The Perfect Neurotic

Changing Never Ends

2010-07-12T16:36:00.003-05:00

Well, in new news, husband and I are still working out divorce, but not at each other's throats. I let all the bad feelings go. Hell, they were only dragging me down anyway.

Still with first love, Frankie, but things have been bumpy. I have this tendency of being rather ... hmm, clingy, which I call, "just wanting to spend time with the person you love." I don't understand seeing someone about 1/10 of the time you could. You all knew I'd always want more. Or at least fair. I say it's fair.

Have decided as much as I love my job, it started to become like. I'm fickle. My company will pay for me to go back to school and become an RN. I'll only have to work an 8 hour work week and they'll pay me for 40. Is this an offer I can refuse? I think not. And I am not. So, in January, it's back to school I go. I wish every young person knew the importance of getting a degree, but so many are like me, "they'll be time," blah blah blah.

Main problem now is mothering a wayward 17-year old daughter who is dating literal psychopath. Daughter began taking on every single one of his traits (including threatening to kill me) until I kicked her out of my home. This was on the advice of a psychiatrist and now I'm wondering, "Did I do the right thing?" Her behavior wouldn't change no matter what I did and the psychiatrist says this is shock treatment. Yeah, for me!

Just visited everyone who visited me last time. It's comforting to see those friendly faces.

(Oh, and I love the books plus the show "True Blood," hence the picture. Eric Northman is a particular favorite.)

Ch Ch Ch Changes

2010-05-27T07:59:00.001-05:00

I work as a CNA now in a rehabilitation center (fancy term for old folks' home) and I love it. As one of those residents would shout, "I love it all." And yes, I really do.

I think I found my calling, which is a scary thing because I never would have picked this for a calling. Rock star, ruler of small kingdom, school teacher of tiny tots, the queen, but poop cleaner upper extraordinaire? Nah.

I love the elderly. I love the stories. I love the people. I don't mind the messes and I feel happy when I leave for work a bit before 11pm 5 days a week. Happy. That's a word, which has eluded me for some time.

Then there's the divorce. Turns out, hubby had someone almost the entire time. Hence, his personality transplant where I was a monster and couldn't I just leave him alone and OF COURSE, he had to work hours and hours late (he was shagging her in the office after everyone else left). I caught them together. I freaked out a bit, calmed down and started a divorce action. (Funny bit is, their amazing, wonderful "we belong together" romance ended with her dumping him. There's something so right about the universe, eh? Karma is a bitch after all, but a best friend. A bitchy best friend. Yeah.)

So, since in addition to losing this tramp who was also married, he's about to lose his shirt and probably pants, maybe some shoes, he wants to agree to most of my demands if I call off the hellhound (my lawyer ... who really isn't a hellhound at all, but a lawyer ... they don't get sent from heaven). My husband doesn't have the thousands to fight (but agrees to support, spousal support, giving me the house, my car, on and and on) so looks like first, second, and third round may go to me.

Lastly, not leastly (cut me some slack), and certainly unexpectedly, I am back with my first love. Really back. Back back. Back as in as I type this, he sleeps besides me and I thank God for this end result. If I needed all the pain to end up here, I would have gladly doubled it. I love a man name Frankie and he loves me. He makes me wonder if in 24 years, if I ever knew what love really was ... or good sex.

I've worked hard to be a complete person again. I'm in therapy. I'll continue to work hard, but I have love, gratitude, and the unbelievably comforting sense that everything is going to work out just fine. It usually does. I'll make rounds soon. I miss all of you very much.

Life Has Changed

2010-02-13T21:06:00.000-05:00

I took a class to become a certified nursing assistant only to begin working at a hospital and will be working to become an RN. The hospital sponsored me so everything is free, free, free. Life has changed tremendously.

Husband still lives with me, but I am very much not a married woman any longer ... and I like that fact. I reunited with the first love of my life and am very happy. Life is strange and good and full of surprises, but ultimately always what you make of it.

I'll be stopping by to see those old familiar "faces" now.

On the Upswing?

2009-10-06T16:11:00.002-05:00

Well, maybe. Life is definitely getting more stable. I'm doing okay. Fitness-wise I'm doing fantastic. I look great and I think my body looks great too.

I'm seriously looking into having my dream career instead of a job I really don't like at all. Not just looking, but pledging to have it. Thankfully, my dream career isn't like astronaut or prima ballerina so it's attainable.

Marriage front? Well. It still exists, but not forever. My husband's mental illness has just won out and you can't talk depression out of anything, especially when you're tired of talking.

I really don't know what the future holds. I just know somehow, some way, I have to keep holding it together. All this cleaving to a man thing is for the birds. If he doesn't cleave to you, you're holding onto a ghost. I've seen too many cling to men who didn't want them to know I don't want to be in the line-up. My husband says he loves me, he likes me, he finds me beautiful, but that we just don't work. This makes me laugh now. Laugh and cry. I can't wait until it's just all laughter.

Shameless Self-Promotion

2009-08-06T07:22:00.003-05:00

Hey, everyone. I've been working super hard (even losing more sleep than the sleep I lose working overnight) and look, it's pretty good. It teaches you how to save money, how to budget, how to de-clutter, and to go green at the same time.

I'd love it if you all would subscribe through e-mail. A very helpful male set up my feeds, so now if you visit www.thriftybif.com, you can click on e-mail on the righthand side, stick your e-mail address in, and anytime I write a new post, you'll get a new e-mail.

Tell you friends. Tell your family. It's getting hard working so hard and wondering, where the heck is everyone? What am I doing wrong? Don't people want to save money during the recession?

Anyhow, I'd really super appreciate it!

Filthy Soul

2009-07-28T17:47:00.006-05:00

Just heard Darla on "Angel" yell those words at the main character ... so decided it would make a great title for the blog. Eh, not bad.

As most of you know, I work at the local big box store. The one purported to eat up all the other businesses and shit them all out of its ginormous backside. It's convenient, close to home, and oh yeah, after 15 years of being a stay-at-home mom, the only place who would employ me. And when you have a nutso husband getting ready to leave you after 23 years of being together, getting a job is pretty important.

First, I was part of the rebuild crew. The people that take a small store and make it SUPER. Very hard work, heavy lifting, monotonous, unskilled, and rather painful. Then I got the call last Saturday night -- an offer of a permanent position and off the rebuild crew. A position I actually wanted.

I started this job last night and it's better. No more building the store. Now I'm in the command center ... okay, they call it the back room, but that's because it would make the other employees jealous. "I'm in the command center, where are you?" Okay, that's how I see it anyhow. So, I'm in the command center ... basically pulling inventory, putting it on carts for the stockers, taking their inventory back in the morning, and putting it back up on "the steel." All this needs to be done electronically. Every single piece needs to have a special place and needs to be recorded or ... total chaos. Seriously. TIME WOULD STAND STILL. Speaking of time, my job is timed, on a ticking click. Like that hit show "24." You don't get the first part (the pulling) done by 2:30am and a bomb goes off. Well, all right, not literally, but you are screwed because all the intel gets wiped out of our handheld scanners ... and the boss, he'll have your ass because you didn't do your job.

I'm a donkey, a pull horse ... perhaps even a goat at times. And there's always the feel of the whip at my back and the screams of FASTER FASTER.

Still, I got a raise and I know it's good that in this bad economy, I'm making a few more dollars than minimum wage when I haven't "worked" in over a decade, but there's still this nagging thing, this voice asking, "Is this really for you?" Or worse, the one that asks, "Are you happy?" Or more terrible still, "Is my brain replacing all the information that makes me, well ME, and replacing it with this junk? Will I someday not care how I look, lose a few teeth, about 50 IQ points, and live alone with like 50 cats?"

I guess change is like this and if it didn't hurt sometimes, you really wouldn't change at all. The one thing I've learned more than any other is don't get comfortable. The minute things get nice and cozy, here comes major upheaval. And ... if you're a woman who relies on someone else for a living, make damned sure you can get a career in case he leaves, dies, or disappears. But love, like life, is forever taken for granted and so my warning will go unheeded.

Maybe it's just more important what I tell myself. Like, "You did good, Beth. You're doing this all on your own with no one's help and you're actually thriving in your own humble way. Even with a broken heart, you're holding it all together instead of crumbling into a billion pieces. Job well done."

RSS and E-mail Feeds

2009-07-23T16:39:00.002-05:00

I know a lot of you are not only computer savvy, but computer geniuses. I am trying to figure out how to get an RSS feed and an e-mail (to join my e-mail list) on my www.thriftybif.com site. It's one of the most important parts of the site (besides good posts). I have the html for the RSS, not the e-mail. Anyone know how I get it on my site in a prominent place?

My regular e-mail most people know, but if not, I'll put it in comments to keep the bots from following me. Thanks for any help.

Too Old or Who Cares?

2009-07-10T06:27:00.003-05:00

I have to say, the weirdest thing about working now is being around all those males. I can't say I'm honestly attracted to any of them. I mean, heck, I'm still married, I still live with my husband (until November) and I take my vows seriously (even if he says we're over), but I find myself looking at a dude that's 20. 20!!! I'm 38. Almost twice this kid's age.

Yes, I know ... that's wrong. i wouldn't do anything. I wouldn't act on it. I've been hit on, I've had a few different approaches and nothing. I shut them down, but this kid seems interesting. Maybe because I don't work with him and he just seems shy.

I mean, I feel like a pervert. This isn't some hot pretty boy. He just has a nice face, he's not tall, and he reminds me of a hobbit. Still wrong, I know. Shire or no shire.

So, what do you think? In matters of amore or just hot sex, does age matter? Not that I'm even remotely wanting hot sex. Luke warm will do just fine. (kidding ... I want hot) (kidding in general)

:o)

Where I've Been ...

2009-07-02T17:55:00.004-05:00

Don't Pay the Ferry Man

(Please, pay attention until the every end of the post to see the special announcement ... no, really, even you skimmers out there ... it's a good one)

Where've I been? Well, this is one of those times where I can say, "I've been everywhere, man." I just can't sing it like Johnny Cash.

First things first, I'm getting a divorce. My husband went off his depression meds a while ago and things were good and then they weren't. Like most bi-polar people, he thinks he's fine, everyone else is wrong. There was nothing I could do. He has convinced himself a life without me is best (after 23 years) even though he still loves me just as much as the day we first met or the day he realized he loved me, whichever. There is no other woman. (I actually checked extensively and did stake-outs, checked all phone records, talked to people where he works, etc. Hey, I had to be sure!)

Then it was ultimatum time from him. Do this and we'll stay together. Stand on one foot while you fry an egg. That kind of stuff. Not really, but just as crazy. And one day, I just said, "No. I love you, but I choose me." Sooooo ....

I got a job. A real job. And its construction. (not kidding) I went everywhere where I would normally get a job (like offices), but being a stay-at-home mom with no contacts after 16 years does not make you a hot commodity. So, I went to stores and such and only one replied and I said, "No matter what, I'm working my ass off for this company."

Now I'm helping to build the Super "Big Box Store" where I live. It's such hard work that I'm the only woman. (Heck yeah, I'm proud of that fact.) One other one quit and the other saw what we were doing and said, "No, thanks ... without even trying."

Most of you know I'm a hermit and that I need to take pills to function in ordinary life. So, I went to the doc and told her I needed a BUNCH of pills to live an extraordinary life or else my husband would have me trying to walk on the ceiling while trying to mop floors and she obliged me. I still have panic, there are days I want to hide under a rock, but I haven't missed a day (or night, since it's the graveyard shift) or a minute of work no matter how I felt physically or emotionally.

The first few weeks I had bloody feet, a severely bruised body, and a broken heart. Now everything but the heart seems to be back in order. My husband will be leaving by November by my choice. He wanted to stay another two years while the kids were in school, but I'm the kind of person who would rather pull a Band-Aid off in two seconds than bit by bit. I think it hurts less in the end.

And oh, did I mention I'm getting ripped? One of the many benefits of hard physical labor. Your brain turns to mush, but your body becomes a rock. I hope you all have had a terrific few months and I will check-in with each and every one of you to make sure.

Special announcement: I started my own green website. I couldn't let my brain go to total mush. With the help of Amy and her friends for the techy stuff and Amy for the artsy stuff, I bring you www.thriftybif.com. Tell your friends ... and even your enemies.)

Time Out

2009-04-06T08:29:00.002-05:00

I'll be back when life is in some state of ... normalcy ... well, maybe not normalcy, but just a steady point. Hopefully Mr. Schprock will pick up the slack at his blog. (hardy har har)

Wanted: Career, Must Be Hermit-Friendly

2009-04-02T07:13:00.004-05:00

Seriously. I definitely need to find real work in my part of the world and during this recession. We're not having money troubles or hardships. In fact, we've never been more financially secure, but my husband's depression seems to have boarded the Crazy Train and I don't think it wants to get off. This has fueled my desire, which is more like a necessity, to become financially independent. The kids are now 16 and almost 15, so I'm not running out on the little ones. I've loved having all these years to be a full-time volunteer at school five days a week and just be there for them 24 hours a day. To be able to give them meals from scratch and those home baked goodies. I feel there was no work in the world more important than being with them and guiding them through life. Heck, I'm still guiding them, and they still have hectic schedules, but again ... I need financial independence ... in case husband decides he needs to sail away to Pitcairn Island.

There are problems -- I am rather a hermit, I really don't love the general public, I have social phobias, my resume is pretty much sparse since 1993. Yeah, 1993. That's the year I gave birth to my daughter. Back then I was in dentistry, but that's not really for me anymore. Too many people and it's too "big business" as dentists are very money-oriented.

I am working on my social problems, but I still have major hang-ups with one-on-one anything. I take pills to go to the hairdresser or dentist and am not sure how I would handle an interview. I'm going to see a therapist for the first time ever next week (big gulp -- not just a drink) to hopefully help me even further.

I'm hoping my intelligent blogging friends in my circle will have some good thoughts and I would be grateful for any and all suggestions. Anyone here have any social phobias? Find the career of your dreams in your 30's? You all know I appreciate the comments and the guidance!

Nice, Big 11 Inches ... Soft?!?

2009-03-25T10:19:00.005-05:00

Yeah, you saw it here, Folks. What? What were you expecting?

I grew my hair for a few years for Locks of Love to have it razored off in my head by the ponytail in seconds by my husband. What a mess! I looked like the Barbie the poor kid gets. The one where the hair is all chopped and lopped and basically past the point of help, BUT the beautician fixed me up nice.

I really just wanted to take this moment to say if you or someone you know is growing their hair for Locks of Love, apparently, people don't realize there are important guidelines. My own beautician has been wetting the hair of every head before she ponytails it BEFORE she cuts it and guess what? By the time it gets to Locks of Love, it's moldy and they won't use it. They specifically say to only CUT and SEND dry hair, but a lot of people just don't read the fine print and all that hair goes to the dumpster. I didn't grow my hair and have headaches for the last year (due to ponytail being too heavy) to have my hair go in a dumpster.

Also, you can send colored hair and you CAN send layered hair (the longest piece MUST be at least 10"), but you can't send bleached hair that has color ON TOP of it. Also, any pieces shorter than 10" will be sold by Locks of Love to support their cause.

So, what charity group do you believe in? If zero, why? I'm making my rounds now!

Spreading the Word

2009-03-16T08:30:00.001-05:00

Hi, Everyone! Today's post is me spreading the word for another blog (I'll be making rounds this week though).

This is directly from Chris:

The Book Roast blog (www.bookroast.blogspot.com) will be hosting a Pitch Party on St. Patrick's Day-- Tuesday, March 17 from 7am through 7pm (NY time)! More info will be posted late Friday evening on the Book Roast blog. We're inviting participants to submit a pitch for a book (real or for fun). The theme is "luck," and the pitches will be limited to 75 words. One pitch per participant. I hope you can drop by and take a look. Or enter!! PLEASE ENTER!! You'll have fun, and you can use a pen name if you like!!

Five highly esteemed editors will select their favorite three, and say why those pitches stood out. The winning pitches will be announced at 9pm (NY time). The editors on board are listed below. Ms. Spitfire is technically in marketing, but she has occasion to touch the slush. :-)

She's 16

2009-03-09T08:03:00.004-05:00

My daughter turned 16 last week. 16! All I could think really was that she'll be driving soon, then off to school, then off into the world. I could get all mushy gushy with lots of memories and hopes for the future, but sometimes it's just better to just keep it short and sweet.

I can say she had a pretty big sweet 16 shopping spree in lieu of huge party. She cannot stand large, pretentious parties. She doesn't "get it," which I guess is good for us. She'd rather have that money spent directly on her. =)

So, here's a birthday picture of my daughter that she HATES, but I love because I caught her when she didn't think I was taking it. I can't help but think of her as beautiful in it. It's rare that girls these days actually smile for pics. They're like Civil War soldiers in those old tin types except with puckered lips. Hope all is well and I'll be making blog rounds soon.

Gone Knittin'

2009-02-13T11:55:00.003-05:00

Hey, Bloggers. I've been a bad blogger, but in my off time, I find myself either on Ravelry (a knitter's paradise) thanks to the wonderful and amazing Kathleen or knitting socks, my new passion. I uploaded a pic of my daughter wearing her first pair of No Show Socks I ever made for her. Working on complicated cable pattern now and I should get back to it. Don't worry, or WORRY ... cause I'll be back!

Watch Football, Become a Caveman

2009-02-02T08:24:00.006-05:00

This year's Superbowl was one I couldn't have cared less about because neither of my teams (Colts or Giants) were in it. The commercials of this Superbowl were my highlight.

I was feeling very sick from, well ... due to the fact that a few men read here I'll just say "female trouble." Very sick means killer cramps, severe nausea, and a feeling that it wouldn't take much to commit homicide.

Husband was very understanding and sweet before the Superbowl. Then the Mr. Hyde elixir of watching football kicked in. Let me just mention, hubby didn't care about the teams in this Superbowl either, yet he said, "I'll just pick the underdog because it's not right to just not watch the Superbowl. You have to watch." This was in response to my saying, "But you don't even like either team."

I left it alone, sat, cradled a heating pad to my tummy, fiddled around the internet looking at sea glass (no idea) online, but then noticed husband becoming increasingly caveman-like. I would say something and he would shout, grunt, or shake fist in return. Like "how dare woman interrupt much violent game that goes grrr and boom boom and argh." Okay, 'nuff said.

Then came half-time where I had the audacity to say, "Wow, Bruce Springsteen, what a treat. Couldn't they get someone good?" This is when hubby who is NOT and NEVER HAS BEEN a fan of The Boss yelled, "Hey, this guy's a national icon, a rock icon, he still fills stadiums." Very grunty, very angry caveman-like.

Not knowing my place in the clan, I continue with, "And yet you have not one download, album, CD, or cassette of his. How weird since he's so positively sensational." Yes, I was a snarky bitch, but come OOOONNNNN, the only reason he's defending Bruce is because he's a part of Superbowl Sunday. Hell, Boy George could've been doing a strip tease to Karma Chameleon while deep throating a snake and hubby would've defended him if he was on the Superbowl stage. Well, actually, probably not, but still, I see no reason why my husband needs to act like a complete mastodon hunter on Superbowl Sunday. I am only glad football season is officially over. There! I said it.

I am also glad because eTrade came out with another brilliant baby commercial. C'mon, you know you want to see it. Push PLAY, Peeps:

Then tell me about your Superbowl Sunday ... or favorite commercial. ;o)

Obama's First Miracle

2009-01-20T13:37:00.005-05:00

I watched our 44th president take his solemn oath all alone in my small home just a short while ago. I cried all throughout the services and if someone were to ask me why, I don't know if I could give a better answer than one word: hope.

Shortly after President Barack Obama's oath and his incredible inaugural address, my phone rang and my mother; instead of telling me about all the plagues in the world, the upsets in her day, the wrongs in her family, the concerns about her health; said instead, "Isn't this an amazing day? Isn't he an amazing man?" Yes to both.

Yeah, I'm a Nerd ...

2009-01-14T11:32:00.006-05:00

Valentine's Day is coming. Who cares, right? Well, some people care. I mean, if no one cared, why do I see aisles of candy and cards when I travel through my local Walmart? Out with Christmas one day, in with Valentine's Day the next.

Some years I have cared greatly about this holiday and others, not so much. (Last year's 3 dead rose incident was definitely one for the books) After being with my guy for 22 years, I no longer expect him to magically just guess what I'd like for every holiday or birthday. Either I make strong hints such as, "Wow, look at that flyer on the counter all circled and underlined in case someone didn't know what to get their wife," or "I ordered my birthday present. It's really great. You did good. Thanks," or I just say, "You could get me this, this, or this ... I'm good either way," or "Let's just skip it and focus on the kids." (this is the usual one)

This year, I actually wanted something. It's red, white, involves hearts (with stakes in them, but that's besides the point), and reminds me of Valentine's Day ... as I love it greatly. Basically, I said, "Hey, I want the collector's set of DVDs for Buffy the Vampire Slayer ... or if you're feeling cheap, I'll take the Dr. Horrible CD or DVD or even just the Buffy the Vampire Slayer "Once More With Feeling" CD."

My husband was not feeling cheap and my wonderific Buffy DVDs arrived yesterday. I didn't want to wait to open them. (First clue of being a nerd) Then when I opened them I did this loud "aaaahoooohaaaa" music like the angels were singing to me. (Yeah, second clue) Then when I lifted the lid and the front fell open revealing all the DVD seasons and cast pics, I was like, "Oh my gosh, how freaking awesome is this?" (Third clue) Then a, "Wooo, wait, special message from Joss (creator of Buffy) ... I'll read it to you." (Fourth) My family did not want to hear the special message from Joss, but I read it anyway.

I mean, I'm giddy about this gift, especially since television re-runs of Buffy on Saturday (or any time) have officially ended in my area as of a few months ago. A life completely void of Buffy? Not worth living, in my opinion. I plan on watching just one episode a day and savoring them a bit. Oh, and one of the best parts of this holiday? I also got the Dr. Horrible DVD, CD, plus the Buffy (Once More with Feeling) Musical CD as well. Even though I picked it all out, it still makes me love my husband. A lot.

Instead of asking about the upcoming holiday, I'd just like to know if any of you are actually fans of any of Joss' work or if you're just sitting there going, "I didn't realize this lady was such a friggin' geek!"

Very Bad Start to the New Year

2009-01-01T11:08:00.003-05:00

Actually, things are going well, I've just been re-reading my copy of Bridget Jones' Diary and always liked how she screws the resolutions right on the first day. That's my kind of girl.

My hiatus has been somewhat uneventful. Husband and I celebrated 20 years of marriage on the 19th of December. Went out to dinner. Saw "Curious Case of Benjamin Button." It was a nice night. It was a nice film based on one of my favorite short stories by F. Scott Fitzgerald who gets no credit at all for any of it.

Then there was Christmas. Knitted ass off for family plus store bought presents. Once again, not bad. Bought the kids much stuff and received charcoal drawings from both of them. A chicken from my son, a geisha from my daughter. How different can it get? Went to my mother's, did the present exchange there again, ate dinner, back home to lie around in food coma. Normal holiday state.

New Year's was last night. Watched a movie with the kids and husband, then some general TV programming, then the ball drop with Dick Clark. Dick Clark can no longer speak clearly and since he's been around my entire life, I felt emotional seeing him. I now have to remember to write 2009 instead of 2008, but other than that, things seem to be just about the same.

Oh, except I am going to make a big commitment this year to getting back in shape instead of just saying I'm going to get back in shape. This will not be a Bridget Jones commitment, but a bonafide lose weight, build the muscle, and get physically fit like ex-athlete type of commitment. Since I have a slight hangover from one bottle of Guinness and since I haven't smoked in over a year and a half, I'm not even in Bridge's league anymore. :::sigh:::

How'd this holiday season treat the rest of you? I'll be around to check on everyone soon.

Not Feeling It

2008-12-03T13:17:00.003-05:00

Have you seen those new Jimmy Dean breakfast commercials where the sun tries to get all the other people (rainbow, moon, fog) to get going and do their jobs? The moon is supposed to be full, but he's like, "No, NO, I'm just not feeling it." Real adamant like. That's how I feel right now about blogging. Not mad, sad, or bad, but just not feeling it.

So, without further adieu, I bring you all my Christmas hiatus. Have the happiest of holidays and I'll return some time next month!

Cranksgiving

2008-11-24T08:59:00.006-05:00

When I was newly married at the embarrassingly young age of 18, I spent the first year's Thanksgiving with my in-laws. My in-law's Thanksgiving was very different than my own family's. First of all, it was very high class, very proper, very high brow. China plates, real silver, crystal glasses, and wine. Everyone dressed up.

In my own house growing up, it was a free-for-all. You may or may not find a side dish in a Cool Whip container. 2-liters of soda were right on the table, silverware was the every day kind and did not match, and more than once as a teen, I showed up to dinner in my nightgown.

Needless to say, I felt extremely uncomfortable at that Thanksgiving in 1989. I found my place card, my designated seat, and was grateful to see my husband was seated next to me. Everyone began this stifled conversation and I couldn't help, but think about my own family. I knew they were being loud and joking, laughing, having a ball, maybe a fistfight, and this was more like a test in boredom. At the time, it seemed to me, every one in my husband's family was extremely stuck up and kind of showing off the fact that they were stuck up, which is weird ... cause it's just kind of wrong and rather creepy and somewhat alarming. Anyhow, I couldn't wait to be done with it.

When I saw the turkey placed on the table and the oldest boy in the family (their tradition since their father's passing) get ready to carve, I once again thought of my mother's electric knife whirring away in her own kitchen, the turkey cut without fanfare by her own hand. And that's when I saw it ... about a half inch under the turkey's skin, the turkey was absolutely raw. And I mean, RAW. Like Eddie Murphy in red leather raw. So raw I expected the turkey to jump up and run out the door to look for its head.

All the snobby conversation stopped. You could hear a pin drop as I watched this family slice the raw turkey and pass it around to each other like in some Twilight Zone denial TV show moment. When it came my turn, I said I wasn't feeling well and I wondered how repressed a family has to be in order to eat raw turkey together and risk death while still smiling those strange fake smirks.

Now every year when I carve into my own turkey, I just think, "Dear God, let this be like my mother's turkey, not my husband's mother's!"

Happy Thanksgiving, Bloggers! I hope you all have a delicious and happy holiday! If you care to share any Thanksgiving moments, I'd be much obliged.

(And I couldn't pass up that pic taken from distantocean.com)

Chivalry IS Dead

2008-11-17T12:03:00.006-05:00

This past weekend I took my daughter to the mall for some shopping. At one busy store, I saw they had one counter with multiple registers, but no real "lines." There were only a handful of people at the front and about four cashiers yet no one was moving. I stood in back waiting, just kind of standing there, with my daughter's frocks in hand. At the end of the counter, a new cashier waved for me to come over to her.

As I went to walk up, a HUGE man, easily 6'5" (this is huge to me as I'm 5'3") pushes in front of me, looks back at me dismissively and shouts, "I've been waiting a LOT longer than you have, MA'AM." Really rude like and you could have just knocked me over with a feather, I'm so shocked.

I was sputtering, "I didn't see you waiting, I was waved over ..." and he's not listening anyway because this great big jackass is now being waited on by a cashier who looks just as stunned as I do, but kind of scared to boot. This is when ANOTHER cashier moves to the side of the first one, looks right at me, then at the jackass, and in a quiet, submissive way says, "Please, come here and I'll check you out."

I hand her my purchases and say to my daughter, "I can't believe that man. He freaked right out!" The Jerk, who must have super hearing, then yells down at me, "I DID NOT FREAK OUT!" The cashiers all stop dead and just look at me with that, "Oh my God, I'm so sorry this guy's a total crazy asshole" look.

I'm still really, really freaked out and shocked. This can be the only reason why I haven't yelled back with a nice, "Go f*ck yourself, Pal!" Maybe women just know when a guy would beat you if you gave him half a reason, so we walk a little lighter and lower our voice or something, but I did manage to quietly tell him, "You're very lucky my husband is not in this part of the mall with me or this would have ended very differently." This time he kept his mouth shut.

Beware, Ladies, the Christmas season has begun and boneheads are shopping early. What this huge man was doing in a woman's clothing store, I have no idea. He hid his purchases, making my daughter wonder if he wasn't in a hurry to get home, and yell over the side of the pit he made to the half-naked woman within, "IT RUBS THE LOTION ON ITS SKIN."

Any current shopping horrors you want to share? Maybe we can start taking pictures of these freaks and put out alerts on them.

Reverse Stupidity

2008-11-11T14:53:00.004-05:00

My mother gave birth to four children -- me, my sister, and my two brothers. I was the baby in the family AKA spoiled beyond your wildest dreams! No, not really. I wish, but I did get more than the others by the sheer fact that I yelled the loudest.

My sister was kind of butch middle child ... always okay with her lot in life. My brothers were the oldest, both were gay, both outspoken and known for being kind of mean ... yes, even meaner than me (the brat).

What do I think of having two gay brothers who are sometimes mean as heck? Not much. I'm one of those people who believe if you're gay, it's in your genes, so it's kind of like having blue eyes. You just do, accept it. Now if you're an asshole, you can work on that. No excuses.

At first, my mother was surprised to have two gay sons, especially since one dated and screwed around with women for such a long time (even married and had a child with one), but she always said, "They are who they are ... my good boys, my sons."

The part where they act like jerks? She's almost totally blind to it. Over the years though, it just got worse ... something odd and just kind of psycho ... my mother became the kind of gay advocate where although she wouldn't be marching in Gay Pride Parades, she gives a pass to every male homosexual on the planet ... no matter if they are true sweethearts or truer sons-of-bitches.

For instance, if my daughter has a new BFF who also happens to be gay, my mother automatically says, "He must be a very nice boy, very well-mannered." And well, my daughter's latest gay BFF is NOT a nice boy or well-mannered, so I tell her so and my mom says, "Hmm, maybe you just take him the wrong way. I'm sure he's really nice."

Oooookay. If nice means he makes fun of my voice as I speak to my daughter while he's on the phone with her, then he's just super sweet. This kid isn't nice and if he were straight my mom would say, "Why would she even bother with someone who acts that way? Tell her to get rid of him!"

But the X-Files part of my mom, the one when she's doing her "gay boys are sugar, spice, and everything nice" routine is when I mention someone gay who is absolutely not known for being a sugar bear ... like who I brought up last time we talked -- Jeffrey Dahmer and she answers with this, "He wasn't really gay though, was he? If he were gay and if he accepted it, he would have been a very nice boy, very well-behaved, and not you know ... all that other stuff." All that other stuff. Yeah, okay.

I was like, "Ma, he was gay and there's probably thousands of kids who don't come to terms with their sexuality yet never kill people and then make meat loafs out of them." Although, under the current Bush economy, that may be the only way to afford meat, but I digress ...

My mom's response? "It was probably fantastic meatloaf though."

So, this brings me to my question of the week:

What reverse stupidity have you heard your whole life, recently, or a long time ago that made you want to scream? You know, kind of like when you hear some idiot say, "Well, he's black, so you KNOW he's a good dancer." Two words: Bryant Gumbel. Now, it's your turn.

Yes, We Can. Yes, We Did.

2008-11-02T19:05:00.005-05:00

As a small kid growing up in rural upstate NY, I was raised by extremely racist parents. My father outright hated black people and made it known loudly and almost constantly with racial epithets and off color humor. My brothers and sister never seemed to call foul and even grew up to have the same views. My mother, who wasn't as loud as my dad, told me stories about "Jigaboo Joy" (a black "mammy" who would take care of me if I got out of line) and would sing stories about grabbing the n*gger by "its" toe. Blacks weren't even people in my home, they lived and breathed, but weren't human.

I never subscribed to this theory. As early as 5, I had a crush on a black boy at the neighborhood public pool. By 12, I was dating him. Then our dating turned more into a deep friendship, one of the strongest of my life.

In my young life, I never dated thinking of color and as I made my own decisions, my mother hid them from my father to "keep the peace." She was starting to believe the thought that people weren't people because of color was wrong in just about every way and was a bit embarrassed of her earlier behavior to boot, but still wasn't convinced. I have always been the odd man out in my family and last night I have never been so proud of that fact or this country.

However, my own mother, almost 70 years old, now a widow and making up her own mind about the world, voted for the first time yesterday in her entire life and cast that vote for a black man. She came out of the election booth and shouted, "I did it! I did it!" Election volunteers laughed, but I don't think they realize fully just what she meant. My mother was talking about finally casting off all the ignorance and letting her conscience be her guide.

Barack Obama. Our country's first black president. A man I believe fully capable and willing to make real change for the United States. He already changed the landscape and I am giddy with anticipation to see the great changes President Obama will bring to the policies and lives of US citizens. It's a great time in our history and one of those times I feel true joy and hope.

(original post below)

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I'm so excited about Election Day, I'm a little sick to my stomach. Really, I am! As a once delusional Bush supporter, I am so completely ready for something new, I might just move to Europe if America doesn't get it. For me, McCain is DEFINITELY just more of the same, but Obama breathes fresh life, ideas, and ideals into a country that desperately needs it.

If you're not an Obama supporter, I won't try to make you switch because let's face it ... rarely do people change their minds this late in the game. Fact is, most people take politics way too personal and a lot of silly fights get started this way. (Scott doesn't even visit me anymore since hearing I was an ashamed registered Republican. haha)

All I can say is if you think you have your facts straight and right now you actually HATE one candidate, you're probably listening to or reading a biased media. They want you to feel those types of feelings. (Those types of feelings got us blindly into the Iraq war ... enough said)

The only unbiased place I've found on the net (that's backed by all news outlets I've seen) is http://www.factcheck.org/. If you really have a question about your candidate or any others, you'll find what you're searching for there. I actually did a LOT of fact checking at this place and was really pleased with this site. This place doesn't back anyone, but can offer you actual quotes, voting records, so forth and so on. It only made my faith in my pick that much stronger, which was a great thing, I'll admit.

Most importantly, if you don't vote, please don't complain regarding the outcome. I mean it, don't. And if you must, don't do it here. =)

My question this week is ... anyone care to share who they're voting for here? If it's personal, I get it, but if you don't mind sharing your decision, I'd love to read it! (And thanks for those Halloween birthday wishes. I appreciate them.)

Doll Parts

2008-10-22T11:42:00.008-05:00

Howdy, Bloggers, Friends, and Lurkers alike. I'm sharing some pictures with you of some birthday presents I received recently from 24Crayons that I absolutely adore. Now, these pictures are short some beautiful alpaca and silk yarn, but that picture came out like crap. It would have looked like some sort of strange animal droppings. =/

The first was made by hand for me and the picture doesn't do it justice. It's super cool and even my husband admired it. (my husband does not love sock monkeys normally) :o) It's a stone (cement) with glass pushed into it shaped like a sock monkey -- complete with two eyes!

As most of you know, I LOVE the show, Dexter. A show about a mild-mannered sociopath who only kills other killers ... only worse killers than him. Killers who kill kids, women, and like, for no good reason at all. Bad killers. Anyhow .... there were a few episodes of "Dexter," which centered around a killer who left bloodless body parts all wrapped up neatly for the cops to find. Oh joy, bloodless body parts! (This is Dexter's reaction, not mine.)

This same killer left a Barbie head taped to Dexter's fridge and neatly wrapped Barbie parts in

the freezer. Dexter loved the "gifts" and ended up making a key chain of the head. Oh yeah, bask at my OWN Barbie head key chain and neatly wrapped Barbie parts because let's be honest, if your birthday is on Halloween like mine is, the only good Barbie is a dismembered Barbie. =D (I expect only a "hmmmm" from LL)

And that's all from this end. I'm a bit under the weather and have had a busy week, so am a bit late, but better late than never, right? Anyone want to share the strangest present they've ever received? This is definitely mine! (which is probably why I love them) Thanks again, Amy!

Coeur d' Coeurs ...

2008-10-13T12:29:00.005-05:00

heart of hearts desire. When I was younger, I always used that saying. My heart of hearts. My soul's conviction. My secret wish. Oooo, what could it be?

When I was a poor kid in upstate NY with my clunk clunk click clunk manual ribbon typewriter, I suppose I just wanted to entertain people. Then in middle school, I still wrote, but lost my way. In high school, I began writing full force again, but mainly sappy poems and love songs. I was "emo" before "emo" was cool, I guess, and needed an outlet besides sex and drugs.

Now as an adult, I have a myriad of hobbies and interests, but what's my coeur de coeurs, my heart of hearts? All I really know is when I get lost in something, I tend to love it. This is why books mean so much to me, but if I was meant to be a writer wouldn't I actually want to do the work to get myself an agent? Since I have finished novels, why not have an agent query them? Good questions, but ...

Throw a cyber-rock in cyberspace and somehow, inexplicably you'll hit about one thousand writers. Just with one cyber-rock ... yeah, just one.

So I'm jaded, so sue me, but today's question really is ... what is your coeur d' coeurs desire? Your real passion? Your secret wish? If you weren't an accountant, you'd be a/an [insert what makes your heart beat faster here] ... No matter HOW silly or fanciful it is, spill it!

Malled to Death

2008-10-06T06:07:00.005-05:00

Spent my Saturday at the mall with my daughter, my son, and my son's girlfriend. Actually my son and his girlfriend walked around by themselves, so they missed most of the fun. And by fun I mean watching my teen daughter pick up a shirt, stare at it for 5 minutes from different angles, put it down, pick it back up, stare some more ... repeat. After 15 minutes I would say the standard, "Either you want it or you don't, but by now you should know."

I don't remember ever shopping this way. I remember friends who lallygagged around stores hemming and hawing, but I knew what I wanted and bought it. Quick to purchase, short on perusing. My daughter IS Lallygagger Lucy. Even something as simple as a belt deserves the 15-minute torture test.

It made me feel sorry for the few men I saw around me staring straight ahead with blank-eyed, glassy stares as their partners shopped, paused, and asked their advice. What heterosexual male ever gave good clothing advice? Oh well, I helped boost the economy a bit and spent some quality time with my daughter to boot.

So, how did you spend your weekend? Happy Monday, All!

(Also ... Update: Bill 1738: Protect Our Children Act passed on 9/25/08 in the Senate. Thanks to all who wrote their senators and got involved. Results are good!)

Buy, Baby, Buy

2008-09-29T06:39:00.004-05:00

When I was a kid, I did not live in the biggest house on the block. My parents did not wear designer clothes, nor did they drive new vehicles. Our house stayed the same color for at least a couple of decades, until it really needed to be painted and even then, my father knew a guy who knew a guy who could get buckets of exterior white paint for cheap. We were not upper crust ... we were a typical working class family.

My father always paid in cash and never bought on credit (and this includes his mortgage and automobiles). Every month it was the same routine ... basic utilities, groceries, gas, and the rest went into his safe. My dad's motto was, "If you can't afford to hand over the money for it, you don't need it." He never borrowed a cent from anyone ever ... and that includes the bank.

Then there was that couple of years while I was in high school, my mother started receiving offers for credit cards in the mail. Credit cards? What a novel idea. Buy now, pay later. She could buy me all the designer clothes and shoes my teen heart craved and not have to worry about paying for it. In fact, the credit card companies were so helpful, she'd only have to pay a bit back of the total balance each month ... just one little tiny bit. So, one card turned into two, then three, and then, and then, and so forth until she realized she was in big trouble. Every month when the bills were due, she worried over how she would pay and how the debt had turned from hundreds into thousands.

I don't remember how it happened exactly, but I do remember it was I who convinced her to tell my father. My mom was deathly afraid my dad would leave her, but I knew he'd help, even if he couldn't understand what she did or why she did it. I remember she began crying hysterically as she admitted it to him, but that he was quite calm when he told her, "Listen, quit your crying, I'll pay for it, but you give me every single bill from every single company you have and don't hold anything back. Then you go get cashier's checks for every balance, send the payments by registered mail, you promise me to never do this again, and cut those damned things up." Off to the safe he went, off to the bank and post office she went ... feeling lighter than she had in months. Credit cards were out of her life forever as was over-consuming.

I look at Wall Street, the bail out, the Fannie Mae/mortgage fiasco and I think of my father and people like him. People who only bought what they could afford and lived well below their means, even if it was meager. People who understood your worth was directly tied to how you treated others and not what you possessed. If these people were in the majority, would this be happening now?

Every time I see my daughter's ex-boyfriend's parents in their Escalade because as the ex told us, "People look at us and are jealous because we have one," I know they're on the verge of bankruptcy (he told us that too), yet they want others to be envious. Desire trumped rational behavior. Stuff means more than integrity these days. Moms shopping with credit cards so their child can have the latest, greatest fashion trend is traded for stillness. Buying a house 10x bigger than you need and 10x more than you can afford is normal these days. More space seems to equate to being a better person, a better family ... just better.

I truly wonder when will America finally understand peace of mind is worth more than anything you can buy? Will it take another Great Depression for families to finally stop consuming? I must admit, lately I've been looking at the financial news thinking, "Poverty is a wake-up call American desperately need." Global warming, hurricanes, and floods aren't doing it, but being homeless, maybe that'll shake things up a bit." Will it turn into "my box is bigger than your box?"

So, what are your thoughts on the current state of economic affairs in the US? How have you been impacted? Are you a saver or a spender? Do you want America to wake up or do you think it never went to sleep ... buy, baby, buy? I'd like to know.

Bill 1738: Protect the Children Act

2008-09-20T08:58:00.007-05:00

Hi, all. Serious topic time. As a kid, I loved monster movies. Dracula, Frankenstein, the Creature from the Black Lagoon, werewolves ... those were for me. Sure, I was scared and couldn't sleep like ... well, ever, but I loved them just the same ... and kept on watching. My mother always told me, "Oh, Beth, monsters aren't real." And I knew that, I believed that, but now at 37, I know it isn't true.

On September 26th, Bill 1738 (Protect the Children Act) will be going to congress. It is a bill that will raise the funds needed for law enforcement to not only catch, but to prosecute online child pornographers and child rapists.

As child pornography has grown on the Internet, so has the demand for more violent, insidious videos. Right now there are fathers raping their infants (yes, infants) and children, then passing these videos on electronically to other pedophiles. The younger the victim, the more heinous the rape, the more popular the videos become.

With the current funding, only ONE HALF of ONE PERCENT of these disgusting and vile criminals are being prosecuted. One half of one percent. It's astounding.

If you are interested in helping protect the children and convict these criminals, you can write your senator(s) to demand that that they pass bill 1738, which is a bi-partisan bill. Here is a link to make it easier for you and with a lot more information than I am putting here. Bill 1738: Protect the Children Act It is from Oprah Winfrey's site. REGARDLESS of what you think of the woman, she is the only one putting this information out there along with links to how to contact your senator(s), if you don't already know. This has nothing to do with Oprah Winfrey and if there were a better website to give you the information, I would have used it.

I hope all of you will take part in this. One of my senators, Hilary Rodham Clinton, is already a co-sponsor of the bill. For more children than you probably want to realize, monsters are real. They're not Dracula or Frankenstein, but Dad. Please, help kids to fight the real monsters of this world.

(Thanks to Dr. S for providing a link to the complete text of the bill!)

'Tis the Season ...

2008-09-15T06:40:00.004-05:00

the season for new television, that is. ::: wink wink :::

I'm not a television addict, but there are three shows I can't wait to see return -- Supernatural (September 18th), Pushing Daisies (October 1st), and Dexter (September 28th).

I already have my pie planned for Pushing Daisies night. A lovely and decadent Snickerdoodle. I bake a new pie every week for this show and have missed my little ritual. (my hips, however, have not)

Anyone else gearing up for their favorite television show(s)? If you don't watch television, you're just so darned amazing and cerebral, why are you here??? Hehe.

Happy Monday, One and All!

Not Feeling the Love

2008-09-08T11:19:00.004-05:00

It's been sparse around these parts. I'm starting to feel like like my blogging buddies are too busy for good ole Beth. There's my self-pity party for the day.

This week I actually do have a bit to say. Actually, ask. Where to start? Yeah, the beginning is good ...

Scaled down and edited post due to hubby's request, but keeping lewd lion photo. =)

Yes, Beth, we get that, but what's your question? Well, my question to the few stragglers who still come around these parts is this ... do you ever have times in your relationship/marriage/union where you feel absolutely unloved and disrespected by your partner to the point of feeling like they're a complete stranger?

Smoothie Move, Ex-Lax

2008-09-04T06:45:00.004-05:00

OK, I'll admit it, the titles aren't coming easy to me these days, BUT this one is relevant. Today my teens went back to school. My youngest is now a freshman in high school. High school! I have two kids in high school. Two! Why do these facts astound me so? No idea.

Big problem at this house is breakfast. I like to make my kids a traditional breakfast during the school months -- eggs and bacon one day, old-fashioned oatmeal the next, but both my kids absolutely hate eating in the morning. At the end of last school year, it got to the point where they were eating one bite of food and drinking their Ovaltine with milk. Then no bite of food, just the Ovaltine.

And since I can't eat right away in the morning, I get it. So when I saw a cooking show where the host was making smoothies, I thought, "Aha, this is it! Drinkable healthy breakfast!" I tweaked the host's recipe a bit, but it turned out great and even though this may bore the heck out of some of you, I wanted to share my teen-approved recipe. Super healthy, low in fat, and loaded with good stuff.

Bif's Smoothie

(This is the basic recipe for one)

1/2 cup frozen berries (I like whole frozen strawberries & it ends up being about 4 if they're whole)

1/2 banana

1/2 cup yogurt (plain or vanilla)

1/2 cup 1% milk

1 1/2 - 2 tbs. honey (to taste)

Puree until smooth in your blender. The frozen fruit gives it almost the texture of a milkshake.

So, there's my new back-to-school recipe, which worked out great this morning. You can have any frozen fruit you want, including peaches, which means lots of different choices!

How about the rest of you? Any changes this September? Feelings on breakfast? Discuss. :o)

Blinking Cursor

2008-08-25T10:12:00.005-05:00

I've been staring at the blinking cursor for a good 10 minutes. Pet Drusilla (my black pug, not some like weirdo name for my vagina or something), look back at the cursor, pet Drusilla, cursor, Drusilla, cursor. Yeah, I don't have much to say.

Let's see -- last week was much better, husband has made it over 2 weeks smoke free, and the kids are going back to school in 10 days. Woot woot!

If you're looking for something to entertain you though, check out this link: http://www.hulu.com/watch/28343/dr-horribles-sing-along-blog NYPinTA put this on her blog and because I'm a Joss Whedon fan, I watched it and then absolutely fell in love with it and Neil Patrick Harris. Other than that, yeah, nothing new to say and no big ideas either. Just a friendly howdy do. :o)

(photo is of one of my Hollyhocks -- you were right, Fermicat!! -- and a wonderful little visitor in flight)

Smoke 'Em Out, Mite it Up, Burn Baby Burn, and Flu away

2008-08-18T09:05:00.004-05:00

Last week sucked ... period. Refrigerator problems, which included a little thing called a cheese mite. Have you ever in your life heard of those? Well, if you're a fine lover of cheese like myself, go get yourself educated and then you'll know and probably not thank me for turning you off the stuff.

If that wasn't enough, my husband quit smoking. I know, that's a good thing. I mean, I even celebrated my own one year anniversary being smoke free about a month ago. I didn't write about it because well, it didn't feel like a big deal. I don't miss smoking at all and therefore staying away from it wasn't really that hard.

My husband, on the other hand, had a smoking habit that bordered on an obsessive love affair. Giving the evil weed up to him was akin to giving up your right hand and menstruating all at the same time. He laments the loss constantly and does it by throwing these temper tantrum bitch-like fits. I am on the verge of buying some form of elephant tranquilizer so that when he comes home from work or is here on the weekends, I can just knock his ass out for the duration. Still, he's made it over a week (he hasn't been this long without a cigarette since 1989!!) and I am proud of him. I just want to either stop being yelled at or have the permission to knock him out. That's not too much to ask.

Then you have my demon daughter who came back from Maine vacation neither missing us or even wanting to talk to me about her trip, but don't despair, that's not all, she also managed to bring back a raging case of sun poisoning with her. Better than herpes, but like herpes, so totally preventable. Even though I repeatedly barraged her with sunscreen lectures and admonishments before and during her trip, she did the teen thing and completely ignored me. Stayed on the beach all day and just baked away. Her face blew up to twice its size and turned lobster red. And somehow, deep down inside, I don't believe she learned any lesson about sunscreen at all or even to just wear a hat. Her complaint is only that her face doesn't look pretty and wasn't a beautiful tan like the rest of her body.

Add to that the fact I had some kind of flu as all this was occurring and I never got sick ... then you discern last week was just one of those weeks I'd like to fold into little pieces and chuck into the bottom of my yarn bin, never to be seen or heard from again.

Let's hope everyone out there had a much better time this week ... much more like Drusilla in the picture I took last night and put here for your enjoyment. Completely comfortable and carefree. :)

Craptacular Week

2008-08-14T08:57:00.001-05:00

A lot going on this week and not much of good EXCEPT for hubby quitting smoking. I'll get to that next week though. :) See ya then.

Tacky-ula

2008-08-04T19:56:00.004-05:00

Ok, I realize I've been stuck on the vampire kick for a bit, but I just have to get some things out. I've already written that I miss Anne Rice. Recently, while reading George Eliot (who was actually a chick) I said, "Well, I'll try a new popular vampire author. Yeah, why not? Maybe what I've read so far has been just not good."

So, I went to the library to see what was popular and was told to get the new Stephenie Meyer vampire series, which is suggested for young adults, but just regular old adults seem crazy about them. The wait for the books was going to be a bit long though forcing me to buy them. (the re-sale value on eBay holds up as well). Well, I bought ... and I finished the first book, Twilight.

And although I'm not giving anything away, there may be something you don't want to read if you go any further. Let me just say, there's a reason vampire lore and the original Dracula is so good, so compelling. For those of us who truly love vampire lore, we feel all that immortality has to come with a price. And not being able to be in any kind of sunlight is a big price (to a gardener anyway). No sunrise, no sunset. Oh, but not vampires written by Stephenie Meyer. Her vampires even sunbathe. And I say a whole-hearted, "ICK."

Then there's that thing about being bit and turning into a vampire. Most claim it's because of blood. Little bit of (or a lotta bit of) vampire blood mixed with your blood and blammo slammo, you're a vampire. But NOOOO, not Stephenie Meyer, her vampires have venom. Like snakes or Spiderman's arch-nemesis, wait, maybe he doesn't have venom, maybe that's just his name. Either way, now I'm into double ick.

Then let's not forgot how Stephenie scoffs at the wooden stake. It would merely bounce off their rock hard flesh. You have to ask yourself then, if they're rock hard, how can they be killed? The main vampire says they have to be cut in pieces and those pieces have to be burned, but wait ... nothing can cut their flesh. Triple ick.

Coffins? Nope, Meyer's vampires don't even sleep. Ever. They just, well, you know, are awake all the time ... just hanging out, playing baseball (not kidding), all happy like. Just like a TV Mormon family. Since Stephenie is a Mormon, did she try to create Mormon vampires? Do they have Monday Family Home Evening ... a popular Mormon tradition? I don't know. My husband was raised a Mormon, so he wonders as well. Anyhow ...

While the main character, Bella, is not even slightly interesting, she is somehow irresistible to every male alive, dead, or in between in her new town. Bella is mainly silly, immature, a klutz, short, frumpy, but hey, that doesn't mean the most luscious, seductive, and awesome vampire on the planet wouldn't fall for her? He's only lived 100 years. He'd find all this cute, right? And although there's all this major lust between the two, all they ever do is kiss, like a total of 3 times, I believe, and that's supposed to be enough? Oh, and every other teenager around her just gets so mad about it ... grrr ... blargh ... even a teenager in another town who is also a werewolf and conveniently wants Bella too. Geez, who doesn't? Well, I'm not buying it. Well, I already bought it, but I'm slightly pissed off about it.

Book two, New Moon, seems just as silly. Now we're adding werewolves into the mix, but again, it just seems plain ridiculous. Still, if I lay back, suspend all belief systems and "make believe" belief systems, then pretend I'm a kid again, a happy Mormon kid, it's a nice little story, it's engaging, but a lot of it just makes me laugh.

Silly Mormons, vampires are for pagans!

iWay Robbery

2008-07-29T10:15:00.002-05:00

My daughter is an Honor's student with a straight A average. I'm not bragging as these are not my achievements, I'm just giving you a clue as to why her father and I wanted to buy her the new iPhone. Although she can be the biggest source of aggravation and sometimes pain in my life, even when she suffered her first big "break-up" this school year, she managed to pull herself out of a tailspin and finish strong academically. She was exempt from all finals and hey, she deserved a reward.

So, opening day for the iPhone, July 11th, her dad and I took her to the closest AT&T store. We knew we weren't going to get an actual phone, but they were doing a pre-pay deal. Pay now, you'll get the iPhone within 2 weeks, guaranteed. Fair enough.

We drive a considerable distance to this store and wait in a small line of 2 other customers. For some reason it took 5 staff members 30 minutes to wait on 2 people, but okay, who am I to judge? Finally, we get to a person who looks up our already existing cellphone account with AT&T.

We're in luck! My daughter is eligible for an upgrade, which means we don't have to lose our Family Talk Plan rates (almost half of what they're charging now, but I digress). The staff member waiting on us is taking all kinds of information, and then right before she finishes I ask, "So, our plan won't change? We'll still be paying what we pay now for service?"

"Well, you'll have an additional $30 charge a month for your daughter's phone for the unlimited data plan, but besides that, yes, the lines will be the same."

I say, "Hmm, but we already pay $30 for unlimited texting and now there will be another $30 charge just for one phone!?!?"

We are then told the charge is non-negotiable from iPhone. You can't just have texting, you MUST have unlimited data even if you don't want to use the Internet. It's not AT&T who is enforcing it, blah blah blah.

I say, "Well, can she IM instead of text?"

I am told, "No, IM and text is billed out one in the same. If she IMs on her iPhone without unlimited texting, she'll be billed for each one." Holy crap.

My mind does fast math and says, "Wow, paying that fee with tax is like buying a new iPhone every 6 months." And I'm sorry, but in a time of increased food, gas, and everything else prices, I just couldn't see being forced to pay it ... for 2 years (because you get locked into the iPhone contract for an additional 2 years regardless of current contract length).

Daughter says, "But you have the money."

I say, "Yes, we have the money, but that's because we don't make stupid purchases ... like this one. We need to stop and think."

Call me crazy, but am I the only one who thinks this isn't right? I know people out there who have the iPhone and have never heard or read a one complaint regarding this extra monthly fee. Don't they mind paying $30 extra a month just to use their iPhone? Am I just cheap?

After having a discussion with daughter explaining my apprehension, I told her we needed to sleep on it. Before she was home even an hour, she went on the AT&T site and picked out a different phone with a touch screen, GPS, the 3G thing (no idea what that is, but iPhones are excited to have it), but also a slide-out keyboard, and uh, hello, WiFi. WiFi, which means if she wants to go on the internet she can when in "hot spots" WITHOUT paying for it or an additional $30 fee. Hello, Tilt! Personally, I think it's better than the iPhone, but I think the name iPhone is what attracts consumers. Like iPods. I have an iPod and I have another knock-off and yeah, the only difference is their shape ... oh, and that the other was a quarter of the iPod cost.

I know in this age of "the next best thing" where everyone wants to jump on the bandwagon and camp out all night just to get a damned phone, it isn't very cool of me to use a modicum of thought and think before we buy, but I if a lot more people did this, mandatory charges would be a thing of the past. Consumers could control the way businesses treat us and the prices we pay, but I am just one woman who has one happy daughter happily texting away on her new cellphone.

Christian the Lion

2008-07-21T11:30:00.001-05:00

I don't normally share videos, but I just saw this on the television and literally cried my eyes out. I played it over again and cried all over again, thank you very much. I think this is absolutely one of the most touching and beautiful videos I have ever seen. It's only a bit over a minute long. Please, give it a look and let me know if it touched you as well.

Edited With New Entry For Myself & You

2008-07-11T13:45:00.011-05:00

Original post is below this one, but lastnight I came up with an entry based on Jason's picture. Actually, these two fools began to chat inside my head and I just wrote down what they said. It's rough and unpolished, but 249 words and unfutzed around with. (My original entry was taken from my journal and was not a creative piece of fiction although the comments I received were nice ones at the contest) So, based on the photo above, I bring you (and no offense to Jason, you'll get it when you read the last line):

____________________________________

The Mothership

“I don’t quite know what to say,” Ned leaned out the window of the Photo Hut.

“Then just answer me this … are there round orbs of light?” Vern asked, expectantly.

“Yep, I’d say that’s about right. Little blurry though.”

“Damn it! Not again.” Vern punched at his bike seat.

“Now, Vern, not too blurry. Fact I’d say anyone who looked at your photo would know exactly what they were seeing.”

“Ned, don’t shit me on this.”

“Buddy, I shit you not.”

“All those years gettin' laughed at. All those bitches who left cause I couldn’t get no ‘real’ job …”

“Yeah, yeah, Vern, I know, I know. Come on now, it ain’t gonna open itself.”

“I know that, but … I been doing this most ‘o my life. This here’s been a long row to hoe. It ain’t easy bein’ the only guy in town chasin’ UFOs ‘stead o’ women. But old Vern’s not so stupid no more, is he? And just last week you were talking 'bout me moving out on account of yer old lady. You mighta missed out …,” Vern flicked open the envelope, turned the picture over, and stammered, “on … wait, this is … it’s my …”

“That my smart old buddy, ain’t no mothership ... it’s yer damn bike! And Vern, while I got yer ear, I want yer jagged ass off my couch by tomorrow. I mean, what kind of fool takes a picture while driving a bike, anyhow?"

______________________________________________

at Jason's place. The picture did nothing for me, but I had something written in a journal long ago that fit, so I cut about 400 words from it to create my piece.

It's the first time I used something pre-written for one of these and this personal. All of my entries are completely made up so this one probably one even get many comments. Oh well, I needed a nice break from the summer doldrums. I'd appreciate you reading and commenting here: http://clarityofnight.blogspot.com/2008/07/entry-10.html as the purpose of these contests are for Jason to increase his statistics and get a better writing community going.

Forgot to mention, and this was the most important part -- if you ever wanted to write or have the hankering to write or are already writing, but not "out there" about it, these contests are really great for anyone, at any level. A lot of first timers with no real writing aspirations place the highest. If you don't care about awards like me, but need a pleasant distraction, then this is a GREAT break from those slow summers too. There's so many bloggers I interact with that I would LOVE to see in these contests. I actually can't think of one I wouldn't want to read in this setting ... so I thought if I could convince you with a paragraph, this would be the one. Convinced yet? =)

Thanks in advance, Everyone.

Leg, Thy Name is Hollow

2008-07-06T14:12:00.003-05:00

A few nights ago, I did the unusual and had a dinner of mostly vodka, tonic, and limes. Feeling very tipsy and unable to read a book with words that wouldn't stay still, I wrote this in my journal instead. I re-typed it here and apologize for all the blurred tenses and everything else:

"Leg, They Name is Hollow"

And spinning, they name is bedroom. I admit it, I'm drunk. Fact is, I have social anxiety and hubby, son and I were trying out a new restaurant tonight -- something Roadside. Ed's Roadside. Ed's Road Kill. Praying not. Whatever it was, due to the fact that the new waitress didn't know we're big tippers, she set us smack dab in the middle of the room. Social phobics need corner tables, but are too scared to request them. Quite a quandary.

Thankfully, after being seated at the wrong table, I had the sudden courage to request a large alcoholic beverage. Vodka tonic with a lime twist, to be exact. Not just one, but 3. And they were HUGE -- over 16 ounces of pure beverage, tiny smidgen of ice.

After that much alcohol was ingested within 20 minutes on an empty stomach, who the hell knows what I had for dinner? Something peppery that needed a bit of salt, but I was too busy freebasing a straw the size of a mosquito's proboscis to care. Ooooooh, then it hit. That magical tingly delicious feeling the learned folk call TIPSY. Oh, Joyous Tipsy ... how you make my husband a rare comic genius and the odd new restaurant with an overwhelming amount of knotty pine and chairs made out of twigs now seem charming. A table in the middle of the room frightening? Au contraire mon fraire, all the better to see all the pretty people surrounding me!

The drinks and time go by so quickly. Dinner is done and when my son asks me to ask the waitress for a small plastic sword just like the one he has in his celery sticks, Drunk Brain yells out with college frat boy zest, "Why the hell not?"

"Would you like the check?" Waitress asks before I can claim the booty. Drunk Brain thinks, "How can I give the barman my life savings? Most barman give you much tonic, little vodka, glass full of ice, but not this fantastic barman. This soldier of spirits does just the opposite and I LOVE him for it.

"I need a plastic sword," I tell Waitress who has been waiting while I mused over new found love for barman.

"Excuse me?" Waitress now confused and can't keep up with Drunk Brain.

"Ha ha ha ha," I laughed, "A little one, like you gave my son ... you see, I need one ..."

"Oooh, yes, ha ha, of course ..." Waitress answers, like she actually "gets it."

"Yes, the little ones, yellow, just like his ..."

"Yes, right away," Waitress says, happy to leave my scary gaze, and yet in seconds bravely reappears again with the spoils of war, not one but two, and a gigantic smile all for me as well ... as if I'm an idiot or a small child or a small idiotic child. I grabbed at those swords like I'm Henry VIII and it's a turkey leg, then smiled triumph. My son whispered, "I was joking. My God, I didn't think you'd actually do it."

And Drunk Brain looks at the Stuart Little swords and then at your empty glasses, the last of which is a mason jar. This is when my affable and wonderful, sober, coffee-drinking husband says, "There's something completely wrong about drinking a vodka tonic out of a mason jar." And Drunk Brain realizes it IS in fact a mason jar so I try to say something clever and end up saying, "People who drink alcohol out of these scare me." What!?!

Ride home. At least a pint of vodka is in longer in your stomach and husband is following a small motorcycle holding average sized male and omfg in heaven super-sized female whose ass cheeks look like 2 hams trying to attack the back tire. I blink and look over at husband who is not sure if I'm drunk enough for him to make a comment about a plus-sized gal without getting hit. You let him off the hook with a, "That's odd." Husband's so grateful you're not being PC tonight says, "That's too much weight for that bike!"

"What?" Drunk Brain asks.

"See the tires. The fender's almost on the tire."

You laugh. I mean, it IS a comical sight. Tiny bike, 200 lb male, 350 lb female (I'm being kind), it makes Drunk Brain giggle a bit.

Husband amazed he has you laughing says seriously, "They need a cruiser." Then goes on to explain how cruisers are for "heavy weights" ... built for comfort and for bigger butts.

Drunk Brain finds this absolutely hysterical, but it doesn't know why. Out of the blue I say, "Most mopeds have a 187 pound weight limit." Did I just make that up and spit it out as fact? Yes, I think I did and it made me love Drunk Brain and how knowledgeable it is and then husband says, "Jesus, if you're going to take HER for a ride, you'd better put the tailgate down and back up into her."

Forget it. I can't breathe. I'm officially hysterical with laughter. At home now, I'm purple with laughter, not breathing, and even more so when confused son is being told the joke step by step by father with visual aid of my truck's tailgate, husband's tiny ass sliding back onto it.

Oh, Drunk Brain, I love you. You are THE BEST.

(By the way, during the night I HATED Drunk Brain as it wouldn't let me sleep and the next morning, I absolutely loathed Drunk Brain because it had joined forces with evil Killer Headache. Blargh.)

Splinter View With the Vampire ... Lover

2008-06-29T23:44:00.004-05:00

Dear Anne Rice,

I have insomnia. It's not your fault or anything. In fact, since you turned religious, which meant dumping vampire stories for Jesus tales, you haven't made me lose a wink of sleep. So, don't think the insomnia thing is directed at you. This first paragraph is just me telling you why I'm writing you at after 1 AM, EST.

First I think I should say, I was born on Halloween. No, maybe that's not right at all. This letter really has nothing to do with being born on Halloween. What really needs to be said is ... I have always loved vampires. (And no, I'm not one of those kooks dressing up like the undead and role playing down at the local Take a Big Bite Bar. I know vampires aren't real, thank you very much.) Yet, the first book I ever purchased from the book mobile at my terribly abusive elementary school was Bram Stoker's Dracula. It seemed huge, there were lots of tiny letters, no pictures, and many pages. It seemed much too adult for me at the time, but that never stopped me from doing anything before, so I persevered and ended up loving it. REALLY loving it. Loving it like, "Hey, now I can be a kid with insomnia who is afraid every shadow is a vampire getting ready to suck my neck" love. I've covered my neck with a blanket and/or sheet every night of my life since. I'm 37. I still do not leave my neck open to the perils of the night. Old habits die hard. (Like potato chips and that "no one can eat just one" thing, which admittedly gets me every time.)

But to get back to the point, Mrs. Rice, I loathe you. There, I said it. You see, since Bram's novel I have read vampire stories. I read a lot of other things as well too, but yes, the vampire reading lust was there. My brother was into vampires as well and would give me all of his vampire books after he finished with them. My mother was also into vampires and had me watching vampire film very early on -- since I was in a crib, in fact. I was the strange child who used to bite at her crib during the night like a rabid rat trying to free itself. In 1970, this was okay. No one cared about lead paint or splinters. Nibble away, Beth ... at least you're being relatively quiet and hey, you'll sharpen those fangs perhaps.

Once again, I'll get back to the rub. I found your books long after the first vampire novel of yours came out, but who cares? I found them, didn't I? I'm a library junkie, so no, you didn't make a lot of money off of me (I bought Vittorio and the film "Interview with the Vampire, but that was it) ... yet I still read you. Religiously. One after another. I read you and said to people, "THIS is writing! This is how vampire tales should be told. Anne Rice doesn't just write about vampires, she lets you live the experience. When Anne Rice writes about Egypt, you can feel the dust in your throat. No silly Buffy crap or Forever Knight bull, no quirky vampires who are also half werewolf and like to have sex. Blech. Total shite. Anne Rice gives us classic literature to a vampire drum beat. Delicious. She is the master of the genre and everything else pales in comparison."

Don't get me wrong, I watch "Buffy the Vampire Slayer ... still. Two episodes a week. I watch "Angel" 15 minutes every morning, Monday through Friday. Hell, I even watch that slop on Fridays better known as "Moonlight." ::hanging head in shame:: Hey, I'm trying to support the genre over here and keep it going on television, so yeah, I've watched the silly vampire stuff and even loved it and sure, I've read a few vampire novels not written by you in my time, even those in the ::gulp:: young adult section, but Anne, please, homo-eroticism aside (as I find myself strangely turned off by it) ... those other authors simply are not you. Those other stories can't hold a candle to your in depth writing and research, your characters, your stories, your beautiful words, and dark deeds. A novel that takes you through hundreds of years seamlessly without all the silly jibes and "Oh, I'm such a clever writer" buttering their own bread bullshit. You were the only one doing justice to the vampire novel and now what?

Jesus? Jesus!?! Are you kidding? No offense to Jesus, I mean, even my son calls him the greatest superhero to have ever lived. (walking on water, giving the blind sight, wine out of water ... if you believe that stuff, it really can't be topped ...)

I mean, yes, great, you're religious and you've found God. I get it. Terrific. But does this mean every penny made writing about darker subjects has now been donated to the Catholic church or have you decided, "Nah, I'll keep the money, but just atone by never writing about them again."

Who are you hurting by not giving the world more Lestat? Satan? No, Anne, you're hurting ME and thousands like me who haven't read a decent vampire novel since 2003. 2003! Can this be right? Yet, you've put two Jesus Christ novels out there since then. TWO. Zero to Lestat, two to Jesus. Humph.

Look, I don't mean to be sulking or a prat, but I've heard it through the grapevine you just might take your faith and run with it, make Lestat some super Jesus Christ hero and redeem him or some such thing. Fine, I can do redemption. Can't wait, in fact. Seriously, I CANNOT WAIT! Pump that turd out already and give those of us who are awake way past their bedtime something else to do besides write you stupid letters on their blogs. This is my one and only and yes, final plea.

Yours waiting in the shadows,

Beth

From the Garden

2008-06-23T11:14:00.009-05:00

Now that everything is growing in my garden, I thought you all would like to see some pictures of this year's progress. If not, well, then ... who needs ya?

I have no idea what the flower on the left is below, but perhaps you do? It started growing in even rows in my two triangular beds, so I'm pretty sure it's not a weed, but since it was a couple of years ago since I planted Thomas Jefferson seeds, it could be anything. This one below is taller than me! The next one is of course, a rose (a huge Dahlia is beyond that), and it's my first bud of the season (since taking this there are many more showing their color, it happens so quick!). If you look closely, you can see a spider peeking on the side of the rose and a web, which I let stay put as he's keeping my bushes pretty much pest free. =)

Here's my own patch of Dianthus in full bloom. This huge patch, which is roughly a foot tall and a foot wide started from one small 2" flower I received in a Styrofoam cup with a ribbon around it from my son a few years ago for Mother's Day. It's one of my favorites in the garden. The other is a close up shot of the petunias I chose for my hanging planters I have on either side of the front doorway. They're nice against our cedar shingle siding.

On to some veg, yeah? These are my first tomatoes, two of them about the size of a nickel each, off a plant that it's a tin container. All of my veg is now being done right in my flower beds or in these old tin cans. I'm not a tomato fan and neither is anyone else in my family EXCEPT my son, but I have 8 plants all looking nice. Eat up boy, there's too much to go around. Since the salmonella scare, I'll also be sharing these with the rest of the family too -- the extended family.

And then we have my broccoli plants, I have quite a few of them, nestled between my Alpine strawberry plants from President Jefferson, once again. I am trying to use up all the "wasted" space in my garden by doing these dual plantings areas in one bed and mulching it all to keep weeds at bay. So far, so good. It was a wacky idea that now, I'm actually kind of digging. A break from tradition, yeah, but I get more bang for my area.

Well, I hope you enjoyed short this tour of the garden. I left out a LOT of flowers/herbs and a whole lot of veg, but this is just a sampling for this week. They'll be others. In truth, uploading is just a giant pain in the arse. So, anyone else planting out there? Anyone still eating tomatoes even though they could kill you? Discuss.

Exercise Your Right ...

2008-06-16T07:08:00.004-05:00

to vote. My beautiful daughter wants to pierce her nose and then wear a tiny diamond "chip." Although I had mine pierced as a kid, before it was cool or "in" as daughter keeps reminding me, I don't want my daughter doing the same. After her recent break-up with her stupid ex-boyfriend of 14 months, she seems to be going through many changes and I don't want her doing anything out of sadness or anger or just on a mindless whim. This is my attempt at democracy and rational thinking, but I will have the final say along with my husband, of course. =) (By the way, the picture of piercings I posted is no one I know, but my personal nightmare of daughter's face if I say "yes" to just one.)

Since I can't get a real poll to work on here, I'm doing it the old-fashioned way. So, away we go:

Would You Give Your 15 Year Old Daughter Permission to Pierce Her Nose (not by herself, but at some wacky tattoo place that also pierces)?

A.) Yes, most definitely.
B.) Yes, but only after a 3 month waiting period.
C.) No, absolutely not.

Just a pick a letter and comment at will.

Yes, Yes, but No, No

2008-06-09T07:10:00.004-05:00

One of my favorite things is asking my daughter a straight question, only to have her put on an Italian accent and answer, "Yessss, yesssss, I mean, noooo, noooooo." (It's from an episode of "Angel" we once saw.)

This Monday in lieu of updating you on the trials and tribulations of the Neurotic household, I would instead ask a kind of question that encapsulates my daughter's favorite response.

So, in my best Italian: Yes, yes, what television show (or book) have you found that you absolutely adore when it seems everyone else around you doesn't even know it exists?

And: No, no, no matter how much other people tell you of about this TV show (or book), you just won't hop on the bandwagon. You really cannot stand it at all.

Happy Monday, All!

*My answers are, of course, "Dexter" on Showtime. (which I'm happy after mentioning it to 24Crayons, her and her husband began watching and loving as well) Book would be Kate Fennigate by Booth Tarkington. A classic, I believe, but not well known.

*Answer for second is ANY crime or hospital drama on TV. There's just too many. I'm open to any book so long as it isn't trashy romance.

Desperately Seeking Dexter UPDATED

2008-05-31T11:32:00.005-05:00

*Meeting with school officials occurred and some justice was had. Teacher who saw boy's behavior went to meeting at our request and told everyone there the boy did shove my daughter twice. School officials would not interview witnesses who saw daughter being thrown, but we have it on record of the names, what happened, and that the SCHOOL, not us wouldn't do the interviewing. I also wrote all teachers involved with my daughter regarding the ridiculous behavior of school/principal and one of the boy's football coaches received it. He went to the principal and to this boy to tell him if one more incident of ANY kind occurs with my daughter, he is off the football team. This is on record as well. (This is a huge blow to this kid as his father would probably disinherit him if he didn't play and a big win for us.) We're drafting a letter this weekend of the entire events and sending it to all appropriate channels so the Board of Schools on up knows exactly what went on here and then we are putting this to bed. Thanks for all comments. Just so you know, you cannot sue a school unless your child's injuries require hospital care. Many of told us to do this and we contacted many lawyers, from big firms to private practices with the same answer. Thanks again for letting me use this place to vent. I'm looking forward to a peaceful summer!*

As you can see, I'm now using my blog to promote my latest obsession -- Dexter. A Showtime Original that airs Sundays at 9pm. So good, NBC is running a tamed down version as well.

Dexter is a what 24Crayons called "a missionary killer." Sure, he loves to kill, he IS a serial killer, loves blood, and to hunt, BUT he only kills other killers, pedophiles, rapists -- your basic garbage in society. And as a personal aside, he looks soooo hot taking out the trash. And since these people are "bad" people, who cares? Cut them up, I say.

This brings me to my latest familial plight. My daughter was pushed ("thrown down" as witnesses described) down to the ground by her ex-boyfriend in school AFTER he threw a cup of ranch dressing on her last Friday. He ruined a shirt, a purse, but more importantly, skinned her knee and threw out her hip. After all, she's only 105 pounds, he's 230. More than double her weight.

Apparently, since he is also what the principal told me "a future football star," he was not given the full punishment nor was he even admonished. I actually had to sit and listen to this bizarre and ridiculous woman tell me about the "future football star" for about 10 minutes. I would try to say, "Excuse me ... you're not actually listening to me ... you're just talking right over me." This big boy was given one day out of school suspension (for apparently just "fighting back"). My daughter was given one day in school suspension. Why was she punished? For spreading rumors about him and even though she was told the rumors were "true," it's still not nice to talk about someone. I agree, but isn't it worse to abuse a girl? I mean, even the teacher who had her in in-school suspension for the day yesterday told her, "I've never seen anyone punished for rumors ... ever. And what they gave to [ex-boyfriend] wasn't right."

Needless to say, my husband and I have been dealing with quite a mess. Now the superintendent has been informed that we will be seeking legal action. This man assures me that if anyone did not punish this boy because of football, he will. He's reinvestigating and that means actually asking witnesses that saw my daughter's ex do what he did instead of believing his word against hers.

But it's day two, he still hasn't called back and I know for a fact no one was called down to the office for additional investigation. And the boy's parents let him go to a party over the weekend AND took him shopping all day yesterday. What punishment! Of course, they believe their son did nothing but defend himself ... against my tiny daughter.

This is one of those times I could use a Dexter. A nice clean-cut fellow who would pay this boy a visit, stick a needle in his neck to subdue him, strap him onto a table, cut him into pieces, bag him and throw all those messy pieces away -- just like garbage.

Even the superintendent not being a rat bastard and actually possessing common sense would be good.

Conversation in a Wal-Mart Bathroom Stall

2008-05-27T11:07:00.005-05:00

Scene: Mother (me) outside bathroom with two teenage children. Teenagers upset because mother (again, me) drank 44 ounces of water right before going to store and now must use bathroom. ABSOLUTE MUST ... and as using public restrooms causes germaphobe mother (that's right, ME) to take 30 minutes instead of the usual 5, well, you get the picture. Kids are not patient creatures.

I walk in bathroom, scan for people, hit my purse against germ-encrusted doors searching for cleanest looking toilet. Settle on middle one. Before entering I am startled to hear female who is invisible, shout: "Do you have the time?"

Me: "Uh, no. Sorry."

I temporarily forget about wanting a better planet and line toilet seat with 3 toilet seat covers quickly as bladder is about to explode. I haven't used paper towels in three months, after all. Sitting, staring at filthy booger-covered walls, I hear Invisible Woman (angrily): "Guess I'll go home and watch that damned TV. "

Me (wondering if woman is talking to me or herself or perhaps her silent invisible friend): "Uh, yeah."

Invisible Woman (less angrily): "Is that what you do? Watch a lot of TV?"

Realizing I'm done and have been done for a while, but am just sitting here feeling trapped by Invisible Woman who seems to be in desperate need of a friend or a better TV set, I reply: "Uh, sometimes." (My speaking part could be from a Beavis and Butthead skit)

Invisible Woman (a bit angry again): "Well, do you work?"

Me (now rather strangely affronted, but pensive. Wondering if I answer wrong, will Invisible Woman turn into Invisible Serial Killer Woman and pour acid over my head): "Uh, I work, I mean, not for pay though. I garden. I move things. (move things?!?) I just do a lot of things ... for no money though, but yeah, work is a part of my life ... without the money though." (Wondering if I really had to stress that I work so much for zero dollars. I'm not Mother Theresa or a coal miner.)

--Silence--

--Silence for a bit longer--

I keep waiting. I hear nothing else. No stall door open and close. No exit door open and close. After another minute, my ego now focusing on metal germ stall I'm encased in, I get ready to leave. I leap out to the sight of no one and begin my 5-minute public restroom hand washing ritual. Luckily, Wal-Mart's sensors for nearly everything (water, hand soap) make this a bit easier than normal. (no feet necessary)

I exit the bathroom to see my two disgruntled teens standing there looking exasperatedly back at me.

Daughter (visibly upset): "Oh my God, twenty minutes just to pee?"

Me (ignoring daughter): "God's all yours, huh? Seriously though, did you see a woman come out of the bathroom?"

Daughter: "A woman? No. You mean, besides you?"

Me (hurried): "Of course besides me. Why would I want to know if you just saw me come out of there? I saw you seeing me come out!"

Daughter (not really listening anymore): "What?"

Me: "Never mind. I just want to know if any woman exited this bathroom before me, like maybe a few minutes before me even as the whole hand washing thing is a nightmare for ...."

Daughter: "Yeah, I know about your freaky hand washing skillzzz, but I saw no one else."

Son: "Can I just ask how much longer we're going to be here?"

Me (to son): "You didn't see anyone else either?"

Son: "I didn't realize we were supposed to stand guard, but I didn't see anyone else except you. Are we leaving now though?"

--Cue creepy music.--

Apparently, instead of going on a nice picnic or camping trip for the holiday, I had a conversation with an odd, invisible woman who either needs a friend or kills unsuspecting lazy people she finds in Wal-Mart bathrooms. I hope your Memorial Day was a bit more fun and interesting.

Well, was it?

Mighty Dianthus

2008-05-19T12:52:00.004-05:00

Sure, we're heading for a recession ... or are we officially in one? Still, that's no reason to let your yard go to Hell though. Or is it? Okay, let's decide it isn't so I can bring you the mighty, the cheap, the beautiful Dianthus flower.

The first time I was introduced this to this flower was about four years ago, right before Mother's Day. My son bought one in a styrofoam cup from school and snuck it home to me (since he was officially to old to be cool and buy his mom flowers anymore) I didn't know what it type of flower it was (perennial, annual, strange visitor from an alien planet), but put it in one of my flower beds anyway. I've transplanted it once since then and I can tell you -- it's the easiest flower I've ever had that's turned into it's own bush.

You can get them at discount centers for under $3 for six (yes, six!). One of these flowers will grow about 8" tall, but spread out about 2' into continuous blooms that weeds canNOT penetrate.

And caring for them? Stick them in the ground (not a wet area) where it'll get at least 5 hours of sunlight and water them once a week. Yeah, I wrote it, just once a week, not daily! In urban locations, put them in the center of a pot (in a few years, they'll fill it). Dianthus will bloom and bloom and bloom all throughout summer and into fall (mine goes well after the first frost). If you want to deadhead (pinch off dead blooms) you'll have more flowers and a bigger plant, but it isn't necessary. This is a no care flower that gives you lots of beauty without any fuss.

Dianthus comes in a few different colors and styles, but the above is the from the variety and color my son gave to me. His one little 2" flower is now over half a foot tall and a foot wide. Not bad, especially since he paid a buck in total.

So, what's your miracle plant/flower inside or out?

Being a Mom Means ...

2008-05-12T10:10:00.006-05:00

... no matter what your kid looks like or acts like, you believe they're the most adorable, best looking kid on the planet. Genius? Are you kidding? Your kid is always the smartest. Even in modest parents (parents who don't say it out loud), they're still thinking it: "My kid's better than your kid."

It's only natural. It's how our species survives, keeps populating, keeps thriving. Even after your kid breaks that one-of-a-kind antique you'll never be able to replace because really, it actually was ONE-OF-A-KIND, you can still look at them later (albeit a few weeks later), sigh and think, "Geez, he's just the bee's knees."

I get this. I accept this. I'm a part of this. I must admit, as my children aged, I stopped clinging so heavily to the concept that they were infallible, however, but not in the case of my two youngest kids. Oh, but you thought I only had 2? No, no, I have the 2 I talk about ... and then, there's the two I don't. The two who really do no wrong. All they do is bring the family pleasure and love, that's it, and oh yeah, they are perfect looking, thank you very much, but both are mentally-handicapped. A fact we haven't been hiding from anyone, but it just usually doesn't come up in pleasant conversation and has never been actually diagnosed.

So this Mother's Day, instead of telling you how great the oldest 2 are or how well my husband did or didn't treat me yesterday, I will instead formally introduce you to the other half of the brood.

Meet our 8-year old, Scully:

We call him "Skull" as it makes him feel more manly and rugged. In reality, he's much more like Lenny in "Of Mice and Men." In this picture he's saying, "I am tired from all dat huntin' last night, Mom, and I jus' need to sleep. I like bitin' da soft things, Mom, and you need to stop puttin' dat camera in my face now." Long ago some mean girls were throwing him (as a kitten) back and forth on a trampoline, high in the air. Just for fun! My children stole him, we had him live as a stowaway with us until we could get him to the vet. When the mean little girls came calling for their kitten, "Pumpkin," a few days later, I told them, "There's no Pumpkin here. There's a Scully whose just had a big vet's bill, but no Pumpkin. Run along now." Scully's likes: seafood, crunchy mice (the real kind), and long walks through the forest. He also adores head scratching, chin scratching, and cheek scratching. His dislikes: Water, birds (he can't catch one to save his life ... or end theirs), and the child below. Which brings us to:

Our 5-year old, Drusilla:

Drusilla was adopted from a pug breeder who smoked many cigarettes, but had few teeth. She was the runt of the litter and the last one left on the day we showed up. I did not want a black pug. I did not want a female pug. I wanted a fawn male as I have always had.

The teeth-challenged breeder said, "Pick her right up and handle her for a minute." I shrugged, then did. She snuggled in my neck and whimpered, then rooted in my neck, and I felt my resolve fade. My husband said he literally watched a human melt that day. The breeder said, "Take her home for the night and see how she grows on you." Five years later and I can safely say, she's my favorite kid in the bunch. My oldest know this as well. If I tried to lie and say she wasn't, you'd be able to see it. Wherever I go, she goes and if she can't go, she howls like a wolf until I get back. It's very bad this attachment I have to this youngest child because like all relationships, someday it mustend, but let's not think about that.

Drusilla's likes: Chocolate (which is poisonous to dogs and therefore strictly forbidden), grapes (which cause kidney failure in dogs and also are forbidden), cat food, sleeping in bed with her parents in any position that makes her father have to pull his legs up under him like a fetus all night long, and long walks with her mom through the forest. Dislikes: Being away from her mother, Scully, and sleeping on any surface that isn't cushiony soft.

So, there you have it. In case my oldest two children see this, I will write long, loving sermons of devotion to them another time. Happy Mother's Day (belatedly) to moms of every kind of creature!

Put 'Em Up

2008-05-04T16:15:00.004-05:00

There are certain phone calls some parents never think they'll receive. On Wednesday, I received one of mine, which roughly went like this, "Your son is in my office. He's been suspended for fighting in school. You can come get him now and discuss the matter with me or wait until tomorrow." It was the principal from the middle school and I opted for "now."

Apparently, a large boy in my son's study hall was repeatedly hitting him with a flyswatter. A used, bloody, and disgusting flyswatter. The first day this happened, the study hall monitor walked in right as it started and took it away. The second day, the boy went in for the flyswatter, my son jumped up to grab it and shouted, "Oh, hell no," and and shoved this large boy back before he could be hit by it. The boy pushed my son back, which ended in my son punching the other kid in the eye and then busting him in the jaw ... for good measure.

In the office, hearing the principal tell me the story, one part of my brain said, "Violence is bad. Violence begets violence. I wish the study hall monitor would actually be their to MONITOR the study hall," while the other part of my brain actually had me smiling at my son. That part of the brain had me thinking, "Wow, my son DEFENDED himself. Two good shots and the bully with the flyswatter wouldn't even retaliate. Not bad. Violence good. Violence thrilling, in fact."

Let me just say, this was the first time my son has ever fought in school. Let me rephrase that, this is the first time my son has ever hit anyone in school. He's 14. He's not a bully and doesn't have pent up rage a la Pearl Jam's "Jeremy." My son was simply sick of being swatted by a filthy flyswatter. Even though this was his first offense ever, he had a mandatory 3-day out of school suspension. This is school board policy because we are a "sue happy" society and if my son had broken this kid's jaw, who knows what would have happened to the school? Blah blah blah.

The good news was if my son attended a class at high school for 2 hours daily, he wouldn't be marked absent and could do his whole day's work in those 2 hours, so wouldn't be behind when he gets back to school. We definitely took the school up on this offer.

In the end, I didn't punish my son at all. I'm surprised my husband didn't buy him something big, sharp, or threatening as a reward. My husband was actually relieved and ecstatic at how my son reacted. And my son celebrated his 14th birthday last Friday by having Chinese food, a carrot cake, a friend stay over and seeing "Ironman." After all these years, he still likes superhero movies. Maybe the idea of those movies have really stuck with him. The idea of sometimes if you don't stand up for yourself, you'll spend the rest of your life being pushed down.

So, the question for the week is, when was the last time you had to stand up for yourself and did? When was the last time you should have stood up for yourself, but didn't?

Rising Gas Prices Means Less Groceries?

2008-04-28T07:48:00.005-05:00

(I want to be clear, the post below is not how I live my daily life. Some of it most definitely is, but this post was created for those families who are now either not eating due to gas prices or who are having to go to a food bank. Being frugal is not built-in. I am in no way suggesting this is the optimal plan for life, but just a few ways to shrink a grocery bill during an emergency situation.)

I've been seeing a lot on the news lately regarding the price of fuel meaning middle income families are now having to go to food banks or just skip meals, etc., to get by. I have a little experience living in poverty with children. (Thankfully, things have changed.) I know firsthand about having just a bit of money and four people to feed. Just a few years ago, I remember having only $25 for a full week of groceries and I thought for anyone not knowing how to cut grocery costs (I don't think it's built-in for all just as I cannot do algebra), I would start writing a few blogs giving tips on how to do just that. I'd love it if readers could also leave tips or ask for ways they could spend less on ____.

Here we go:

1.) Say good-bye to processed and pre-packaged foods/meats. Say good-bye to the deli and the bakery. This means junk food and soda as well. I'm always amazed when I see Doritos, Lay's, Coke, and candy in a cart where a person is paying using their food stamp card. These things are not a source of nutrition and will KILL your food budget. It's time to learn how to bake again and make a pitcher of iced tea from tea bags. A significant amount of money for the average American is spent on these things and it's just too expensive if you're living on a budget. (I realize I've said this before, but it needs repeating)

2.) Take out all the non-edible frivolities. No sprays or oils to make your house smell like it's an apple cinnamon palace, no paper towels, no napkins, etc. Unless it's toilet paper, you don't need it.

3.) Instead of sandwich bags and freezer bags, buy only generic plastic wrap. It will fill all of your storing needs for the time being.

4.) Find a neighborhood supermarket that has weekly meat sales (buy one get one free, $1.99 or less per pound). They are out there, but you must look and it may not be your favor market. So what? I buy the best cuts of meat (93% ground beef, steak, boneless chicken, you name it) and I never pay more than $1.99 a pound. One week boneless chicken breasts are $1.79 per pound and that's all I'll buy. I'll buy two large packages and when I get home, I'll separate these packages into 6 servings that I then freeze. Usually 2 breasts will do any one recipe. If I'm serving the chicken, I cut one breast in half so two pieces feed 4. This same thing can be done with ANY meat. Once you start doing this weekly, you build up a freezer full of different meats that you then create menus from, which brings us to ...

5.) MAKE A MENU. Do not guess what you will be eating and DO NOT shop daily. Plan ahead and stick to your list, go ONCE a week. I read an article once where it had statistics and doing just this, making a list (menu) and sticking to it, dropped a food budget by at least 30%.

6.) Make at least 3 meals in your week what I call "ghetto meals." Breakfast for dinner (french toast, whatever you like) because breakfast foods rely on eggs, which is still a cheap source of protein. A casserole. Usually made by leftover meats, a cheap carb (half a bag of egg noodles ... reserve other half for next week), a can of mushroom or celery soup, a can of green beans, mix and bake. Or toasted cheese and tomato soup. Plus, you can do the "twofer" meals which will be below.

7.) Good-bye fresh fruit/produce. I hate to say this, but once you're in a financial pinch, you'll need to know buy frozen (frozen spinach is a deal always as there is a LOT of it in one little frozen package) or canned. Fresh is normally twice as expensive. Once the warmer months hit, if you're craving fresh, you can hit a farmer's market or stand by the side of the road. Even better, grown your own in containers. Packets of seeds at Wal-Mart are only 10 cents!

8.) Au revoir to name brands. Staples should be bought at stores that cater to generic brands. Stores like Aldi's or Save A Lot, which are all over these 50 states. Here you can buy pasta, rice, oatmeal, canned soup, and a ton more for a fraction of what you would pay in a big supermarket. By fraction I mean a $1.50 box of name brand pasta in your favorite supermarket would be .39 cents in one of these stores.

9.) Cook once, eat twice. One night you have spaghetti and meatballs and the next night you take the reserved meatballs, add some sub rolls and have meatball subs. Steam some frozen broccoli tossed with your favorite dressing topped for a side. One night you have beef stew and the next (or two nights later) you have beef pot pie. You just add the crust, which is just butter (Crisco), flour, and salt, and costs all of about a buck to make. A buck to feed your family one more night, not a lot. Spareribs in the crock pot one night, pulled pork sandwiches two nights later. Just add the rolls and the vegetable.

10.) Downsize personal care products. One shampoo, one conditioner, one bar of soap for the ENTIRE family. Suave will help greatly in this area as their shampoos are a buck in lesser department stores. Pure and Natural soap is free from dyes, etc., and is good for kids and adults plus it's cheap. A buck for 3 bars. Come on, now. Hygiene is non-negotiable, but for $3 to have shampoo, conditioner, and soap, it doesn't need to be discussed.

Again, if anyone has any tips, let 'em rip. Or if you need help cutting costs in an area, throw it out there in the comments section.

Sweater and the Stormy Sea

2008-04-16T16:13:00.005-05:00

UPDATE: Octopus Knits saved the day in a big way by re-writing the pattern and giving me a TON of advice/tips by e-m ail. Even if you don't knit, check out her blog, it is ABSOUTELY amazing, visually and creatively and all the rest of it. (if you love cats, you'll love it even more!) Thank you, Nell, for being my miracle!

Ahhhhh, I can see my husband in my mind's eye on the prow of his own sailing vessel. The sea's mist bouncing off his naturally water-retardant fisherman's knit wool sweater that his dutiful wife made for him. Nevermind that he doesn't actually have a boat. He wants one. I'm sure someday he'll have one and heck, if any person needed a boat to own a fisherman's knit sweater, well, then, there'd be a lot less of them in the world I'm sure. Actually, it's not a hot item here in the states I don't think, but anyhow ...

It took me a long time to find this particular pattern. I showed more than a few to my husband who shrugged, rolled his eyes, and even made fake vomiting sounds. This pattern was like the Holy Grail. His eyebrows perked up, he smiled, and then exclaimed, "That's IT! That's the one! When can I get it?" (No concept of just how long something like this takes to knit, that's for sure)

So, I ordered the wool and while I'm waiting went back to the pattern and read it over. One time, two times, three times ... hmmm. That's when it dawned on me. I can't figure out the pattern at all. It doesn't tell how many stitches to cast on with, when to switch to what, how many pieces it's in, etc.

Then it struck me ... I'll just put a shout out on the old blog. Call upon the charity and intelligence of others to help. Here I go:

Calling all knitters! Help! The pattern I'm trying to figure out needs to be a medium, which will give my husband a little space to move around. What size needles do I use? How many do I cast on originally or do I not cast on at all for a sweater? (this is my first)

Would any knitters out there be helpful enough to translate this pattern for me? Break it down into pieces and a pattern that makes sense? I don't usually knit from spring on to fall when gardening is in full swing, but my husband's birthday is in August and I'd like to be able to give him the one thing he's asked for since I first learned to knit -- the sweater in the above picture. It's a lot easier and cheaper than a sailboat.

I would be grateful for the rest of my days, but not more grateful than my husband for any help or knowledge you could impart. The pattern is free and at this website: http://www.knitting-crochet.com/meniripul.html

Please, please, please, help, help, help. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Oh, the Weather Outside is ...

2008-04-09T14:56:00.002-05:00

Delightful! I'll be back (both reading and writing) when I have something semi-interesting to say or pictures to show. The gardening season has begun. Whoopee!

(Thank you all for your comments on the Grant situation. Onward and upward.)

When Push Comes to Shove

2008-04-03T19:11:00.003-05:00

Grant is leaving my home tomorrow. He has been physically hurting my son, it has escalated to the point where I asked his mother about taking him over vacation, and she said he will be leaving our home all together. She is afraid her son will "snap" and seriously injure my son or someone else. Apparently, there are things we know nothing about in his past and she now sees that he needs psychological help. We don't get a say, but to tell you the truth, I'm relieved.

I only hope this kid can stop blaming the rest of the world for his shit and take responsibility. One thing I know for sure -- I am not a miracle worker. One more -- I really love my family and am grateful for each and every one of them.

It's a Jungle in Here

2008-03-31T06:55:00.007-05:00

All the children have been safely dropped at school and now is the blessed time I've had so little of as of late where I'm all alone, watching the news, drinking a cup of tea with honey, and updating the old blog. Ah, blissful silence. A surprise bout with what seems to be the flu has forced me to settle down a bit and what better way to spend time than blogging? (reading on a the beach on a warm day in Maine, yes, that wouldn't suck either)

In Grant news (my new teenage houseguest), we've had ups and downs, unfortunately more downs than anything else. He may/may not be going back with his mother at the end of this school year. We are trying our best, but in the end, it may be that the kid just wants his mom to do the job she was supposed to do all along. I don't know. As for now, everyone involved is committed to him finishing his school year in our district, in our home. After spending a weekend with his mother, Grant seems to be less combative and ready to take advantage of the opportunity here instead of squashing it to unrecognizable bits. My peaceful house vibe reared its beautiful head yesterday and I'm hoping it stays around for a while instead of sinking back down and hiding out.

In other personal news, I've been reading "A New Earth" by Eckhart Tolle and bought it for a good friend as well (24 Crayons). In the beginning, I had reservations because:

a) It's connected to Oprah.

b) It's connected to Oprah.

c) It's an Oprah book club book.

OK, you get the point, but I can tell you ... even for those of you who don't particularly adopt Oprah as your own personal deity, this book is life changing. It took me a while to get to the life changing parts, some re-reading and digesting, but I can honestly say, if not for this book, I may have already brought Grant back to his mother. It's helping me in all facets of my life though and in the biggest parts -- letting go of wanting to control and my inner anger. I just recommend it highly.

Besides that, spring is coming. Well, that's what the weathermen in upstate NY tell us even though we had a huge snowstorm last Friday, but tomato plants have arrived in stores along with flowers, seeds, containers, and soil. I may have to dig underneath a couple feet of snow to be able to plant any of it, but hey, it's a labor of love, just like life itself.

What are your plans for spring, Bloggers?

To Be Continued ...

2008-03-24T14:56:00.002-05:00

New person living in my home, springtime, and just general upheaval. I can't really give any time to reading or writing right now. As Arnold once said though ... I'll be back.

The Principal's Office

2008-03-18T06:52:00.004-05:00

... still sucky after all these years.

Grant, my son's best friend since the age of 6, now officially lives with us. His mother completed papers stating he would live with us permanently (until adulthood) full-time, including all weekends and holidays/vacations and had them notarized to boot. We were a bit surprised she didn't want him at all at any time, but she was also sure to mark down "not responsible for child financially." Thanks, Mom!

We had a bit of a rocky start, Grant testing the waters a bit, but after only a few days, I can finally see the light at the end of the tunnel. He's settling in fine and responding great to routine and structure. All papers are signed, notarized and delivered, yet there's still one problem -- he still isn't in school.

So, what's the hold-up? Say hello to our middle school's new principal -- a stern man with a buzz cut, who I kid you not, could give Mr. Woodcock a run for his money. While I was supposed to be going to his office yesterday just to drop off papers and pick up Grant's schedule, I instead sat in his office while the man glared at me, yawned, asked meaningless question regarding Grant's background, yawned some more, asked a new meaningless question about if Grant was a disciplinary problem, yawned some more, and then cut me off when I finally began to speak by just turning and picking up the phone. It was BIZARRE. The kind of bizarre where you can't help, but think Alan Funt's corpse is going to pop and say, "Surprise, you're on Candid Camera!"

I left with a vague idea of Grant starting school possibly tomorrow and a bit of rage starting up inside of me, but nothing actually concrete. I decided to call in the big dog, AKA husband. I didn't want to do it, but today the principal will now have the unpleasant task of explaining to my husband why he feels keeping a child who has been legally living in with us in his school district since the 14th with his knowledge has been made to be truant from school for 3 days. "But hold on a second," I imagine hubby saying, "Don't explain this to me. Please, let's call the superintendent and have you explain it to him as well." One of the things I most treasure about my husband: he gets results. One more thing: he actually cares for another teenage son emotionally and financially as if he were his own without complaint.

Now if I could just get over the fact that I have a 13, 14, and 15 year old. Heck, I always wanted four children. I just didn't think I'd start having them again in my late 30's and almost fully grown. Upside - no morning sickness, stretch marks or elephant ankles.

So, what surprises have you bloggers out there had lately? The good, bad, or even the fugly?

Funky Cold Medusa

2008-03-13T11:49:00.004-05:00

Forgive me, Tone Loc, for I have sinned ... and massacred the name of your 1989 hit for my own selfish gain. Oh well, you didn't write it anyway. Atleast, that's the word on the street, "street" being Wikipedia.

Funky Cold Medusa -- that's how I feel.

First, I desperately want spring to occur. While I have enjoyed the camouflage of bulky sweaters and my trusty hooded sweatshirt, I still find myself believing the weatherman's seductive promises of warmer days. 35 degrees is a paltry "warmer." I'm not complaining. Well, yes, I am, but I fully realize 35 is better than -35. I'm just really ready for the ice and snow to disappear already, if only on the 400' driveway I have to Scooby Doo try to run up when I leave and sliiiiiiiide down when I return.

Then on top of it, I live in NY, so can't watch television without the Spitz 'er Swallows coverage preempting anything and everything. Enough already! It was illegal, he cheated on his wife, disgraces the family, his daughters, and didn't want to use a condom, the prostitute had a Myspace page, gasp, shock, awe -- I don't care! If this messes with Smallville or Reaper tonight, I'm throwing the tv out the window.

And now for the biggest upset of all, the piest de' resistance if you will, my son's best friend (the one I've written about more than a few times) is actually coming to live with us tonight or tomorrow. His mother was going to ship him back to an abusive alcoholic pot smoking father, but dear old dad didn't even want him, so hubby and I volunteered for the job. Lunatic mother of boy accepted ... only to change her mind a day later BUT called back two days later (last night) saying, "No, he needs to be with you. I was listening to friends and family telling me this is wrong, but this is what he wants, it's what's best for him. I'll handle everything tomorrow with the schools and sign whatever you want me to sign." She's basically handing her kid to me, the same one who is failing the 8th grade and who I'm told, "desperately needs your help if he's even to make it to high school next year. I just can't do it."

I feel like this is both a blessing and a curse. I try to stay in the present moment, but in Medusa-like fashion, the little snakes in my mind say, "Where will you get the extra money?" (Crazy mom has already said she can't afford to give us anything, but we didn't ask or expect it.) Then there's, "How will this affect the kids you have? Your son? Will he now start doing poorly as a result of living with a best friend and feeling it's a free for all?" Oh, and let's not forget the ever popular, "Son's best friend doesn't even have insurance and can't be put on your husband's, his mom for some reason won't put him on Medicaid even though her other two children have it, so what will you do for doctor's appointments, dental and eye care?" Call me insane, but I'm big on dental and eye care ... even the yearly physical. Humph.

And these are the days of our lives. Perhaps with time I'll have that cool "look me in the eye and you will turn to stone" power. Hey, it could happen. There'd be a lot of lawn statues around if it did. You ever see the "Git R Done" guy in alabaster, you'll know what happened.

Hope your week is going better than mine, Bloggers and Buds. Any signs of springtime in your necks of the wood?

The Mad Hatter

2008-03-03T11:24:00.004-05:00

Yes, I am addicted to knitting, thank you very much. In January, I began making baby hats (my niece was due for her first child) and wanted to share some of the outcomes with you all. The during and the after. It was the first time I used double pointed needles, four of them to be exact ... and they're a lot less intimidating than I first thought.

Anyhow, if you like the design and knit, it's right online if you Google "tomato beanie baby." This is not how I found it, but googling this does work. I am a cotton girl and used Peaches and Cream yarn in multi-baby, basic red, purple, sage, and emerald green. All else was exactly like the pattern on the net.

My first baby hat in progress.
First baby hat done.
Tomato hat made into eggplant hat (changed stem), in progress.
Eggplant hat done.
Tomato hat done.

Today is my daughter's birthday so when I have more time, longer post, possibly one dedicated to daughter unless she says, "Absolutely not, Lady!" Happy Monday, All! Happy birthday, Daughter!

You've Got the Write Stuff

2008-02-22T23:09:00.005-05:00

Hi, everyone! This lovely picture was taken by Jason Evans and sets the stage for his latest writing contest over at The Clarity of Night. Just what the doctor ordered to break up some of the winter doldrums.

If you're in need for a quick writing fix, try this out -- only 250 words and you have until February 25th to complete it.

If not, enjoy some of the writing. I never cease to be amazed how the same picture evokes so many different stories of every genre.

Admittedly, my own husband didn't appreciate mine or even understand it, but what the heck ... I'm #24, Fade to Black. Pop over if you get a chance. Any feedback -- good, bad, or ugly always appreciated! (unless you're my husband who has never written even a paragraph in your entire life and then become critic of the year overnight ... you just stay away)

All others, welcome!

Madness in Morons ...

2008-02-18T13:09:00.005-05:00

should unwatched go. Hell with it, completely ignore it ... at ANY cost!

If you've never read about my son's friendship with Grant, you may be a bit confused with this post. Fast recap -- my teenage son met Grant as a kid in elementary school, they immediately became best friends, friendship turned into brotherhood, then Grant's crazy mother took him to Arizona for a "better life."

No, I'm doing this all wrong, what you really need to know is Grant has two biological parents (not together) who are both equally crazy, neither really want this kid so they shuffle him back and forth every few months ... every time they get sick of him, off he goes. When Grant's with his mom, he's back in NY where my son is in close proximity, and since his mom doesn't really like our family, she doesn't want him with us.

According to Grant, she's upset because she feels he enjoys coming to see my son too much, and has too much fun with my family. Oh, and if that weren't enough ... because we offered to have Grant live with us. She couldn't afford to take care of Grant so was going to send him back to a father who we all know is physically/mentally abusive towards him (she told me stories of the abuse face-to-face) and we were like, "Uh, try us first." This was the last straw with her. Yes, his father is abusive, yes, he has serious mental issues, does drugs in front of her son, carries a gun around in case "things get too tough in the world and he needs to check out fast," but how DARE we offer her son a safe place to live just because she can't afford to do so. Well, I guess she told us!

So, Grant left again (last July) for Arizona and came back just a few short months later (this January) to NY because and I quote, "My father had a meltdown and went crazy. He told me just to get out."

Now, this is the rub, Grant's mother has told Grant she hates our family. She told him he can only come over once every couple of weeks and ONLY if his attitude stays "good." I asked Grant what is a good attitude. He said, "I have to act happy at home. I can't come home from your house acting like it's better than where I live. I can't be sad or depressed ever. If I do, I can't come here."

Hmm, okay, but the fact is, why shouldn't he be allowed to express happiness at spending time with his best friend? He now lives in a 2 bedroom apartment with his mother, her mother, his aunt, and three other children. Of course, the kid is happy to be sharing bunkbeds with my son and not a closet with two other siblings. Why wouldn't he be happy to be on a rural plot of land surrounded by trees instead of asphalt surrounded by gangbangers? Is there any logic at all in her head?

Then there's the flip side. The part where every time Grant leaves NY and comes back, he's changed -- a bit colder, a bit more distant, a bit more rude. (This time I can REALLY see the attitude difference and it isn't for the best.)

I have promised myself I would not get embroiled in the drama any further. I also promised myself I will not play the "game" with his mother. The "game" being me jumping through hoops to please her so that her son is allowed to come visit. No, those days are over ... as is my naivety that Grant will stay in NY, have a mother who puts him first, and have a normal life.

When I started this post, I had a question to ask -- what would you do, what should I do, something like that, but now I realize I can't really do anything besides being there for my own son and daughter, making sure they never experience even a bit of what Grant sees every day. I can't save Grant and I hope his life ends well, I hope he blazes his own trail instead of staying on the one his parents have cut for him, but I have to understand it isn't my job to make it happen. Ahhh, that feels good to write and get out.

Damn It All To Hell Burger

2008-02-06T09:22:00.000-05:00

My darling daughter believes cursing is wrong and the use of such language makes people sound "retarded." My son does not. Can you say polar opposites?

I myself feel that yes, cursing is wrong. Swearing is bad. Vulgarity is well, vulgar. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know, but sometimes cursing can be funny. Sometimes swearing is downright fan-f*cking-tastic. In heavy traffic, dealing with rude people, arguing with the significant other, joking on the phone with a friend, vulgarity can be an effective tool of communication.

I've tried to be a good mother and to teach my children positive ways of living. Around my kids, especially when they were young, I hampered my own potty mouth. But, come on, no one is perfect, especially those of us who may be inflicted with road rage. That being the case, my children have heard a few key phrases. Daughter winces while son reaps all the benefit.

As I mentioned in last week's post, my young male offspring recently got contacts. After the eye appointment, which ran almost 3 hours, he was "starving" and asked if we could stop off and get something to eat because he didn't know if he'd be able to survive the hour drive home without nourishment. At 5'9" (he's going through a major growth spurt still) and 110 pounds, I said it would be fine. Burger King is his fatty drug of choice and the BK Double Stacker Meal is his particular brand of poison. (Don't chastise me, clean eaters of the world. My kid gets fast food only once a month. Put those stones back in your pockets.)

Back to the story, my husband orders son's meal in the intercom, goes on to order his own, when a woman who must have a particular aversion to the English language shouts, "Hey, now hole (her word for "hold") onna (on a) minnit (minute)". My husband, having no choice, "holes on" ... and on ... and on ... until Omnipotent Illiterate barks, "Now, go on!" Like, "you should have known when to start speaking again, ya Big Dummy!"

After order is done, Son is visibly excited. Double Stacker of Greasy Triple-Bypass Love soon to be in grubby hands. Husband is relieved to be done with inquisition ... er ... order. Husband pays, order gets thrown into his hands, and son starts reaching up through the backseat. I hand him his, what I notice to be, anorexic BK Stacker, and a second later I hear, "This is just a ... a ... cheeseburger. There's no double stack. No bacon. No sauce." The kid sounded like he'd lost his best friend.

I say to my husband after eyeing the receipt, "You paid for the BK Stacker, so, we should go back around and get it. They're over 4 bucks and that's what he wanted." We do in fact go back around.

We're pleased to find out, Omnipotent Illiterate is no longer on intercom. Now it's nice normal man who asks if he can help us and apologizes when he finds out the error. He tells us to drive around, he'll fix it. We drive around, we hand Anorexic Underdressed BK Stacker to worker at window and then we hear nice normal manager say, "A BK Stacker is NOT a cheeseburger wrapped in a BK Stacker wrapper. (son shaking head up and down vigorously in backseat) What do you mean you don't know what it is?"

Omnipotent Illiterate shouts, "Hole onna minnit! I never maidit (made it) befo (before)."

Manager - "A bun, a patty, a piece of cheese, another patty, another piece of cheese, two half strips of bacon (a whole 2 half strips??), rodeo sauce, and top of bun."

About three minutes later, a burger comes flying out at us with another apology right behind it. We are polite, we shrug, "no problem," blah blah blah. I hand burger back to son and we're off when son suddenly exclaims, "Jesus, man, look at this."

Husband, needing to keep his peepers on the roads asks what's wrong now.

Son, dejected - "It's just terrible looking. It's ugh, it's gross."

Husband who is NOT going back even if there's a penguin with cheese on top and two half strips of bacon shoved up its ass says, "Well, the person making it has never made one befo." *Giggle giggle*, "befo," *snort*

Son, in snowballing depression mode, "Yeah, but man, this is more than sloppy. This is like a Damn It All To Hell Burger. Look at this," and he shoves it in between the two of us and if there was ever a perfect name for that concoction, "Damn It All To Hell Burger" would be it. How can you chastise such a perfect use of swearing and description? You can't.

So, I say, "Just be lucky the manager watched it being made. Otherwise it'd be a Damn It All To Hell Burger with Extra Spit."

Son "lost his appetite." Oh well.

And this made me wonder about your stories. Any fast food horror stories out there? It's been quiet around the old blog lately so hopefully this is a good and plenty topic!

A Genuine Threesome

2008-02-04T07:46:00.000-05:00

Good morning, fellow bloggers! I'll just get right down to it -- I don't like blogs with multiple subjects or updates because I have the attention span of a flea, but now I'm breaking my own rule because I have some genuine good stuff happening around me. If you have a flea-like attention span as well, worry not, I made the first line of each paragraph bold ... so you get the scoop without the extras. Trust me, I'll be brief.

1.) I'm a great aunt, again! No, I don't mean I'm terrific at it (although I don't suck), but that my niece just had a baby girl named Shelby. How "Steel Magnolias" can you get? The baby is beautiful and healthy. Mom is doing well, but what I've realized is as much as babies are magical sweet-smelling creatures, it really IS nice not to be responsible for them, not to have to change them, clean them, or try to guess at their cries ... to be able to give them back and go home to my fully independent teens. No more baby pangs for me. (shaking head vigorously)

2.) My 13-year old son now has contacts! While this may not be earth-shattering news for the lot of you, for me, it was a strange experience at best. My little guy is now almost taller than his dad and therefore is too cool for glasses. Go figure! I'm sure the beautiful young woman helping him fit his contacts at the optometrist's office didn't up his cool factor any. The more she smiled at him, the more my son went, "ooh, ah," poked, prodded, blinked, apologized for the teary eyes, until finally, both were in and life was good. After only one day he's putting them in like a pro.

3.) Oh, and in case you haven't heard, THE GIANTS WON the Superbowl! If you haven't seen me post on other blogs discussing football, then you probably don't know how much I detest the Patriots. Poor sportmanship, smugness, cheating, this team had it all, and to me, none of it was good. A perfect season? Why Lord why? Why reward the wicked? And then the universe does the right thing and a smackdown was heard round the world. I've been backing Eli ever since his big brother, Peyton of the Colts, was no longer in the running. I told my husband Eli was the man who would actually beat Brady if they want to the Superbowl together. Secretly, even though husband equally hates the Patriots, he thought I was bonkers. I prepared the feast yesterday, it was day long, and told my husband, "When this is done, there will be Eli standing in confetti. Believe it." And it happened? Is it wrong to admit I cried harder when the Giants won than I did when I first saw my niece's new baby? I am now a lifelong Giants fan. =) Ah well, congratulations to my niece, my son, and the Giants!

Heath Ledger

2008-01-28T08:32:00.000-05:00

I don't normally do tributes, obituaries, or anything of the sort, but I have to say, the recent death of Heath Ledger has really rocked my world. I liked Heath when I saw him in the film, 10 Things I Hate About You back in the late 90's. I liked him so much in fact, I said to husband, "Okay, here's one of my predictions ... this kid's going to be big, really big, Oscar-nominated big." Then I proceeded to write it in a journal where I keep all my predictions. (the one of Leonardo Dicaprio after seeing him in "Growing Pains" and Jim Carrey after seeing him do standup ... I haven't been wrong yet)

He was cute to me, in a strange way. Strange face shape, odd hair, but I knew Heath Ledger had real talent and I waited for another movie, watched them as they came out, enjoying each and being entertained ... until I went all by myself to the cinema to see a little film called "Brokeback Mountain." I even wrote about it in my blog when it happened.

People in my family picked at me, yet gays all over the world felt vindicated while homophobes made bad jokes. I was glad I saw the film because I actually loved it. Loved it enough to buy it, which for someone as thrifty as myself should say something.

I guess I feel like not only has a young life been cut short, but a great future. I feel Heath would have won an Oscar instead of just being nominated if time had went on and he continued to act. I find it strange I predicted he would only be nominated instead of actually winning one.

I believe the world would have been lucky to see and have more of his work and I'm sad his family, and the world, and even the acting community is without what I feel to be a truly bright star.

I'm proud of Daniel Day-Lewis for pointing this out at the SAG awards and even more proud that he shut Oprah up during her silly Oscar bullshit to call attention to what was more important, Heath's death. If only she had actually cared instead of pretended to care. Still, Daniels' outpouring was heartwarming to see instead of TMZ and ET and a whole bunch of other initials bent on ruining lives and journalism trying to uncover some story at anyone's expense.

There is said to be two more films of Heath's still coming out. I, of course, look forward to them, but more than that, I wish he were still here and there was still more to come. My own selfishness. I just believe truly great actors are few and far between, and Heath was definitely one of them. One of the best.

The Cold and the Dutiful

2008-01-21T08:48:00.000-05:00

The temperature is 10 degrees outside, of course, the wind chill is below zero. I'm kind of hating the winter this year and can't wait to be done with it, but today isn't so bad. The kids don't have school, so I don't have to go out in it at the crack of dawn to drive them to school. That's the upside.

The downside is I also didn't hop on my treadmill to get in a good workout. I'll use "the kids are home" as an excuse. For some reason, when it comes to exercise, I can find a million excuses not to do it. And yeah, I dislike that about myself.

I did quit smoking almost 8 months ago. I do have some sticktuitiveness. Some. Very little.

This brings me to my question for all of you -- Are there any healthy or positive habits you have created for yourself recently? Are there any you want to have, but somehow make excuses not to follow through? Any advice for me?

And as a side note, but an important one, hearing Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. speak usually gives me a lump in my throat, sometimes I'll even sob. I've always felt that way about him, since I was a child living in a racist home. I am happy he has his own day and not just because it gives me the opportunity to not go out in the cold. Seriously though, I can't help but think ... now the face of Civil Rights has Al Sharpton? Something is just so not right about that.

P.S. Congratulations to Eli Manning and the Giants! I picked you to win after my beloved Colts lost, but last night's win was one hell of a game! May they forge ahead to CRUSH the Patriots. Fingers crossed.

Sock Monkeys and Chickens

2008-01-14T08:09:00.000-05:00

An unlikely combination you say? Perhaps, but not for me.

For years, I've been under the decorating thumb of my surprisingly manly husband. I am not stretching the truth when I say this man can decorate! Never mind the gruffness, the football watching, truck fixing, the mechanical mind, the wood working, t-shirt wearing rock and roll dude, and just focus on the "queer eye." He's a genius with placement and even does custom-framing. This could be why since I was 18 years old and freshly married, I've allowed my husband to pick out most everything for the house -- antiques, nautical oil paintings, old sailor's maps, etc.

Then I said to myself, "Come on, Self, don't you deserve to like anything you look at during the day?" This is when I bought my first 3 sock monkeys and placed them on a high shelf in my bedroom surrounded by my beloved classic novels. Every time I looked up, I smiled, so a purchase of a black and white sock monkey print (again for the bedroom) soon followed. I loved it even more and decided to integrate the sock monkey theme into more rooms.

I made pillows for the living room (Chinese upscale fabric on one side to please husband and silly sock monkeys on the other for me.) A bathing sock monkey on a ceramic tile for the bathroom? Why not? Just little things like that, but then there came the kitchen dilemma.

In the kitchen, there's roosters and chickens (but not too much). While I do think they're beautiful, there was no place to put a sock monkey and not make it look odd. Heck, even my good china is transfer ware rooster dishes, but what about sock monkeys? How could I fit that into my old-fashioned decor? How could I put the two together? A few weeks went by and while searching for my answer on the Internet, I came across this painting:

Done by an artist who calls herself Breezeb, I fell in love with the silly thing and also bought another of a spotted chicken and cowboy sock monkey so I'd have a "set." I matted them, framed them in beautiful oak, and wow, they looked like expensive whimsical art when I finished. They set off my one empty kitchen wall completely. Much to my amazement, my husband thought they were "cute" and didn't complain at all. Even the kids liked it.

My only problem was accessories. Sure, I have a rooster rug in the kitchen and two ceramic roosters sitting atop a high shelf, but I wanted more monkey. So, being a bit crafty and good with my sewing machine, I took the above print, raided my scrap fabric, created a template, cut out a pattern, and diligently quilted it using the embroidery stitch onto two green hand towels. Now they are proudly displayed on my oven's handle, but here's one to show you:

Now, for the usual question: I find I sew, knit, and create because I can make things that bring me joy I wouldn't necessarily want to shell out big bucks for someone else to do. What is something you create or do that brings you joy?

Hoodiewinked

2008-01-07T01:09:00.000-05:00

UPDATE: I'm putting the update before the post so if anyone who hasn't read it is confused, see below. The girl is now saying she gave the sweatshirt back to my son. After saying she loved it, would pay for it, and even slept in it, last night she told him, "Oh, I just remembered, I gave it back to you." When my son became upset and pointed out she had e-mailed him saying she had it, wore it to bed, didn't want to give it back etc., she freaked out and started saying too bad for him, too bad for his mom, she doesn't have it. Needless to say, he's VERY surprised at this turn of events. In his 13-year old words, "I never knew she was .... well, psycho." So, lesson learned on letting girls run all over him, I hope, and karma should handle the rest. Thanks again for all the advice. It is always appreciated.

Once in a while, I use this blog to ask a question related to my own personal life and sadly, this is one of those times. I'm just going to dig right in ....

My son is 13 and a pushover. He's non-confrontational and kind of a drifter, a loner. He hangs out with a couple of friends, but not regularly (about every other week) and I think if he had a preference, he'd rather be alone with his imaginary friends in video games (Oblivion or World of Warcraft, but mainly Oblivion) than the sparse ones he has attained.

You should also know that long ago he liked a girl named Allison and never told her. Big shocker. Allison is still just a friend, but at this point, his crush has ended. (or so he said) He also says he wishes guys his age weren't so hell bent on "scoring with girls" because he's not at this point, which is another thing all together.

Last summer, my family went on our annual vacation and spent a small, wet portion of it at Block Island. The ONLY souvenir my son has from the ENTIRE trip is a zip-up Block Island hooded sweatshirt that cost almost $50.00. He LOVES this hoodie and wears it almost every day. Scratch that, he USED to wear it every day up until a few weeks ago.

I notice he's not wearing it, I ask him about it and he gives me a bunch of excuses. A week or more passes, I ask again, he says it's at school, and then some more time until I finally feel something's not right and tell him, "Get that sweatshirt out of your locker and back home or I'm nixing video games until you do."

Finally, he breaks down and says Allison asked to borrow it because she was cold, wore it the rest of the day, took it home, and never brought it back. Every time he asks for it back, she says she forgot it or a number of other excuses. Finally, I had him write her on Myspace (he doesn't have her phone number) and demand the sweatshirt back with an embarrassing caveat, "My mother is going to come into school and request a meeting with your parents for this sweatshirt if I don't get it by Wednesday." I let him add his own stuff about just skipping the embarrassment, bringing it in, blah blah blah.

He wants it back. He still loves it, but he also feels I should just let it go. Even though that's his only memento from our trip, and his favorite article of clothing, he'd rather just let some strange girl keep it. (I saw her Myspace, she IS odd, and no, she doesn't like my son, she's "crushing bad" on some other teen, two in fact, both goth, both NOT my son ... so her keeping it is really because she doesn't want to bother herself with giving it back and because she's wearing it at night now or some such weird stuff)

My question is simple: Should I follow through and call the school to arrange some kind of meeting with this girl's parents or should I let the girl just keep his favorite hoodie? I REALLY want to get it back and I'm kind of pissed she took it and thinks it's no big deal to keep it, but I'm wondering if this is just some weird parental move on my part.

Roar Go Round

2007-12-23T16:54:00.000-05:00

My delightful fellow blogger, The Quoibler, nominated me for a new blog award a while ago and I am shamefully just getting to it now. ( I do thank you though!) Taken directly from her blog, here's the scoop:

Seamus started a Shameless Lions Writing Circle and encouraged bloggers to "tag" other bloggers to receive the honor of "A Roar for Powerful Words." As Seamus explains:

"How does it work? Below are copies of the award that we can each distribute to those people who have blogs we love, can't live without, where we think the writing is good and powerful. I thought interested members could kick things off by publishing the award on their own blog, naming five people they would like to give it to (members or non-members), and accompany the image with three things they believe are necessary to make writing good and powerful. The recipients then do the same, passing it on to five other people, and so on."

I too was very surprised to be nominated as I don't use this blog to write, but more as a way to connect and have fun while doing it. The first order of business is naming three things I believe make writing good and powerful and since I don't write a blog as a standard writing exercise, the tips below are for those who want to write professionally. Let's see:

#1. Going With the Flow - Stop with the outlines, counting words, and deadlines. Just write! I truly believe if writing is so labor intensive, you need to outline your story, come up with a beginning, middle, and end, etc., before you've even begun, it's just not the field for you. I also believe writing that's labored over reads like writing that's labored over. It sounds more like an essay you're made to write in college than a true outpouring. Just go with the flow and let the story tell itself.

#2. Passion - Your characters deserve to have your full attention. Writers should write because it feels like a crack habit. You'd like to take a break, but you can't. Writing should be your bliss, your escape, a sometimes nemesis, but a true passion.

#3. Humility - I believe someone is always going to write better than me, better than you, and better than someone else. When I was 18, this thought used to bring me to teary-eyed depression. Why bother? Now I see humility in writers as something else entirely. My favorite writers are those in which their success and praise received is a complete surprise to them. When someone believes they are the best writer on the block, they don't strive for better, and unfortunately, it shows. It doesn't mean you don't look at your own stuff as good, it just means you don't think it could rival Shakespeare. Believing you're the best writer doesn't make it so and in my opinion, usually makes sure you're close to the bottom rung. How can you honestly write anything while feeling you're above it all?

Next, I have to name five people who have blogs I love, can't live without, and where I feel the writing is good and powerful. This is the hard part as I had many choices, so I took all of my choices and had my daughter randomly select five from the pot.

#1. NYPinTA's Talking to the Moon. I refer to this woman as the Queen of Opening Lines. Even in a blog, she comes up with crafty openers that don't feel crafty, they just feel brilliant. In writing that first line is usually the most important and most difficult to get right. Not for NYPinTA. "My Thanksgiving turkey coma has worn off just in time for me to hit my afternoon blahs while at work." ... "I am going to do you all a big favor and save you two hours. Two hours that the Grim Reaper will not let you have back." OH, there are more, but I believe I've proven my point.

#2. Hoodie in Tales from the Hoodie. I found this blogger after being in an online writing contest with her and am so glad I did. Even if you're not entering an online writing contest any time soon, Hoodie usually posts her entries on her blog. They are well worth the read and always among my top favorites in any contest she enters.

#3. Tiff at No Accent Yet. I don't know if Tiff is as committed to other blogs as she is to her own, but the commitment she does have to her own is off the charts. Post after post, day after day, and if she takes a day off, she apologizes for it. She treats blogging as if it's her job and tries very hard to entertain her audience, to make them laugh and smile. I may only visit once a week, but I always look forward to the trek over.

#4. Fermicat at Cosmic Cat. Has there been an award where I haven't nominated this woman? I doubt it. You know those ladies who love cats and you think, man, that lady's a nut, that's just too much cat loving. Well, Fermicat is not that women, but she does love her some cat. In fact, if you're a dog person like I am, you'll end up loving cats just by visiting her blog or at least not disliking them so much. Along with her amazing cat pictures, which I am trying to convince her to have made into a book, she also has some brilliant, natural writing. Here's a recent snippet: "I was startled awake at 4:20 this morning when my 13-year old cat, Zima, decided to empty her bladder on my pillow right next to my head." And at the end ... "Update 12/30/07 - She did have a urinary tract infection. After a few days on antibiotics, she seems to be feeling much better. And I haven't been peed on, which is always a plus."

#5. Scott at Hard to Want. I'm the type of woman who when I spy a father and son playing in a park will always stop to watch them. My own husband has never been this kind of a dad and it always made me feel like my son was missing out. This is the main thing I enjoy over at Scott's blog -- when he writes about his sons ... and this makes him one of my choices.

Congratulations, everyone! You can collect your awards at http://theshamelesslionswritingcircle.blogspot.com/2007/11/roar-for-powerful-words.html.

Happy Jehovah Surprise

2007-12-19T07:43:00.000-05:00

"I'm naked. Go away." If you knocked on a stranger's door and heard this, would you:

a.) Proceed with caution?

b.) Keep on knocking and see what there is to see?

c.) Run away ... FAST?

The Jehovah's Witness who heard me scream this three weeks ago, chose answer C. And why did I yell this at the knocking man who really shouldn't have traveled down a 400 foot driveway to solicit on behalf of the lord in the first place?

Simple. Every time I take a shower, I robe up, and return to my bedroom to dress. This is when one of my children, usually my son, knock on my bedroom door. Every time. So, this time I heard the familiar knock knock knock and politely said, "I'm getting dressed, Guys. I'll come out when I'm done."

Knock knock knock. Repeated myself, but raised the volume.

Knock knock knock. "Ugh, come on, just give me 10 seconds," in an irritated, loud voice.

Knock knock knock (very loud now) "I AM NAKED! GO AWAY!!!"

Knocking stops. Jeans zipped up, I exit my bedroom, and shout, "Hey, what did you want? Who knocked on the door?"

One kid ignores me. One kid shouts, "I didn't want anything."

I look out the front door and see a man jump into a car and race up my driveway. I open the door and the familiar Watchtower falls inside my door.

New thought pops into head, 'I will scream "I am naked, go away" every time Jehovah's Witness comes down my driveway from now on.'

And this is my idea of a true religious story for the upcoming holiday. No matter what holiday you celebrate, I hope it's a great one. I hope you all have good, warm feelings and buckets of peace. A little eggnog too. The best to all my fellow bloggers and to your families, friends, and loved ones!

Heart Attack on Aisle Two

2007-12-12T15:49:00.001-05:00

I am forever looking for quicker, easier, and cheaper (in price, not design or quality) ways to do things in my life. Since the bank freeze, I've been cooking like a pioneer broad ... with hairy pits and a bonnet, but seriously, folks ... even without my recent financial trauma, I seek thrift on a daily basis. I do a LOT of browsing at my two local grocery stores and have come to realize, a lot of people are paying more for things, which just don't make a lot of sense.

Time is of the essence, time is money, time is not your friend, I get it, but really ... Reynold's Wrap Release? Are you serious? You're going to pay $3.00 more a box for aluminum foil sprayed with Pam? Why not save the cash and spray it yourself? Or even better, since Pam is now available in the same formula generic, buy that instead? And hey, non-stick sprays are an actual godsend. I'll give inventors that one.

I mean, the facts are these: One quick spritz of non-stick spray to every pan you cook or bake in and you'll cut your washing time by 75%. The extra added bonus is saving yourself the useless butter or oil calories. Next time you're making a casserole, try it out, if you're not already. Also, non-stick spray can be used in a pinch to loosen and quiet a squeaky hinge, keep spaghetti from sticking together, and hell, a can of that stuff lasts forever. It's the WD-40 of kitchens everywhere!

Alas, Reynold's Wrap Release isn't my only beef. Lately I've noticed convenience frozen products popping up like crazy in my local supermarket. Frozen biscuits? Are you kidding me? You mean, it's too taxing to take some Bisquick, mix it with milk, then drop it on a baking sheet (pre-sprayed, of course)? That isn't hard at all.

Frozen brownies? Just bake and serve! Just like Mom would NEVER have made. Because why? The .99 cent box of powder brownie mix meant you had to add oil, water, and eggs? Then, :::gasp:::, you'd have to, don't say it, STIR it 50 times and, dare I, pour it in a baking pan??? No, not that, anything but that!

Chocolate chip cookies, sugar cookies, lasagna and even beef stew. All frozen. All bad for you. All chocked full of low grade ingredients and heart-clogging fats. Not delicious or hearty, but super expensive. We've swapped taste and a normal grocery bill for this? Certainly not.

I just don't get it, but I'm starting to understand other things ... like why the younger generation is obese. Take a gander at some of these convenience food nutrition labels. They make McDonald's look like a health spa retreat.

Look, I'm not saying progress is bad. I'm not saying get a mule, plant a vegetable garden, and grind some wheat. Progress is not completely evil. Zipper? Pretty darn skippy. Food processor? Awesome. The computer, especially the laptop? Incredible, but frozen brownies? Not so much.

What do you think on the subject? Any useless inventions or creations out there you think are a total waste of money? (I just know the Chia pet will be named, but hey, at least they know offer herb gardens)

(And on a personal note, a very happy, albeit belated, birthday to Angelique, better known as The Quoibler! I hope it was a fantastico!)

The Nightmare Before Christmas

2007-12-11T11:24:00.000-05:00

After much research and digging, my recent frozen banking account issue has been resolved. Apparently, the company and lawyer who froze it used my former address and former phone number to try and contact me regarding "the debt." They have documented proof of this fact since it is their business, it's how they make their money. (buying old debts for pennies, settling for hundreds) The old phone number for me they used unbelievably (and yes, I checked) still works and STILL has my voice on the voice mail. (no, I am not joking ... and the number was cancelled about a year ago because that's about the time I switched to cable)

The person I spoke with today (a debt lawyer) gave me all the information -- the account information (a Mastercard account written off in 2002, which I still have no memory of), how their company collects debts (call a few times, write a few times, summons, then go straight to court), etc. and so forth. The story gets more involved and if you're not going through it, very boring, but the end result is the debt is actually on my credit report. The lawyer told me to verify the information for myself and it is real. Well, at least it's there, anyway.

I don't actually believe the debt is mine, but have no proof. I mean, I never had a credit card of my own back then, but ... oh, anyhow ... Apparently, there was a court date in October, I wasn't in court, and they have documented proof that they delivered a summons to my address, whether old or not, someone accepted it, and contrary to popular belief, anyone at a viable address can accept a summons and it's just like you accepted it. I forgot what the legal term for it is, but I had no idea. As long as they're over 15 and not mentally-handicapped, yep, that's the law.

Could they say they did a summons and not? Sure. Maybe. All the research shows a lot of crooked lawyers do this, but unless the amounts they're collecting are outrageous or enough people complain, nothing gets done.

The end result is to get all of the money out of our (husband and my) account bank, I agreed to pay $1,000 of the debt (which was almost $1,855 according to the bank and the lawyer) and they would take that as payment in full. They'll suck it right out of my account. I spoke with the bank manager at my local bank and she said her legal department did do a full check on this and that it wasn't a scam, it was 100% real, and hell, it's on my credit report, which I don't check because I rely on my husband for money. So lame, so stupid. I don't believe they did a full check on anything, but I'm leaving in 2 minutes to sign money away, to have that signature notarized, etc.

Bottom line is this, even stay-at-home mothers need to monitor their credit report. That was a huge lesson learned, but the biggest of all was no one will protect your money if it is in a bank, credit union, etc. If the lawyer seizing your account has documented evidence against you, another lawyer can't do anything about getting your money back. It just sits there, frozen in time, while checks and things go unpaid. Even if it turns out to be false, your money will still be held until it is fixed for up to a year. I am going back to the old method I used back when I was first married -- pay in cash or with postal money orders. Good-bye, Banks. It hasn't been great.

I will keep looking into this, the lawyer, the debt, the company, and hopefully the lawyer I contacted will finally get back to and help me, but I consider this one horrible expensive holiday life lesson. Know thy credit report. Maybe two lessons. Banks, things rank and gross in nature possess them merely. Geez, you know it's bad when I'm using Shakespeare quotes. At least the humor's still working, lamely, yes, but better than none at all, I guess.

So, time to move on. Thanks for all the advice and comments.

Unpleasant Holiday Surprise

2007-12-09T16:16:00.000-05:00

UPDATED BELOW

Hi, everyone. I'm writing only because I don't know how long I'll be gone. My banking account had a restraint put on it by some lawyer in New York City who said he won a case against me in city court. All of our money (except some we had in cash at home) has been "seized" due to something this lawyer is saying I didn't pay back in 2001.

I have NO idea what this bill is about, have NO idea who this lawyer is, and my bank (Citizens Bank) is not helping me. It's right before Christmas and the bank has decided to take all of our money.

It's been a long drawn out process of calling city court, the county clerk, even the sheriff's department. None of these people have any judgements against me. Over the weekend, my bank gave me the supposed docket number, now it's back to the beginning -- calling city court, etc.

The lawyer himself cannot be reached. If I can't reach him or fix this within 21 days, they send ALL our money to his post office box.

So, this is my warning to anyone out there. Your money is NOT safe in a checking account. I spoke with the sheriff who usually would have to deliver the papers to a bank, this should NOT have been done through the mail, and yet, it happened ... anyhow, she said NEVER direct deposit your money.

If I can't convince any of you to take your money out of the bank, maybe I can convince you not to direct deposit. This is an absolute mess. I'm trying to hold it together, trying to learn some big lesson here, but wow, it's been a hard few days. Hope yours have been better.

Update:
My bank finally gave me a docket number and there is a legal judgement against me. The lawyer took my husband's account (the one where all the money goes in) because they legally could. The bank didn't verify who this person was because the document was legal (even though it came from a lawyer and not directly from a sheriff, which is normally the case)

The lawyer is really some kind of debt collecting place. No, I have no idea what this debt is because no one will tell me. A woman called me from the debt collecting place, said the restraint should've went through back in October, said she'd call back on Saturday, here it is Monday, still no call back. Yes, I've called a few times, keep getting the answering machine.

Why is it when everything is finally going well something like this happens?

Choose to be Miserable ... Nah, That Can't Be Right

2007-12-04T12:18:00.000-05:00

I was just e-mailing an old friend regarding this topic and thought, "Hey, it's the holiday season. I'll put this right in the old blog too." And here I am!

Lately I've done a lot of thinking concerning fear, dread, misery, hate ... you know, all those Christmasy feelings you read about in those cute little Precious Moments books. I'll be serious for a moment, I believe we choose how to feel, we choose how to treat others, every moment of the day. (no, I am not talking about clinically depressed, clinically insane, or clinically, well, shut up in a clinic or asylum type people either) I'm talking about the average joe who has the normal ups and downs in life, even abnormal ones, yeah, I'm talking to you as well.

If you wake up in the morning and say to yourself, "God, I'm tired. I don't want to get in the shower. I don't want to begin my day. And oh God, traffic. Blech. This whole day is going to suck." Congratulations! You've just told the universe how you'd like your day to be served up to you. Lots of misery with a side order of shit, just to be safe.

This holiday season I've told myself to actually engage in positive thoughts. Instead of thinking, "Oh man, I have to decorate this friggin' tree that isn't even real. No one really wants to do this anymore and I hate it," I thought, "I'm going to put my favorite colored bulbs on the tree first, then have everyone else just add 5 of their favorite ornaments, and we'll be done." And you know what? My husband said it was one of the most pleasant tree decorating experiences we've had in years. I took some video and some pictures, made some tea, it was nice. It was pleasant.

So, I'd like to spread the holiday vibe around this season. If you're in a funk, try to concentrate on the good things in life. The beauty of newly fallen snow. The people who will work hard to give complete strangers Christmas this year through charity efforts. Babies in the nursery at your local hospital. Dogs and cats who may find a new loving home this year and will be the most loved present under the tree. Great music. Terrific films. Egg nog. Stuff like that.

And because I always ask a question, I've decided not to stop now. I'd like to know the last time you took what would be a negative situation and turned it into a positive one. If you can't remember, try doing it, and get back to me. Not an order ... just a friendly holiday request from your friendly neighborhood perfect neurotic.

The Teen Police

2007-11-26T15:56:00.000-05:00

In the 80's, in my teens, I adored the mall. I loved the stores, the lights, the food stalls, all of it. As soon as my friend, Andria, could drive, our first destination was the mall. Since I was a year younger, I was 15 with about $100 in my pocket and ready to shoe shop at Macy's. Oh heavenly bliss.

Let's be honest, this is kind of a right of passage for most females. You get to be a certain age, you want the mall. You want to walk around and linger, even if you only have 50 cents in your pocket, it's just the thing, right? Maybe not for all, but at least 95%.

Now at 37, the idea of mall shopping is a lot like the idea of a root canal. No, thank you, but to my teen daughter? Oh yeah, it's her paradise.

So, this is why I was shocked this weekend when she and her boyfriend were "detained" at the mall my family and I were frequenting. Apparently, teens are not allowed to walk around the mall without guardians unless they can prove they are 18 years of age. If they're caught without ID, they have to wait with the person who caught them or go into a larger store (Best Buy, Macy's, JC Penney) until parents arrive.

Even stranger was the fact that they were detained by a man in a wheelchair, not a mall cop, who perhaps volunteers or works for the mall, had various walkie talkies which seemed official looking and seemed to be on some mall cop frequency, and who proceeded to loudly lecture my daughter while he sputtered, lisped, and stuttered (To be honest, she couldn't understand a word the guy spat at her) until I could run to where she was waiting.

And ran I did. I get a cellphone call from my daughter that says, "Mom, come to where I am, a man is yelling at me," and all I need to know is where you're at. Hell, I'll track her by scent if need be. When I get to her, I don't even stop to find out if this guy was official, I got between him and my daughter (he had her against the railing), moved her forward away from him, looked down in his face and yelled, "That's about enough. You back up and cast off." This strange looking man in red glasses (the lenses were red as well) gave my daughter the oddest smile and just nodded back at me, while I guided daughter and boyfriend away.

Now, I believe in keeping the children of America safe. I watched my children when they were children. They had to hold my hand or my belt loop. They were not allowed to wander or play unsupervised, but my daughter is almost 15 and her boyfriend is 6' tall and the same age. They're okay walking in the mall. It's one of the only things they're allowed to do alone (as long as he stays with her) .

So, is it just me or is this teen police thing a bit, well, neurotic? Don't get me wrong, I'm good with neurotic, but this seems a bit like neurotic in a gestapo sort of way. Not cleaning the grout with a toothbrush neurotic, but crazy ass rule that makes no sense neurotic. What do you think?

No teens walking in the mall after 5pm, good or bad?

Contest Results & Explanation

2007-11-19T10:43:00.000-05:00

I took second place in Jason Evans' writing contest! I'm actually really surprised, but honored more than anything. Alas, I broke my 5th place streak. =/

Also, just wanted to mention, once a week (usually on Mondays), I update my blog. When I do this, I go around to all the bloggers who visited me the prior week and sometimes even the week before that. I do this to be sure I'm going where I'm wanted. Usually after going to regulars or new people a couple of times without seeing them return here, I take the hint and move on, possibly never to return. Does this make me weird?

Anyhow, I blog once a week, not daily. One blogger thought I was solely trying to promote my own blog by not visiting her more or something like that and I realized, maybe a lot of bloggers think this. Believe me, if I wanted to advertise, I'd be doing this daily. Frankly, doing this once-a-week, makes me not only enjoy it, but keeps it manageable. I want to keep this fun and enjoyable ... and nothing like work

Now for the one question I usually ask, I've shared my good news, anyone else want to share some?

Restless Dawn

2007-11-12T14:20:00.000-05:00

Hello, everyone. This beautiful picture was taken by Jason Evans and serves as inspiration for his latest contest. In lieu of a weekly post, I'm sharing my submission to his writing contest, Restless Dawn. It's only 250 words, 249 perhaps, so a quick read and here's the direct link to mine: Sunrise Faith

You can leave comments there if you wish and they would be much appreciated by me. I had trouble wrapping my head around this one, but there are some fantastic entries. If you're looking for a way to pass some time, give them a lookilu.

The Decision

2007-11-05T08:15:00.000-05:00

First, let me thank everyone who came here and offered up all that sage advice regarding my children wanting more for Christmas, then just the cash when they found out we weren't raising our limit. And to those who didn't care enough to leave anything at all? Well, piss on you. =) (humor)

I'd just like to say a decision regarding my children's Christmas was made. The monetary amount stays at $300. However, instead of little presents, little stocking stuffers, and the like, we've decided to just give them the cash. They can do with it what they like and that's the only thing they'll receive from us on Christmas.

The hard part of this was not knowing the best course of action. I have nieces who have always received so little. Their parents spent more on each other than on their own kids and these children never complained, but seemed so sad on the holidays. I don't want my children to be the type of children to settle for nothing, to not demand more, but I also don't want to raise children who feel entitled either.

In other news, my husband and I have a $50 cap and will give presents to one another on Christmas morning. We hope the children have fun playing with their cash. Something tells me they'll regret their decision of not wanting anything beyond money and I'll feel a major amount of guilt, but a statement has to be made before things get out of control.

They will also be volunteering with myself this season at a mission or Salvation Army. I am still researching where we can be of best use, but I wanted to make sure you all knew the update.

And as always, I leave you with a question: what's your biggest holiday worry this season? Thanks, again.

Greed's the Reason for the Season

2007-10-29T07:41:00.000-05:00

Every year I go through the sacred ritual of "worry about what everyone wants for Christmas and how to pay for it only using cash" followed by the annual "anxiety-ridden state wondering if everyone is happy with everything I purchased." If I wasn't already an insomniac, I wouldn't be sleeping.

As my children age, each year becomes more expensive. No, that isn't quite true. What I should say is every year the true spirit of Christmas becomes more about what was spent instead of the holiday itself. Realizing I didn't want to bankrupt my family, I became more frugal as the years passed. I began setting limits. I stopped using or or buying anything on credit.

Last year was my first year for setting an exact limit. This was mainly due to the fact that we were doing all of our complete interior and exterior home renovations plus landscaping in cash. Nothing palatial, but things which sorely needed to be completed. (things that still need to be completed, but that's another blog) So, the limit became $300 per kid. $300 for their own list, but I could get a few surprise extras. Inexpensive extras. Stocking stuffers, slippers, pajamas ... things along that line.

Now because I am really good with finding bargains, my children still received a lot of stuff last Christmas. My daughter received over twenty articles of clothing from her two favorite stores -- Abercrombie & Fitch and Hollister. (jeans, long-sleeved shirts, etc.) My son received everything on his list and even a few things he mentioned in passing.

But it takes work. A lot of work. A lot of reading. A lot of researching. A lot of online alerts, frugal bargain shopping websites ... special discount coupon codes, closed sales, auctions ending at 3am. If my time were being factored in, I'm sure it would be a thousand per kid.

Still, I was ready to give it another go, another year, another almost breakdown until my son said $300 simply wasn't enough this year. I asked my daughter if it was enough and she agreed with her brother. I said, "What's wrong with 300?" to which she answered, "The 3." Ugh. Both kids say my husband and I are out of touch with the real cost of things.

This has my husband rather livid. While he didn't go into a tirade in front of the children, privately he said Christmas had completely lost the meaning, that every "big gift" we ever bought the children ended up being ignored or resold (by them), and that they never consider the fact that he works for the money, and on and on. I agreed with him. I gave up on the idea of a "real Christmas" years ago. Greed has clearly won out. This is what I told hubby, along with the extra information of being sick and tired spending frenzied weeks trying to find the absolute best price on every last thing that goes under the tree. How everything I do for the holidays IS work, work that also goes unappreciated.

This brings me to my point. Do you believe in setting limits for Christmas? What do you think is a reasonable dollar amount per teenager? Per child? Do you believe Christmas is so important you should run up the charge cards for it or do you also believe in paying in cash for your items? Since my children feel their father and I are a bit out of touch, a bit too "cheap," I'd like to get some opinions from all of you out there. Real dollar amounts. As always, I would greatly appreciate any comment relating to the questions in this paragraph. (this is how I find out who skims or only reads the first paragraph ... haha) Seriously though, all help/info would be terrific.

Pushing Daisies and Pies

2007-10-21T13:10:00.000-05:00

As I child, my bedtime routine was more akin to no routine at all. I was not bathed, put into pajamas, and helped to brush my teeth. I never had a strict bedtime and I never, not once in my entire childhood, was read a bedtime story. I heard the phrase "tucked in," but it was something never done in my own household. My parents, my father normally, might shout, "Get your asses to bed," when we were being particularly loud, but otherwise, the routine at bedtime was more of a non-routine.

I think this may be partially the reason why my children always had a bedtime ritual. Bath time, brush teeth time, followed by story time. I also sang a song to each child, one special song for each child each night, before kissing them good night, tucking them in, and turning off their respective lights.

Doing this wasn't because I felt like I got gypped, but I suppose there was something missing. A certain hunger, a constant craving. I was born an insomniac, so without a bedtime ritual, there was just little Beth staring up at the ceiling, wondering when the next Child of the Corn or vampire would attack. Still, I didn't miss a bedtime ritual. How could I miss something I'd never known?

Then came Wednesday, 8pm, and ABC station's, "Pushing Daisies." All of a sudden, a voice like an angel came out of the television telling me about a young boy named Ned, who has the power to bring back the dead to the living with one touch and send them back again with another ... for good. If he does not touch the undead within one minute of the first touch, someone else must die to take their place. Someone else in close proximity. Aha. Plot thickens.

This narrator is so wonderful, I wish the voice could narrate my own life. I stole that quote from my son. His exact quote, "I wish that dude talking would narrate my life." And the narrator's voice must be particularly good ... J. K. Rowling uses him, full name Jim Dale, for the audio adaptations of her Harry Potter series.

Every Wednesday night at 8, I feel clean, brushed, tucked in, and ready to go on a magical adventure with Ned, Chuck, killer crash dummies, southern-accented China men, or whatever else they deliver to my television set. Jim Dale's melodic voice sets the stage and the incredible actors deliver stellar performances. I'm a child again and nothing is too farfetched. I believe all of it.

From the beloved pie maker, Ned (Lee Pace), to the quirky love interest, Chuck (Anna Friel), the whole cast is riveting, the colors are not just colors, but techni-colors, and the story is always so delightful, so strange, so dark, so whimsical, that it's completely appetizing. As appetizing as the homemade pie you can find at Ned's restaurant, hilariously named -- The Pie Hole.

So ... I hope I've convinced some of you to join me for one of my beloved bedtime rituals every Wednesday night. If you already have, terrific, let's chat about it, and if you haven't, why not? This show is by far one of the best on television and that's not just my opinion, The New York Times, Variety, Newsday and a host of other publications agree.

Bagged and Tagged

2007-10-14T17:03:00.000-05:00

OK, hope I'm doing this right. Fermicat, a blogger I just happen to adore not only for her amazing cat photos, but for being a genuinely nice blogger to be around tagged me for this SEO (Search Engine Optimization) MeMe.

UPDATE: LINKS ARE REPAIRED!

The skinny is (taken from Fermicat's blog): "This seo meme was conceived and designed by Bobby at Revellian .com. This is a new fun seo meme ride for us all. This is based on the seo theory that links to posts inside your blog are more important than links to your home page. I have selected three posts I want to promote along with my site’s name. You will do the same thing. Let’s keep it simple and spread our good work around to both share and build some ratings!
Make sure you pick three posts that you feel are your best. You could also select 3 posts you simply want to promote. Your site name is listed with your 3 selected posts beneath. Once you have your post up: Add the sites and post links of the folks you tagged onto your post. Try to add the site and post links to anyone involved to maximize the effectiveness. Tag a minimum of 5 people. Try your best not to double tag people so it will spread better! Please actually read the posts from everyone so you can see some really good work from our beloved blogging friends! Make your title a little different from mine to avoid repetitive titles."

This is the list I believe that comes before me:

Mariuca - Wishing On A Falling Star - Love In Disarray, In Love With A Dream, The Good Client

Mariuca’s Perfume Gallery - Perfume Shopping Spree, Defining Beauty, In Full Splendour

Speedcat Hollydale Page - Rocket Boy in Hawaii - DC9, Speedcat’s Death Ride into Terror!, The Boy Inside All Men

Terri Terri Quite Contrary - Just How Immature Are We?, Finding a Voice, So Much More to See than the Game

Mahala - Uncle Huberts Custom Cows, Pray for the Child at Big Lots, The Legend of Saushie's Crotch

Tiff - How am I like Ron Weasley, A Social Experiment, Absolutely Boring Entry 101

Cosmic Cat - Just An Ordinary Thursday Night..., Not Gone With The Wind. Just Gone., The "Weekly Thoughtful Reminder" And Other Hazards Of Working

Field Lines - Even MIT Girls Get the Blues, Bye Bye, Friend, Bad Hair Day

The Perfect Neurotic - The Sticker, The Last American Virgin, Aunt Ellie, Come Get Your Ass

Revellian dot com - SEO Keywords For Beginners, Content: The Kings Illegitimate Stepchild, Tales of Blogger-X Illusion

As you can see above, I have chosen my three. Scott picked number two. Number one is personal and I just quick-picked number three because I think it's funny. Funny and embarrassing, but funny ... at least to me.

I have to tag three people. Still hope I did this right. I'm tagging SpunkyMunky, Hoodie, and Quoibles. Three newcomers. Don't you just love me now?

Sew Nice

2007-10-09T08:15:00.000-05:00

We interrupt our regularly scheduled winterizing for some much-needed torrential downpours.

Ah, it's okay. My heart wasn't in it anyway. And my back would rather have been out of it all together.

In case you don't read my blog, I took a break from it to winterize outside -- mulch and whatnot, rebuild a rock wall. Fun stuff like that, but the rain decided to derail my plans. Ho hum. Oh well.

In lieu of winterizing, I have been catching up on some sewing projects with my new sewing machine AKA Goddess of Stitches. Having a sewing machine that works after using one for years that didn't is an eye-opening experience to say the least. I thought it was normal to have your machine make the traditional whirring noise, move the fabric along, but not have any stitches on the fabric when you were complete. Or to only get 5 inches into your project and have the thread break ... again and again and again. I used to think "Sewers" (alternate name for seamstresses my mother uses, not to be confused with sewers, which stink and contain things like urine and fecal matter) had an insane amount of patience and talent.

I've figured you out, Sewers. I've caught on to you. You're not so great. You just have a great machine. And now I do too and here I am sewing along -- cell phone cases, coasters, a baby's quilt for my niece, some new throw pillows. When will it end? Probably when the rain does. =/

P.S. And because I am admittedly a nosey gal, where has everyone been? No one visiting or no one commenting? Which is it? Well, if you visit this time, perhaps you can share what little hobby you have in your life.

T.C.B.

2007-10-04T06:52:00.000-05:00

Since things are looking up on the homefront, I'm just changing the post. Not writing an entire new one, but this should suffice ... for now. I'll be back sometime next week ... hopefully. I have to winterize all the flower beds, mulch like mad, and rebuild a rock retaining wall that took months to build in the first place. Time to tear it down THEN rebuild it again. Blargh.

In the meantime, smile on your brothers, everybody get together, try to love one another right now.

Crazy Momma Sea Hag Extraordinaire

2007-10-01T06:56:00.000-05:00

My brain is a bit burned out. As some of you know, my husband suffers from bouts of depression. I believe his family suffers them more than he does, but that's besides the point, I guess. The clinical way to describe my husband's condition is "suffers lows due to bi-polar disorder."

Anyone who is connected and living with someone who has bi-polar disorder has a certain amount of shame for it. I mean, essentially you're saying out loud that the person you married is a lunatic. Not all the time, but some of the time, and well, you picked your spouse, so what does that say about you? And the fact that you continue to live with him? Hmm. And since Movies of the Week make bi-polar disorder look like Joey Buttafuoco on crack, it's not something you tend to scream from the hills.

The thing is though, and I write this knowing of the backlash it may receive ... I don't believe in bi-polar disorder. I'm sorry. I just don't. I believe bi-polar disorder is the new catchphrase for "behaving badly with a written excuse."

My husband received his "get out of doghouse free card" or errr, was diagnosed with bi-polar disorder in his early 20's by a family doctor who didn't know boo about the mind. Since he fit the bill of being manic, she gave him medication. If I'm going to be brutally honest, this woman was actually trying to save my marriage. My husband was behaving so irrationally, I told her I wouldn't be able to stay in the situation. She saw me with two young children and said, "I can take the demons out of him with a couple of prescriptions." I was grateful because without the anger, he became the guy who loved me and his children once again. The guy who couldn't believe how terrible he had been. Problem solved. Right?

Then we moved around a bit and every doctor since then agreed with the diagnosis, it was just understood that my husband was depressed, but it wasn't truly looked into until we had our year long stint in Iowa. Our insurance changed, and the diagnosis needed to be re-evaluated. Contrary to what you may have heard, Iowa is not a hotbed of analytical thinking, so basically my husband was sent to some small town psychologist who asked about ten questions and then said, "Yup, you've got bi-polar disorder. Here's your prescriptions."

It didn't take long for all the medication my husband was on to turn him into a complete zombie. He could work, he could watch TV, he could dress and feed himself, but it was a lot like having Frankenstein for a partner (minus neck bolts). So, we both decided this was not a good thing and slowly but surely, he weaned off medication and started feeling good again. Jokes were funny again. Pain hurt. He was feeling life and not just existing. Sure, we fought, but that's normal. That's what normal married couples do every once in a while. They fight, they make up, they move on ... right? No need to engage in sex with others, take a vacation you can't afford, or pummel your partner into the ground ... just get it out and get over it. Move on.

Yeah, that was the plan for a bit.

Then my husband just kept being angry. Daily. Nightly. Hourly. His family -- the children and I -- just weren't up to snuff with his work ethic. His son didn't do enough chores. His daughter didn't help out around the house. I didn't do enough around the house. (and since I'm a bit of a clean freak who cooks two meals daily, this boggles me) OK, in reality, I do enough around the house, but even though my husband makes more than double the salary of most professionals in this area, and even though we don't have any money problems, he thinks I should work outside the home as well. Just, well, just because ... it isn't fair that he's the only one that works outside of the home. I mean, the work done in the home just isn't enough. Meals, laundry, cleaning, fresh linens, taxi driver to kids to and from school, to all events, all errand running, bill paying, sewing, dishes, and the like ... that's just trivial stuff. It isn't make money stuff. In fact, to not have a 9-5 job where you are paid actual dollars makes you a lazy pig. (this is husband's phrasing, not mine)

Let the vicious cycle BEGIN! Usually it lasts for two weeks and then it's over. My family would just breathe a sigh of relief and not have to worry about it for another six months to a year or so. Yeah, that was the way it used to be.

2007 has been a banner year of change in this household. My husband now pouts nightly. Not for a couple of weeks. No. Try months. Try four months ... then five. Finally when my patience has reached a limit where even Mother Theresa would've been screaming, "Oh enough already, you big baby, and get over yourself," after I get dead tired of his yelling while I'm trying to relax and watch some TV, I do the only thing I can think of and, well, it isn't original, but I yell back. It's like Pavlov's dogs. It's the reaction my husband has been patiently waiting for all these months, hell, the whole year in fact. Oh joy! Time for him to yell back, say terrible things to me, then stomp outside for his much-deserved cigarette break.

Then later, here it comes, his well-timed "after son graduates from college, we'll sell house, split the profit and go our separate ways" speech. It would upset me if it weren't so, oh, I don't know, predictable. If it hadn't been said before or if there were some reason for it all. If he had an affair on the side or had secretly been blowing wads of cash on crack or even crack whores. You know, if he had true reasons for behaving badly enough to make an ass out of himself.

I mean, even my own mother, who is what I believe actually crazy to look like says, "Oh Jesus, in another week he'll be kissing your feet telling you you're the love of his life. Why does he feel the need to go through all this bullshit to get there? What a waste."

And yes, Crazy Mommy Sea Hag Extraordinaire is right ... what a waste. My husband is my best friend. To be quite frank, he's my only friend. I'm not really a people person, after all, but a part of my brain keeps screaming, "This is not supposed to be your life! It shouldn't be this hard. Move your ass, get over your fear of people, your social phobias, make some money, and get out! No friendship even connected to a marriage is worth your spirit."

Is that the truth? Or after 21 years, do you just stick it out? This is what's been keeping me up at night lately. Or keeping me down, whichever you prefer, and I thought blogging it out and getting some intelligent feedback might be the way to go.

UPDATE: First, let me just say thank you to the people who left comments and sent e-mails regarding this situation and depression in general. Hearing exactly what was said about depression and about your own personal situations was probably the main reason why my husband is going to his appointment with the idea of asking for help instead of ignoring the obvious. Last night was the first night in MANY nights where he seemed so much lighter, actually relieved, almost as if admitting there's something truly wrong with his brain and me not saying he needed to just take control, well, it was just a different scenario for us. He talked a lot and in depth about his thinking and how he's been feeling. I'm amazed every time this happens and just how much he's twisted things in his brain, to the point of feeling myself and the children are against him just wanting to be rid of him ... and because of you all, I sat listening thinking he wasn't lying to me, he was confessing to me. It was a different way to feel. It was a relief for me too. So, he is getting help and hopefully things will be very different in our future. At least I feel hopeful, which is better than tragic.

Stalking Celebrity

2007-09-24T07:25:00.000-05:00

While watching the news this morning, I heard the latest bit of MUST KNOW gossip -- Marsha and Jan Brady may have been lesbian lovers! Wow! Oh my gosh! Unbelievable! I mean, well, wait a second ... I really don't give two flying figs about this or any other piece of celebrity gossip floating around like fecal matter out there in the world.

I've been with my husband for 21 years, since I was 16 years old, and even I had a crush on Marsha Brady. My husband had a crush on Jan. (My brothers both loved Greg, thank you very much.) So, you put a group of crazy kids together and I imagine they all dated one another ... or thought one or the other was pretty groovy. I mean, they were kids, then teens, growing up on set, growing up being ogled by fans and hunted down by the press, and stuff happened. Probably to every single one of them ... well, except for Cindy ... that lisp was just a bit too over the top.

But I digress ...

What I'm trying to say is regardless if someone is a celebrity or Joe Blow next door, we're all just people. I don't feel bad when the rich and famous are being chased down by paparazzi, but I do feel pity for anyone buying the trash mags selling this stuff or making such people as the despicable and disgusting Perez Hilton (the chunky male who started a website, but couldn't even use his own name so he borrowed and tweaked a no talent rich girl's instead) famous.

Only in this new generation could no talent hacks become famous for dishing dirt on celebrities. Once upon a time, in the Hollywood of old, someone like that guy would've been whacked. And I miss that nostalgia. I miss when celebrities took the red carpet looking like true glamour queens instead of whores in designer duds. Now gowns show as much breast or ass crack as the censors will allow. I can imagine Bette Davis looking down, shaking her head, and saying, "Why did I sacrifice so much for you all to just to whore yourselves out again? Did "Baby Jane" mean nothing to you???"

But again, I digress.

My main point is ... I don't care if Pitt and Jolie adopt 10 more kids or if Britney has a paunch and can't lip sync her own tune. New sex tape by Paris Hilton? Who cares? She can't act or sing, so I'm betting watching her "mate" isn't that much more exciting.

It makes me wonder though. Someone is buying these rags and religiously tuning into shows like Entertainment Tonight, yet no one ever admits to it. Is it you? Is it someone you know? Or are you sick of all the hype? Do you wish Americans would start putting the focus on actual "real" issues needing major attention (war in Iraq, next president, genocide in Darfur, the environment) or do you feel celebrities deserve to be hunted down and you're not going to miss a second of it?

Please, discuss. Let me know what you think.

A Cluttered Mind

2007-09-17T07:58:00.000-05:00

Recently, I made a remark in the comments section of my blog regarding chaos and clutter in the home transferring to the mind(s) of the people living in it. SzélsőFa read this and remarked how her and I should blog about this as she's a neat and clean person herself and believes it helps her life ... so here I am, blogging about it.

If someone asked me if this was an opinion, I was would say, "NO, this is fact because I firmly believe clutter begets clutter and chaos and filth and so forth." Some people say, "Well, I would rather spend my time LIVING instead of cleaning," but is that really an argument? I mean, how well can you live when you can't find anything? How great is life when you spend a greater chunk of it searching through things that should be readily on hand? Or if you're living in limited life space because your clutter has taken over rooms? That's life? Really?

I once knew a receptionist who swore being disorganized added no extra stress to her life that, in fact, having to take extra time each day to organize would actually INCREASE the length of her work day. This was a bit strange considering she standardly came in early and left very late because she had forgotten to do so many things within her scheduled time. I asked her how "sticky notes" posted around her desk helped her instead of just creating a real system for tracking patients, their appointments, etc., and she had the audacity to say, "This is my system." Twenty or more odd Post-It Notes are not a system ... they are desparate attempt at organization and were partly responsible for her dismissal little more than a month later. I was given her job, I organized her station, threw the Post-It Notes away, and left on time every day.

Then there's the mother who says she'd rather spend quality time with the kids than clean her home. Absolute rubbish! Real quality time is teaching your kids good habits, which include cleaning and organization. Children want a home they can be proud of and it doesn't have to be a mansion, but it should be neat and clean.

Now, if you still don't believe in cleaning and organization, I challenge you to clean up just ONE area of your life. A drawer, a closet, the medicine cabinet, under your bed ... just ONE! Give yourself a week to take the things out and to ask yourself if you NEED what is inside, if you LOVE what is inside, if it is a true family heirloom (and if it were, why would it be tucked away), and then if you said yes to any of these things, keep it, but organize the space BEFORE you put it back. Mini-baskets, galvanized tin pots, oh heck, even the dreaded plastic containers can be bought at your local Dollar Store. So, do this, really, go do it. Then I dare you to come back to this blog and honestly tell me that having that little spot cleared away in your life doesn't make you feel better, if only just a little better. Tell me you didn't sit and think when you were all finished, "Geez, that looks great ... maybe I should try this with [you fill in the area of your life] next."

Yes, cleaning isn't fun. It isn't something you call up friends and invite them over to do, but being clean & organized has a major positive impact on your life. The fact is ... clean/organized people don't spend a lot of time cleaning. They don't have to spend hours scouring when they don't let things build up. A quick wipe of a shelf replaces the scrub. A quick swipe in the toilet replaces any need to use harsh chemicals or batter it with a brush.

And men, please don't tell me, "I'll try to nicely pass this on to the wife" because while I take care of the home and my family, the areas in this home solely belonging to them are areas they need to do themselves. Instead of asking your wife, be a good example to her, and start clearing away your own clutter. Either you'll shame her into it or you won't, but I'm betting you will.

If after all this, you still think being a slob is beneficial to your life, I'll give you a different challenge. If your home is cluttered, messy, or dirty, I challenge you to invite a nice group of people over WITHOUT cleaning up and tell me you felt absolutely fine with it. No embarrassment whatsoever. Or go to the house of the messiest person you know and oh, I don't know, lick their countertop. No, seriously, how about just sitting right in their home, drinking the cup of coffee they offer you, and tell me you didn't feel strange or creeped out at all.

Then seriously, whether it's today, tomorrow, or a week from now ... report back to me. Tell me how it went and if you're as neat as SzélsőFa, can you attest that cleanliness truly is next to, well, not godliness, but perhaps centeredness? The feeling of owning and controlling your space truly is a bit of heaven, no? Now ... are we going to clean up the joint or aren't we?

eBay, The Pimp

2007-09-11T07:19:00.000-05:00

In honor of 9/11, I'm going to do something really weird and NOT write about it because, well, quite frankly, I don't see how all the networks cashing in on pain is really a positive step forward. I will mention Bin Laden, but only because it's relevant to an example I'm making in the post. I don't want to read, watch, or hear anymore about that tragedy six years ago unless it's, "Picture of Bin Laden's Head on a Stick" or "All First Responders Have Been Cured." So, I'll stick my own head in the sand hoping not to offend and away we go:

Let me preface this post by stating outright: there's a LOT about eBay I love, okay, let me clarify ... I don't love eBay, but I love some of eBay's great sellers. I mean, finding a vintage toy from my childhood like my Stretch Armstrong green monster doll without having to schlep around thrift shops, tag sales, and the like ... what could be better? Okay, better might be having a pile of kid's clothes that normally would be given away turn into a pile of cash instead. With the brands my daughter and son wear, I usually make a good chunk of change right when I need it most -- back-to-school time. So yeah, that could be better, it's at least a close second.

However, this past summer I seemed to run into the two kind of eBay buyers every eBay seller hates -- rogue newbies with nothing to lose and eBay shopaholics that are broke.

Let's start with the rogue newbie and let me just profess, I don't quite grasp the logic of this group. Usually, this person has a big shiny zero as their feedback and yet snipe the bid within the last 20 seconds of the auction, showing they actually fought for your item, wanted your item, and then ... then ... NOTHING. No payment, no communication, nada. It's like they've fallen off the face of the earth or decided to hide out with Bin Laden, which is just as good as falling off the face of the earth, in my opinion.

I had one rogue newbie buy a pair of boots from me, not pay, then e-mail days after numerous requests for payment were sent only to e-mail me with, "Give me a call. We'll talk. I reilly (this is the actual spelling) want THEM boots!" I wrote explaining she should just pay, we don't really need to talk about it on the phone, but that was it. She never wrote again. Paying just wasn't an option for her, but she SURE wanted to talk about THEM BOOTS!

And since I've been a broke shopaholic (years ago with the birth of my daughter), I get the logic of the second group, but it doesn't make me like them any more. These are eBayers who have a few feedbacks so are a bit more invested in the process, got hooked on what they think is a "buy now, pay later" market, and boy do they BID BID BID. Only they don't PAY PAY PAY. Instead you send out multiple invoices, a week or more goes by, and right before you can file a non-paying bidder's alert, they write you with the lie, "my computer broke," "my computer crashed," "I had a family emergency," "my dog had puppies," "I lost my uterus," you name it. Then after you're forced to e-mail back and ask them to pay you get, "well, I can't pay now, but I can pay in a week," or "the week after that," or "next month" or whatever other date you're expected to wait for to get your money ... the money the bidder before them would have paid immediately. You know this because to further torture yourself, you checked that eBayer's feedback and it was flawless, littered with PAID IMMEDIATELY, LIGHTNING FAST PAYMENT, eBayer's dream. :::sigh:::

Because bidding is all about NOW NOW NOW, bidding on eBay is the great slot machine of America. All that groovy stuff you really don't need, loaded up page by page, and well, how can I possibly live without that??? But eBay, that big superficial house on the hill, is all about eBay. They couldn't care less if someone bids and doesn't pay. Heck, ten to one, they'll still get to keep their final value fees and if by some miracle they do refund them, they'll keep all your listing fees. Even though your listing was a bust, eBay will still make money off of it. They're the pimp, you the ho, and he'll get his money, Bitch. eBays want lots of bidders, bad or not, to drive up that final bid and to make them more scratch.

So although today I awoke to some crazy buyer in my e-mail box telling me how unfair it was for me to leave negative feedback even though she didn't pay and oh yeah, how she thinks it should be removed because her birthday is this Saturday and her husband is upset about it and she would have paid, but it would've taken a few weeks, but she hasn't left a negative. No, she left a positive feedback for me, so why can't I do the same even though she didn't pay? Yeah, even though I have to deal with stuff like that, I still don't hate eBay, I just don't love them ... and I'm kind of getting tired of the whole process of listing, getting stiffed on payment, getting bitch-slapped by eBay, and then still having to give them money for all my trouble.

This made me wonder about all of you and that's the main reason for this post. Any eBayers out there? Do you sell? Do you buy? I'd love to know either way.

Melt, Thaw, Resolve & Repeat

2007-09-06T07:57:00.000-05:00

Today, Bloggers and Friends, my children headed back to school -- the son to 8th grade and the daughter to 9th. No, I’m not going to inundate you with photos of happy, smiling children all dressed up in their new clothes, holding up stuffed backpacks and nervously grinning while waiting at the bus stop (especially since I still drive mine to school). No, I won’t be doing a slide show of every single moment of this morning or a montage of all the first days of school before it. (You people who are sick of being forced to look at photos of other people’s kids ... can thank me later, but it’s not a selfless act.)

You see, my kids are teenagers and so the process of going to school just isn’t that terrific anymore. They don’t really want to go back. Summer’s over and so is staying up late, sleeping in, zero structure or routine. Not just for them, but for me as well.

And while I’d love to say I woke up like Suzy Sunshine singing a jaunty tune as I made them breakfast, laughing while the garbage disposer ripped apart a fork one of them put in it, or sighing happily when arriving to school and being informed that my son forgot to bring the money for his lock while his sister (who was the only one with extra cash in the vehicle) wouldn’t lend it to him … well, I won't because I can't.

I burned myself on splattering oatmeal and my cutlery service for 8 is now a service for mutants who like jagged metal scraped across their lips while eating, but only 4 mutants. Not the intended 8. NOT anymore! I reminded my son to bring the lock money about 5 times before we left the house. And I was tired from my usual lack of sleep due to reading, insomnia, and having that one moth land on my face as soon as my eyes close. What a joy!

Instead of being Snow White, I threatened weeks of grounding if other utensils ended up the way of the fork. I told my daughter to ride the bus from now on and to enjoy the one last ride she was getting from me. I told my son this was the year for him to finally get organized or to go find a family of wolves in the forest who would adopt him. Oh sure, I told both of them I loved them and to have a good day as they gratefully exited my truck, but did it even matter at that point? Was it even believable?

Holy crap, summer is really over and with it, my sanity. "Oh, that this too too solid flesh would melt, thaw, and resolve itself into a dew" -- spread over a summertime lawn once again.

It's The One Thing

2007-08-29T07:13:00.000-05:00

Ok, this post may be a bit weird, but it was born in the middle of the night while I was scribbling on notepad pages in a Howard Hughes-esque trance. Besides reworking the budget, scribbling out a "to do" list for the upcoming month, and making a new list for the library, I sometimes think up ideas for the old blog. Silly things come to me and I say, "Ooo, that's not bad. I'd like to know that about someone ..."

99.9% of the time, I don't actually remember the ideas I come up with, but this morning after a whopping two hours of sleep, I did!

It's called ... "The One Thing." I'm going to list ten questions of ten things, ten favorites, ten tips, oh, you'll see below. All I ask in return is if you're visiting you do one of these Memes yourself and let me know about it OR if you're really short on time, just put a couple of your "one things" here because these are the things I'd like to know about you. (each question was written with a particular blogger in mind) And if you'll try a one thing of mine, hey, even better, I'd love to know and I'll tell you the same if/when I do. Whatever floats your boats, participation is up to you, optional, but could be fun. (below find the questions without answers, for ease of cutting and pasting, then mine all filled out below it)

The One Thing

1. If you could recommend only one book for others to read, what would it be and why?

2. What is your one favorite song? Why?

3. What is the one thing that is the biggest time saver in your life?

4. What is one gadget you couldn't live without and why?

5. If you could recommend one film for others to see, what would it be and why?

6. What is the one cure or preventative measure you believe in and for what ailment?

7. What is the best advice you've ever received and from whom?

8. If you could introduce the entire world to just one band/musical artist, who would it be and why?

9. If you could convince others you meet or know of one thing, what would it be?

10. What do you believe is one of the greatest ways of wasting money and how do you combat it?

My One Things

1. If you could recommend only one book for others to read, what would it be and why? A Prayer for Owen Meany by John Irving. I love the classics, love Russian authors, serious literature, but this novel from the 1980's is THE BEST WRITTEN, has THE BEST surprise ending, and is the ONLY book that ever made me weep so hard, I couldn't catch my breath. I've re-read it (just this month again), cried every time, and marvelled over the absolute brilliance of the writing itself. It's a life changing book you take with you for life.

2. What is your one favorite song? Why? The Turtles, Happy Together. Gorgeous voice, melodic, and makes me smile.

3. What is the one thing that is the biggest time saver in your life? Pre-planning. Keeping a daily schedule done at least one week in advance, which includes menus.

4. What is one gadget you couldn't live without and why? My Sonicare electric toothbrush. I've had expensive toothbrushes before, rechargeable and battery operated, but this one is simply the best. I used to be a dental assistant. I know a thing or two about clean teeth. I'll never switch.

5. If you could recommend one film for others to see, what would it be and why? Fight Club with Brad Pitt and my favorite, Edward Norton. Apart from the brilliant acting, there are a million and one quoteable quotes in this movie and in my modest opinion, a whole heckuva lot of wisdom. Such as, "You don't own your stuff. Your stuff owns you."

6. What is the one cure or preventative measure you believe in and for what ailment? Water. Mainly for headaches since the lion's share of headaches ares due to dehydration. Basically your brain is shrinking (drying up), pulling up from your skull, and causing you pain. One good clue that you're dehydrated? Thirst. A properly hydrated body doesn't get thirsty. Water's also great for keeping the liver and kidneys in proper working order, keeping away urinary tract infections, and keeping skin soft and blemish-free, to name just a few.

7. What is the best advice you've ever received and from whom? Once in the early 90's when bitching about the drudgery of homekeeping, my friend Helene told me she looked at keeping house and especially cooking as ways of showing her family how much she loves them. I never forgot that and it really did change my life. I still think of her words any time I don't particularly feel like cooking or whatever. I also think of how hard my husband works for us and how he never takes a day off, so why should I?

8. If you could introduce the entire world to just one band/musical artist, who would it be and why? The White Stripes. A two person powerhouse. Jack White is so incredibly gifted musically and lyrically ... plus there's not enough real rock left in the world.

9. If you could convince others you meet or know of one thing, what would it be? Going green and caring about the planet doesn't make you a crazy earthy crunchy hippie freak, but a responsible human being who not only is saving our world, but saving money as well. You are responsible for your private sector. Why not make the best of it?

10. What do you believe is one of the greatest ways of wasting money and how do you combat it? Besides shopping for things you want instead of what you need, it would definitely be cleaning products (especially laundry detergent). They have one for everything nowadays when you could just make your own for pennies from natural ingredients that are more effective and kill germs without killing the planet ... and instead of a cupboard full of junk, you'd have 5 products in total. Just 5.

Shiny Happy People Holding Hands

2007-08-24T07:55:00.000-05:00

As I get older, I find myself actually growing up. It's a strange thing, really. I'm not the same girl I once was and yet, this makes me feel better somehow.

I won't be allowed into Neverland anymore, but hey, I actually watch some bits of the news now instead. It has to be the BBC news, but still, I am paying attention. I even feel like I'm perhaps learning global events.

Then there's vanity, a long ago faded concept. I like to look clean and pressed. I don't care about all the other frivolties I once worshipped. Fashion, dyeing my hair, designers ... that's not for me. I'm not quite into polyester yet, but I will say cotton is my staple.

One of the last things to go for me was holding a grudge. I find myself not really able to do this anymore. On the Internet or if I haven't met a person in real life, forget it ... there is no way I'll hold onto bad feelings. I can't waste that kind of mental stuff on someone I truly don't know. Against family members who have seriously done me wrong, I now end up truly feeling sorry for them instead. I do the usual shrug or laugh. I'll make jokes about the worst of situations. I'll apologize if I've been the offender. Then move on.

I do, however, have one person who truly bothers me ... and that is still my daughter's boyfriend. I don't have hateful feelings against anyone in the world except for this kid. And I don't know why. I mean, he's actually a well-adjusted kid. A scholar and athlete. Good manners. Not a serial killer. All right, I don't hate him, I don't want him to die horribly, but a big part of me wants him to just go away. Even though my daughter can't see a lot of him due to my strictness, it still feels like too much.

So I tell myself, I am aging. I am approaching 40 (someday). I have become more peaceful, more centered, more healthy, but I have the one major thorn in my side. It's not so bad, but I would love to turn this around as well. I would love to have no thorns, only bluebirds and sunflowers. This would be lovely.

Thinking of all this stuff got me curious to see if it's actually just normal. Any of you Bloggers out there holding a grudge? Do you hold grudges at all? Do you find yourself growing older and growing up or just the opposite? I'd love to know the specifics. Either way, have a fantastic weekend, One and All!

Common Scents

2007-08-16T13:29:00.001-05:00

Pssst, you. Yeah, YOU. The woman standing in front of me at the convenient store. I don't know how to tell you this. I mean ... I know we just met and all, but ... well, let me just say that your outfit is smashing. Very feminine. Much better than the cargo shorts and plaid sneaks I happen to be wearing, but you see, I believe it's my duty to say something and there's really no other way to put it, so here goes ... you stink.

No, no, no, don't overreact. Don't take it to heart. C'mon, save those tears for a real tragedy. It's just that, well, in an effort to smell nice, you've overdone it just a tad. Perhaps, by half a bottle or so. Now, now, Little Buckaroo, don't despair.

Unfortunately, perfume manufacturers don't give buyers a serving size guide, but don't worry, I can help a sister out. It's what I live for, after all.

First off, let me just explain something about your nose that you may not have heard. It's AMAZING. Oh no, believe me, I'm not gushing. Just listen to this: your nose is, well, beyond being sick of your perfume, your nose is trying its best to keep you safe from harm, no matter how much you abuse it. The nose actually stops perfume wearers, or bathers, such as yourself, from smelling their perfume. This is so you can go throughout your day and night smelling other things like flowers in a neighbor's garden, dinner at your favorite restaurant, or even something as silly as smoke (the big clue that your house may be burning down while you're in bed spritzing away).

While you spray and slather, your nose readjusts itself to tune out the every day fragrance onslaught so it can stay on alert. So, even if YOU aren't smelling your perfume, the rest of us, the fragrance free and perfumed us, are. In fact, we're smelling it strongly enough to burn our lungs and make our eyes water. Strong enough for our own noses to tell us to back away and perhaps sneeze, cough or throw up in our mouth a little ... all in preparation for the headache that we know is on the way. Oh, it's a good time. Good time.

Well, now you know a new little factoid. Hopefully, this information will keep you from re-applying during the day -- in the car, at the office, in the bathroom. Just know a couple of dabs on the neck, one spray from the bottle and only ONCE a DAY is the absolute MOST you should be using of any perfume . I'm not your husband, your lover, or even your good lesbian friend. I'd rather smell the convenient store pizza, thank you very much.

Anywho, now that we've had this heart-to-heart, now that I think we've moved a bit closer to one another, might I also convince you to spend a little more for that which you love? While I adore a bargain as much, if not more than, the next girl, a personal scent should at least cost more than a tenner. This has always been my personal belief.

Well, off you go then, Nostril Offender. Hoping to breathe easier the next time we meet. Do not worry your scent will linger on and on and on.

(inspired by actual woman at Fastrac convenient store who may have collapsed my right lung)

I See You

2007-08-13T09:50:00.000-05:00

Although I'm not the type of Blogger to check counter stats, I am the type of who checks on visitors. Not all the time, in fact to be honest, perhaps once every couple of months. I'm really not anal about it. Who has the time?

But I find it odd when "regulars" visit here, more than once, without commenting. NOT if they've commented previously on a post, but only if they haven't ... at all. Especially if I have sent them word to stop on by, to say it's been a while, or for whatever other reason.

It's something I find perplexing. Why visit and not comment? Why lurk? Even daily as the stats sometimes show? Why comment on some posts and not others?

I mean, I've done it. Gone to a Blog, read the post, and not commented. Reasons for the transgression:

1.) Blogger I read hadn't visited me in a while.

2.) Interrupted in the middle of post.

3.) Mostly number one.

It's just one of those weird things I was thinking of this morning while I was forcing myself to get up and begin the day. Along with congratulating myself on being OVER 3 WEEKS SMOKE FREE! I believe I have officially kicked the habit. Now to obliterate viewing who's reading my blog.

P.S. Weeding the "Blogs I Read" category. Subtracting and adding this week.

Happy Monday, All!

Lucky Number 5

2007-08-06T11:39:00.001-05:00

I changed my original post for today because once again, I took #5 in an online writing contest. We were given a photograph of a dense forest with sunlight coming down in rays off in the distance as our inspiration. (would have posted it, but it won't show up so you can see it here) Every piece is limited to 250 words.

I was genuinely surprised as my little story wrote itself. I'm not much of a re-writer. I lack the discipline to start something knowing how it will turn out. My stories kind of dictate themselves and I scamper furiously to write it all down. I read it, correct grammar and spelling to the best of my ability, and send it off.

I had a lot of fun doing this contest though. It gave me a nice wake up to the summer and the reading was really terrific. There were more than a few that sucked me right in, including our own Mr. Schprock. I really like his darker stuff, but won't put a link up without his permission. (you can find him at the site though and it's worth the trip)

Anyhow, the winners were announced here : Clarity of Night

I was #37, writing under the penname, Ann Ostrander: The Truth

And for those hating to click on links like me, I put the 250 word short story below.

The Truth

by Ann Ostrander

“If it hurts at all, just stop me,” Brian whispered. Even with the thick plaid blanket underneath us, the forest floor felt damp. He fumbled with the condom as I undressed.

We didn’t kiss or touch each other. I wasn’t comfortable with that. Weird, I know. Sex before any of the things my friends did first. Maybe it would come later.

“Are you all right?” Brian asked, positioning himself between my legs. I nodded, wishing I still wore a bra as his eyes darted in that direction.

“If it hurts…” he breathed, while fumbling between my legs, “Make sure to tell me.”

But it didn’t. I felt pressure and his hips pushing against mine. I waited for the pain my mother had told me about with her first time, but there was none. Just another lie to scare me … to keep me ‘pure.’ Mom. I couldn’t think of her now.

I opened my eyes and concentrated on a shaft of light penetrating the canopy. Brian groaned and shook. It’s over. I’m fourteen and it’s happened. He moved his mouth towards mine. I snapped my head to the side.

“Still no kissing, Nessa?” he laughed. I smiled and kept my eyes on the light.

Three weeks later and Mom still doesn’t know. She always said she would, but that wasn’t true either. Every time she asks if I’m still being ‘chaste,’ I tell her, “Mom, I haven’t even made out with a boy yet.” At least I’m telling the truth.

(Personal thank you to Jason Evans ... for all the hard work and a terrific contest.)

Hazardous to your Health

2007-07-31T14:17:00.000-05:00

If you read my blog, you know I'm into CFL bulbs. There's only one drawback with them -- when they're done, you have to make sure to bring them to a recycling center (store, etc.) instead of throwing them in the trash. Due to the mercury inside the bulbs, you could not only harm the planet, but kill someone in the process.

Well, I live in a small town and couldn't find a place to recycle the ONE bulb my husband blew while doing some controlled motor experiment for the vent in the bathroom. This was weeks ago and he still hasn't fixed it. Anyhow, husband wanted to take our chances by just throwing it in the trash and killing unsuspecting garbageman, but I begged to differ.

The little bulb sat on a shelf in my bathroom until FINALLY I saw on our local television station that it was time for the once-a-year county-wide hazardous waste recycling event AND they mentioned CFL bulbs, flashed a number and added, 'Only by appointment,' which is weird. I mean, you're basically making an appointment to get rid of hazardous wastes. Wastes people usually just throw in the trash (disguised in boxes and paper bags) or throw along the sides of the road and or in the forest because, "It's easier than going through all the hassle."

And oh dear Lord of the Flies, you are right, Planet Polluters, it IS a hassle. It took FOUR different calls on FOUR different days to reach the ONE person who could actually make the appointment for me. I felt like I was now being patched through to the Great and Powerful Oz. I was nervous, even excited, imagining the flames leaping up from each side of the curtain. The booming voice, insane white hair, but in reality ... an extremely rude man-voiced woman picked up instead:

Her (think Momma from "Throw Momma From the Train" without odd lisp): Yes?

Me: Yes, I'm calling for the hazardous waste event ... to make an appointment.

(silence)

Me again: I saw it on TV, I've called because of the number that was flashing on the screen because ...

Her (interrupting): Yes, yes, I know. You don't need to go on ... I'm looking for your date.

Me: Ah, then I'll make sure not to tell my husband. (Silence. Get it, bloggers? Date. She's looking for my date. Ah well.)

Her: Saturday.

Me: OK. Saturday is good.

Her (actually yelling at me as if I rammed into the back of her heel with a cart, which is rather impossible since we're both on the phone in separate locations. I'm in the kitchen at my home, she's in Hell.): What TIME on Saturday?

Me: Well ...

Her (interrupting yet again): NO, what time between 9am and noon?

Me (trying to put nonchalant tone in voice like I don't notice her rudeness or interruptions): 10 am.

Her (loudly): 9:45!

Me (wondering how she could get 9:45 confused with 10): No, 10am is fine.

Her (clearly exasperated): No, 9:45 will be your time. Now, what are you bringing?

Me: A CFL light bulb.

(she waits)

Me (trying to fill silence): It's a fluorescent bulb. Mercury. Little. Energy-efficient. Not a regular bulb ...

Her (angry): I know what it is, but is that it?

Me (wanting to sound less stupid for caring about one bulb and the garbageman): Well, no, do I need a list? I mean, I'm sure my husband has paint cans, maybe polyurethane cans. Lots of hazardous stuff he's forgotten about, really toxic stuff, but I just have the one bulb.

Her (done with me now): Ok, OKAY, 9:45 Saturday, but not THIS Saturday, the FOLLOWING Saturday. Not THIS one. Got it?

Me: 9:45 on the 11th, which is the Saturday after ...

Her: What?!?

Me: 9 ...

Her: Yeah, yeah, good enough. :::click:::

And this is why deviants everywhere are throwing batteries, computer parts, oil, paint, bulbs, nuclear reactors and everything else in the trash.

I think not only should recycling workers HAVE to be nice, but they should also thank EACH and EVERY person who calls to make an appointment. It should be a hearty THANK YOU FOR HELPING TO MAKE THE PLANET A BETTER PLACE, but hey, that's just me.

You owe me bigtime, garbageman. However, not throwing my garbage cans and their tops like it's an Olympic competition will suffice.

Hair, Hope, and Help

2007-07-28T07:54:00.000-05:00

The longer my hair grows, the more I want to cut it off. I knew this would happen. Get long hair, fall in love with it, then secretly ogle clippers. I work my butt off, which means cannot wear hair long during the day, dangly, and lovely. Must wear hair in bun, or ponytail, or in massive clip looking more like 18th century torture device. Still, while this may not be huge news to some -- I've decided to keep long hair and just love it at bedtime ... when it's spread all over pillow like fairy princess in beloved story of olde.

Secondly, I have been a non-smoker for one week. Roll out the barrel, do a jig, skin a pig, or however else you may celebrate. I feel good and strong. I have cried a couple of times (about 10) and I have had the belief that I still smoked. (After dinner went to walk outside and have ciggy a couple of times, only to realize I don't have any cigarettes and more importantly, am no longer smoker) I feel good and as of next week, ready to bring running to another level -- hopefully without gasping, coughing ... and gnashing of teeth. (And side note, is it strange to anyone else that celibate and celebrate look so much alike? Seems odd really. Especially when you think no one in the history of the world has ever uttered the words, "This is cause to celebrate .... let us be celibate!")

Finally, have been going through an extremely rough patch with demonic daughter. She has now been with horrible boyfriend for four months. Four LONG months. The more we are around and know about this boy, the more we dislike him. Daughter's best friend feels the same. As do best friend's parents, my mother, and a host of others. I've been handling all this badly and could really do with some advice as advice I've been receiving is total and utter shite. Since daughter is not behaving as expected, should I restrict freedoms even more? (have already started) Any way I could force a break-up and actually believe she isn't seeing him once I do? Really lost on this, uber-depressed as well. (P.S. Have no idea who people in picture were or are ... swiped from Google, but they appear to be happy.)

Still concentrating on my own health as to not get lost in the center of it all. Will run marathon someday if it kills me ... and can think of no better way to die really if it does. More coherent posts to follow after nicotine withdrawal no longer an issue.

Kicked the Butt with Pott

2007-07-23T08:35:00.000-05:00

When the Harry Potter bandwagon came by, I scoffed. My kids were into it, but I was not. I still bought my daughter the books and took both of the kids to see the first film. I remember watching it trying to convince myself that I didn't like it, which was hard.

Born on Halloween in 1970, it seemed like Harry Potter was made for me. I was always a believer in dark things. I was reading black magic books while other kids my age were reading Dr. Seuss. I wouldn't have traded my blood spells for "Hop on Pop." While other girls were playing with Barbie, I was learning and practicing incantations.

Even with my strange youth, I found myself resisting Potter to the point of making fun of the adults who were not. Then one night about six years ago, I found myself with absolutely nothing to read. I went into my daughter's room to check on her, saw the Harry Potter books sitting there on her desk, and shrugged my shoulders while scooping up the first in the series. Once I started, I couldn't stop. I read every book up until that point, then read everyone that came out after that point. I've watched and purchased all the films. I'm perfectly okay with being a hypocrite.

So, let's get back to last week. Vacation, but let me preface it by saying ... I used to be an embarrassed, ashamed smoker. I didn't smoke indoors, around people, in my vehicle, around my children, around other people's children, etc., but yet I still managed to smoke 3-5 cigarettes a day. And I'll be honest, I was completely addicted to those cigarettes. Those cancer sticks I wasn't even enjoying. The taste, the smell ... everything about them in fact, made me nauseous. No more delicious after dinner cigarette or scrumptious cigarette with morning coffee. All of them now tasted terrible.

What was the benefit? I like white teeth so the extra work I had to keep mine looking their best wasn't it. They didn't keep me from eating and also made all workouts much harder. I did have three times a day outdoors with my husband where we were perfectly alone, without any kids, recounting the day's events. Was that my only reason for not giving it up?

These were my thoughts while in Rhode Island last week. Scampering to find a place outdoors to smoke with my husband, in private, in hiding, in secret and full of shame, I stood puffing on something that was making me sick and I said, "I'm done with this. After vacation, I quit."

Long story short (too late), I've quit. I'd like to say cold turkey, but in fact, the last book in the Harry Potter series -- Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows -- was there to help. I finished it just a while ago reading through any stray cravinigs. I tried to drag it out as much as possible, but had to know how it ended. I will not give any spoilers here. I will simply say, not as I had thought, I'm a bit sad to see it end, and yet am glad to join the ranks of non-smoking muggles everywhere. Good-bye Harry, but hurrah to me!

Duel of the Flower People

2007-07-21T16:00:00.000-05:00

I just went back through old posts/comments and realized I might have offended some people with my Flower People post ... mainly the couple I wrote about in it. That bit about an ex-friend, her husband, and a male friend they're having sex with and comparing it to Tiger Lilies. In my only poor defense, I didn't realize this friend and her husband would not only read it, but would also be back on Blogspot with the actual guy in my little joke as well. I didn't think they'd be reading or still be living together or even be here. So, I can't just erase the post and say, "Whoops." I don't want to ignore his comment or the situation either.

I was being humorous (in my mind) as I don't have any bad feelings about the ex-friend or her husband. While the sexual situation of another guy with myself and hubby doesn't sound appealing to either one of us, I realize it's a lifestyle choice. It's just not my lifestyle choice. Even if Jack Black came knocking on the door, there's still the kids to get in my way and even though my friend is a parent, I realize we all parent differently.

What am I saying? Too much, I think. Let's just say it's out there, I said it, I made a mistake, and I know it. Let's also say my friendship with this woman didn't fail because of her lifestyle choice, but it was a contributing factor. Just one. There were many reasons I wanted to end the friendship, but I will admit it ... I know I'm judgemental. I know this about me.

I do look at people and think they could do better and I don't even take into consideration that they may love how they live. I have the "I'm right" disease. Not when people are single, but if kids are involved, good God, I'm crazed with righteousness.

I am working on it ... little by little. I didn't mean to cause any harm and I really was in my own mind ... just being goofy. I'm glad I'm out of the friendship and am doing this publicly to admit the error and put it to bed as I don't desire further contact. It was in poor taste and I apologize. This will be the last I write on the subject publicly.

The real post on my vacation is below this one. Thanks so much. Over and out.

Raindrops Kept Falling on Our Heads

2007-07-20T18:16:00.000-05:00

This picture of my children just about sums up our trip to Rhode Island. I'm sorry to say, especially if anyone is reading this who was born in or inhabits Rhode Island, but ... we hate your state.

We hated driving such long distances to try and find something like ... well, seafood. I mean, let's face it, Rhode Island is surrounded by the ocean. There's just no excuse for driving one hour to pay $25 for a small and shabby bit of lobster.

We hated all the stoplights. Even on the highway. Every ten minutes. Stoplight here, stoplight there, followed by many stop signs. Enough already!

We hated getting lost and ending up in a seaside town that can only be compared to the Compton of the East. Graffiti, gangstas, trash and debris. I'll make this very clear, if you're traveling to Rhode Island BE SURE to go out of your way to miss Oakland Beach all together.

Newport was all right. Didn't rain on that day, but there were too many people trying to grab "nice looking families" off the street to sell them such ridiculous things as ... oh, I don't know ... Rhode Island timeshares, perhaps?

The town of Wickford was lovely and historic, right on the harbor, but once again ... no seafood restaurant. (I mean, you're on the harbor for God's sake and all you have to eat are donuts and pastries?!?)

Along the scenic coast in the south was much better, but as luck would have it, as we happened upon "much better," it began to rain. And by rain, I mean torrential downpour followed by lightning and thunder then start it all over again.

Hubby had bright idea of going on an hour long ferry ride to Block Island to "wait out the rain," but rain was very crafty. Rain began falling in sheets as soon as we stepped off the boat. Rain proceeded to pelt us in buckets while we walked just ten minutes through town. Long enough to buy umbrella and ponchos, which by this point were pointless. Hubby then said, "Let's just sit miserably wet and cold on long ferry ride back to car." Blargh.

I just kept thinking, 'Please, God, let husband not get lost again. Let him either listen to me or stop to ask resident. If this cannot be done, let me drown in the lake-size puddles now.'

Still, hubby and son went sailing together for first time ever. Our suite was quite beautiful, impeccably clean, and quiet. Hubby swam in ocean with kids for first time ever (usually leaves it up to me) and I got in some quality time with my daughter, but Rhode Island is one state we're glad to cross off the list of states we've not been to yet. We're not putting it on the "states we'd like to visit again" list. No way. A most hearty Whitney Houston "HELL to the NO" on that!

It's good to be home with pug ... and wilted flowers ... in New York. Will be visiting all of you soon.

Rhode Island for Vacation

2007-07-10T11:13:00.000-05:00

Hubby and I have been all over the map (the map of North America). Between the two of us, we've been to almost every state except a small handful. Rhode Island is in that handful until next Monday, the 16th, when we pack up, throw sleepy teenagers in the back of the Sporttrac, drop Drusilla the pug off at Granny's, and head out for vacation.

The children don't understand why we're going to Rhode Island. Maine, our usual haunt is understandable, but Rhode Island? Confused countenances abound every time it's brought up at home ... even when we mention we'll still be swimming in the North Atlantic, we'll still be on beaches, and we'll still be consuming massive quantities of seafood. It's no good. They just don't get it.

Hubby and I feel it's good to go places you've never been ... and since we can't yet afford that dream vacation to Europe, Rhode Island (Newport to be exact) will have to do. I'm posting this a bit early and will be dutifully checking and reading blogs until I leave, but I wanted to make sure I gave everyone the heads up.

Anyone else have any plans for summer? Still stuck on flower people? Not ready to move on? Well, Violas are the Rhode Island's state flower. Know anyone like that?

Over and out.

2007-07-08T07:44:00.000-05:00

FLOWER PEOPLE*

I'm spending my off moments in my garden. Lots of new flowers are blossoming. My Thomas Jefferson black-eyed susans, the daisies, the garisols. Even with the snakes, the spiders, and the deer flies, being outside calms me.

My thoughts drift. I think of life. I think a lot about people and situations.

Yesterday I was busy at a graduation party and unable to tend my gardens. I did a lot of it the day before and while watering I thought how much people, all I've met and those I've spoke to from a distance, are like flowers. Friends could be compared to flowers, at least the ones I've had, and even family. Don't let me lose you yet, not before I explain ...

Think about the friend you've had who always had to take center stage. It was all "look at me, I should be a model, but I'm not ..." or "I should be an actress, but I'm not..." or "here, look at all my pictures because I think I'm all that, but really, I'm not..." and tell me that doesn't remind you of one of those showy flowers like rose bushes. They look okay, right? BUT they're a lot of work. They need a lot of upkeep. A lot of pruning and even THEN, there's always pests, the proper soil, the right light. Let one of these things take over and that pretty rose turns into a hag of a bloom. These flower friends can't just take it as it comes. They want the world to believe they're cheerful and beautiful, but deep down, all the people around them know the truth and want to scream --- HIGH MAINTENANCE!

Or, have you ever had a friend for a long time, perhaps a long distance friend who you thought was just such a sweet, lovely person ... then a couple years later you find out they're completely self-absorbed when lo and behold, they're not that sweet either. They've invited some other man into their marital bed and even their husband is shagging this new guy. (true story I've gone through with ex-friend) Tell me that's not like a tiger lily. Pulls you in with the lovely color and some odd black spots and then BAM, they're not happy in their own little patch, they all need to inter-breed like some freak Greek orgy. No self-respecting flower would want to be near them and let's be serious, the tiger lily would choke them out anyway.

And how about perennial daisies? Low maintenance, a classic, and dainty. Faithful? You bet! It'll be there year after year without any work from you. Then bring a bouquet inside and WOW, have a whiff. They stink. This is the friendship that's great from a distance, but up close, hell to the no. It can't be tolerated.

How about the one-sided relationship, i.e. the sunflower? Looks great in the beginning, strong and stately, grows quickly and tolerates even a bit of drought (quiet times) and then when it finally peaks, when you finally feel like you can rely on it a bit, what happens? It droops. Not just a little, no, of course not. It droops so much so that you're forced to hold it up. That's all you'll spend your time doing -- holding something else up. Not so great.

Besides the flower that shags outside of marriage, I've been all of these. Right now I feel more like a black-eyed Susan. Dedicated, unassuming, no work required, no flash or glam, but a bit old-fashioned, a bit set in my ways. Peaceful and prudent.

I could go on paragraph after paragraph on flower people. Don't even get me started on lilacs, but I'm more interested in what flower you think you're like. What about your closest friend? Your mother or your hairdresser? Come on, expand your mind, take a minute, and tell me about your personal acquaintance garden. It'd be good for a laugh.

(Title of Painting: Marvel of Peru, dated 1847 by artist J. J. Grandville)
*Blogger wouldn't allow me to title my post in the Title Box.