oh, and paranoid Mama ain't going through his drawers later? I realize it's been on my mind lately - he's at that age. I watch him closely when he returns from hanging with friends. The subconscious mind is an amazing thing, especially when nicotine powered!

Progress

Julietta is settling in quite nicely. Her appetite has picked up. The cats have settled down and just glare at the beast that had invaded their home. Julietta still tries to be friendly, getting closer each time before being hissed at. She actually got close enough to touch Tabitha, who reared up on her hind legs and batted at her nose. Julietta thought this was a cue to play and immediately dropped into a play stance with butt high in the air, ears up and front legs down. Tabitha gave a Screw you! I am not playing! hiss, and that was the end of that.

Wednesday, I left to pick my son up from the bus stop. I was gone for 15 minutes. I left her loose in the house. Upon our return all we could hear was a mournful wailing and crying emanating from the house. She doesn't like being separated from her people. Going to work Friday would be tough.

Bedtime is going much smoother now. Her first night she cried for 45 minutes in her crate. I had to reverse position on my bed and left my hand hanging through the crate bars. Now, she will lay in my bedroom doorway, waiting for me to go to bed.

We left the house at 6:15 AM Friday. Julietta was in her crate. I was already feeling pangs of guilt for leaving her. I had planned on leaving work early, only doing a partial day, but I got hung up in a two and a half hour meeting with my boss. I didn't get home until 1:45.

I heard meek winces from my bedroom when I entered the house. I immediately went to her and was very surprised by what I had found. The king sized sheet and bedspread that I had left on top of the crate had been pulled in through the bars and torn to shreds. Ouch. She was supremely pissed at being left alone. Guilt overflowed. I can only imagine what she went through. She must have cried and wailed and thought we had abandoned her. The bedding was soaked with saliva and sweat (greyhounds do sweat). She was pleased to see me and I did my best to reassure her. We immediately went for a walk, for the first time she was pulling on her lease to get to her toilet. She peed and pooped and felt relieved enough to finally dance a jig of joy and express how happy she was that I was home. Poor thing must have been so uncomfortable. We started back home and she peed & pooped again!

For the next hour I couldn't turn around without her being right behind me. If she could have climbed into my back pocket, she would have. We both went to pick up her boy from the bus stop. She collapsed on her living room bed once we were home. I think she was emotionally exhausted. We both spent a lot of time brushing and scratching her last night. I was almost ready to start calling her Thumper for all the spots we hit that caused her legs to start going involuntarily. She reluctantly went into her crate for bed.

My plan is to leave her for short periods today and longer periods tomorrow. Greyhounds can develop separation anxiety and I want her to know that we will always be back and will not abandon her.

The love that has developed so quickly in my heart for this gentle soul has filled a void as only a dog can. When her intelligent brown eyes look into mine, all the annoyances of the day melt away. To watch her toss her stuffed mouse high in the air and play like a puppy is a hoot. She actually rolled on her back and was kicking her long legs high in the air. Surprising behavior from a 5 year old dog. This was one of the best decisions I've ever made.

Introductions...

did not go as well as planned.

Son waited on the porch, whilst I corralled the felines to whom I am staff. Not an easy feat in itself. Propped on the couch with one under each arm in a firm hold, they were already pissed. Once Julietta made her entrance with muzzle in place, much hissing and growling ensued.

Poor Julietta, who had previous feline friends was quite offended at the rejection. She approached for a friendly sniff and was greeted by loud hissing in stereo. She backed away and put her head down. Cuddles, my fat calico kitty, proceeded to growl ferociously. This was a cat that had lived with a dog, albeit 11 years ago. She was the one I feared would run away. I was wrong. This crusty old lady (18) stood her ground. Her eyes were as big as saucers and her tail looked like she had been electrocuted, but she was loudly voicing her protest.

Tabitha, on the other hand (literally) was attempting to disappear into the cushions of the couch. This surprised me. Tabitha is the princess of the house. She gets extremely jealous of any attention I pay to Cuddles and will pounce on my poor senior citizen to let her know. She had dinnerplate eyes and a very big tail as well.

Luckily, neither cat bolted when released. Although they retreated to higher ground, they let the intruder know that this was their turf and they were not pleased.

Julietta kept a keen eye on the hostiles and gave them a wide berth.

It's a GIRL!

Julietta

Aren't I gorgeous

64.6 pounds, Brindle colored, 26 inches at her shoulder. She'll be 5 years old on October 1st.

It was a long night last night. My son's enthusiasm was barely containable. We finally left to bring her home around 7:30pm. We had to stop by my parents house of course. My Grandmother had been as excited as my son.

My son sat in the back seat, with one section down flat and a comfy cushion for Julietta to lay on. "She has her head on my knee! She has to keep her paws touching me!" Those words touched a chord deep within me. I can remember growing up and wanting to have a special connection with the family pets. I think he has always felt a little left out because I am nothing more than a bed for my cats. I sit on the couch and they are on me. Add the bird, who adores me, to the mix and I look like Mrs. Doolittle. I hoped he would bond with Julietta.

All of those fears were laid to rest when we were at my Grandmothers. My son went to get the muzzle from the car to show the family. Julietta trotted like a horse to the door, she bolted back to the table whining...where's my boy? Where did he go? It was my turn to feel a wee bit green with envy. She had taken to my boy like a duck to water. My heart warmed. Every boy should have a dog. There is nothing that can be compared to the loyalty of a dog. A best friend that will never get mad at you, or bored with your company. Just being with you is enough. She will be waiting at the door, hearing his footsteps on the road home. The sheer joy in her eyes at seeing her "boy" can melt away the worst of days. The adventures they will go on!

He beamed from ear to ear when Nana told him how upset she was that he had left, how she was crying for him. "She missed me? She was crying for me?" It had happened, that inexplicable connection that would make them friends for life. None of us could be happier.

The connection, excitement and a whole new environment for Julietta made for a long night for me.

Finally......

I got a phone call yesterday from the greyhound lady. She was all apologies for not having gotten back to me sooner. We are going to be allowed to adopt Bugsy. There is another problem though - Bugsy has shown interest in their test cat. He is going to be tested again. If he isn't cat approved, at least we will be able to adopt another.

I think it will be him though. If I can teach my cats not to chase my bird, I can probably teach the dog not to chase the cats. One swipe from Tabitha's claws could do the trick too. We will see.

Waiting....

There has been a development in my dog adoption. I received a call Tuesday from the lady about my reference at my vet. They don't have a record of me bringing my cats in. That's because I have not brought my cats in. They are indoor cats and I was told years ago by my vet (different than current one) that I didn't really need to bring them in unless they were sick - but they would have to get vaccinated if they ever were brought in.

This didn't jive too well with the lady in charge of adoptions. I relayed my history of pets and how I feel about them, to me they are family members, not pets. I offered to bring my cats in immediately for rabies vaccines if that would be required of me. She didn't want me to do that just yet - she needs some more time to think about if I would be a good adoptee parent or not....And she'd call me later in the week.

So I have been waiting to hear from her. I understand her position. She doesn't want to send the dog off to someone that wouldn't take care of him or provide annual checkups/proper medical care. It's very disappointing to me. I've waited 11 years - until I felt able to give the proper care and attention a dog requires. I've waited until I felt my son was old enough and responsible enough. I've waited until I was in a position that I could afford medical treatment if it is required. And I'm still waiting.......

I do hope I get a phone call today and I can pick up my boy tonight or tomorrow. I do hope the lady realizes that this dog will be treated like a member of the family. That I will provide whatever care necessary to keep him healthy and happy. Hell, if I will do it for my bird, of course I'd do it for a dog!

If I am not permitted to adopt Bugsy.......There are a lot of other Greyhounds out there that need good homes. Please, send a little positive mojo Bugsy's way so that he gets to make mine, his forever home. Thanks.

Road Rash

Pocket Mini Bike

My son acquired one of these about a month ago. He's been pretty good about being careful on it, at least when within sight of our home. I don't let him ride it after dark, or any main roadways. He always wears his helmet too. Good thing too - he wiped out last night. He found out that sand is slippery when you are on a bike. He tore up his elbow pretty good, and has slight road rash on his back. He's lucky. It could have been a lot worse.

Unfortunately, he doesn't see it that way. He can be such a drama queen. He almost immediately started in with being too injured to go to school tomorrow. "You'll live, you're going to be sore, but you are going to school tomorrow". That was all the sympathy I could muster for him, and it pissed him off. "Fine! Then I will go to the nurses office and stay there for the day! You'll have to come pick me up!" I wasn't taking the bait though. He actually had me put a sling on his arm because it hurt too badly to straighten it out. He was milking it, big time.

He calmed down once the adrenaline rush subsided. He soaked in a nice hot bath for a bit and felt better afterwards. Once he was convinced he didn't need stitches or hospitalization he turned his attention to the bike. It got pretty scratched up too, he believes the forks are bent - I couldn't see it. I finally told him to leave it until tomorrow because he was too shaken up to think clearly.

I've been extremely fortunate my son has never had a serious injury. The only ER trip I ever made for him was when he was 6 and hit himself in the head with the claw end of a hammer. It required 3 stitches to close. I blew the motor in my Ford Tempo doing 80 on the way to the hospital. This could have been a lot worse. A lot.

Blood an guts visions kept flashing through my head as I bandaged him up. My cool demeanor belied my inner turmoil. As parents we always want to keep our kids safe, no matter how old they are. It's not easy for a mother to let her child go. He isn't my blond little baby anymore. I couldn't just kiss it and make it better like I used to.

I said a prayer and thanked God for watching over my boy. I know his Guardian Angel works a lot of overtime, for that, I am grateful.

Tonights the Night

sigh

Season 2 Episode 1 tonight.

I think I've practically seen the entire episode already via clips on the web.
I've also read the spoilers and know the entire episode already.
Won't stop me from watching tho.

I am sooo addicted

Sisterhood

I was in the grocery store last night with my son. He has a nasty cold at the moment, but he's been sucking it up pretty well. He's felt well enough to clean and rearrange for the arrival of our newest family member. I'm not sure which of us is more excited.

Anyway, we were in the baking isle and I told him he could pick out some jello and I'd make it for him. He wanted a dessert that would be easy on his sore throat. Right. The nachos and salsa were so hard to get down he only ate half the jar and half the bag.

It never fails with kids: You give them a choice of A or B and they always want C. He whined that he wanted pudding. Uh huh - the last 8 pack of pudding I bought, I saw it in the fridge once, then it was gone. One night. I repeated myself; "Which flavor of jello do you want?". He scanned and then focused on the top shelf, where there was no jello, "Cool! Oreo cookie pudding!". Of the wall of pudding, jello and dessert mixes, my son finds Waldo. Kids are Bloodhounds when it comes to anything Oreo - they can sniff them out wherever they may be.

He looked at me with his puppy dog face, even dropped the bottom lip for good measure. I surrendered. Shaking my head in defeat, I turned and pushed my carriage further up the isle. That's when I heard a chuckling from behind. I turned to see a sister on the Battlefield of Dessertness. She looked at me with empathy, "I shake my head the same way".

She understood my pain, she had been there herself. We smiled knowingly at each other and parted ways.

Suddenly, I didn't feel so alone in the War of Motherhood.

Shocker....not

***Your Brain's Pattern***


You have a dreamy mind, full of fancy and fantasy.
You have the ability to stay forever entertained with your thoughts.
People may say you're hard to read, but that's because you're so internally focused.
But when you do share what you're thinking, people are impressed with your imagination.


What Pattern Is Your Brain?
http://www.blogthings.com/whatpatternisyourbrainquiz/


Another way of saying, I am in my own little world, no?

And no, I will not be sharing my Saywer fantasies with you.
I try to keep a PG-13 rating here.

Riddle me this

I have some news....I'm not going to share it just yet.
Possibly by Friday or Saturday - when it actually happens.

NO, I am not pregnant. Good God, you people.

It's good news, not that being pregnant wouldn't be....especially since it would have been an immaculate conception if I were.


It's something that I have been thinking about for quite some time now, though I am not sure that I have mentioned it here.


Dare to take a guess?

I predict Kfarmer will be the first to guess correctly.

It's a wonder I get any work done

I am not obsessed


seriously


I just like the show


and Sawyer....mmMmMmMmMmm Saywer


Oh yes, quite yummy.

Diary of a Manipulative Mom

I had a goal this weekend. I had a goal to clean off my porch which had accumulated so much stuff it was difficult to get from the front door to the back. I had a goal to clean out the shed. I had a goal to get rid of all my unused and unwanted stuff that was just taking up space. I was determined to reach that goal.

I knew I couldn't do it alone - it was a big job. I had to figure a way of getting help to do a tough, dirty, sweaty job that had to be done. The only help in sight was my son, his friend, and his friend's brother and sister that were hanging around playing.

I announced my plans. I promised some kind of reward, whether it be pizza or burgers & dogs....I stopped short of cash - teens are expensive these days. The four agreed to help. The 6th grade sister of the friend claimed she didn't need a reward, she liked cleaning. I liked this girl.

We dug in with vigor. I handed item after item and directed which pile it would go to: shed, trash or give away. Things moved fairly quickly. A half hour passed and there were was the discovery of a couple water guns beneath the boxes of Christmas decorations, clothes and books. The boys proceeded to do what boys will do while, I'll call her "J", and I continued to sort. "Boys can't pay attention for very long. They get bored so easy...Unless they are playing video games". This was one sharp little girl. Did I say I liked her?

I gave them a break for a bit and hung up some laundry. J parked herself on the grass and chatted with me while I did. The late summer heat forced sweat on my brow. The sounds of boys giving chase and laughter wafted on the slight breeze. It was a moment I paused and relished. I will not have many of these days left. I have not had enough of these days.

My son doesn't have a lot of friends. It seemed, that any time he made a friend in our neighborhood the Munster children next door got a hold of them and turned them away from my son. (I should interject that I live next door to the neighbors from hell - A Grandmother, Mother and 5 children living in a two bedroom, 14x72 mobile home. I have more horror stories than Steven King. Someday I will tell them to you). It was nice that he had re-connected with this particular boy. He is polite and softspoken, as are his brother and sister. I could tell from their interaction that they come from a family of love. Being told that they were going to host a family made homeless by Katrina only confirmed this.

Once the laundry was done, I put everyone back on task, the first of many times. Four hours later, we were done. The kids had a nice seating area where they could watch TV and play video games and I had a clean porch and shed.


I then moved indoors to empty the dishwasher and clean off some counters. I was followed by my ragged troop. They settled down to watch a movie while I kept working. I set to the counters, once the sink and dishwasher were empty. A generous spray of cleaner on the empty counter drew J like a moth to a flame. She stood in front of me with eager eyes. My hand held the sponge in midair. Our eyes met.....She was like a rabbit eyeing a carrot. "You want.." "Yes please!" She wasn't kidding when she said she liked to clean. I really like this girl. I wonder if she'd like to adopted.

Once everything was complete, we were still all hot and sweaty. What's the best thing on a hot summer day after working hard? Besides, an ice cold beer.

Second choice? ICE CREAM of course! A phone call home to get Mom's approval and we were off. I took them to a local place where the regular sized cones of homemade ice cream are so huge that a cup is mandatory with your cone. I swear a regular contains an entire pint of ice cream. I couldn't even finish a kiddy cone!

The five of us claimed a picnic table and indulged. Farts (not me of course!), giggles, general silliness and sloppy full faced ice cream bowl dives ensued. What? You think I was going to let them in my new car with drippy, melting ice cream??? As we enjoyed our cool summery goodness. I thanked them all for their tremendous efforts and saw each of them blush, when I said I couldn't have gotten it done without such a great team of hardworking kids.

Once home, they each went off with their bag of treasures: 4 models, a rabbit fur coat half eaten by the squirrels that got into the shed, a black dry erase board and markers, and an old SuperNintendo with games.

What makes the entire day extra special is that my son hadn't had any meds. Medication that helps him lead a normal life. Medication that allows him to think before he acts. Medication that I should have mailed away for sooner. I was waiting on a delayed mail order that would be delivered Monday. I was responsible for him not having any medication for that day. A point he voiced loud and often when I reprimanded him. I chose to save the one day of meds I had for Monday so he wouldn't have to miss school. There were trying moments where I had to reel my son in for his hyper, out of control behavior. There were moments where I had to shout at his cursing because he was showing off for others, trying to be the tough guy. I bit my tongue so hard it bled and I pulled patience up from the tips of my toes that I didn't even know was there. I overlooked a lot, including the fact that he took full advantage of the fact to behave badly. He knew it too, he didn't protest much when I said it was time for everyone to go home and the day was done.

I may have overlooked, but I did not forget. I would not let him forget either. I would deal with his transgressions Monday, when we were both better able to discuss them. Then we will move on.

It was a long, hard day with lots of bad, and good. The good is what I want to remember 5 years from now.

Tagged

For the first time - I have been tagged.
This is a fun one though, at least I don't have to come up with witty remarks about the last book I read!
Thanks for being gentle with me KFarmer

10 years ago: A year and a half after my divorce. Trudging along at my part-time UPS job, making ends meet. My son started kindergarten, Grandpa was there for his first day, there were tears. Optimistic about life & the future, 31 years old and in the best physical shape of my life - I was pretty hot. I'll have to post a PIC sometime to prove it.

5 years ago: On the brink of bankruptcy. Depressed & 60 pounds heavier after coming out of a really, really bad relationship. Managing as best I can as a Mom. He is 10 now, still quite manageable and a good kid.

1 Year ago. I finally paid off all my credit card debt! Woo Hoo! 3 years at my new job and I love it! Maybe next year I can buy a car?! One more debt to go first. Maybe now I can start thinking about me and taking better care of my self, lose some weight. Son has decided he knows everything there is to know and I have become the dumbest person in existence. He has developed a mouth on him that I'd like to duct tape shut at times. I wish his father would visit more consistently.

Yesterday: Was awoken at 5 AM by son getting in the shower. He's a sophomore now. When did that happen? He's taller than I am, good looking, too smart for his own good. He informed that there are a lot of "hot" freshman girls this year. Help me! Drove to work in my 2 month new car with the rocking stereo cranked up playing a CD I created with music for my Grandfathers memorial DVD. Stopped by and visited with my Grandmother after work. Watched Blade Trinity with my son and his friend after supper. Fell asleep on the couch. Life is so much better now. All I have to do is get my ass in gear and get fit!

Five songs I know all the words to- Stevie Nicks:Leather & Lace, Oh Danny Boy, Nickelback: Neveragain, Sarah McLaughlin:Angel, John Denver:grandma's Feather Bed

5 Snacks: chips & salsa, cheese & crackers, popcorn, chocolate & fruit salad.

5 Things I'd do w/ $100 million dollars: Build my subterranean energy efficient dream home. Renovate and donate my current home to a family devastated by Katrina. Pay all my bills. Retire my parents to Florida. Invest & save.

5 places I would run away to: Ireland, Hawaii (on the same island they film Lost, of course), Alaska (during the 6 months of daylight), Colorado, a private Caribbean island all my own.

5 things I would never wear: Sox with sandals! Puuullease!, tube tops (a banana hammock for breasts), fur (only faux!), print pants, muumuus.

5 favorite TV shows: Lost, House, Buffy, Stargate SG-1, Extreme Home Makeover, Anything Star Trek (I know, that's 6, it's just too hard to choose!)

5 greatest joys: (other than my son)-gardening, crafting, motorcycle rides, reading, the love of a pet.

5 favorite toys: car, PC, DVD player.......I need more toys.

5 people I'm tagging: MM (Sorry, but I see a very entertaining post in this one), Izchan, Batonga, Joseph K & Rurality. Please, only if it will be fun for you, don't feel obligated.

Spammers Suck

My apologies for having to word verify comments. I have become the victim of spammers and it was necessary.

A Brief Glimpse

My favorite photo

I wanted to share a bit of what has been occupying my time recently. I had trouble figuring out how to post multiple pics to one post, instead I have 4 posts with pics. I'll figure out how to do that later.

This is my fav pic of my Grandfather when he was younger, about 22 here, 1940. This looks so gangsta to me. It looks like he's saying "I'd like to make you an offer you can't refuse.." And...yes, that is a picture of his mother on the table.

1991

My son with his Great-Grandfather.

My son was a year old in this pic. It was taken at my parents place in Maine. I love how they are looking at each other.

The brief Hemingway period

He looks so Hemingway here. The only time I ever saw him with facial hair. He kept it briefly because it itched too much. I have only seen a couple other photos with a thin mustache when he was in his 20's.

1991

This was the same weekend as the pic with my son. It was a familiar sight to see him reading the paper. Don't ya just love the red shoes with the sox? At least they were white sox and not black.

Life

I've been busier than a bee in a field of flowers. That's my excuse for not posting. At least the OT is good. 50 hours last week, and that was with taking Monday to go to my Great Aunts funeral. I'll be working over the weekend as well. I've fallen behind at work with vacation and a week off for my Grandfathers passing. Putting out fires and taking care of urgent matters have put me even more behind in my regular work.

There are big changes afoot as well. My boss is moving to England next week. I will become the contact person for our office and responsible for wrapping up the end of our NSF (National Science Foundation) funding. All of our Directors accounts are being moved to me, as well as our Co-Directors. I will be losing approximately 10 accounts and taking on 20-30 more. It's a great opportunity for me to step up to the plate, learn new things, grow, and hopefully shine. I just hope I don't fall flat on my face. I'll just try and go with the flow and do the best I can. Luckily, I have a great support system and knowledgeable people I can turn to.

I've been visiting my Grandmother after work almost every day. After 63 years of marriage, I cannot even fathom what she is going through. On more than one occasion, she had said: "I can't believe he's gone". I sit and talk with her about her day. I cry with her. I listen. I encourage. I let her know how much I love her. I let her know she is not alone. All I can do is be there for her.

She told me how she was napping in her rocker/recliner and was woken up by someone grabbing her toes. She is extremely ticklish in her feet and hates having her toes touched. I know this for a fact.

I was about 12 years old when I was sitting on the floor at her feet and I started tickling her. She grabbed a hold of my ponytails (hey, it was 1975!), and started pulling and shouting. The more I tickled, the harder she pulled and the louder she shouted. I was laughing so hard I couldn't stop. It was an AFV moment for sure.

Anyway, my parents were both working and there was no one else in the house. I told her it was Papa teasing her by grabbing at her toes. She agreed. It was something so very typical of my Grandfather. She went on to say that she can't believe that he is laying there in the cemetery. At that point, we both had tears running down our faces. I told her: "He isn't there, he's here. He's young again and at peace. He's watching over you, making sure you're OK, letting you know he's OK".

A day or two later she told me how she had shut off the bedroom light and went to the kitchen. She then noticed the bedroom light was on again. It may or may not be true but, I have a feeling that, my Grandfather is going to be blamed for similar occurrences in the future. She still comes out with many humorous quips and has that sparkle in her eye. She is coping as best she can, that is all anyone can ask.


Once home from work, I've been doing the regular stuff (laundry, cleaning, cooking dinner & cleaning up), then getting on the PC to scan and edit pictures for the tribute DVD I am working on. Do you have any idea how time consuming that is? It's a long process to scan, edit and figure out dates for photographs, some dating back to the 20's and 30's. It's especially tough with the older albums that I have to scan. The pictures are pasted to the albums and it takes several scans to get one page completed. I'm up to about 400 pictures now, with many more to go. In my spare time (right! My lunch breaks at work), I have compiled about 17 songs for the background music. I only hope I can actually do what I've envisioned. I've never created a photo DVD before. I pray the software I have is compatible and user friendly enough for me to make it all come together.

It has been a labor of love, perhaps even a coping mechanism for my grief. Looking at captured moments in time, from the 87 years of my Grandfathers life, I have learned more about him in the last 3 weeks than I had in the 41 years of mine.

I never felt like my Grandfather was an affectionate man. I felt there was a wall between us, or that he kept a certain distance. Perhaps it was because of his upbringing. I have been told that his mother was a very tough woman. You'd have to be, to raise 7 children during the Depression era. Maybe it was losing two brothers in World War II. Maybe it was just the way he was.

He never failed to help out a family member in need. I lived with my Grandparents for a few years during my most rebellious period, much to parents disapproval. He bailed me, and other family out financially, on more than one occasion. He would help out anyone that asked, yet never asked for help himself. Paradoxically, he was both generous and miserly. He donated to his church weekly, yet bought the cheapest cut of steak, when he could afford sirloin. He would give you the shirt off his back to help you, while simultaneously voicing judgment. He would criticize often and praise rarely. He was intelligent, honest and hard working. He was stubborn and opinionated. He had a strong religious faith and was passionate in his beliefs. He was a voracious reader and had a thirst for knowledge. He felt a sense of duty and community. He was always active and involved in various organizations. I don't think I ever heard him grumble about his life, not once, no matter how bad things were. Even when he was enduring radiation treatments and dying from cancer - he never complained. He was a complex man, he was a good man.

I have discovered: although he rarely expressed his love, affection or pride in his offspring's accomplishments - it was there. It's there in the photographs and items he squirreled away over the years. The newspaper cuttings, report cards, photo albums and documents have shown me a side of my Grandfather I never knew existed. It is more than the residual packrat compulsion of growing up without, during the Depression. He saved what was important to him. His interest in photography was more than a hobby, it was his way of capturing the moments that mattered to him. He recorded every birth, graduation, marriage, holiday, birthday, anniversary or event of his children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren in volumes of albums.

What he seemingly couldn't express to those he loved in life, he has shown in the pieces he cherished and saved. Pride, protectiveness and love ran deeply within my Grandfather.

I miss his presence. A presence I didn't truly appreciate while I had the chance.

Fate is having a bit of fun here....

In a bizarrely similar series of events, my Great Aunt Theresa (Yes, my Grandfather's sister), passed away Wednesday (exactly two weeks after my Grandfather). She was in very poor health and hospice had been coming for a while. They are having the wake Sunday and funeral Monday. Exactly two weeks after my Grandfathers. Weird huh?

I was not close with her. This will not have the same affect on me. I will go to the wake and pay my respects. See all the same people that were just at my Granfathers wake. A comment was made that is so true: "The only time we see each other now is at weddings and funerals".


There is only one sister (of 7 children) left now. I saw her at the wake - she is a skeleton with skin. It's like she is going to completely forego embalming and go straight to petrifaction.

They say these things happen in threes........

Checking back in

I am still here. I think. The last three weeks have been a blur. I actually took this weekend to become one with my couch. There were only small necessary tasks accomplished. Nothing that involved more than 2 kilowatts of brain power or any physical effort.

We watched the entire Lord of the Rings series (including the extended, two disc, Return of the King). I was so emotionally wiped out, I didn't even cry like I usually do when I watch LotR. Only comfort and junk foods were on the menu. Many naps were had. Showers, getting dressed, and the brushing of teeth were optional. Bed head was the norm. There was none of the guilt I usually feel when I check out for a day.

I think it's probably a normal part of the grieving process. A quiet time to let it all sink in. A time to figure out exactly how I feel about my Grandfather's passing. A recharging of the batteries before getting back to life. A rethinking of priorities and perspective, a realization of my own mortality. Maybe it's just my age, or the closeness of family. Whatever it may be, my Grandfather's passing has had a surprisingly profound impact on me. I'm still figuring it out. I feel an appointment with my therapist coming on.

Despite all that, stirrings of blog posts have been forming in my head. The titles: "The Vacation I Needed a Vacation From" or "I Swear, I'll Never Do This Again" have been forming in my head. My subconscious knows what I do not, blogging is a form of therapy. A venting to the web. Writing to no one, and everyone. It helps you work it all out. The feedback from comments validates your feelings and lets you know that you're not completely nuts, or alone. I am grateful for it.

As they say, Life goes on.

More soon.

In Loving Memory

Henry Latta 1918-2005

My Grandfather passed away August 10, 2005 at 7:50AM.

I will post more at a later date. I will be busy for the next few days.

A Much Needed Break

I'm on vacation. We've just been hanging around the house so far this week. Tomorrow we leave to go camping in Western Mass. We will go to the Six Flags amusement park on Friday. Then hit The New England Air Museum, The Zoo in Forest Park and possibly the Yankee Candle Company the rest of the weekend.

I'd forgotten how much prep work goes in to camping, and how much 'stuff' you have to bring just for two people. Luckily, my new SUV tent was delivered today. We can bring one tent instead of two. I can sleep on an air mattress in the back of my new SUV and my son can sleep on my old queen sized air mattress bed in the tent portion. Hopefully, this will be distance enough so that, my snoring (I DO NOT!) doesn't bother him.

I have plenty of snack foods & good eats. We stopped at the library today for some reading material. I'm bringing the laptop and DVD's just in case. I'm sure the Phase 10, Yatzee, Mancala, Othello, Jotto & deck of cards will help prevent any declarations of boredom.

Hopefully, we'll both come back alive.

I need this. I need to get away from our house. I need to get away from the stress & routine. I need to do something fun with just me & my son. It's been 7 years since I've taken a real vacation away from home and not just time off filled with work around the house. I need to relax.

I hope this will be a chance to connect with my boy, to give him a break of my being on him constantly. Being an only child means you don't get away with anything. You're under the microscope constantly. We both need the break. I pray I can hold my tongue and let him be a messy, obnoxious, brain dead teenager for a few days so we can both just chill and have a good time.

My parents are on vacation in Maine. My Aunt & Uncle are Grandparent sitting. They will also be bird sitting my sassy little brat, Galileo.

My Grandfather apparently suffered a stroke Friday and has been in the hospital since. He shows signs of coherency again and will probably be moved to a nursing home. He's 87, suffering from Alzheimers for a few years and has been receiving radiation treatments for the last few weeks for a cancerous tumor near his ear.

I do not like seeing my Grandfather like this. He was always such an intelligent, vibrant, outspoken, opinionated man with a generous heart. He would give you the shirt off his back, while lecturing you on how to improve your situation. He has become a mere shadow of the man he once was over the last couple years. He became very quiet once his hearing was beyond the use of aids. He couldn't hear a conversation anymore to participate. The blank stare or joyous expression of recognition when he looked at me has torn at my heart. Alzheimers has robbed this once extremely intelligent man of the mere ability of recognizing my face. I cannot help but feel that his mind is trapped within a failing body. My heart breaks with his moments of lucidity. Is he conscious of what's happening to him? Is his mind trapped within a body that won't cooperate? Would he choose to exist like this? For, in my minds eye - this is existing, not living. This once proud man, had been reduced to needing assistance from the bed to a wheelchair to the lavatory and now to a bed and catheter, having to be spoon fed by others. Is this what he would have wanted for his twilight years? Does your perspective change as you age? Do you want to hang onto life as long as possible, no matter what?

I cannot answer for him, only for myself. I would not want to exist like that. I do not want to be a burden to my son. I do not want to be kept alive just because of the miracles of modern science. There is no quality of life there. I'd rather pull a Dr. Kevorkian while I still had the mental capacity than become a ward of Medicare and a gorked out patient in a nursing home. But that's my choice. That's my 41 year old perspective.

Yes, indeed, a vacation with me and my son is very much needed.Hugs will be had by all. Life is too short. I'll be checking out till Sunday.

Teenagers

I am alone for the weekend. At last. I haven't posted much lately because I just haven't had the energy. I am slowly having my lifeforce sucked from me by a hormonal teenager.

Oh sure, they start out all helpless and cute. Then they figure out exactly how to manipulate you to get what they want. The CIA should start reciting them at this age. They ply you with the puppy dog eyes and when they don't get their way they whip out their secret weapon. The Temper Tantrum. Whether you are hell bent on world domination or just trying to get the grocery shopping done, a temper tantrum can bring you to your knees in an instant.

Eventually they outgrow this and things fall into a comfortable routine for a few years. Any minor bumps along the way are easily resolved. Mom & Dad still hold the answers for everything, they can make all that is wrong right again. It may seem as though these innocent souls are busy learning and discovering new things. It may seem they are on the right path. It may seem that they still look at you with those adoring eyes. Dad is their Superhero, Mom is the rest of their world.


DO NOT BE FOOLED.


This is nothing more than a ploy to lull you into complacency. They are only waiting for the hormones to kick in to execute the evil plan they have been devising. Once puberty hits, you will realize you have been setup.

Once the center of their world, you now become the bane of their existence. You may have felt like The Oracle, but you have suddenly become the stupidest person on the planet. Once they move into their Sophomore year of Highschool they have surpassed your limited knowledge. Your logic and reason are not applicable in their world any longer. Your purpose in life has suddenly become nothing more than a barrier to their greatness. You're "ruining" their lives. You never want them to have any fun or be happy, and if their not happy, there is no way in hell you will be.

They are above the menial labor of cleaning their room or taking out the trash. Why should they pick the towel up off the floor if they are only going to use it again for their second or third shower of the day? The floor is much more convenient for dirty clothes, putting them in the hamper is much too exhausting. Why should the bed be made up only to sleep in it 12 hours later? The sink is much closer for dirty dishes than the empty dishwasher. Wearing 3 outfits a day is why we have washing machines! You have become nothing more than a tyrant that uses them as your personal slave.

This is the point when you realize that your once perfect child has been kidnapped by aliens and replaced with a lifesucking vampire clone.

I tried using a bunch of really cool links to enhance this post. Alas, I must have done something wrong and none of them worked. I'll have to work on figuring out what I did wrong and attempt it again.

Great Blue Thief

My Sis-In-Law's Dad came from Germany. Although he's been in the US for several decades now, he never lost the accent. That info is pertinent to this tale I heard from my sis-in-law.

Her parents had recently installed a pond in their back yard. Dad was very proud of it and decided to put some Coi fish in it. After a couple days he noticed that some of the fish were missing. He started keeping a closer eye on the pond. One day to his amazement, a Great Blue Heron swooped in, landed in the pond and proceeded to eat a lunch of Coi. Dad was not happy.

He relayed the story to my Sis-In-Law who in turn told us. She does a great imitation of her father, with arms outstretched like a bird in flight.

"Und, dis fooking vulture svept in and ate my fish!"

It was pretty funny.

More than one way to communicate

I have a routine when I get home from work. I change out of my work clothes and get into something comfortable, then I play a bit with one of my cats. Tabitha is usually laying on my bed when I get home. I always get an enthusiastic "Meow" hello. I usually cup her face in my hands and rub her fur back and forth. Her eyes partly close and she starts purring. Sometimes I even get a short "row" of approval. If I forget to greet her like this, I am nagged until I respond. She is all black with yellow/green eyes. She's quite beautiful and part Siamese. This is apparent in her vocabulary.

She's quite verbal. She can demand her dinner quite clearly by yelling at me, as much as a cat can yell. This has been confirmed by the "Oh my God" elicited from my son in response to the volume of a prolonged "meeeeeeeeooooow!" on more than one occasion. It's as if she is saying "HURRY UP AND FEED ME ALREADY!"

Once I give her a hello rub we will usually play for a bit. I will tickle her belly, pat her back by her tail and rub her head in a way that tells her I am up for a bit of roughhousing. She doesn't like getting too aggressive with my naked hand, but if I hide my hand under a blanket or towel it's a different story. She clicks into Great White Hunter mode. The butt goes up in the air and wiggles back and forth as she crouches down to stalk her prey. Her tail twitches wildly. All at once she shoots across the bed and skids to a halt with her arms outstretched to slip under the towel and catch my wiggling fingers.

We were in the middle of this little romp. She had caught my hand, rolled onto her back and started scratching her hind legs against the towel. I knelt down and got closer.

That's when it happened.

It was a small sound, like a squeak. I went still. We looked at each other. She had a look on her face as if to say "Why'd ya stop?". It only took me a moment to realize.

My cat had farted in my face.

Ever so delicate sounding. A small feline queef. "You farted in my face!" I couldn't believe it. She was licking her paw and looked up. "Reow?" So? It was a look that said "Whadya expect? You feed me that indoor cat crap with greens in it?"

That ended our play session for the day.

RIP Common Sense

This is one of those forwarded E-mails you get. I thought it worthy of a post. The sentiment is so true.


THE SAD DEATH OF COMMON SENSE "Today we mourn the passing of a beloved old friend by the name of Common Sense who has been with us for many years. No one knows for sure how old he was, since his birth records were long ago lost in bureaucratic red tape. He will be remembered as having cultivated such value lessons as knowing when to come in out of the rain, why the early bird gets the worm and that life isn't always fair. Common Sense lived by simple, sound financial policies (don't spend more than you earn) and reliable parenting strategies (adults, not kids, are in charge). His health began to rapidly deteriorate when well intentioned but overbearing regulations were set in place. Reports of a six-year-old boy charged with sexual harassment for kissing a classmate; teens suspended from school! for using mouthwash after lunch; and a teacher fired for reprimanding an unruly student, only worsened his condition. It declined even further when schools were required to get parental consent to administer aspirin to a student; however they could not inform the parents when a student became pregnant and wanted to have an abortion. Finally, Common sense lost the will to live as the Ten Commandments became contraband; churches became businesses; and criminals received better treatment than their victims. Common Sense finally gave up the ghost after a woman failed to realize that a steaming cup of coffee was hot, she spilled a bit in her lap, and was awarded a huge settlement. Common Sense was preceded in death by his parents, Truth and Trust; his wife, Discretion; his daughter, Responsibility; and his son, Reason. He is survived by two stepbrothers; My Rights and Ima Whiner. Not many attended his funeral because so few realized he was gone.

Isn't it sad that common sense has gone out the window? We've become a society so worried about being politically correct that we cannot see the forest for the trees.

Charging a six year old with sexual harassment? C'mon?! We don't allow children to be children anymore. We take away a parent's right to discipline their children by screaming abuse, yet blame that parent when their child becomes out of control and delinquent. Everyone is looking for a quick buck and sue happy for their own stupidity; like the man who put his RV on cruise control and went back to the kitchen to make a sandwich. He sued when he crashed - he thought cruise control meant it would drive itself down the highway.

Talk about the dumbing down of America?!

No one wants to be held accountable anymore. It's much easier to point fingers and blame someone, anyone else for our lot in life. People are looking for a quick fix, a happy pill. We've become a nation of addicts praying to the pharmaceutical Gods to solve our woes.

No, I am not going all 'Tom Cruise' on you. I am not gonna tell you to take two vitamins and call me in the morning. Medication certainly helps for medically diagnosed issues. My son is on medication. I thank the Gods for that medication and how it improves his/our quality of life. BUT, the medication is only one small portion of treatment. Therapy, behavior modification and consistency in discipline have to be employed to manage his disability. I refuse to allow my son the 'out' of a disability. Having that disability doesn't give him license for bad behavior. Being more impulsive just means he has to be more aware of that impulsiveness and work harder to control it than others! It's hard work. But isn't that what life is? It's work!

I think that's become part of the problem. Why do the work? It's so much easier to run to the Dr. and say it isn't working! Up the dosage! We end up with a society of lazy, stoned whiners pointing fingers at everyone else for their problems and policing how others live their lives. Isn't that easier than actually using common sense, looking inside ourselves, realizing that we are responsible for our own happiness and lives, shortcomings and all?

Three words: GET OVER IT!

It's time for people to mind their own damn business. I do mean MIND. Take care of what's going on inside your own life. Do the work to make yourself happy. Do the work to be a good parent and bring your children up to be happy, responsible adults. That's the job you agreed to when you decided to reproduce! Teach them manners and respect. Please and Thank you go a long way. Teach them right from wrong. If we did that, would there be a need for gangs? It isn't easy? Waaa. Too damn bad. How can you really learn to appreciate life if it's easy? There needs to be tough times and hard work in order to appreciate and be grateful for the good in life. If you do something stupid or bad, then you need to take responsibility for it!

Let's bring back Common Sense. I'm really worried where humanity will end up if we don't.

Isn't it Ironic?

I was stopped in traffic at the center of town, on my way home from work. Six days from the day I picked Allia up, I was still basking in the euphoria of her newness. It was 4:30 sunny and hot, but her A/C kept me comfortable. Then it happened. BUMP! The car rocked at impact. It took me a moment to realize what had happened. I checked the rearview and saw the car behind me backing up.

No, you did not just hit me! My new car and you hit me?! I was pissed.

I threw her into park and got out. The other driver got out. He was about 4' 10". "Did I give you a lil love tap?" I looked at my bumper. There was a damage. "You dented my bumper!" I couldn't believe it. "I don't see it." He said. Yea, just like you didn't see my car! Right in front of you! "Well, I see a dent, and I want to exchange papers. I haven't even had the fucking thing a week!" The vehemence of my profanity showed in his startled wide eyed look. That's right dumbass, be very afraid. I just might be a psycho chick that will go postal on you. He raised his hands, as if telling me to calm down. "Okay, okay" As he was backing away. "Pull into the parking lot." I ordered.

Emotions and adrenaline were coursing through my veins. I hadn't been in an accident that required the exchanging of papers in 23 years. I finally have a pristine vehicle that I care about and this happens? My mind fumbled for what information I was supposed to give. As my nerves calmed a bit, I realized the man bore a resemblance to two brothers I remembered from my highschool days. We pulled into the parking lot of a limousine service off the main road. I quickly grabbed my registration, pen and paper. He tossed his license on the hood of my car and went to retrieve his registration. I looked at the name and confirmed my suspicions. He was the older of the two brothers I had recalled. His younger brother was in my class, until he dropped out. They were almost like twins. Both very short of stature, with bad attitudes and a penchant for getting into trouble. There was a passenger in his vehicle too. He had an alcohol aged look about him. I could see that not much had changed over the years with this man.

After I had gotten my license and we were documenting the information, I started to calm down. "I went to highschool with your brother". "Yea?" He wasn't impressed. I imagine he was dealing with his own stupidity of the accident and thoughts of increased insurance premiums, not to mention the fact I was making such a big deal out of such minor damage. Too bad, so sad. The righteous bitch in me had taken control.

I asked him what had happened as he was going back to his car. "I fell asleep. " He said matter of factly. "You try working construction 9 hours in this heat and get into an air conditioned car". He was actually trying to justify it! "I worked at UPS for 9 years, loading and unloading 130 degree trailers in the summer, I never fell asleep at the wheel". But then again, I didn't stop for a sixpack on the way home either. I cannot say for certain this was the case. I didn't get close enough to smell any alcohol, but I know the type. I was married to one for 8 years. Perhaps that's part of the reason why he didn't argue the damage. After all, if I had called the cops, things could have been a bit worse for him.

I had to sit and gather my wits for a few minutes. How ironic that this couldn't have happened when I was driving Old Reliable? I'm supposed to have the luck of the Irish, not this Murphy's Law crap! Okay...Relax....You were lucky, the damage was minor, probably just cosmetic. But it's my brand new baby! Chill, it could have been a lot worse. You were very lucky. Now it's out of the way. Done. What you were most afraid of happening has happened, get over it.

I had to share the incredulity I felt, so I called Darlene. "You'll never guess who just ran into me, literally". She didn't get it. I explained what happened and she gave me the sympathy I was seeking. I eventually got a hold of Dad and told him my story. Always the optimist, Dad confirmed that it could have been a lot worse. "The dents & dings are going to happen, you just got it out of the way early."

I went to the insurance appraiser today. No appointment necessary, just show up between 12 & 4 on Mon, Wed or Fri. I entered the back basement door of a fairly new building. The only indication of the appraiser's office was a paper printout taped to the door. I knocked and entered.

The odor of stale cigarettes permeated the air. The detritus ( I finally get to use the word detritus) on the worn gray carpet indicated that the space had not been vacuumed in ages. The office contained a couple file cabinets beneath the open window, a computer sat on a lone desk with two half empty sodas and a Dunkin Donuts bag, a threadbare black cardigan hung sadly on the chair. An oversized and outdated copy machine took up the remainder of space. This was my appraisers office? This looked more like the office of a B movie gumshoe.

I sat in one of the two, stained with God only knows what, chairs that appeared to be a waiting area. The screen of the PC went into standby mode. I noticed a worn leather bag and a cell phone sitting on the desk. Someone had to show up eventually, so I waited.

20 Minutes later, the door opened. It was comical. We both surprised each other. He was dressed in beige dockers and a grey & black print golf shirt that was 2 sizes too big. The baggy pants were held up too high by a pair of black suspenders. The lines on his forehead were accentuated by the coke bottle bottom glasses and butt hanging from his mouth. He was the white, senior version of Steve Erkle, and I imagined I had shown up at the precise time of his afternoon newspaper reading on the thrown.

His appearance contradicted his efficiency. Once I pointed out the damage, he snapped several digital photographs at different angles. At a glance, he took down all the pertinent information to gathering an estimate of damages: 4x4, cruise control, no sunroof, automatic, 6 cylinder, A/C. He informed me that I would receive a letter in a couple days and I was on my way. I left, wondering at the seedy, lonely appearance of his job. A job I would not want in a million years.

Now, I wait for the letter, estimate of damages and hopefully a check. If I do receive anything, I'll put it towards the insurance premium instead of getting it repaired. I pray to the Powers That Be that this is the extent of the dues I will pay for the kindness they have shown in granting me the blessing of owning a new vehicle.