Fifteen months and this is the thanks I get...

Yep, I've been at my job for fifteen months, in a "temporary" position. When I started, I was told that I would be made permanent when the previous therapist resigned or was fired(he went out on a medical leave to avoid the termination), but they dragged their feet. And now it's too late.

Last Sunday, my union representative called me to tell me that she had had a meeting with someone from the capital and she was told that the "temporary" positions would all be terminated in the next few months due to the closing of another facility and the need to make jobs for those employees.

I kept this information to myself, not sure what I was going to do. On Thursday, my boss finally came to me and told me that it was true, and that he fought to keep me, but was told by the administration that there was nothing they could do. He actually sounded remorseful, telling me that I was the best therapist that he had worked with and was sorry that he couldn't save my job. When I told him that I already knew, he was surprised and asked me how I could keep coming to work everyday and being professional....I told him it was my moral obligation, and that my integrity kept me from screwing over my kids when I was getting royally screwed. It's not their fault that this administration sucks.

So, yesterday, I filled out the paperwork to try and go back to what I was doing, investigations...but when I called my contact in the capital, she told me that currently, they weren't allowed to fill any positions until the new allocations numbers for new positions were published...and she didn't know when that would be. She said she would keep me posted.

So...basically, I'm out of a job. I don't know when the pink slip will come....but it has to be done before March 1st.

I'm so angry that I can't even write eloquently about this experience.

I have busted my ass working with the worst girls in the state, literally spilling blood on ocasion to help them. Getting called a fat white bitch on a regular basis. Listening to stories of horrific abuse and neglect. Putting bandaids on hemmorages(sp?). In my fifteen months here, the staff on our unit has turned over twice. Because these girls are soooooooo difficult to work with. And I'm still here. I've been told by so many staff, teachers, other professionals that I'm the best. I care the most....

And it's just not good enough. My boss even told me the other day that I was the best thing since sliced bread.

The only bright spot right now is Steve. He's still sweet, calm, a great listener, still treats me like a goddess....I truly appreciate him for being here.

Merry fucking Christmas.

Arizona pics pt. deux

After watching the sunrise in the Grand Canyon, we returned to our hotel to see these guys hanging' out in front of the hotel!
I'm sometimes "pretty"....I walked right up to them and snapped this picture. I'm glad they didn't see me as a threat!
Ain't this just the sweetest!?!
Tarantula! He was scarier than the elk!
Just amazing!

Arizona, part one...

As much as I love Blogger, it annoys me that it will only allow you so many uploaded photos at one time. So, this is part one of my trip to Arizona.

My two nieces, Bubba and Bug, went with me this time...and they had me cracking up the whole trip. They are so "pretty". I mean, they are beautiful girls, but when you do something really ditzy, we call you pretty instead of stupid. lol. It's just so much nicer. Of course, I was just as pretty as they were, so it all worked out.

We flew out of Detroit on Frontier Airlines. I would highly recommend them! New planes, with neat little tv's built into the back of every seat. You had your own headphones and for five bucks you could watch any one of about thirty different channels!


They also had a channel that showed you where the plane currently was flying....and how fast....and how high you were!
At one point, I watched an I Love Lucy rerun....way cool.
Our first full day in AZ, we drove to Gerome, AZ....it used to be an old ghost town that was turned into an artists colony back in the sixties. We stopped for lunch at this little place so we could say we "joined" the Mile High Club!
My sister threatened my life if I let one of the girls fall off the Grand Canyon. We took this picture to mess with her. Bug is definitely the more daring of the three of us!
One morning I made the girls get up at 4:30 to go watch the sunrise in the Grand Canyon. It was about forty degrees and pitch black when we got there. Initially we were all alone...kinda like serial killer alone....and then about sixty other people started arriving and we all stood in silence as the sun rose. Totally cool. Of course, I have a thousand more pics...but they, and the rest of the story will have to wait.

Oh, I met a boy in October at an Halloween Party. His name is Steve. He's normal. Do you know how long it's been since I've dated normal?? He's nice, funny, easy to talk to, and treats me like the Goddess I am! And he's VERY good at the things he does....(wink).

Sigh...it's good to be the Queen.

Unanticipated Sweetness...

Twice in one day. How nice is that?

Earlier today I was dusting my bedroom and picked up the bedside lamp to dust under it and found eighty bucks! I vaguely remember putting it there about a year ago, though I have no idea why I did it. Ok...I do actually dust more than once a year, but how many people actually pick up the lamps and dust UNDER them? And you know I picked up the other lamp on the other side of the bed to check for more cash....but alas...no more. Hey, eighty bucks is eighty bucks!

This afternoon I went out to the back gardens to let the dogs run around and imagine my surprise when I found the raspberry bushes full of ripe raspberries? I figured they were done a month ago. So, of course, I stood in the garden eating fresh, sweet, ripe raspberries right off the vine. No pesticides here. Just anadulterated sweetness.

It's a good day.

Wassup?!?!

I haven't been here in a while....so, before I go to work on this beautiful Sunday morning....just a few tidbits about what's up in a Big Girl's World.

I'm leaving in less than two weeks on another vacation! Woot! I'm heading west with my two nieces...can't wait. We are flying out to Arizona and will be driving to Utah to go to Bryce Canyon. Spend a couple days there, then head over to the Grand Canyon. A day or two there, then we will spend the rest of our time at a resort near Scotsdale.

I was going to buy a new DSLR camera for the trip so I could take some amazing photographs, but the washer and refrigerator decided that I wasn't going to do that. I just bought a new washer, and have to get the repair guy here to see if the fridge is worth saving. So....there goes my new camera budget.

It's all good though, my old camera, an Olympus FE-120 still takes great pictures....just not as professional as I would like.

I work Sunday through Thursday and yesterday(Saturday for those calendarly challenged) I received an email(on my work email, no less) from my supervisor telling me that I had two reports due yesterday and since I am still considered a 'temporary' employee(I've been employed by the government for FOURTEEN years) if the reports aren't done on time, I could basically lose my job. Of course, it was nicely veiled....here it is:

"If these plans are late, I am unable to protect you from corrective action. You are too good of a therapist to let these reports be your downfall. This should be of great concern to you. You are a limited-term employee and how you meet the duties and responsibilities of this position can determine if you become a full-time employee."

And my response:

"I am aware that these two reports are due today. Due to my hectic schedule this past week(three ITP's completed, court, etc...), I am actually doing the reports right now. I understand that this is on my own time and that I will not get paid for this, but it keeps the reports done on time.
I appreciate the compliment regarding my skills as a therapist. I hope that I am a good one. And I hope it is recognized that I DO do work at home when the needs of my girls are a higher priority. I do try to maintain my professionalism.
Having said that, it does bother me that you feel the need to point out that I am limited term and that my ability to meet the duties and responsibilities of my position could affect my job. I have no choice but to think about this every day. Especially since I was told that I would be made a permanent employee when the previous therapist resigned a year ago and I have yet to be made permanent. I have worked for the Department for my entire fourteen year career. If I am to be honest, it embarrasses me to know that I am limited term.
I think I probably work harder than most therapists on campus and have had staff, teachers, and others(inside and outside this facility) tell me so.
I hope this isn't construed as insubordination because I respect you as my supervisor, and so far, in our limited time together, you have proven yourself to me to be a great supporter, but I feel that your email is a veiled threat and I am offended.
The reports will be done within the appropriate time frame."

Hmmm....I wonder if I will be out of a job by the end of the week.

C'est la vie.

There's a hole in my bucket, dear Liza, dear Liza...

Yep...a mighty big one.

Who knew that eighty years ago there was a rainwater cistern RIGHT NEXT to my house....and that eighty years later the fucker would cave in, leaving a giant hole.

I sure didn't.

But today, after the rain, I look out the back window and there it is. My first thought was "dumb-ass dogs, what the hell did they do..." But alas, there was no dirt around the hole....just in the hole.

So begins the latest adventure...calling the city, the three plumbers for three estimates, my old neighbor, my dad(four times), and my job to let them know I wouldn't be in today. The hole originally was pretty small when the city guy came out. His advice~if it ain't broke, don't fix it, fill it in. Meaning, if my plumbing in the house was working, it's no big deal. Of course, as he was leaving, it began to rain again and an hour later, the hole was three feet wide and three feet deep. Shit!

The first plumber had no clue and said he would be back tomorrow with someone else to take a look at it. The second plumber told me that he would have to get a backhoe in to tear it out and then backfill with dirt, THREE THOUSAND DOLLARS!!(and hence the first call to my dad). The second plumber came, looked in the basement, not believing me when I said there was no water down there, and gave me an estimate of twenty-five hundred bucks.(second call to my dad). Then I called my old neighbor who used to own the house next door, and they are basically twin houses. He told me that about four years ago he had the same problem. His solution? He filled it with old bricks and stone and filled it with dirt. Himself. Cost: free.(third call to dad).

I did some research online and according to the Dept. of Envir. Quality, it could just be filled as long as it didn't pose a problem to ground water via contamination. So I called a sand and gravel place....fifty-eight bucks to deliver a load of sand to fill the hole.

My fourth call to my dad was to sucker him into coming over this weekend and helping me fill the hole. He said he would.

Sand to fill the hole: $58

Quality time spent with dad: Priceless

Dear Comcast,

Hmmm....where to begin....oh, I know.

Dear Comcast,
I find it very frustrating when nearly every day and evening, sometimes two or three times a day, my internet goes away. The little cable box that sits under my desk blinks with a calm little pattern that lets me know, I''m not connected. Sometimes, it''s right in the middle of reports I''m doing online for the government, since I am a government employee. And then, I have to start all over. This has been going on for months.But yet, let me get a little behind in my bill and I start getting the phone calls...PAY US!! Granted, not that rude, but I am offended that you expect immediate payment for lousy service. I know you know it's happening. And I guess, as long as I wasn't complaining, it was all ok.Well, guess what...you aren't the only game in town. Either fix the problem, and compensate me for my aggravation and lost reports, or you will lose my business.

And their response:
After reviewing your e-mail and your account, I see that there is not currently an outage in your area causing your connection issues. Sometimes it is necessary to completely shut down your cable modem connection when something isn't functioning properly. This is similar torebooting your computer. For best results, the modem should be connecteddirectly to the wall power outlet and not to a powerstrip. You'll also want to make sure that there are no splitters or filters on the cable line between your cable modem and the wall cable outlet.If the cable modem is spontaneously re-booting and there is no evidence of signal-related problems, check the electrical conditions near to the cable modem. Possible causes of causes of spontaneous re-booting are wiring to the cable modem is faulty or intermittent; spikes arising from other major users of electricity like vacuum cleaners, power tools, heating thermostats, and refrigerator thermostats; electromagnetic interference from mobile phones or local radio transmitters; or the cable modem itself is faulty.

Why yes....I always use my band saw and refrigerator in the computer room. *snort*

Not one of the issues that are listed is occurring in my home when the power goes out.

Ironically, I haven't lost a connection since emailing them, even though they deny anything wrong on their end.

Veddy interesting......

(Sheesh, I'm beginning to sound like a conspiracy theorist)

Driving home tonight...

I came across a beautiful husky puppy lying in the middle of the road.

Pulled off to the side of the road is an old woman just crying her eyes out. I stop my truck, put on my hazard lights and jump out. At first I thought she was the one that had hit the puppy...but as she stood there crying, begging me to check to see if the puppy was ok, she told me that she found the dog, and was waiting for the police to show up. She had spent the last fifteen minutes trying to direct traffic around the dog, so no one else would hit it. She said she wished that she had a blanket to keep the puppy warm until the cops showed up, but it was clear that the puppy was already dead. I went to the back of my truck, got out a blanket and then picked the puppy up, put her on the blanket, and then carried her to the side of the road. She was such a beautiful puppy. Her neck appeared to be broken and I tried to reassure the old woman that she hadn't suffered.

I checked her pink and brown plaid collar for tags, but there weren't any. She was probably about six months old. The woman asked me again if the puppy was alright, and didn't want her to get cold. I thought I was going to start crying right there....she just didn't want to believe that the puppy was dead. She was so sad, and so angry that whomever hit the dog, just drove away and didn't stop to see if the dog was alright. She asked me what she should do if the police didn't come. I told her to go home. And when she asked me if she should take the dog home and bury her, I told her no...if someone really loved the puppy, they would come looking for her, and wouldn't find her if the old woman took the puppy home.

Two rants....To the fucking asshole that hit the dog and then didn't even have the decency to stop or at least, stop and pull the dog out of the middle of the road~You are scum...and Karma is a bitch...and she will get you. To the asshole owners who can't be bothered to spend four dollars and ninety-five fucking cents to purchase an identification tag out of the damned machine at Petco, or keep your dog in your fucking yard~You don't deserve a dog....your job is to keep your pet safe....you failed.

And hey, don't worry, I'm sure the blood will come out of my shirt in the wash.

Dear Neighbor,

(First in a series)
I just wanted to take the opportunity to thank you. For what, you say? Well, for your cats. I love the way that your two very old, snaggle-toothed babies come over to my yard to play with my dogs.

It's always refreshing at three in the morning to have my 100 pound dog jump straight up from the end of the bed to bark hello at your babies. It's so cute to listen to her tear through the house from the bedroom window to the front windows to continue the greetings, as your cat sits on the sidewalk in front of my house cleaning his ass.

And don't mind the mini-blinds. It's way easier to just replace them every month than to clean them.

I'm also honored to be the neighbor that runs out to the street every time your alzheimer'd cat decides to nap in the middle of the street. It's so cute how his ratty fur gets all over me while I'm carrying him back to your porch. Trust me, the dogs LOVE the smell I bring back with me.

Sincerely,

Your neighbor

p.s. I also want to that you for the free fertilizer your cats bring over to the flower beds every day. That cat shit certainly perks those flowers up!

It's a good day...

My ex-brother-in-law, who was the most abusive husband I've ever encountered, is hopefully going to prison for a very long time. After twenty-seven years of abuse, criminal activity, drug abuse, you name it...my sister finally found the courage to leave him a year and a half ago. He was a sneaky son of a bitch...put all of their assets into his mother's name so my sister got nothing in the divorce. She didn't care, she was just glad she survived and she was free:

Shithead McDumbass

A local jackass of a man is free on bond after he was arrested on 35 criminal counts related to operating a chop shop organization that has been busted after an eight-month police investigation. Shithead McDumbass, 47, was booked on dozens of charges this week after a sting by the City Auto Theft Enforcement (MATE) unit. Sgt. Jeff Officer arrested Mr. McDumbass in 2000 on similar charges and said this case is huge. "This is no doubt the biggest case I've been involved with in my life," Sgt. Officer said. "This is something that needed to be done." At least 35 stolen motorcycles could be involved in the chop shop that had been under investigation since October. Sgt. Officer said numerous parts, including transmissions, engines and frames, have been recovered. Additionally up to five fully assembled motorcycles also have been seized. The most recent operation involves stolen motorcycles from southeast Michigan and the Toledo area. But machines or parts of stolen bikes from other states have been involved, Sgt. Officer said.

The criminal counts against Mr. McDumbass include:

n One count of conducting a criminal enterprise, which carries a 20-year maximum sentence.

n One count of operating a chop shop, a 10-year felonyn 17 counts of buying or receiving a vehicle part with the identification removed or altered. That also is a 10-year felony.

n Eight counts of receiving and concealing stolen property worth between $1,000 and $20,000, a 5-year felony.

n Two counts of possession a controlled substance.

The defendant was arraigned before First District Judge Yer Honor, who set bond at $300,000. A preliminary examination has been set for 3 p.m. June 26. The arrest was announced by Michigan Attorney General Mike Cox. Mr. Cox said in a prepared statement that Mr. McDumbass, a member of the Highwaymen Motorcycle Club, has been operating a chop shop for years. Calling it organized crime, Mr. Cox said Mr. McDumbass has a prior felony conviction on his record for similar offenses. "Organized crime is a serious and real threat to Michigan cities," Mr. Cox said in a statement. "I want to thank (officials with MATE) for their hard work in helping to solve this case." Sgt. Officer said Mr. McDumbass operated the chop shop from two homes on Nearthelake Dr.

Puerto Rico, part deux

Ahhh....Boqueron, PR....beautiful beaches, breathtaking cliffs....it was so nice to lie in the sun, worshipping the Sun God....


Our first full day there, we went to El Combate beach. We had been there about twenty minutes when I heard a little kid crying. I looked down the beach and watched as a little boy came running out of the water to his mother. He was holding his arm out and pointing to it. The mother, walked him back to the water's edge and while motioning that she didn't see anything, she cupped water from the sea into her hand and rubbed his arm. My first thought was jellyfish! I watched for a few more minutes and thought, well, he hadn't stopped breathing yet, he's going to be ok. Not five minutes later, Lori comes running out of the water and up the beach. Something had bitten her on the leg! I asked her what it was, and she said she thought it was a piece of seaweed. I laughed....and told her that she had just been stung by a jellyfish. She impressed me with her calm demeanor....She was worried about the effects and I told her she would be fine, but to be safe, we drove over to the little party store and bought some vinegar. It's widely known to lessen the sting. We took pictures of her boo-boo, and Lori could finally laugh at the situation. Ironic that on her first day, her first time in the Caribbean Sea, she's the one that gets stung. I've swam in that sea a hundred times...and I've never been stung.


We found this little resort on the most southern tip of Puerto Rico...The Bahia Salinas Beach Resort. It was right across a bumpy dirt road from the Salt Flats. As the sun set on the beach, we had the most delicious dinner. It's amazing when in another country(c'mon, it's still the U.S., but it's still not the U.S.) how the local wildlife just meanders through the restaurants. The local dog, cat, and bird, visited us at our table, looking for tidbits.


One night, we drove down to the little downtown, and went to an open bar. There was a young man there who played his guitar. He was really good. He played some Spanish music along with some top 40 music. I was impressed. We had this adorable bartender named Gladys....she had a really cute little nose piercing. When I asked her where she had it done, she gave me the name of the place and directions. I so wanted one for myself.


Then next day, we took a little road trip to Mayaguez. To a little mall there. The place was called, Extreme Tattoo. The guy who waited on me was named Alexis. He was adorable. I wanted to bring him home with me! He was so gentle when he pierced my nose! Yep...that's right...I did it. I've wanted a piercing for as long as I can remember. And I did it. A tiny little aquamarine stone on the left side of my nose. He said that the rumor was, right side if you were gay. So, to be on the safe side...since it was only rumor, I got it on my left.


The following morning we left for Ceiba, PR, which is on the eastern side of the island, at the base of the El Yunque Rainforest. We stayed with a local Taino Indian family. The matriarch, Hilda, was an Elder of her tribe and the Shaman of the tribe, Hector, lived on her property. They lived in the rainforest and we stayed in their guest house.


It was so beautiful there in the rainforest. So peaceful...We had the most amazing views from the guesthouse. They had a pool too, which we took full advantage of. Hilda and her family were so warm and caring. When we drove up the for the first time, Hilda came out and gave us each a big hug. And every morning, she had Puerto Rican coffee and eggs for us. Her husband showed us where to go on that side of the island and one night, she even made us dinner.


I think my favorite part of the trip was the Spiritual Ritual she and Hector, the Shaman, performed for us. Under cover of darkness, with drums beating, Hilda cleansed us with a sage wand, and we asked for blessing from the elements. After this, Hector, with Hilda's son, Tito, translating, told us about our pasts, present, and futures. It was scary how accurate he was about the past and present...so we listened carefully when he spoke about our futures. He told me that I was seeking a great change...and I was on the right path for change.


As we lie in our guesthouse at night...the coqui frogs sang throughout the forest...lulling us to sleep.

We named the jellyfish Hector...here's a little kiss from Hector!

My nosering....can you see it?

Our view of the rainforest from the guesthouse.

A view of the rainforest from an observation tower in El Yunque.

Lori and Tiffany in the observation tower.

It's June Already?!?!

It amazes me how time flies when you are getting old(er). I swear, I was JUST 27!

It has been more than a month since my last post. I actually hate the fact that I haven't been keeping up with this thing more regularly. I love sitting down and writing what I'm thinking...it actually helps me focus my thoughts and feedback keeps me sane. It's like having my own little group of psycho(!!)therapists helping me sort through the garbage that runs through my mind.

I won't make promises to update more regularly, because I get annoyed at others that say that and then don't.

Anyway....I guess the biggest thing that's happened in the last month was my trip to Puerto Rico. I took my niece, Tiffany, and her friend, Lori, with me. And I must say, I had more fun with Lori! But I guess I really need to start at the beginning....

Tiffany is my nephew, Baby Kevin's, mom. I've posted a thousand pictures of him here...cute little cabbage patch looking kid. Tiffany is 29, and got married a month before we left. I teased her husband, Kevin, that I was taking her on their honeymoon. Kevin is a great dad, and a great husband. I actually feel sorry for the guy because Tiffany is a hellion. She is opinionated, and can be harsh and hurtful when she feels crossed. Not that she and I have ever had a problem. But everyone else in the family has felt her wrath at some point. I think she may actually have a personality disorder of some type.

Anyway....we were to leave on the 12th at 5:00am. Tiffany and Lori were going to drive to my house and we were going to go to the airport from here. I, of course, couldn't sleep...you know the feeling....lying in bed, going over the suitcase, wondering what I forgot to pack. I think I actually fell asleep somewhere around 1 am. and at 3am. the phone rang. It was Kevin. He was crying, and apologizing for ruining my vacation, but telling me that Tiffany wasn't going. Still asleep, I asked him what happened, and he hung up!

Now I'm just annoyed...I get up, pee, put the coffee on(since I have to be up in a fucking hour anyway), and call Kevin back. I asked Kevin to calm down and tell me what happened. He told me that they went to the bar, and while at the bar, she disappeared. He looked everywhere for her...in the bathrooms, the parking lot, the bar next door....and he couldn't find her. He was SURE she was out f***ing someone else. In all the years I've known Kevin, I've never known him to be high strung or get jealous. He wasn't in a place where he could listen to reason, so I told him to give my number to Lori because whether Tiffany or Lori came, I was going. The party train was going to leave at 4:45 with them or without them. I hung up, poured a cup of coffee and by that time, Lori called.

When I asked Lori what the hell was going on...she gave me a running commentary from Tiff and Kev's driveway. Tiffany did disappear, Kevin was throwing her stuff out of her suitcase, Kevin locked her out of the house, Tiffany broke a window to get into the house....oh shit, here comes her father(very bad man, think mafia type), gotta go call 911!

Are you kidding me? This is how my VACATION is going to start?!?!?!

Twenty minutes later, Lori calls me back and tells me that the police are asking Kevin to leave, the house is trashed, but they are on their way....

Forty-five minutes late they show up, and my niece Jillian, who was dog sitting for me, drives us to the airport like a bat out of hell. We get there with just minutes to spare. I hate being late to the airport. Of course, we were so late that they would only give us boarding passes to our layover city and told us that we would have to get our next boarding pass there.

Tiffany gave me one version of what happened at home...and knowing Tiff, I took it all with a grain of salt. We flew to Charlotte, and when we got there, because the doofuses in Detroit wouldn't give us our boarding passes, there weren't any seats left on the flight because they overbooked. I threw a fit. There was some couple that got there after us, and got the last two seats on the plane because they knew someone in the "office". They actually had to ask people to voluntarily get off the plane to get us on. Now, normally that wouldn't be a problem, taking the next flight for a free flight(which they did offer)....but Lori was on a different airline and we worried that she would freak out if we weren't in PR to meet her plane. We finally got on the plane and I noticed that the couple that got the last two seats....were in first class. Fuckers. I really hoped their first class pillows smelled like feet.

Anyhoo...we get to PR, only to find out that Lori's flight had been delayed three hours. Damn it. I really would have enjoyed that free flight somewhere....

We waited about 45 minutes, and then got the grand idea that I would take the car rental shuttle to get the car(so they didn't give our reservation away) and Tiff would wait for Lori. I got the car and waited 2 1/2 hours in the Avis parking lot until they showed up. Let me tell you...my first impression of PR wasn't the greatest. It's all good though...we drove three hours to our hotel...got there after dark, got lost, got found, and ahhh....I could kick off my tennies and dive in the pool.

It appears that this is going to be a VERY long story, so I will stop here, with a few photos from Puerto Rico(our first few days...) and finish the story tomorrow.

This is the pier at El Combate Beach...

Lori and Tiffany sitting on the rocks at La Playuela...

Tiffany and I on the cliffs at La Playuela...

The cliffs...how amazing are these!?!

The dark cloud has lifted...

And I'm really thankful that it has. And I'm also thankful for awesome folks that sent me good thoughts and great advice when I was at my lowest. It truly helped.

I do know I didn't kill anyone. Really, I do....but it just completely sucks to be fooled by a piece of garbage with such devastating results. Thankfully, she will have the rest of her life to suffer for what she did.

Moving on...

Work is going well. Those crazy kids are still driving me nuts, but I love them. We took them to the animal shelter yesterday so they could volunteer their time and walk the dogs and play with the kitties. I'm so thankful it's a no-kill shelter. Otherwise, I couldn't do it. The girls did great, no one freaked out, and they all want to go back.

I'm single again....'nuff said.

I'm leaving in a week for Puerto Rico. My niece and I are going to spend four days on the beaches, and four days in the rain forest. Talk about an adventure! Can't wait to take lots and lots of pictures!!

I really have to hide the squeeky toy from the dog again. I don't understand how her jaw doesn't hurt as much as my ears after twenty minutes of straight squeeking. And it's a carrot for God's sake....ugh.

The realization...

finally hit me. Or more accurately, I decided to be honest with myself. But, I have to write the history to explain the realization. Long, sad post(as most are these days)....reader beware.

In February of last year, I investigated a case of medical neglect. A mom took her three year old daughter to the emergency room because her arm was hurting her. Upon x-raying the arm, the doctors' found a healing fracture. By their estimates, the break was approximately a week old. They didn't believe it was abuse, but that mom didn't bring her in right away. During my investigation, I went back and forth between substantiating the neglect, and not. The mom, the nine year old sibling to the little girl, and the little girl's grandmother all made statements that the little girl showed no discomfort until that morning.

The mom stated that she suspected that the little girl jumped off the bunk bed and landed wrong, bracing herself on her hands when she jumped. The orthopedic specialist confirmed that the fracture could have happened that way. The mom also stated that when the little girl would get hurt, she wouldn't cry the way other kids did, so she suspected that was why she didn't know the little girl's arm was broken.

The specialist thought that was suspect, saying that she believed that the injury would have been extremely painful and the little girl should have cried from the beginning.

So. Why did the mom wait? There are several possibilities....one would be that due to financial strains, didn't take the little girl in right away. Two~religious reasons would prevent a family from seeking medical attention. Three~the mom, or someone she was protecting, broke the arm.

Well, the mom took the day off work when she finally did take her to the hospital, and took several more days off to care for her daughter, meet with me, and with the specialist. So, I doubt that it was for financial reasons. Mom never brought up religious reasons to not seek help, and did finally seek help, so reason number two is out. That leaves reason three. There was no evidence of a boyfriend in the home, and mom never mentioned one, so who broke her arm....the mom? The grandmother(who was the only other caregiver)? The nine year old sibling? All of them told the same story...so who was lying?

I didn't feel at the time that I had enough evidence to support the allegation of medical neglect. Plus the fact that there were so many other cases to work on, I was probably in a hurry to get the case off my desk. I spoke with my supervisor and he agreed with me about my findings. The little girl was bonded with her mom, so I didn't think that mom could hurt her.

Six months later mom beat her to death.

She hit her so hard, that she tore a hole in her little heart and she bled to death. When questioned by the police, she admitted to breaking her arm. I left protective services within a month after her death.

Last Friday, at the end of her homicide trial, mom was found guilty of Felony Murder. It carries a life sentence, no parole.

And now for the realization.

I have been wondering for a while now why I've been depressed. Tonight, while watching t.v., it came to me, or I finally admitted it to myself. I'm depressed because it's my fault. I'm the reason that little girl is dead. I was in too big a hurry to close that case. I missed the signs. I didn't trust my intuition. My intuition that took me so far in my career. I relied on it in so many cases to push further, ask more questions. And it was always right. I have commendations for my work.

I failed that little girl. And she's dead. I killed her.

Do they think we're stupid?!?!?

" Lawyer: Rove didn't mean to delete email"

Yep...that's right....he's completely innocent...just like he was innocent the last time. How long do we put up with this administration and it's lying, conniving, sneaky, pathetic weasels?

ugh....this makes me sick.

Call me juvenile...but I don't think I can vote for a president named Tommy.

Just a short one...

I am on my way to work to deal with a court issue for one of my kids. It's supposed to be my day off.

I began the online search and application for employment in Florida. The situation here in my state appears to be getting worse and I'm not waiting for everything to fall out from under me.

I mean...what am I waiting for? I'm single, no kids, and I hate my house. What's keeping me here? Why not start a whole new adventure? Why can't I sell everything I own and start fresh? I have family(my folks) and great friends in Florida. The more I think about it....the more I want to do it.

I have seven weeks of vacation time at work. Why not line up some interviews in Florida, hit the road and spend a month with friends finding a job? What's stopping me? Honestly, I'm not afraid...

By the way...and this is by no means trivial...my cat is dying. Honey. My first pet ever. I've had her seventeen years. I was going to take her to the vet yesterday and have her put down, she's that weak. But I just couldn't do it. I literally couldn't pick her up and put her in the car. I called the vet crying. He said with the disease she has, she's in no pain and will most likely go peacefully while she is sleeping. He urged me to just stay home with her and let her go in her own time instead of traumatizing her with a car ride to the vet's office.

And now...I have to go to work. It's an hour's drive each way. Hopefully in the next four hours she will pass peacefully. Then I can start the horrific chore of digging her grave and burying her.

2007 just fucking sucks.

Have you seen my mind?

Because I think I've misplaced it. Or lost it completely.

Every day I work with ten of the most violent, vicious teen girls in the state. I've been spit on, threatened, cursed at. Every single day, I keep my calm composure while ten of the most broken, abused, and neglected girls treat me like a door mat.

When they roll their eyes, flip me off, call me a fat white bitch, I politely ask them to not be rude and disrespectful. When they tell me they hope my car rolls over on the way home and I die in the ditch, I tell them I still care about them and I will be back tomorrow.

I'm there for them when they start to spill their secrets...when they tell me about the time that their mother held a gun to their head and threatened to kill them because they got some bad drugs. I'm there for them when they describe how their stepfather fucked them every day while their mothers were out scoring more dope. At the age of four. Until the age of nine.

I'm there for them when the doctors tell them that their newborn babies are going to die because of some horrible genetic birth defect that's left their babies with half a brain. I'm there for them when their mothers call to say their father's dead, but there won't be a funeral because they donated the body to science.

When they have to go to court to testify against the monsters that brutally raped them and they had to escape, naked and bruised, out of the bathroom window, because the monsters were going to come back to kill them....I'm there.

I'm there for them when they are so scared of leaving they assault someone in order to stay longer. They are afraid to go home where their older brother lives....in fear of reliving the rapes that always ended in getting pissed on or spit on by those that claim to love them the most.

Or how about the girl that was with her mom when her mom died of a drug overdose. It was always a good time with mom, getting high, not letting anything bother her. Now she copes by digging her fingers into her flesh until the blood runs, and pulls her own hair out by the handful.

They treat me like shit...and I take it. Because I know, I know, I know it's because they trust me not to hurt them. They feel safe with me that I won't abandon them when they are at their worst, which is also their most vulnerable. They know they can scream, spit, curse, hit, bite me because I won't scream, spit, curse, hit, or bite back.

I feel like John Coffey, from The Green Mile, taking in all their poison, making them whole. But unlike John...I can't just cough it up. It's infecting my soul.

When it rains it pours...

The governor of my state is asking legislation to privatize my job. Not only privatize my current job, but the two other jobs that I've held within state government in the last thirteen years. The governor wants to privatize juvenile justice, foster care and children's protective services!

This, in a state where there already isn't enough workers to do the work. In protective services and foster care alone there are over five hundred state workers. Add in the 300 juvenile justice staff and you are looking at almost a thousand workers that would be out of a job if the state privatizes these functions. How is that good for our economy?

Our previous govorner privatized numerous services in the state in an attempt to cut costs. One of those areas was the medical services in our state prisons. The results were disasterous. Costs actually increased, and prisoner health actually suffered. Not that I don't mind them suffering, but when it costs us more, we all lose.

There's talk that the facility where I work is going to be closed. We have sixty of the worst girls in the state. We have the kids that private agencies won't deal with. Where do they go? Who provides them with services if the private agencies won't?

And what about me? Where do I go? If they privatize CPS and fostercare, will I be out of a job completely?

The idea of privatizing is to save money. Granted, my state pays it's CPS investigators more than most other states. Believe me, I've checked. Arizona pays $13,000 less annually for the same job I was doing before I changed jobs. Georgia pays $8,000 less per year. Illinois is $3,000 less. California only pays approximately $300.00 more per year which is really like a paycut when you factor in cost of living. I've looked at Arizona, Texas, Illinois, Georgia, California, Florida. They are all less.

But with the amount of cases handled per year, per worker, they are still overwhelmed. There still isn't enough workers to do the job, even though the govorner allocated fifty-one more CPS investigators this year.

So let's say they privatize to save money. That means they will most likely pay the new workers less money than they pay us. You are going to pay workers less money to do the work that the current work force can't handle. How good a job do you think those workers are going to do? Do you think they are going to go into homes where there may be threat of violence? Not likely. How many kids do you think are going to suffer because of poor staffing? The bottom line is, they will have a younger work force because the more seasoned staff will be gone. Most of the new work force will be young kids right out of college, thinking they got this great job right away. Once they have a year under their belts, they will realize what a shitty job it is, how shitty the pay really is, and they will start looking for different work. These are already difficult, high burnout positions. People don't stay long....and with less pay, they will be running for the door. How does that serve our children?

Ok...enough rambling...I think it's time to go back to school and get a new degree. If only I knew what I wanted to be when I grow up.

Trust me, we already have kids dying in our system. Get ready for more.

My house is a mess...

No, seriously, a huge mess. I think I'm in denial.

My work schedule is so extreme that by the time I get home, I'm exhausted and have no energy to clean! There is no clean silverware, dishes, or glasses. There are furballs as big as the dog on the kitchen floor. I had to change the sheets last night at 11:30 because I couldn't stand the thought of getting into those fur covered sheets one more night.

I've run out of garbage bags(why oh why didn't I get any last time I went to the store??) and now there is a cute little(!?!?) pile 'o garbage on the kitchen table along with every dish in the house.

I had a bag of returnable bottles next to the front door to take to the store. The dog, in her mad frenzy to get out the window and get the damned squirrel, ripped the bag open and now the bottles are all over the sun room, but since I'm out of garbage bags, there they sit. I also had to replace the mini-blinds she tore to shreds attempting to get said squirrel.

Seriously, what the hell is wrong with me? I'm not the best organizer in the world, but I'm not a complete slob either. But, if I had kids, and the kid police came by, they would take my kids away from me. And the dust! And the cobwebs! It's just disgusting.

And clearly I am a procrastinator, because here I am, up earlier than usual for work and what do I do? I blog. Trying to escape the filth.

The cat has dragged every dirty sock out of the laundry pile(s) in the basement and they are littered all over the living room floor.

Seriously, I used to give parents shit about this kind of living when I investigated abuse and neglect. I have become my own worst nightmare.

I wonder if a maid service would even come in here....probably not.

Life Continues....(?)

Does anyone else have a problem with the new blogger remembering them? Even when I check that damned little box that says "remember me"...I still have to log in every time I come here. Maybe that's why I don't blog more often...I'm just lazy.

Let me start off by saying that this post has some good things in it, but a lot of sad things...so if you are looking for laughs, keep movin'.

The past six weeks or so have been really, really rough. On my way home from work on February 12th, I got a call that my nephew had died. Just like that, no preamble, no "I have bad news". My two sisters had left that morning to fly to Florida to visit my folks. When I got off work, I saw that my sister, his mom, had called and I figured that she had missed her flight, so I called her back. She said that she had dialed my number by accident and that she was in Florida and the weather was great. She indicated that she was waiting for my niece to call her back because they had taken Randy(my nephew) to the hospital because he was having trouble breathing. I told her to call me back and hung up.

A few minutes later the phone rang again and it was my niece's fiance, Kevin. When I answered the phone, all he said was, "Poo's dead". For a minute I was confused because I didn't call Randy, Poo. I called him Pooter. I paused, confused, and said, "who?" And that's when it hit me. I knew then who he meant. I had to pull over, my hands were shaking so hard. I couldn't breathe. And why was my face all wet? Kevin then told me that they couldn't get ahold of my sister, who was in Florida, and would I call. So I hang up, dial my folk's number in Florida, and when my mom answers....all I can hear is my sister's wailing in the background. The sound only a mother can make when she has lost her child. Apparently, my niece did get ahold of her, just as Kevin was talking to me. Their ten day vacation to paradise had turned into a five hour trip to hell.

Randy was twenty-seven, but in my heart and mind, he was still a little boy. He was born premature, deprived of oxygen for five minutes at birth, and as a result, was forever a little boy. He didn't speak, couldn't read, and lived in his own little world where the telephone book was his best friend. Almost like an autistic child, he could sit for hours with a phonebook, flipping the pages. Whether it was the feel of the paper, or the sound the pages made when they turned, no one knew. He could sign for simple things, like more food to eat, or love you. He was quick to smile at you and give you hugs and kisses. He lived in a group home because his needs were greater than my sister could handle. And it was in this group home that his heart just gave out. Valiant efforts to revive him on the way to the hospital failed. The autopsy revealed he died of natural causes.

My sisters and my parents flew back the next day, in the middle of a snow storm. He was buried four days later.

My sister still calls me every morning to say she can't sleep. My heart breaks for her because I can never know how her dreams are really nightmares. I have no children, but I can only guess that this is the most crushing pain and sorrow imaginable. The weird thing? The day before Pooter died, as I was driving to work, I thought about him....and what life would be like without him. I haven't thought of Pooter since I saw him at Christmas....why that day? What part of my soul knew? Or was it his soul that was saying good-bye....

Just the week before Pooter died, I interviewed for a job that was much closer to home and a lot more money. The supervisor of the position was the person who urged me to apply. I thought I was a shoe-in. Yesterday I got the letter that very politely thanked me for interviewing, but they had chosen another candidate. Damn.

On Monday, a girl in my group at work found out that the baby she had in January is dying. She has a very rare birth defect where parts of her brain are missing. They just didn't develop. The baby is deteriorating rapidly and she will most likely live less than six months. I held this fifteen year old mother for an hour while she sobbed. Her first question to the doctor was, "did I do this to my baby?" And the answer was no. The defect is so rare, they don't know what causes it. Yesterday I got a call from a parent of another girl in my group, she's thirteen. Her father is dying. He is in the final stages of colon cancer. He's in intensive care and on life support. I put her on suicide watch.

So much sadness is taking it's toll on me. A week on a beach alone somewhere.....yeah....that's the ticket.

On a lighter note....my new budding romance is going along just fine. Mark sent me a dozen roses and a box of gourmet truffles for Valentine's day. Of course, they sat at work all week because I was off for my nephew's funeral. And when I got back on Tuesday, the 20th, the roses were still alive. A sign perhaps? Tonight, I get to meet the folks. I'm not worried. Parents love me. Suckers.

As I read back over what I've written, I realize that it's a bit disjointed. My thought patterns this morning aren't as cohesive as I would like and I hope you forgive me. It's just been a really rough year so far. I hope it gets better.

Be well.

S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y Night!

Remember that song? I think it was the Bay City Rollers. I was so sure they were from Bay City, Michigan. *snort*

Well...my new friend and I have spoken on the phone every day since Thursday. And we went out for dinner Saturday night. He wanted to take me out to a comedy club after dinner, but my friend Angie had rented 'The Break Up' and said it was a great date movie. So we went back to his place after dinner to watch the movie.

His sister and nephew live with him and so the four of us talked, and then watched the movie. The movie was great. But I think we should have stuck with his original plan instead.

Now, I'm not complaining about the whole family scene. It was nice getting to know his sister and her son. But the kid, I swear, is ADHD and would not sit still during the entire movie. Giggling, Talking, running around. And my new friend's sister never said a word and seemed to encourage him.

You would think that at some point, right after the movie, before, during... some point, if your brother brought a date home, you would make yourself scarce. Go to your room, go to bed early, whatever. Or at least make the kid go to bed. I mean, he's only six, and it's after 11 o'clock and the kid is still awake. Didn't happen. No privacy. What the hell was I thinking?

When the movie ended, it was after 11:30 and since I had to work on Sunday, I told him I had to go. I thought we would at least get a little bit of privacy when he walked me out to my car. Maybe a hug? A goodnight kiss? Um....no. The kid, who's six, and his name is Josh, followed us to the door, and proceeded to peek out, giggle, yell at his uncle, and all in all, just be an obnoxious six year old.

I can deal with obnoxious six year olds. Really, I can. What I can't deal with are obnoxious six year olds that have absolutely no discipline.

(Rant coming up....you have been forewarned)

What the hell? You couldn't tell your kid to get in the house and leave us alone? She never once told that kid to stop doing anything he was doing all night long. And damn, if my nephew was making a nuisance of himself, you can bet your sweet bippy that I would snatch that kid up and give him something to think about. Where's the backbone, people?? I mean, she was nice, the kid was nice, but enough is enough. Do you think she was trying to sabotage the date?

I really had been hoping that going to his house would have led to more opportunity for conversation than the comedy club, because I really enjoyed his company and talking to him. But it just wasn't as condusive as I had been hoping for.

Whatever....rant over....if he asks me out again, I would love to go. I'm just not going to his house. I guess that means I'm going to have to actually vacuum and do dishes if I'm going to invite him over here.

Damn.

My time in the jury box...

5:00am. That's what time I had to be up to report for jury duty. I had to be there by 7:45am. What a Godforsaken time. Do they not know that I am usually not even up by 7:45??

Driving with the rest of the commuters to downtown Detroit, passing the old hoopdies, the orange barrels signaling closed exits and potholes. Praying I don't slide on a patch of black ice since the freezing rain the night before. Not enough time to sip my coffee that's cooling down in the cold truck, as I keep my eyes peeled on the speeding traffic and the road ahead.

Of course, the Yahoo directions don't take into consideration the construction in Greektown, so I'm lost. I've been to Greektown many times, and have been to the courthouse many times as well. But I haven't had my morning coffee and I'm tired, and annoyed.

Ahhh, there it is. The courthouse looms tall, forbidding. Dozens of people scurrying to get inside out of the cold. I pay my eight dollars to park in the closest lot across the street. And there, in my truck that has finally warmed up, I pause, thinking about the people hurrying inside to stay warm. The multitude of reasons for their being there so early in the morning. Attorneys? Defendants? Witnesses? Potential jurors? Who's lives would be changed forever today? Who's fate would I help mold once I pass through those doors? Hopefully no one's, as my goal is to sit, read, and tell them an amazing story about myself that would allow me to walk and continue on my merry way.

As you pass through the doors, you hear the deputy call out, "No cell phones, no cameras, nothing digital or electronic, and no lighters. If you have any of these items, take them back to your vehicle or they will be confiscated." One poor soul, carrying a laptop computer, pauses to complain that his car is a twenty minute walk away and the deputy tells him he'd better start hoofin' it or he'll be late. All I have brought with me is a book, my driver's license, a credit card, and my car keys. No hoofin' it for this girl.

I always get a little excited when I pass through the metal detectors undetected. No one noticing my little triumphant smile as I take my keys and book back from the deputy. I follow the signs for 'jury duty' and see the long line of potential jurors. It circles the main floor, past the elevators, and ends at the employee-only bathroom. A hint of someone's morning constitutional lingering in the air. I stand in line with everyone else and watch my fellow potentates come around the corner, amazed at the length of the line.

By the time we are herded, like cattle, through the open doors of the juror's room, where we check in, stick on our juror labels, and find a seat in the sea of bodies, there are 385 of us sitting there, waiting and hoping that we don't get picked to serve. It is already clear that this won't be a quick process. I'm really hoping to get out early so I can go shopping.

There's an obnoxious woman sitting in the row ahead of me who just won't shut up. I am hoping that she actually knows the woman and isn't chatting some poor stranger's ear off. They play a video about the court system and why it's our duty as Americans to be a part of the process. Clearly the video was made prior to 1980 if the clothes worn by the folks in the video are any evidence. As with any public venue, there aren't enough women's bathrooms. The men zip right in to the men's room, while the line for the ladies room gets longer and longer. Sheesh, glad I didn't get to finish my coffee or I would be in that line as well. I watch the folks around me....two pregnant women, an old black man with an afro and a zoot suit, business men that keep glancing at their watches, well dressed housewives. The cattle image comes back into mind. We all have that look of negative anticipation.

You wait, sitting, getting stiffer from lack of movement and then, when you finally get into your book, they start calling names. Anticipation, waiting to hear your name, praying you don't. Not until the third round, do they call your name along with twenty-three other stiff souls, including the chatterbox that was sitting in front of you. We are herded, once again, to courtroom G-1 in the basement. Judge Jackson's courtroom. We sit, waiting for the process to begin, and when it does, we cross our fingers, hoping they don't pick our names out of the 'box'. The fancy little wooden box holding little slips of paper with our names. They call out the names and chair numbers....Juror one, two, seven, nine, thirteen....and you think you are in the clear. And then you hear it: 'Juror number fourteen, Cutie'. 'Crap', I say out loud.

As we are instructed to take out seats in the jury box, the judge informs us that there is a step inside the little swinging door to the jury box and please take care. Of course, there is one person(isn't there always?) that doesn't listen and trips and falls. A large woman who falls, manages to get herself up and pauses to straighten her wig. She's embarrassed, but alright. We take our seats and wait for the questions to begin.

It absolutely amazes me how long winded all the participants are, the judge, the prosecutor(who looks quite a lot like the mayor of Detroit, Kwame Killpatrick), and the defense attorney. When they actually start asking questions, I see that almost half an hour has passed since walking into the courtroom. I really doubt I'm going to get to go shopping. Each of us is asked to state our name, our occupation, and the occupation of our spouses, if we have one. There are two single men, four single women, and a widow among us. They ask lots of questions, and I listen, answer my own questions, and try to think of a way to get out of this mess. They excuse six jurors, seat more, excuse three more. I keep waiting to hear my number called to be excused, and then I hear it. 'Congratulations, we have seated the jury'. We are herded back to a little room set aside for jury deliberations. And in the jury room, I blurt out what we are all thinking, 'crap'. Everyone looks at me, smiles, and I say, 'C'mon, we're all thinking it'. And it's true, we are all good Americans, but we don't want to waste a whole day sitting in this courthouse. And of course, Chatty McFee, the obnoxious woman from earlier, is juror number 13, sitting right next to me. The ice breaks when juror number five runs to one of the two teeny tiny bathrooms in the jury room, and we can hear everything, even the ancient toilet trying to flush over and over-kind of like Archie Bunker's toilet. When she tries to exit and the door won't open, we all laugh, the tension is broken. I vow that I will wet myself before using that little bathroom!

By this time, it's 12:30 and we break for lunch. Juror 13 asks me to go to lunch with her. And I do. She's actually very nice and we spend the whole hour talking about our lives and where we live, her four obnoxious sons, her jackass husband, and my two annoying dogs. We get along great and I change my opinion about her. She is my new best friend! I call my boss, letting him know that I can't believe I got picked, but that I will call him when we are through.

We sit through the first afternoon, listening to the prosecutor begin his case, Armed Robbery and Carjacking. The defendant is a small young man, with a black eye. He seems innocent enough, but the prosecutor has a video tape of the robbery from the liquor store. Three young men rob two other young men at gunpoint as they are walking to the store. You can't see the defendant's face, but the two victims identify him as their gunman. I watch him, sitting there, putting on a show for the jury, shaking his head at the appropriate times, whispering to his attorney. The two victims are very sure in their identification as well as the officer who recognized him from the video. It frustrates me, not having all the information, because clearly, there are things we, the jurors, are not privvy to. Several times, we are asked to leave the courtroom so the players can talk without us.

At the end of the day, we are told not to discuss the case, and to be back the next morning at nine o'clock. It is 4:30pm.

By 11 o'clock the next morning we are done. I got there early and spent a few minutes talking with one of the two single men. We are actually neighbors of a sort. He lives in the small town next to mine. We talk about the towns we live in, and where we are from originally. He is very nice, and I start to look at him in a different light. Tall, big but not obese, and handsome. He seems a little shy, but he laughs at my jokes. While waiting to be called back into the courtroom, I say out loud how anoying it is to be an alternate and have to sit and listen for two days, but not get to vote. He offers to call me with the verdict. I give him my number. Slick, aren't I....

As I leave the courthouse, I drive home and wonder if he'll call. The defendant was facing four charges, two counts of armed robbery, carjacking, and using a firearm during the commission of a felony. Instead of going shopping, I go home, let the dogs out to play, then me and the dogs take a nice long nap. I am my father's daughter, after all.

At 4:30 the phone rings, it's juror number two, and they jury found the defendant guilty on all counts. It took them fifteen minutes to deliberate. And then, juror number two, who's name is Mark, asks me out to dinner.

We are going out tonight.

I have decided that being a good American has it's perks.

Jury Doody....yeah, it's like that.

After several postponements, I had to go down to the courthouse and do the jury duty spiel. I was so sure that I wouldn't be picked due to what I do for a living. Big, Huge, WRONG.

Am in the middle of a trial...will give you all the gory details when it's done.

Happy Belated New Year

I know...I know....I'm late. And I've been away for two whole months. Where has the time gone?

Work has been extremely involved. Most weeks, I worked six days a week. In December, I had a total of six days off the whole month. And most of those were the days between Christmas and New Year's. Way too many court appearances that were scheduled on my days off and the need to be there for my girls.

I was so busy in November, that I didn't even have the energy to write my novel. Nice start to it...maybe next November I'll actually finish it. I had planned on writing a cookbook for my family too. A cookbook of my grandmother's recipes. Yeah, didn't get that finished by Christmas either. So they all got 'coupons' for the book when I get it finished.

In a week I'm giving a dinner party for ten people at my friend Monica's house. There isn't room in my little home. What the hell was I thinking?? Here's the menu: Wild Mushroom Strudel(appetizer), French Onion Soup(with chicken stock instead of beef, much better), Wild greens salad with pears and blue cheese, Steamed Asparagus with Lemon Vinaigrette, Cornish Game Hens, Roasted Potatoes w/ Roasted Garlic, and for dessert, Almond Crust Caramel Fig Tart. Oh, and Sparkling Cranberry Juice as everyone is on the wagon.

Lovely menu...but I'm afraid that I'll be so tired from cooking it all that I will fall asleep in my soup. Actually, the soup, vinaigrette, mushrooms, and the tart can be made the day before. I think it will turn out all right.

I haven't been here for all of the above reasons, but the real reason is that life has just been too hard lately.

I turned 40 ten days ago. The age doesn't really bother me, it's what's missing at 40 that bothers me. No husband, no kids, no big bank account to fall back on...

I feel like time is rushing past me. I think about my mortality as if I'm in my seventies not just entering my forties. It's been ten months since I've had sex. Me!! I'm re-virginized!! I'm alone and have no prospects on the horizon. I've begun thinking that this is all life has to offer, that I'm officially an old maid. I have an hour long drive to work and I sometimes find myself thinking the oddest thoughts during that long drive. Thoughts like, well, it's no big deal if I never have a man again...I wonder if I'll die of a heart attack or a stroke....which will give out first, my knees or my hips-no matter, I won't need them for sex, that's for sure. Damn, is that ANOTHER chin hair?? Who will take care of my dogs when I'm gone? Where do old maids go to find a date?

Random, morbid thoughts running through my brain. It's like I've given up on life. No more chances for happiness.

And the creepy part is that I'm not sad about all those thoughts. Is that normal? It's like I've passed some invisible marker in the road, only I didn't see it coming because it's invisible. Duh. A sign that says "Now entering middle age, watch for potholes". Do other women my age have these thoughts? Or is there something fundamentally wrong with me? Does it ever get to be my turn again? Or did I miss all my chances...

I had to go shoe shopping for some new shoes for court. I ended up buying men's dress shoes because I couldn't stand any of the women's. What happened to nice black flats? Why are all the heels three inch chunks? Ugh...I'm getting old before my time. For New Year's Eve, I bought some really sexy black shoes, the new style with the very pointy toes. I couldn't feel my toes after an hour, and they made me walk like a duck, but while I was standing still, I looked great. Yet I was still alone, and went home to my dogs.

I'm not sad....I'm not sad that life hasn't turned out the way I wanted it to, I'm just disappointed. I hope that someday, hopefully, life will catch me off guard, shock me in some way. I keep anticipating that my life will turn out like some movie where the man and woman pass each other in the coffee shop, or the grocery store, and their eyes meet, and instantly they know...they have been looking for each other forever. But does it ever really turn out that way? Do you ever really find the fairy tale after forty?

I wish I knew the answer to that question.

Anyway, Happy New Year.