And they're off!

My novel is off and running! It's a slow go with my work schedule, but I'm trying. Feel free to check out my NaNoWriMo profile here and an excerpt from my novel. A very short excerpt....hahaha.

Quit pulling my leg...

Are you kidding me? Does he really think we're going to believe this bullshit? Clearly it's much better to buy drugs than to have gay sex. Uh-huh, right....

Busy Month Ahead

November is going to be a very busy month.

I've decided that I'm going to try my hand at writing! Apparently November is the National Novel Writing Month, check it out here. The goal is to write a 175 page fiction novel(50,000 words) between November 1st and November 30th. I figured that comes out to approximately six pages per day. The goal isn't to write a best seller(though hey, wouldn't THAT be cool) but to complete the novel.

So last week I went to the library and checked out several books on HOW to write fiction to give me some help. Yeah, yeah, I know...I'm probably biting off more than I can chew....but if I never try, I'll never know if I can do it. Doesn't everyone who writes a blog secretly wish they could write a book? Or get paid for what they do? Some might say, you can't even write in your blog every day, how are you going to manage six pages a day?? Well, I don't write in my blog everyday because life these days is kinda boring, and not all that interesting. A book however, just might be interesting....who knows.

My other project, to be completed before Christmas, is to write a family cookbook. My grandmother was the most amazing southern cook. And when she died, a lot of her recipes died with her. My mother and I are the only ones that know most of her secrets. I'm the only one who can make her chicken and dumplings. Rich, velvety broth with chunks of chicken and thick, homemade noodles that melt on your tongue. My mother and I are setting her recipes to paper, which is a chore in itself....anyone who knows a great southern cook knows they don't ever measure anything. A hen egg of grease, a pinch of that, or add it until it just feels right.

The goal with this project is to write them all down, put them in a book with anecdotes, pictures, etc. and give copies to my numerous nieces, nephews, aunts, uncles, cousins....all of whom loved my grandmother's cooking. Tradition is very important to my family. And I guess I'd like to be remembered as the one who shared history.

A lot of the work for the cookbook is finished. My mother and I spent a part of every weekend for the past few months, deciding which recipes to include, writing out the recipe, and reminescing. We looked through hundreds of old photos to find great pictures of my grandmother. Now what I have to do is put everything on the computer, create the layout, and truck it down to Kinko's to have it copied and bound. It might cost a small fortune, but man....I can't wait to see the finished product! I think my grandmother would be proud.

And hopefully, future generations will be able to love my grandmother through her memory and all the savory dishes they will make for years to come.

*sniff*....I'm such a sap.

Turning 40...*&%#*##@!

I hate to admit it...it's like crossing a threshold, becoming a grown up when you never expected to grow up. It's like having to admit that you don't bend in all the ways you used to bend....isn't it?

I'm turning 40 ten weeks from today.

There. I said it.

I can't believe I'M turning 40!! I don't feel 40. I don't look 40. Is 40 really the new 30?

What happens next? I think I have arthritis...but only in my right index finger. Is that the beginning of the end? Will my knees go next? Hip replacement? Oh God...do your teeth start falling out about now????

I had a complete physical a few months back. My glucose level was perfect. My bad cholesterol was low and my good cholesterol was high. Are those going to change the first of the new year? Am I going to have to get one of those little medication holders so I can keep track of my many(non existant at the present) medications by days? You know the ones...seven little plastic compartments labeled with the days of the week. Hell, I can barely swallow a daily vitamin, much less remember to actually take the damn things every day. OH MY GOD....am I going to have to start drinking Metamucil to maintain regularity?!?!?! I think I have high blood pressure...

Breathe in...Breathe out....relax....take a deep breath....it will be alright. You can do this. Piece of cake. Will I have to cut out cake from my diet? It will be alright.

But will it? Will I find a man at my age? Will I have to start wearing layers to fend off the hot flashes? Is that an age spot on the back of my hand?!? It looks like a big freckle...can I fake it? Pretend I don't see it? Or just lie and say it IS a big freckle?

My God! Is that a gray pubic hair?!?! Time to go Brazilian. Hide the evidence. Start wearing mascara every day to hide the two white eyelashes. Does this mean I'm going to get those long wiry eyebrow hairs that my mother makes me trim on her?

Dare I let my hair grow out and stop coloring it? I haven't seen my natural hair color in about ten years....how much gray is really up there? Why do I still suffer from acne at 40???

And what about all the plans I had before I was 40? I'm not married. I haven't had any children. I haven't even gotten my master's degree yet. I haven't been to Italy or Ireland. I haven't made a million dollars yet. I haven't invented a cure for cancer yet. What the hell have I been doing for 40 years???

I don't even know how to knit...how will I be able to grow old?? Will I grow old gracefully? Or will I grow old and gray, saggy and wrinkled?

Crap.

Thursday....

Now this is some funny shit....thanks to my friend Jim for this. It's amazing what you can find on the internet when you are home sick.

Ugh

And so it begins. The first tell tale signs....itchy eyes, runny nose, lots of sneezing. You think it's just allergies, so you grab for the Claritin. But it doesn't seem to do much. Hmmmm, you think, checking the expiration date, surely it's just the pills gone bad.

But wait....there's the tingle....not paying any attention to the tingle in your lip, you haven't had a cold sore/fever blister in years, so you miss the tip off. Damn. Too late for Abreva or Lysine to make a difference....

And then it hits you full blast. As you are driving to work, and having a hard time focusing on the road. Shit...the flu.

You try your best to stick it out for a full eight hours, but you just can't do it. Maybe going home early, you can get some extra sleep and be fine tomorrow. A sweet dream that was.

And so you toss and turn all night, the snot running from one side of your head to the other as soon as you roll over, clearing one sinus as it fills the other. Dirty tissue forming a halo around your head, because you can't throw them away....that's where the dog gets them and eats them. You try to keep breathing by opening your mouth, but then both sinuses clog and you sneeze, gelatinous goo running down your face, your chin, to drip onto your jammies. Fuck, just get up. Scrounging through the medicine cabinet, looking for anything that will help end the misery. Nope, those are expired, darvocet...hmmm..will I stop breathing if I take a few to be able to sleep?? Keep checking. Ah....Night time flu medicine. A gift from the Gods. And the box is almost full. Taking two, you finally slip into a fitful sleep around 4am.

And at 6, the dogs want to go out to pee.

I didn't make it to work today....I think I'm dying. I wonder if I'll be well enough tomorrow to go to work.

I don't think so.

Are you kidding me???

The audacity of small minded folk in this country continues to amaze me. I bet she voted for Bush, too.

Ugh.

Sigh....

I love Sundays. Being lazy, reading Postsecret while drinking a good cup of coffee. Right now, the weather is cool, with a nice little breeze to make the curtains flutter. A perfect fall day. Later I will take the dogs outside and play fetch with them while they find some horribly bad smelling ick to roll in.

And as I sit here, reading, drinking, and typing, I reflect on the past few weeks at my job. There have been ups and downs. And I've learned a few things:

1. Girls need way more attention than boys ever did. As soon as I walk in the door at work, I have eight teen girls vying for my attention. And it doesn't stop until I walk out, eight hours later.

2. Girls forget NOTHING. If you tell a teen girl that they can make a phone call later with you, it doesn't matter if the roof caves in and everyone has to be life flighted to the big city, they want to know(over and over) when they get to make that call.

3. Girls notice EVERYTHING. Forget to bleach your mustache just once and they all point it out to you. Or if you had onions on your burger at lunch, they feel comfortable enough to let you know yo breff be kickin'.

4. Girls lie much better than boys. You can catch them in the act, and they will lie straight-faced and then be oh so offended when you call them on it.

5. Girls have no shame. If a girl thinks her menstrual blood looks odd, they think nothing of pulling off the pad, shoving it your face to ask your opinion. (yes, that right, day four on the hall, this really happened.)

6. Girls have an opinion on everything. They think nothing about telling you that your outfit makes you look fat. (um, hello....I am fat, it's not the outfit.)

7. Girls love bling. They will find anything that they can make look like jewelry. Rubber band rings, paper braid bracelets, dried glue earrings. What the hell?!?

8. Girls love to talk baby talk. This is self explanatory. And it drives me crazy.

9. Girls have no respect for anyone. Regardless of who it is, staff, mothers, each other, they will roll their eyes, cluck their tongues, and ignore you 'til the cows come home.

But if you can connect with just one of them, they will defend you to the death. Or until you tell them NO, then all bets are off.

Cheeseburger Festival

Yep, I went again this year...and had the time of my life! Here's a few pics from my weekend away!
Sunset my first night.

Could this kid be any cuter! He was just walking by at the festival, couldn't resist!
Here are the girls enjoying the beach! Notice the big bucket of frozen margaritas....one of MANY!
My friend, Char, being a nut. She is the funniest person I know.

Week in review

Ahhh...my first week of orientation is finally over. It was interesting, but still surreal. I haven't seemed to fathom that I am not going to be going back to my old office. I'm sure it will hit me eventually.

My first day, Monday, was interesting. First, we had to be there at 8:30 in the morning and since I wasn't sure how long it would actually take me, I left at 7:00am. Which means I had to get up at 5:30. Killer, I tell you. But it's a beautiful drive and I didn't mind it. The photo is one of the neat things I see on the way to work. I stopped and took a picture one morning as the sun was rising.

There are six of us in orientation, and I stand out for several reasons. First, I'm the only one who had been employed in state service before, everyone else is brand spankin' new. So a lot of what they went over didn't apply to me, like how to fill out your time sheet, basic polices, etc. Second, I'm the only therapist in the group. Everyone else is a direct line worker, working with the girls for their whole shift, no therapy work. On Monday afternoon, the director and deputy director came into our training to introduce themselves. As they were talking to the group, the deputy director notices me, and starts gushing about how wonderfully I did in my interview and they were so excited for me to start. He actually went on and on until everyone in the orientation was staring at me. Just a little bit flattering and a lot embarrassing.

On Tuesday, our trainer was responsible for a golf outing for the girls. We ended up going as well. In the rain. And still they golfed. I met my group and they watched me like a hawk, trying to figure out what I was like. We were introduced to several of the managers and other therapists at the golf course, and every one of them made comments about the wonderful things they had heard about me. I was a little uncomfortable.

On Wednesday and Thursday we had some physical intervention training as the staff are responsible for restraining the girls if they get out of control. We had training with a team from one of the halls and it was very physical. I'm very glad that I will not be responsible for this as much as the direct line staff. Though it could happen. I will try like hell to de-escalate the situation before I have to get my fat ass on the ground wrestling with some teen girl that looks like a fucking lumberjack!

By this time, I had started hearing the murmurings and complaints about the director. She's pretty new, and took over just about two years ago. There was a huge scandal prior to that with the old administration not knowing that a staff was having sex regularly with about six of the girls on that staff's hall. He's in prison for the next fifteen years, but it still shook things up. There was some serious talk about closing the center, but they decided to change administrations and give the place a chance. And that's when this director came in, started firing people left and right and changing things up. Now, it's common with state employment to have old-timers who are still working past their prime. They get complacent, don't want change, and complain about anything new. The new director brought in cameras on every hall, new policies about what staff can and can't do, and what the girls can and can't do. There appears to be a LOT of animosity toward the new admin.

After running into the deputy director a few more times, listening to him boast and brag about me, I finally went to his office and asked him to stop. It's hard enough being the newbie, an outsider who came from another center(where the director used to work), and not get a hard time from the staff. For the staff to think that I am aligned with the administration that they hate, will put a target on my back. He listened, and agreed. He apologized, and went on to say that there were actually five other staff on campus that applied for my job and they were pissed that they didn't get it. He indicated that they interviewed fifty-five others and they hired me. Talk about that target getting bigger and bigger. He told me that there were lots of problems with the way therapy was being conducted and he expected me to make some changes. His exact words were: "You have a green light, whatever you want or need, I'll make it happen". He wants the energy and ideas I showed in the interview to be the way all of the therapists do things. That target can now be seen several miles away. I asked him to give me time to get acclimated, and accepted by my team before he expected anything. I need time for them to learn to trust me. I told him I would make my mark when the time was right. He agreed. We'll just have to wait and see what happens. I have the young offenders at the center, girls who are 12-15. All of the girls come from abusive/neglectful homes. A lot of the were sexually abused and it appears they are all "gay for the stay". None of them had any kind of childhood that anyone can call normal.

I definitely have my work cut out for me. Next week, I get to shadow the man that's been working with my group. He indicated that the girls have already told him they don't like me. Not because of who I am, but because I represent more change. I will be the third therapist they have had in as many months. The old therapist is on a medical leave and is facing termination when he returns. These girls trust no one. I will have to tread lightly and yet be firm with them.

Egads.

Reinvention

I'm done! Finally, at long last, I'm done.

Yesterday was my last day in protective services. And not a day too soon. I've worked harder in the last month than I probably have in the entire five years I was at that office. Every child was seen, every report was written. And I'm done.

I should be happy, right? But as I drove away yesterday, I thought about all the friends I've made at that office, all the kids I fell in love with and helped, and I sobbed. I don't do well with change, even change that I know is good for me. There are parts of the job that I loved, and parts of the job I didn't love so much. But it was the damned administration that killed it for me. An administration that was more worried about the office statistics than what kind of job you did. More worried about overdue reports than whether or not the kids were really safe. More than once I was told I spent too much time with a family. It's kind of like selling a little piece of your soul to the devil. You get sucked into their way of thinking and try to rationalize spending less time with a family because that's all the time you have. It's impossible to do the job with the amount of paperwork that's needed and the number of new cases you get in a month. It's an impossible job with impossible responsibilities.

But nice things that happened, and actually touched me so much, were when the families I said goodbye to, told me how much I helped them. I had one father hug me, cry, and tell me that I saved his daughters' lives. And the mother who told me that the world needed more people like me. And the officers/detectives/doctors/judges/attorneys/prosecutors that told me I was the best they had worked with and they would miss me. And the foster parents that brought me gifts for bringing them broken/battered children who had become their children, loved and cared for, and thriving. One little angel made me a thank-you card that said, I love you Aunt Cutie. I cried. It should be easier to make a difference.

On Monday, I will move on to a new challenge. Working with girls who have been abused, molested, lived in shame and poverty, and I will try to make them whole. Girls who have abused others, robbed, killed, hurt others. Girls who have no fear of anything, yet fear everything. I will try to earn their respect, and teach them what it feels like to be respected. I will try my best to teach them compassion, when no one has shown them any. Hopefully I will show them their strengths so that they can beat the system and have good lives.

This may be the toughest challenge I've yet to face, and I say bring it on.

A new chapter is beginning. A hopeful new beginning. A reinvention of who I am, and what I can do.

I hope I'm up for it.

A Good Decision...

Today is the kind of day that strengthens my decision to leave protective services. Four months ago, I removed a woman's ninth baby from her home. We had terminated rights to her first six, and numbers seven and eight were in care in another county. I have been fighting since I took number nine to have seven and eight placed in the same home as nine. For four fucking months, I've been fighting. Fighting the parents, the other county, the other judge in the matter, and today....well. Today, number eight was murdered, beaten to death by someone in his foster home. He was only two years old.

I'm so fucking done.

One week. One more fucking week of this job, and I'm done. If I hadn't made that decision already, I would have walked off the job today. Hell, I still may...the day isn't over yet.

A funny thing happened...

And as I sit here...my dogs curled up at my feet, the air conditioner blowing sweet, cool air into the room, I smile. The first time I have really smiled in a very long time.

My little(big) glass of brandy with a few cherries floating dreamily, among the ice, sitting next to me. How relaxed I'm feeling right now...as if the weight of the world is finally off my shoulders. (it could be the brandy talking, er...typing)

My warm cozy slippers snug on my feet. ( I swear this narrative needs a roaring fire, too)

If I were a man, I'd be smoking a nice fat stogie right about now....contemplating how good life can be...and how quickly it can change.

Four weeks.

Yep, four tiny little weeks. Or to be more precise, thirty-two precious days....






And then I start my new job.

Cutie-Patooties and other randomness

I spent some time with the family this past weekend. It's always nice...especially when my folks spoil me! On Sunday, my mom called and told me that I should come later in the afternoon instead of my usual time of noon-ish...when I asked why, she told me that my dad had a surprise for me. I got to their house around 4:30 and my dad had five pounds of Jumbo King Crab Legs for us for dinner! Oh my gosh...that tender sweetness dripping with lemony butter. It was insanely delicious! And the shrimp cocktails for appertizers didn't hurt either! I love my daddy.

After dinner we went over to my niece Tiffany's house to see my great niece and nephews. The baby of the family is Kevin, but we call him Chunky Monk....cuz he is a chunk! Tiffany had to take him to a specialist on Monday because the pediatrician thought that his spine may be curving. Fortunately it isn't. His head is so big, that his neck muscles aren't strong enough to hold it up, and they are developing incorrectly. He has to go to Physical Therapy to correct it, but then he should be A-OK.

How cute is this kid?!?

MMMM...Nummy!

Paityn showing her softer side...

And on the work front....they called my references today.....keep your fingers and toes crossed!

Hell Week, or Why Oh Why...

First....you guys rock. Thank you so much for your support, love, friendship, and well wishes. Without even knowing the score, you were there. I love you guys.

And now, a bit of an explanation....of course, it's work related, so I can't divulge too much, lest the powers that be find out and dooce me.

About six months ago, I worked with a family because we received a report about neglect. Not abuse, neglect. The allegation was unsubstantiated due to lack of evidence. Easy enough. I followed protocol and even discussed the allegations with my boss and he agreed with my findings.

Last weekend, the mother in question, beat the child to death.

Of course, it rocked me to the core. For anyone, the doubts begin. You rack your brain over and over to see if there was something missed, signs that you overlooked, and anguish because maybe, just maybe, you could have saved her.

The day I found out, I lost it. I was at work, and couldn't function. I couldn't stop crying. Our director, whom I have a new found respect, love, admiration for, let me sob, rant, ramble while she sat with me. And then, she did an amazing thing. She told me, she read my report, and believed in me that there was nothing more I could do. And then she told me to go home, take it easy, and be nice to myself. Later she made the offer for counseling at company expense to help me deal with what happened.

I ended up taking two and a half days off...I just couldn't go back. When I first went home, I was sure that I wouldn't go back.

I always downplay the cases that I get, and how they make me feel. But this was it. The final straw. After three and a half years I had had enough. In this job, you deal with the scum of the earth, and there's never enough services to help. Dealing with dead babies, parents that fuck their kids, children that live in filth and squallor because mommy dearest needs another hit on the crack pipe, and parents that kill each other in selfish situations in front of their kids. It's really just crisis intervention, putting a bandaid on a severed artery.

And I'm done. I can't do it anymore. It's an impossible job, with impossible responsibilities, and I just can't do it anymore.

I'm tired of coming home every night exhausted, drained, wiped out. I'm tired of dreaming about the kids. There's always a little nag in the back of your mind~what more could I have done, did I do enough?

Thursday I had an interview for a different position. An hour away from home, working with troubled teen girls. I would be their counselor, doing group therapy, individual therapy, family therapy. The facility is a medium secure facility with an open campus that looks like a state park. So peaceful, serene. Of course, teen girls have serious issues, but at least you are at a point where you are trying to help them find their values, themselves, so that they might be able to function in society. The key is hope. It's a hopeful job, trying to make a difference instead of putting on a bandaid.

The interview went really, really well. They seemed very impressed with me and I do have five years experience doing this same job at a different facility. I even got a few thumbs-up from the panel that interviewed me. I should know by the end of next week.

I know in my head that I did all I could for that little child. I know that there were no signs that I could have read differently. There was no reason for this beautiful, sweet, innocent child to die. But my heart will always break for her. I can't go through something like this again. My heart just couldn't take it.

So, wish upon a star, pray, dance naked under a full moon, do whatever you do for spiritual guidance, but please, do it for me that I get this job....

Bad day.

Today was one of the most horrific days of my life. And unfortunately, I can't discuss it. Just know that even though my head says it's not my fault, my heart is breaking. There was nothing more I could do. Yet, I've cried all day. There is no reasoning for such a horrible tragedy. Never enough justice.

It will be a long time before I get over this.

I'm so sad.

I'm so sorry.

Garden Update

Sorry, but I'm really into this camera and it's abilities. This may turn into a photo blog...
I went out to the gardens today and this is what I found:

I've got cukes!

And grapes!

This little guy watches over everything...

Pear tomatoes!

And big 'uns.....Mmmmm can't wait for Harvest Time!

Are these not the cutest faces in the whole world?

Changes a'comin'.

I applied for a new position a few weeks ago and next Thursday, I have an interview.

It's going back to what I do best, and what I love to do.

Before I went back to doing investigations in protective services, I used to work at a Maximum Security Facility for delinquent boys. Run by the state, the facility housed the worst juvenile offenders in Michigan. Sex offenders, murderers, violent offenders. I did group therapy, individual therapy, and family therapy with the boys and their families. I was responsible for making recommendations to the courts on their progress in the program, and finding a way for them to become productive members of society when they left. At the time I was there, the national recidivism rate was 77% for juvenile offenders in programs like ours. Our recidivism rate was less than 50 %. We made a difference. And when the largest county in the state won the Block Grant, and was allowed to manage their own offenders, they withdrew over half of our kids from the program. We had to downsize, and I was left without a job due to lack of seniority. Hence my return to CPS.

But next week, I have an interview at another facility! Doing what I loved so much, working with delinquent kids, trying to make a difference.

It's an hour away from home, but if I like it, I'm willing to sell my house and move. I have a good shot, since most of the other applicants are new, and have no experience. Plus it doesn't hurt that I know the director who used to be a program manager and my old facility.

Wish me luck...

Property Taxes

How is it that every six months, I completely block out the fact that I have to pay property taxes? I mean, that's a big chunk of change to forget about....

Dangit.

Happy 4th of July!

I took these pictures last night at the fireworks with my dad. It was wonderful!

All's quiet on a Sunday morning

Listen...the dogs are quiet, the house is asleep, and all you can hear are the birds singing their wake up song. It's simply divine.

My niece Emmy spent the night last night, and yesterday we had a great day. We went to a graduation party and she behaved like a young lady. And after that, we went shopping and bought her some belated birthday clothes. Shopping with her is a lot of fun, she is developing quite a sense of humor. She's twelve, and extremely smart....and a smart ass, just like her aunt! At one point, she said, "you are so cool, I love you!" If I hadn't been driving, I might have squeezed her to death! God, I love that kid.

When we got home, we went out to the gardens and I showed her how to take pictures. She has a good eye, and I decided that I would give her my old digital camera. She's so excited.

These are some of the pictures she took:





If she could only stay little forever.

Have you reached a verdict?

Shit damn piss fuck hell.

I received a jury summons in the mail today. For downtown Detroit. I have to be there on July 10th at seven fucking forty-five in the morning. Do you KNOW how bad traffic is at that time of the morning?? I will most likely have to leave my house at 7am or earlier to make sure I'm there on time.

I'm hoping that I'm not picked or that my position would make me an unlikely candidate for pickin'.

Dangit.

Garden Pictorial Part Deux

And then the mosquito said...

Yeah....I think I'm in need of a man. Ok, a boyfriend, really. Or a roommate...

Last night, I was lying in bed reading a really good book, and I noticed some movement out of the corner of my eye. I look over and there, at eye level on the wall, is a nice juicy mosquito.

I can tell by her belly that she has just fed on someone. Either myself, or one of the dogs has just provided this little spawn of the devil with her last meal.

And as I lie there, looking at the little curse, I find myself talking to her. I say, "Oooohh...you little bitch, sucking on someone. You picked the wrong house, sister. You clearly just had dinner and now you're going to die."

Oh so slowly, I inch my hand along the bedside table, teasing a tissue out of the box, hoping she won't notice the movement. And as I stand up, and slide closer, she raises a leg, in salute? Flipping the bird? Knowing that death in imminent? We'll never know.

But as I reach over and smash her blood gorged body on the wall, I say to her out loud, "Damn, there's enough blood here to do a DNA test, and then we'll really know who you got". And then I stop, and say, "Fuck, now I"m talking to bugs, I gotta get a man!"

Crap.

Thursday Ramblings...

So last year, at the end of summer, I bought a ton of perennial plants on clearance at Lowes. One of the plants I bought was labeled as a perennial grass. It was beautiful. It looked like the annual spikes that people put in their planters. Tall, green and white stripes, the leaves about an inch wide. When I planted it last year, I could only hope that I didn't get ripped off and that it really was a perennial and would come back.

It did. And it's not a grass. See for yourself:





Apparently I have a Siberian Iris, at least that's what my friend Cindy says it is. She has a degree in landscape design. It's very petite, only a few inches across. But it sure is purdy.

Other plants I planted last year and forgot all about were the Purple Cone Flowers. It's a lucky thing I was a bit lazy....I saw them coming up in one of the gardens and thought they were weeds, but didn't have the patience to pull the behemoths. Now, they are on the verge of blooming....can't wait...at least I think they're Cone Flowers.

I had a conversation today at work about toilet paper. A couple buddies of mine and I were talking about time sheets and then we were on this tangent. It rambled over to hemorrhoids, babywipes, Vietnam, and ending with how neat it was that Bill's tie matched his socks. Huh??

Then, one of the same buddies, and I, went on a homecall and talked about the difference between chicken livers and beef liver during the drive back to the office. I swear, I work with some weird motherfuckers. But I do love my co-workers....most of them anyway.

I was trying to figure out today how long it's been since I had sex. And I was sure it's been more than six months. And about five hours later I realized that Joe spent the night one night in February. Clearly, it wasn't that memorable. Damn. It sure feels like more than six months.

I'm overdue for a haircut. I'm starting to look like the neighbor's long haired chihuahua.

Speaking of neighbors...I don't know how long these new neighbors are going to last. They are very nice, but a bit obnoxious and quite a bit inconsiderate. I have no idea what he does for a living but his part time side job is doing bodywork on classic cars. The driveway always looks like a car cemetery. Right this minute, there are four cars in different states of re-do. One car is just a body, no guts. And one of the cars, an old mustang, she insists on driving to work every day. Of course, the carburetor is bad, I think, because she has to rev that fucking p.o.s. about thirty times for it to stay running. And it has one of those rumbly mufflers on it that is supposed to be so cool. Not so much. And the dog....quite the little yipper. And likes to escape and come into my yard to tease my dogs. Little bitch. It would be a real bummer if my 130 lbs. Rottie accidentally escape and ate the little five pound thing. Kinda like a crudite.

Enough negativity. I think I'll go get a fudgesicle.

How do you like me now!

How cool is this?!?! I finally learned out to change the background of my template!

Ahhh....the possibilities! Can't wait to play! Change! Experiment!

Ohhhhhh, the possibilities....

My Gardens...a pictorial

Seven days and counting...

Imagine....seven days since my last cigarette. 168 hours. 10,080 minutes. 604,800 seconds.

It hasn't been as tough as I had thought it would be. I certainly have my trigger moments, those times when I crave a cigarette. Probably once a day I find myself saying to myself "I could buy a pack and just smoke today, then quit again tomorrow". But only once a day. It's at those times that I run for my purse to grab a piece of nicorette. I have the patch as well, but haven’t worn one. They’re just icky. They’re supposed to stick to your skin for 24 hours, but more than once in the past, I’ve found that the damned thing has traveled from my arm to my underwear. I worry that the thing will fall off in a public place, kinda like a dryer sheet sticking out of the bottom of your pantleg. Just not cool.

I started a little incentive program for myself. Three days ago I started bleaching my teeth! How cool will it be to be smoke free, smell great, have nice breath, AND gorgeous white teeth!?! I went to the dentist today and had my teeth cleaned, and the dentist said that the best thing you can do for your teeth besides brushing and flossing is to quit smoking. Smoking damages your gums. So…in a few months I will absolutely be kissable!

And you guys….you guys are so awesome. Every single positive comment boosts me. Every day. I read the comments, and smile, and sometimes even laugh. (Once, I rolled my eyes, but we won’t say at whom). Every positive comment strengthens my resolve. You guys are my own twelve step program. You are better than the sticky traveling patch. You rock.

Imagine....seven days since my last cigarette. 168 hours. 10,080 minutes. 604,800 seconds.

And counting...

Freedom...

Well, today is Memorial Day...for those who have come before us and fought for our freedom. And I recognize that our country is grand. And I respect those that do fight for us. And I pause here to remember them. (Though I do think Bush is a power grubbing yahoo that has less than the basic grasp of the English language...but I digress)

But the freedom I'm talking about is a personal freedom. Tonight, I smoked my last cigarette. Yep, no more ashtray mouth, no more having to spray body spray on my clothes and hair to hide the smell. No more sneaking out in the afternoon with the rest of the smokers and hiding behind the gov't. building to have a smoke.

Nope...I declare it here, in this wide open forum. Where the whole world will know of my goal, where if anyone sees me smoking, they have the right, and my permission to wrestle that cancer stick out of my hand and crush it like a bug. I have my Nicorette gum, the patch, phone numbers of hotlines to help me through. I keep in mind how much money I will save every month, and dream of the fabulous vacations around the world that money will pay for. I look forward to the nervous energy that comes from freshly quitting that will allow me to get the rest of the plants in the ground, and the dirty dishes in my sink clean!

The time has come!!

I quit.

Now, who's got the cheetos?

The heat, sabbatical, and other musings

Oh my god. Only in Michigan can you go from frost to torrential rains, to desert in the span of two weeks. Normally, the planting season in Michigan starts May 15th. My grandmother always said that you should be safe planting after that date....but not this year. The week after May 15th we had two nights of temperatures down in the low thirties. And after that, ten days of constant rain. So finally! It's nice enough to plant the two plus flats of flowers, herbs, and vegetables and now the weather is in the nineties.

Yesterday, I woke up early, and decided to put everything in the ground, but by ten in the morning it was too damn hot! Not to mention mosquitoes the size of chihuahuas trying to eat me alive. I did manage to plant a new bed of flowers and herbs, and re-prep the veggie plots since the two weeks of rain had them overgrown again with weeds. I don't think this will be a successful gardening year. Everything just feels "off".

Today it's supposed to be 92 degrees. So I trucked my behind out to the garage and hauled in the two A/C window units. Since my house is so small, it's not economical to get central air. Yeah, right....when my back goes out from hauling those fuckers in, I'm sure I'll change my mind.

The poor dogs...yesterday it was so hot outside and even inside it was 85 degrees. I had to get an icepack for Nala, she was panting sooooo hard. I thought she would be sick from all the heaving her poor body was doing. But finally, after the temp. dropped, and the house cooled off, she felt better.

A man asked me the other day if I was seeing anyone. Hmmm...the answer was easy, No. And when he asked why...I could honestly tell him that I was taking a sabbatical. Since my conversation with my friend Marie a few months ago, I haven't had any desire to get into anything remotely resembling a relationship. I fear making the same mistakes that I've made in the past. And when I do take the time to wonder about the choices I've made, the mistakes that have hurt me, I wonder (and honestly, worry) if I will ever get to the point where a relationship is right. And when(and if) I get there, will it be too late? I'm not over the hill, but am quickly approaching the summit.

My mother asked me the other day if I was still going to go to my step-niece's wedding. Um....yeah....don't think so. But I will send a gift. She and her fiance' recently bought a house and have been spending a lot of time remodeling before they get married. I think a gift card from Home Depot or Lowes would be nice. I do not for one minute regret what I did. However, I do think my actions will have deep repercussions within the family. We'll see.

I'm off to the folks for a barbecue....have a great day!

Sisters...Part deux

I received a call this morning from my mother. Julie came by and paid Amy every penny she stole from her.

I'm thinking my wedding invitation has been revoked.

Have a great holiday weekend!

Sisters

There are times that I wished I was an only child.

I have two sisters, who are quite a few years older than me. I like to say I was a surprise for my folks.

My oldest sister, Julie, is bi-polar and I believe she suffers from a borderline personality disorder as well. Growing up with Julie was troubling to say the least. She used to self medicate(still does if you want to know the truth) and is a "recovering" cocaine addict. She left home at fourteen after having a fight with my dad. She let the air out of my other sister's bike tires and when my dad told her to take the bike to the gas station and fill them, she told him to fuck off. He smacked her. She left and never came home. Of course, she lived with my grandmother after that, but still....she ran away. And my dad wasn't abusive. This was the seventies, and rarely did he even spank us.

She got pregnant and had her first baby at sixteen. She married the guy, and by the time she was eighteen, she divorced him. Trust me, he was no prize. At twenty-two, she was pregnant again, by another guy. He was no prize either, but at least he was smart enough not to marry her. At twenty-five, she married another man that had two boys of his own, so along with her two girls, they were a beautiful family. And once again, eight months later, after she broke his nose, and he broke hers(to get her back) they divorced. And all the time, she was abusive to the girls. I was only eight when my oldest niece was born. But by the age of ten, I was babysitting full time. She would call, ask my mom if I could spend the night and when I got there, leave, saying she would only be gone for an hour. She would finally drag herself in the next day. And if I didn't have the house spotless, she would take her wrath out on me. The instances of my stepping in to stop her from hitting my niece are infinite. She broke a hairbrush hitting my niece in the head. The sad part...Children's protective services didn't take calls from kids back then. They would never listen to me.

When she was twenty-eight, she married husband number three. Now he was a great guy. My family warned him to run the other way, but he didn't believe us. He didn't believe that she was a liar, a thief, a drug addict, and crazy. See, she could fake it really well for a while. Five years, and two more kids later, they divorced. After the divorced, he told me he wished he had listened to us. By this time, she was a full blown coke head. She worked for a major energy company and made big bucks.


Five years ago, she married husband number four. A man we later found out that she fucked around with throughout all of her marriages. He's now a bigwig in the aforementioned energy company. Her kids are all grown, all moved out on their own. And still, she tries to control everyone. She no longer works for the energy company. She filed a sexual harrassment law suit against her boss and to make it(and her) go away, they settled for a cool $750,000. I truly don't believe that she was sexually harrassed. I think her drug addiction made her do things for either overtime, money, or time off, and he threatened to fire her. She had to take a medical retirement. She now collects social security.

So....to recap....and I know this is confusing and hard to follow, but I do have a point, and I will get to it...She's fucked around on all of her husbands, abused her kids, stolen items and money from friends and family, sued a major company, and made out like a bandit financially. Remember, she married a bigwig who makes bigwig bucks.

And let's not forget all of the cosmetic surgery my sister has had. Yeah, that's her newest addiction, in addition to the vicodin she buys off the street. Let's see....two nose jobs, two boob jobs, she's had her chin done, her back lipo'd, two tummy tucks, her arm fat lipo'd, botox, and a scar on her forehead rhinoplasty'd.

So why, why, WHY, did she have to steal my other sister's measly eight grand in February? My other sister who really is disabled and lives on five hundred bucks a month, who got screwed in her divorce settlement after 25 years of marriage and had to move in with my parents because she doesn't even have enough income to afford a house?

Julie's excuse? She took the money to pay for my niece Isabel's funeral. How sad....and we could forgive her for this. If it were true. According to the bank records, she withdrew the money three weeks before Isabel was even born. There were no hints that Isabel was in trouble and would die three hours after her birth, three months premature. Where do I think the money went? I think it went for her latest boob job/liposuction/tummy tuck. I think she lied to her rich husband about the cost of the surgeries and supplemented her own cash with Amy's.

And now...now she won't pay her back. She promised to pay her by Tuesday(this week) and the money still isn't there.

So...tonight, I called her and told her that if she doesn't pay Amy her money by 6/3, the date of her stepdaughter's wedding, I'm going to make a big announcement at the reception and tell her husband and his whole family what a fake, phony, lying thief she is. And tell them how she used poor little Isabel's death as an excuse.

Now, I think that the threat alone is enough to get her to pay. Really. She's all about appearances. When you first meet her, you think she is the nicest, sweetest person ever. But underneath the sheep's clothing lies a vicious, carnivorous wolf. To think that her husband's family would know the true depths of her depravity would just drive her more insane.

We'll see.

Ugh

Today's the first day of my testimony in the murder trial. Preliminary Exam...to see if there is enough evidence to go forward with the trial.

Damn. Guess I have to wear a suit to look all professional-like.

New Bras

Last night I dreamt that I bought a new bra.

This morning I looked for it.

I was pissed when I couldn't find it.

Damn.

Rain, rain, go away, come again some other day.

Holy crap. What is this....day six or seven of rainy days? And as I type, a small break in the clouds....a peak of sun! How long will it last? Will it dry up the grass so that I can mow? It's a foot high because of all the rain and it's driving me nuts.

In the back-back yard(long story) there is a bunny hole filled with baby bunnies. The dogs found it about two weeks ago and Madchen ate one of the baby bunnies before I could stop her. I put the other ones back and forbade the damn dogs from going back there in hopes that the momma bunny would come back to take care of the rest of them. The vet said she would. I hope he was right. I certainly don't relish the idea of going to check on them and finding a hole full of dead babies. And of course, with all the rain, I worry about them.

I'm home from work today, and stayed home yesterday as well. I called in sick. I told them I had the flu, but the truth is I apparently have emotional flu. I just can't go in. The work has been overwhelming for the past few weeks. I have a case where the mother may spend the rest of her life in prison based on my testimony in her murder trial. It's bad enough that the kids witnessed the murder, but now it's up to me to put the mother away forever. The only surviving parent. That's a huge emotional burden and it's weighing on me. And it also doesn't help that a couple filed a complaint against me with the governor's office. Of course, my administration backs me 100%, but it's still annoying. Fuckers.

Ahhhh, the sun is shining in the window right now...warming my heart.

On Mother's Day, I went to see my folks and I took my mom some cookies and a card. Every year I buy her a funny card, because we are funny people(in my head, at least) but this year I bought her a sappy card. The sentiments were correct, I do think she is the best mom ever, but I bought the card because I was standing there perusing the cards, doing the pee-pee dance. I just couldn't stand there another minute so I grabbed the next card I could find that was mildly appropriate and sprinted for the checkout. I didn't have the heart to tell my mom the truth. Does that make me a bad daughter??

Our usual MD's tradition is to take my mom to the greenhouse and buy her flats of flowers and help her plant them. This year, there were too many people over after dinner and my mom didn't want to be rude. But I didn't mind, and left with my niece, Paityn(4), and went along without her. Paityn and I picked out flowers for my new flower bed, a few veggie plants, and a few herbs for the herb garden. I let her pick out a few 4-packs of flowers for her mom for Mother's Day. She was so funny. Every aisle she would come across a blossom that fell off of a plant. She would pick it up and tell me we had to buy that kind because the blossoms were so soft. After a few aisles I caught her picking the blossoms off the plants. I told her to stop picking the flowers and she looked me right in the eye and said, "I'm not, really, it just fell off when I touched it". Spoken like a true future defendant. :o)

Wow....

It's been 11 days since my last post. And not for any reason other than....I haven't had anything to say.

I didn't get to go to the Kentucky Derby....I was bummed. Five regular dog watchers and not one of them were available. And it would have been too much to kennel two big dogs and go away for the weekend. So....I stayed home. I did have a productive weekend though. I mowed the whole frickin' 1/4 acre, prepped a new garden bed, moved some plants around. And read a really good book. With no interruptions because everyone thought I was gone. Love that!

And this week at work has been super busy. I've received five new cases in the past four days. The first one on Monday...a mother stabbed her long time lover(and father to her four children) to death. Heartbreaking.

It's past my bedtime....so I will try to write more tomorrow.

Mother's day is this Sunday. It's tradition that I take my mom to the greenhouse and buy her flats of flowers to plant. Then I help her plant them...I actually look forward to this every year. She really is a great mom...I think my next post will be about her.

HNT

Ok...not my best photo....but the background is amazing! Here I am, sans any make up, my hair sticking up everywhere....but I still love this picture!

Happy Half-Nekkid Thursday people....the button's on the left, you know what to do.

Where have I been??

Wow....I can't believe it's been almost a week and a half since I got home from Arizona. I'm just now starting to get back into the rhythm here. That three hour time change is a killer when you don't have a few days after your trip to re-adjust.

Kristyn and I had an amazing time in AZ. We drove all over the state and laughed the whole time. Of course the fun started before we even left the Detroit Metro Airport where I tried to catch my boob on fire with a match that broke as I lit it and flew down my shirt. Oh yeah, nice little scar there now.

On day two, we drove into Sedona and Kristyn(who really is a blond) asked if the ground was sunburned because the dirt/rocks were so red. Our catch phrase during the trip when she asked a silly question was "You're so pretty". By the end of the trip she was gorgeous!

We went to this little dive in Flagstaff for dinner called Crazy Bill's Steakhouse. Outside there was this giant cow statue and a marquee that said "Who put the noodle in the poodle? The fireman". I still don't know what the hell that means...but our steaks were delicious. And of course, the local drunks bought us drinks all night. Kudos to Nancy, the bartender, who was a doll.

On day three, we drove up through Painted Desert to go to Page, AZ. Along the way we saw a dead mule lying in a field on the side of the road. On the way back, he was eating grass. We were both pretty that day. I think Antelope Canyon in Page was our favorite place. To be able to walk through this slot canyon and see the sunlight shimmer down through the top...amazing. Painted Desert was gorgeous too. The name is perfect....I could have spent days there taking photographs.

On day four, we stopped at the Little Colorado River Canyon to take pictures, and buy jewelry from the local Native Americans. Of course, we didn't expect to see the wild horses...that was a bonus. And a bigger bonus was when the boy horse tried to mount the girl horse and she kicked him in the head. Bummer I missed that shot. Then they got shy and took off. I guess they didn't like an audience. We continued on to the Grand Canyon and Roximoon was right....it's surreal! It looks like a painting, it's so beautiful. There was even an isolated thunderstorm that moved over the canyon. It surprised me that all around the south rim, there were places that you could pull off and actually step right up to the edge....and fall off if you weren't careful.

Then there was the freak snow storm on our last day in Flagstaff. It dumped 5 inches of snow as we were leaving. We saw 8 accidents in 30 minutes on the way down the mountain. Talk about a white knuckle kinda day. Oh, and we killed a tumbleweed. Poor little thing, didn't have a chance.

The rest of our trip we spent at a resort in Scottsdale. We did take a day and go back to Sedona and to Jerome. What a gorgeous area, but then, it was all beautiful. I would certainly go back there again. And I'm sure I will. Kristyn was terrified of scorpions, and she was sure she was going to be bitten(she wasn't), so she made me carry my epi-pen everywhere we went. She's so pretty.

Today, while reading the news online, I came across this story and it made me smile. It's nice to see that there are still good people in this world.

Hope everyone has a great day!

Happy Birthday, Mommy!

You are the best mommy ever!

H N T

Still trying to get back on Michigan time....rough week...


Check out the king....the button over there, yeah, over there...keep looking....down on the left. You know you want to click it.

I'm Home!

Ahhh....it was a wonderful trip...but at the same time, I'm glad to be home.

I've downloaded some of my pictures here , so feel free to stop by and see some of them!

I took almost 200 photos, so it may be a while before I can get them all on here. But the best are at the link!

I'm too darn tired to write more....

crap...I have to work tomorrow.

It's here!

Ahhhh....life is going good.

The stupid camera I ordered online never showed up, but after lots of bitching at Walmart.com, I got my refund yesterday.

And last night I bought this little cutie! And I got it for the same price as the one I ordered. And guess what? NONE of the bullshit! AND it's got more megapixels, and all of the features I liked about the other one.

Sigh....so I guess I'm ready for my vacation.

And the Blogger meet this friday. So, if anyone does anything really drunk and stupid, I will be there to catch the moment for all eternity. And, yes, I WILL blackmail.

I do take Pay-pal.

T minus 6 days and counting...

The flight is booked. The rental car is rented. The hotels are booked. The maps are mapped. The excursions are reserved. I'm all ready for my trip to Arizona. The only thing missing...

The damned camera.

And here's the way it came down...

1. Ordered aforementioned camera from Walmart.com.

2. Waited almost two weeks before getting the email that the shipping company went belly-up and that it would be an additional 1-2 days to get said camera.

3. Called Walmart.com on 2nd additional day and was told that the camera had been shipped, up yours. Threatened to cancel the order. Asked to speak to the supervisor because I wanted someone to yell at(yes, I actually told the very nice girl that. She laughed, and got the supervisor). Was told that they could reorder a second camera, but the shipping would be the same and I would get it in two weeks. About the time I get BACK from my vacation. Told her that would be unacceptable. Was put on hold for three minutes when she came back and told me that she could send it over night, but would still be four days before I would get it. And what to do with the first camera when and if it arrived? Ship it back so I wouldn't be charged for both cameras. Yeah right, I'm not gonna work that hard for you fuckers. Told her I would wait until Friday(third day) and if I didn't have my camera, I was going to cancel.

4. Receive a survey email from Walmart.com asking me how I enjoyed their service. Wrote a novel explaining that they might want to wait until the goods have been delivered BEFORE sending a survey. Believe you me, they aren't going to be happy reading that survey.

5. Saturday I wait for the mail carrier, no camera. Call the post office, has never been delivered to them.

6. Call Walmart.com and speak to Dexter, who is very nice, and ask to speak to another supervisor, because I wanted to yell some more. Speak to Greg, who tells me that he can cancel the camera, but the resolution center is closed until Monday so I wouldn't be able to get my refund for at least a week. "Are you FUCKING kidding me??" I yell, and tell him that is unacceptable. I tell him I want it resolved right fucking now because I will need to find another camera somewhere else and am GOING to use that money for the camera. He promises me that he will take care of it personally today. The he asks if there is any other business we can take care of....I tell him, very politely, no thank you, I will NEVER EVER order anything from them again. He tells me, "Thank you for calling Walmart.com and have a nice day".

7. Receive an email confirmation from Greg that the refund has been processed, and I should see the refund on my next billing statement. I don't think so...it had better be taken care of long before that or I will go postal.

Fuckers.

100th post...

How interesting....my 100th post. I feel like I should get a cake or something....

But instead, tonight I took care of me. I came home from a long day at work and decided that I was going to take a nice long hot bath....complete with a book, bergamot essential oil, a Killian's, and Etta James and Billie Holiday on the turn table. Ok, so in the CD player, but you get the idea.

And there I lie, the bergamot scenting the water, my skin, the air...lying back, soaking, letting all the bad things slide away, as the warm water slid over my skin. The oil, making me smell good, making my skin slick, soaking in.

Nala came in at one point, rested her head on the side of the tub, letting me rub her nose. Then, eyeing the water nervously, left. I laughed. She hates baths.

And when my fingers grew wrinkle-y, and the water turned cool, I got out, and felt at peace. For the first time, in a very long time. My worries swirling down the drain along with the bergamot scented water.

I should take baths more often...they can truly be medicinal for the soul.

My blog turns a year old on the 28th....Happy Bloggerversary to Me.

When it rains, it pours...

I received a call this morning that Marcy, my niece and Isabelle's mom, tried to commit suicide last night. Her daughter, Emily, who's twelve, found her.

I'm on my way over there to spend the day with Em, who clearly has had a very rough month. And hopefully, I can be of some support for her and for Marcy and Mike.

Jesus Fucking Christ.

trying...

something new....hope it works!

it's right here baby!

Chelle!!!~YOU are a Goddess! Thanks!

Ok...so I decided to get a new digital camera for my trip to the Grand Canyon, because, well, my old digital camera is only a 2.1 mp. And I wanted a better camera to take great pics.

http://www.walmart.com/catalog/product.do?product_id=4328298 (I have to figure out how to do links with words, not just links...really, anybody??)

So I ordered this baby. Oh yeah, 5.0 mp's, panoramic capability, movies, self timer, and the best feature, up to a two second shutter speed for low light. This will be perfect for Antelope Canyon where photographers suggest slow shutter speeds for better pics.

Now, I normally don't have any beef with Wal-mart, but buying this camera was a trial. I looked at their website first, found the camera I wanted, but when I went to the actual store, the cameras averaged about $40 more in store than on their website! Initially I thought maybe shipping would be outrageous and that that was why they were cheaper. But no, that wasn't it. Shipping on this baby only cost $1.94. So, I ordered online and saved me some greenbacks!

The shipping order said it would take about seven days to get my order. Anxiously, every day, I would come home and hope against hope that my camera would be sitting there, waiting for me to play!

So why, WHY, did I get this email yesterday? My seven days were up! It should have been here yesterday!

We are writing to let you know that an item in your recent order has been shipped through APX Logistics, a third-party provider Walmart.com uses to ship some packages.
We have been notified that APX Logistics has filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy, and wanted to let you know that we are working with our partners to ensure your package arrives in a timely manner. Due to this situation, however, it may take slightly longer (1-2 business days) for you to receive your order.

Now, I can only hope and pray that the damn thing gets here in time for me to play and learn how to use the stupid camera.

Dirty bastards.

Another memory

As much as I complain about my oldest sister, I do love her. I just don't like her very much.

But one of my very earliest memories, involves her, and it's one of my favorites.

I must have been about four or five. My sister, Amy, and I shared a room, and my oldest sister, Julie, had her own room. Her room used to be my nursery, until I was old enough to sleep with Amy, and then, Julie got the bedroom.

It was a pale lavender color and had a hardwood floor. Many years later, after Julie moved out, my dad would surprise me by painting it pink. But that's another memory.

I remember that when I was very little, my sister, Amy, would tease me at bedtime about the boogeyman. And Julie would tell me to get into bed with her. She always slept so peacefully and deeply, that often I would check to make sure she was breathing. Her brown hair was long and thick, and I can remember snuggling up to her back and sleeping with my face in her hair. She always smelled so good.

I remember one night, and it's such a clear thought that surely this happened often, lying next to her in bed, listening to her sing to me. She always sang a counting song. I don't know the name of it other than to call it the Little Indian Song. And as I laid there, warm and cozy, and feeling loved, she would quietly sing,

"One little, two little, three little indians. Four little, five little, six little indians. Seven little, eight little, nine little indians. Ten little indian boys."

And then she would sing it down the number chain. "Ten little, nine little, eight little indians..."

And every time I would tell her to sing it again, she would laugh and say, "Ok, just once more." And on and on she would sing. There were many nights she would sing me to sleep that way.

I felt so close to her. She was my hero, my protector, my big sister. I loved her unconditionally.

I have very few happy memories of Julie, as her mental illness took over about the time I turned six. And then, the memories just get progressively more violent, and disturbing.

But I love this memory. This tiny piece of happiness that continues to remind me that at one time, she was normal, and sweet, and caring.

And it makes me sad too, because it also reminds me of what we, as a family, lost.

When I think back, to that time, I miss her. Even though she is still here.

H N T

Ok...so I know this HNT is supposed to be related to St. Patrick's Day, with a bit 'o green...but hey...I'm Irish. I don't need no stinkin' green!

Oh, and the button for info is over






<~~~~~~~There. And down a ways...

P.S. I've updated my 'Cool Folk' list. It's not a complete list...that would be too long.

The plunge....and romance...a rambling.

Ok, I have previously posted the question, about blogs and to share or not to share...and up until now, I have chosen to keep my blog private from people I know. I've done this for numerous reasons and I've posted those before, as well.

Well, I did it. I shared my blog with someone I know. He and I have been friends for a long time. At one point, we actually went out on a date, and had a nice time. But he met someone he thought he liked better, and that was the end of that. Since that time, several years have passed, and last summer, he admitted to me that he made a mistake and wanted to try it again. I turned him down. For several reasons. The first being, I didn't like being second choice to anyone. The other reasons were that he had specific things he was looking for in a woman, and I knew, I was the complete opposite of what he was really looking for. I never elaborated on what those things were, I just told him no.

Believe it or not, we have stayed friends. I care very much for him, and he is truly a wonderful man.

Recently, in the past few months, we have been chatting more than usual. And the other night, I told him that I have a blog. I shared with him my hesitance to share it with anyone and he told me that if I ever chose to share it with him, it wouldn't change how he thought of me. So I did it. I shared my blog with him...with a warning, that if he chose to read it, he would learn things about me that he never wanted to know.

I shared this with him, because, I thought that if anyone would keep an open mind, and be able to understand me without judging me, it would be him. He is my friend, and regardless of whether it ever turned into anything other than a friendship or not, I trust him.

Hmmm...It's been three days, and nothing. I guess he got more than he bargained for. Or maybe, he's thinking....Or maybe he's on a deserted island and can't get to the phone, or the computer. One never knows.

J, if you're reading this, it's ok.

The second part of my rambling is about romance, and the two topics are not related.

A very dear friend of mine, Marie, is a therapist, and we spend a lot of time talking about men, life, and just your typical bull that friends talk about.

Several weeks ago, we went to lunch and I shared with her my last meandering into the masculine field. She gave the typical responses, and then paused. I could see by the look in her eyes that there was something else she wanted to say. I pressed her, and told her to be honest with me. And this is what she said:


"Don't let your passion for romance get confused for the real thing".

And this got me thinking...it almost clicked in my head...what she said...it sounded dead on. Is this the same thing as being in love with the idea of being in love? If I confuse romance with the real thing, then what IS the real thing? How do you differentiate between the two?

Is my passion for romance based on years of watching stupid movies? Or reading trashy novels? I don't think so...I'm not into soap operas, and I can't tell you the last time I read a Harlequin Romance Novel(maybe age 11?). Where does this twisted idea of what a real relationship is, come from? And do I have to give up the idea of heart clenching anticipation to find the truth?

What the hell????

Where have I gone wrong? Or is she wrong? I guess what I do believe in is timing...and anticipation. I believe that when the time is right, the person you can spend your life with will find you. Is that fantasy? Fate? Silly ideals that really don't exist?

Something else Marie said is that whenever I meet a man, regardless of his qualities, I try my best to make him, in my mind, fit the mold I'm searching for...or, in a nut shell, try to fit a round peg into a square hole. She tells me that I am one of the most intuitive persons she knows, yet, when the little voice inside my head tries to warn me, I yell at it to SHUT UP.

Unfortunately, in those respects, I believe she is correct. I find it hard to trust my instincts about men, but after a relationship ends, I find myself saying, "I should have listened to my gut". What steps do I have to take to make the changes I need to make? How? When? Who? Why?

I don't have the answers....yet.

What a week...

Whew....I'm glad that week is over.

Friday was Isabelle's funeral. It just happened to fall on her big sister, Emily's, twelfth birthday.

This was the first baby funeral I have ever been to, and it was the hardest thing I think I have ever had to do. It was a private service, just close family. Marcy and Mike were so sad, and they insisted on holding the baby. Then Marcy didn't want to let her go. She kept crying, "I just want to take her home". Grief strikes us all differently.

Emily was afraid and didn't want to approach the casket, even though she had brought a tiny silver bell(for her name, Belle) to put in the casket. Emily thought it was her fault the baby died. She has been going through a rough time, dealing with the idea of a new step-dad, a new baby, and moving in with Mike and his kids this past year. Her behavior has been pretty much out of control since she found out her mom was pregnant, and Marcy had just made her an appointment with a counselor the week before the baby died. Emily thought since she has been causing her mom so much stress, that's why she lost the baby. Of course, everyone told her it wasn't.

The hardest part for me, I think, was at the gravesite, where Mike chose to put the casket in the ground himself. Sobbing, he held the straps to lower her casket into the ground. And Marcy couldn't take it. She ran from the gravesite, crying.

Isabelle is buried in Babyland, the name the cemetary has for the site where all the newborns are buried. Personally, I think the name sucks, and reminds me of Disneyland, and trust me, this ain't no Disneyland.

Today, we are going to celebrate Em's birthday, if you can call it celebrating. We'll have cake and icecream, and sing to her. I think it will be a pretty somber day. But we'll see.

I have urged Marcy to contact the support group from the hospital that gave her a mourning basket. The group was formed by two mothers who have gone through similar experiences. The women make up baskets including books for both mom and dad when they lose a baby, a candle, journal, a spun glass heart ornament, and other things for the parents. And volunteers knit/crochet, tiny little hats and blankets for the babies that the parents keep. It's all so sad.

Anyway. That was my week, and I'm glad it's over. At least for me.

Isabelle Rose, March 8, 2006 - March 8, 2006

My great-niece, Isabelle Rose came into the world today, three months early. She came here feet first, rushing things just a bit too early. She was just under two pounds, and was 12 inches long. Her perfect, tiny, little feet were but two inches long.

She lived exactly three hours, and died in her mother's arms, her head cradled by her father.

She lived just long enough to imprint her soul on all of us.

I will miss her.

Ice Storms and HNT

Lying on a stone wall in the Bahamas always makes you feel sexy. Of course, SEVERAL rum punch drinks and a camera always makes you feel like a supermodel.

So this morning I get up to let the dogs out and as I stumble through the kitchen and open the back door, both dogs run out and promptly slide down the stairs and off the porch. Dangit. We seem to have had an ice storm.

Normally, winter weather doesn't bother me as I have four wheel drive, but that doesn't do shit for me when it's icy.

The last ice storm left 96 cars in some sort of crushed up way in my county. Ick. So...I guess I need to get my ass up and out of here early for work so I can creep and crawl the ten miles to the office.

Wish me luck!

Oh, Half-Nekkid Thursday button to the left, people.

A memory...

One of my very earliest memories is of my grandfather. We called him Dad Earl. In my little girl memory, he was such a big strong man. But at the same time, so very gentle with me. He wore glasses, and always had that old man smell. But I didn't mind. I loved him very much.

I remember vividly sitting at the kitchen table at my grandparent's home, waiting for my grandpa to pour us some tea. Sweet tea. My family is from the south, and my grandparents always seemed to have sweet tea in the fridge.

Dad Earl would get the pitcher out of the fridge and he would pour an inch in each of our glasses. Then, while he slowly put the pitcher back in the fridge, I would reach out, take his glass, and drink his tea. By the time he turned around, his glass would be empty and sitting on the table.

He would exclaim, "Who drank my tea?!?" and I would just laugh and laugh. "I did!", I would say. And he'd laugh, telling me "don't you drink my tea!"

And the process repeated itself. I don't remember how many times he did this, but I remember laughing and laughing. Of course, as an adult, I can appreciate the game. Such a simple thing, to make a child laugh. And such a treat.

He died a few months before my fourth birthday. I remember his funeral. My father carried me in his arms up to the casket. It was my first exerience with death. And there was Dad Earl, laid out in his best Sunday suit. I remember asking my dad why he was sleeping in that box. But I don't remember his response.

My mother doesn't believe that I have these memories, but I do. I remember the age spots on the back of his hand as he poured the tea. I remember sitting on the toilet seat watching him shave. He had an old coffee mug with the soap in the bottom and the brush he would use to make it foamy. He used to make me laugh by putting the foam on my face, tickling me.

My favorite picture of me was taken at the cemetary the day of his funeral. It's a black and white photo and I'm standing next to some bushes, holding a white rose. I'm smiling at the camera, not understanding the reason for the trip. Kind of a sick idea, taking photos at a funeral, but that photo brings back those few memories of Dad Earl.

And it makes me smile.

Cowards.

What makes a man a coward?

Is it environment? How a person is raised has a huge impact on who he or she becomes. Is it learned behavior? Does a man learn to become a coward by watching those around him? Is it genetic? Does having a coward for a parent determine if a man or woman carries that trait with them into adulthood?

When I say coward, I mean someone who lacks the integrity to voice their own truth, or opinion. I mean someone who would rather lie to you or not tell you the truth to save face. Someone who runs away at the first sign of distress or trouble.

Where does this yellow streak come from? Do these people gain pleasure from the act of running away? Or just relief? What makes them fear confrontation? No one really enjoys confrontation, but most people weather it quite well. Do these people realize, or even care that their actions can hurt another's feelings?

My last three relationships ended without a goodbye, an explanation, or a fuck you. And this bothers me. I have always thought that I had a fear of commitment because I was the one always ending things. But I have had integrity and was always honest when things were ending. It's been a VERY long time since I didn't return someone's phonecall, or walked away without looking back. Perhaps because I grew up and became an adult and actually cared about people's feelings.

Is there something fundamentally wrong with me that would cause a man to walk away without a backward glance? Do I just have terrible taste in men? Or are they truly cowards...afraid of my reaction to disappointing news? Do I exude some insanity pheromone that makes men think that I will crack at the end and wreak havoc on them? Or do they sense something in me that is withdrawing from them and they jump ship first? Do they sense suspicion or distrust in me? And decide that they are going to get while the gettin' is good? I wonder...

Honestly, I'd like to know. I have tried my best to analyze the situations(after the fact) to determine if my behavior, or lack there of, has caused some widening gulf that sent them running.

How do men show so much interest initially, tell you how interested they are and how interesting you are, and then nothing? Are they searching for something they eventually find out I'm missing?

How can someone tell you one day that they can't wait to see you, and the very next day disappear?

I wish I had the answers.

HNT

This tattoo is on my right thigh...and it means Wisdom. I got this tattoo at the same time I got my other one. Right after I lost my baby. I got it to remind me to stop and take time to think things through....to find wisdom in my decisions.

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