Fancy Schmancy

The Big Wicked Online Pageant

2010-10-29T15:34:00.007-04:00

Beckeye was nice enough to ask me to join this, even though I haven't blogged in a really long time. Thanks, Beck, for remembering me.

The Big Wicked Online Pageant Rules: • Scan a photo from your Halloween past. (Ideally, the photos should be from your childhood but we'll take what you've got.) • Post it to your blog on Friday, October 29. • Once you post your photo, email me the URL to that specific post. • I'll post a link to every participant's blog by Saturday afternoon. I've also added a new wrinkle this year. Although the main goal of this pageant is to have some fun and get to know other bloggers, every pageant has to have a winner, right? At least that's what all the stage moms I know say. So, once you've seen all the participants' photos, come back and vote for your favorite. You can either cast your vote in the comments section or send it via email. Please don't be a monster and vote for yourself.

I don't have any pictures from when I was a kid, but here are some from late teen and early 20's. I used the same outfit a few times. My high school sweetheart and I had a couple of killer costume parties. This first pic is he and I and another friend. I was the devil, he was the nun.

I used to make this punch in a plastic witch's cauldron with sherbet and grain alcohol and dry ice. The dry ice wouldn't hurt you, but the grain alcohol might. Seriously, it was cool as hell because it smoked and bubbled. (btw, that was one of my best friends behind me - girl had BALLS dressing as a belly dancer while pregnant!)

This one the tail is between MY legs.

This one between someone else's. Good times!

Just for giggles, I'm also putting up a picture of my high school sweetie's best costume EVER!

Of carrot cheesecake and disappointments

2010-04-03T20:00:00.006-04:00

Last weekend I posted on seeing the outside of a really cool building called Wild Bill's. We went today and the inside was horribly disappointing in comparison. It was basically a dark and dirty collector's paradise, and I've stopped collecting things. I expected many more strange and unusual things, but they were few and far between all the old posters and lunch boxes and bumper stickers. I was also kind of disgusted that a self-proclaimed old hippie had so many real fox and raccoon tails for sale. This was the best thing inside, and it was pretty dismal, although I give credit for anyone that can make a robot out of old bear traps.

The bright side of this is that I got some great pictures of my son groping the statue of Marilyn Monroe outside. Those I can't show you, but I can show you a picture of the world's largest Jack-in-a-box. See if this clown head doesn't give you nightmares.

After we got home, I proceeded to not follow a recipe for carrot cheesecake very well. Actually, I followed it fine, but my spring-form pan was dented so I put it in a small rectangular pan. Big mistake, I didn't know it was going to rise and I should have used the much bigger pan. This is how it turned out.

My son came downstairs and asked, "what is THAT?". When I told him it was dessert for Easter, he asked, innocently, "do you think the frosting will cover your shame?". Hmmm, I don't know about that but I do know two things that might make me feel better.

1. Eating all the candy I bought for his Easter basket

2. Posting his Marilyn Monroe groping pictures on Facebook

He may no longer be friends with me on Facebook, but some of his friends still are. Mwahahahaha.

Bathroom issues

2010-03-31T13:39:00.009-04:00

Do you know people with severe, debilitating bathroom issues? I don't mean IBS or Crohn's disease, I'm talking the kind of people who's psychological issues create physical ones. I'll admit that I'm not happy if I have to drop the kids off at the pool when I'm in a public stall, especially if there are other people in the bathroom. However, if I have to go, I will.

There is only one designated bathroom for the ladies in our building at work, which happens to be right across from where I sit. There are 3 other bathrooms that can be used in an emergency. Each of the 4 bathrooms in the building are single bathrooms with locks on the doors, it's just that 3 of them have the addition of a urinal in them.

Working in a small office, one can become uncomfortably familiar with a coworker's bathroom habits. As I have found out, the worse a person's bathroom issues are, the more they want to talk about them. One particular lady who used to work here, Colleen, was the kind of person who would wait until the last possible minute to go. She would then sprint across the building and down the stairs to get to the designated woman's room. If it was occupied, she would stand there with her legs crossed doing the potty dance until it became free. If she had to do more than go potty, she would sit bent over in one of the chairs in the lobby holding her belly and groaning. It was like dealing with a child. To make matters worse, if she could hear people talking either outside the bathroom door or in the room next to the bathroom, she couldn't let go and go no matter how badly she had to go.

As Colleen was a sales person, and one who lived 45 minutes away, she didn't always come to the office every day. So I was very surprised that she showed up the day we were scheduled to have the toilet replaced in the designated woman's room. Apparently no one thought to tell her in advance, because really, no one else thought it was that big of a deal. The first time she came down to go potty, she found out there was literally no toilet in the woman's room and she flipped. We all were using the men's room with no problem, but when we suggested it to her she insisted, "I could NEVER sit down next to a urinal!".

As it turned out, they had trouble installing the toilet and the parts wouldn't come in until the next day. That meant no bathroom in the woman's room until the next day, either. Colleen started moaning and groaning about how much her belly hurt because she had to poop, but she still wouldn't use the men's room. I proposed she take a short drive to McDonald's but you may have guessed by now that she couldn't possibly poop in a public place, either. At that point I gave up. If you want to hold it and be in pain, have at it.

I found out the next day that she held it all day long and then the 45 minute ride home also. I had no sympathy for her silliness. As a matter of fact, I dubbed her "sphincter of steel" from that point on. And I thought I had issues...

Wild Bill's and the importance of asking for good directions

2010-03-27T10:23:00.008-04:00

Last night my son had a semi formal and asked if I could take him to another kid's house for some group photos. My response, of course, was "only if I can stay and take pictures, too". Which, apparently, not all the parents did. At least 50 kids showed up, and only about 20 parents were around at the end to drive them back to the school for the dance. Which is how I ended up with a car full of boys. Again. This is one of the real reasons I quit drinking. I WANT to be the parent driving my son around. I want to be able to be there for him when he needs me, when ever he may need me. But that's another story.

So, after the pictures were over, the lady that hosted told us there was a major accident on the major highway back to the school. I don't have a GPS, but I had directions to get there from the highway through the labyrinth of side roads, and figured I would be okay to get back to the highway by reversing those directions. The lady said, "just follow Route 3 past the highway, then get on Routes 5/15 to go over the river". Okay, I knew I could get to Route 3, and I knew how where to go once I was on 5/15. No problems. Except I am apparently turning into my mother more and more every day. You know, the lady who couldn't remember which was her left hand after she got divorced and took off her wedding rings.

On our long journey down Route 3, which I'd never been on before, we spotted this really cool building with stuff all over it and a big sign outside that promised strange and unusual things inside. The boys were having a field day trying to figure out what they hell this place could be, and what could be inside, but alas they were closed and we were in a hurry. When Route 3 finally ended, I realized I had been going in the wrong direction for 20 miles. 20 MILES. So when we turned around I decided to give the boys something to be 45 minutes late for. I pulled into the parking lot of the strange and unusual emporium and ordered them out of the car to take pictures in front of the building. It turns out the name of the place is Wild Bill's and I can't wait to go back when they open. Check these pictures out.

Easing back in

2010-03-24T14:41:00.007-04:00

Some thoughts from recent small occurrences in my life:

Have you ever noticed that the bigger the truck a person drives, the less likely the driver is to be courteous? It's like they have the mindset that because they could probably drive over your puny little car, they don't have to be nice to you. Like the guy taking a left at a light that is pulled way past the white line you're supposed to stop at. He can't possibly take a left until that light changes to green, but he's going to make certain you can't see around his big ass to take a right on red. These are the people that take a turn from the middle lane without a turn signal, cause they know you will yield for them rather than risk totally YOUR car. Then there's the guy at work that insists on parking his truck in the compact spaces in the front row. He will make sure that he is completely blocking the sidewalk so he can fit inside the space just to save himself from having to walk an extra 20 feet parking in the spaces on the other side of the lot. Do you know what I think? The bigger the truck the smaller the penis of the driver.
We are installing a new system at work that requires a lot of extra equipment in our server room. Because of this, we also had to upgrade to a much bigger air conditioning unit in that room. We hired outside electricians to wire a new outlet, then have had at least 3 of our technicians trying to install this new unit for days. Each one is worse than the next, including the assistant manager of the Service Department. They can't seem to figure it out. Did I mention that I work for an HVAC company? This is what these people do for living! My favorite line I over heard today: "We're going to have to call the manufacturer. The circuit board looks like you could launch a rocket ship from it!". And they wonder why the rest of the company thinks they are idiots.
One of my nieces texted me a couple of weeks ago to ask me what kind of meat corned beef is. Okay, I have to admit that I recently had to look up where pastrami comes from. But corned beef? Beef is in the title of it. It's not even as confusing as Chicken of the Sea tuna. If I start calling her Jessica Simpson she might kick my ass, lol.
I recently celebrated 5 months sober. I've never done anything harder, and I've never been more proud of myself. The misery for the most part has lifted and I'm starting to get back to being myself, or maybe finding out who I really am without the cloud of alcohol hanging over me all the time. I'm learning that I don't like certain things about myself, but I can slowly start to change them. Baby steps, of course; but for the first time in a long time I feel like the best of me is yet to come. The main thing that has been holding me back is me.

1440 minutes

2010-01-26T13:53:00.005-05:00

Morning... I've never been a big fan. Not like this. Not while it's still dark and having to face the day exhausted, waking already weary. I thought I was going to feel better once I gave up the daily drinking habit. Almost 100 days in and I still feel like crap.

I feed the soda machine a dollar to appease the caffeine gods. To stay awake during the day light. Just filling the hours of boredom and collecting a paycheck. There is no joy in this, just mechanical existence. I barely tolerate the irritations of other people, barely tolerate myself. I am more socially awkward than ever.

Feeling alternately more angry, resentful and depressed by the day. Struggling with the need to blame someone. Everything can be blamed on someone from a lousy childhood to a dirty kitchen floor. Assigning blame doesn't make me feel better. The black void is opening ever wider and I don't know how to fill it. I'm sick of pretending to be someone or something I am not, but I'm no longer sure of who I am. Was alcohol my identity all this time?

Early evening... The sun starts to set outside the kitchen window while I do dishes. I stare out as the skyline deepens to golds and pinks. The soft colors prick at my loneliness. My loneliness is not always something that can be alleviated by the comfort of other people. Often the presence of others makes me feel more lonely. Like there is a wall between us that I'm not capable of breaching. My loneliness is a deeper need, the black void, this hole in my guts.

I've been feeding the hole with everything I can think of, except alcohol. I've been stuffing it with food and sweets, computer games and mindless sitcoms. I've tried numbing it's gaping maw with the marijuana maintenance plan. It all works for a while, but it only slows the hunger. Nothing I've found so far makes it go away. I chant self help mantras and light scented candles against the darkness.

"I will not drink, I do not drink anymore, I will never drink again" I repeat to myself as the beastly cravings crash over me. Some days are much easier than others, some days I just have to white knuckle it. I've lasted longer this time than any other, I know it's permanent. But that doesn't stop the beast inside of me from trying. It tries to trick me into finding myself drunk again and wondering how I got there. It tries to convince me it would be easier to give up and give in. To feed the wound inside with alcohol and make it go away. I resist, I fight it.

I figuratively gnash my teeth and dig my heels in. "You will not win!" I say to it. "I will beat you this time!" I scream. "I will do something right!" I cry. The tears I cannot shed threaten to drown me in self-doubt, frustration and self-pity. I seek the solace of my dreams and pray that tomorrow I will find relief. Only 1440 minutes until I can go to sleep again.

Things to be thankful for

2009-09-24T19:17:00.002-04:00

I complain an awful lot. Have you ever noticed that? Just kidding - of course you have. That is one of the reasons I haven't been posting lately. I'm sick of hearing myself whine, so I figure, "why would anyone else want to hear it?". Thank you to the people that have emailed me, I appreciate it. The thing is, I can't seem to get myself out of my dark place lately, so I've been avoiding this blog like the plague. The worm may have turned, so I'm going to post a few things that I am extremely grateful for.

My son's knee is on the road to recovery. The MRI showed that he had no bone chips, he does have a deep bone bruise, the ligament is stretched pretty badly, but not completely torn off, and they think the cartilage is okay. There is one line that looks iffy, but apparently it's not uncommon in boys his age - when they are growing that fast, their bodies can't always keep up. He's started doing physical therapy 3x a week at a rehab facility, the other 2 days he's exercising with the trainer at school who actually works for the same rehab facility.

He's on the short brace now, which he hates, but that's only until the PT/trainer people tell him can stop using it unless he's actually running or exercising. The orthopedic doctor wrote the script for 4 weeks, we see him again at the end of October. Hopefully the boy'll have a clean bill of health at that point. The only reason they would want another MRI is if he's still having any problems at that time, without the brace on. I'm keeping my fingers (and toes) crossed that it gets taken care of completely now, without any long term effects.

Other things I'm grateful for include my girlfriend and her husband giving my son guitar lessons every weekend for free; one of my sisters finding a possible place in town that will give my son formal lessons in the winter on a sliding scale or scholarship; another girlfriend letting me borrow money in cash, and then her credit card also when I really needed it; the prez of my company offering to give me my "end of the year" bonus early when he found out I was in really tough financial straights - on the day when they laid off 6 people; the fact that I still have a job; the prez offering to pay for courses in Quickbooks so I could maybe start a side business as a bookkeeper to offset my full time wages; a lady at the rehab facility tonight who turns out to be the wife of the head of the sports dept. telling me that the school's insurance should help me cover the co-pays, which total $450 just in what has already occured or what is scheduled in appointments so far... I have been so unbelievably blessed. That is the way I choose to see it, right now.

I have a bad habit of only looking at the glass as half empty, and I have a nasty, quick temper. Things can go from placid to really bad pretty quickly around here. Case in point: my special sister is living with me. I'm so grateful that she empties the garbage every day and does her best to fill the dishwasher - but only on weekdays. She has it in her head that we agreed when we moved in together that she would only do these things on the weekdays. I have tried to tell her many times since that I still cook every day, so she should still do the dishes every day. She is adament against it, so I have cooked and cleaned up the dishes on my days off. She has even gone so far as to claim she is too sick to do the dishes if I get a 3-day weekend.

Apparently, the last time that happened, I was cursing and yelling and banging things so much in the kitchen that I scared her. When she went to say good night to me, she started crying. I gave her a hug and a kiss, and asked her why she was crying. She said it was because I scared her, that I was so angry in the kitchen and she thought it was because I was angry at her. Well it was, but I didn't mean to scare someone who is basically a child! What is wrong with me?!

When I'm actually getting some sleep without wondering where the money is coming from for the next big thing, I'm not really all that bad as a person. Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever change, be able to change, be in a position to change. When I'm feeling the squeeze, I can't even remotely find the light at the end of the tunnel to hang on to. When I do see the light, it's beautiful and I am able to remind myself of the times I have seen it in the past and how I might feel in the future.

When will the future ever come?

Little Bunny Foo Foo

2009-09-09T05:43:00.003-04:00

A couple of weeks ago I was sitting at my desk when out of the corner of my eye I spotted what I thought was a bird hopping outside the entrance door. It was a rather large bird, so I gave it my full attention and discovered it was actually a baby bunny. Which is what I yelled as I grabbed my camera and headed out the door, "A Baby Bunny!". Of course, when I got out there, it had long ago hopped away, but I still searched under all the bushes out front trying in vain to find a picture.

While in the bushes, I realized I was looking right into a co-workers office. She in turn was staring out at me and when she had my attention, she made a shadow puppet rabbit ears with her hand, and gestured that it was hopping away. Little Bunny Foo Foo! I hadn't thought about Little Bunny Foo Foo in years!

(If you're not familiar with it, it's a rather violent little children's song that uses hand gestures to get the point across. It's similar in tone to The Itsy Bitsy Spider, but is more repetitive and has a moral. Until I looked it up this morning and found it on Wikipedia, I had no idea it was as well known as it is.)

I went back inside the office and said to my co-worker, "You know Little Bunny Foo Foo? I thought that was just one of those random things only my family knew." To which she replied, "I learned it in kindergarten". We looked at each other and started laughing, "Mrs. Capp!". We had already established quite a few years ago that we had the same kindergarten teacher at the same school, one year apart. The beautiful Mrs. Capp with the long blond hair that she always wore in a huge bun on top of her head. Who knew in 1975/1976 when she taught us that song that it would be a bonding moment for two grown women over 30 years later?

Bird, bird, bird

2009-09-04T19:04:00.014-04:00

A few weeks ago, I was sitting on my back porch smoking a cigarette. One side of my back porch is completely overgrown by what I can only describe as a huge bush. It provides shade and privacy, and encourages birds and bugs to take refuge in it. This particular day, I could see a little bird roosting on the far side of it. Being who I am, I decided to go inside very quietly to see if I could grab my camera and get some pictures of it.

I was extremely surprised to find the bird still there when I came back outside. That never happens. So I slowly made my way down the porch steps to see if I could get a better angle on the pictures. The bird could not have cared less. It let me get as close as I wanted to. It kept looking like it was trying to sleep.

At that point, I thought that there must be something wrong with it. Sure enough, it tried to hop down a couple of branches and it looked like this:

I thought I would probably have to call a wild life rehabilitator or take it somewhere and see if it could be healed. In the meantime, the poor little baby allowed me to croon to it, and stroke it's feathers. I'm not kidding when I say it was the softest thing I've ever touched. It didn't try to attack me while I was touching it, and it didn't seem freaked out by it, either.

I went inside briefly to tell my mother what was going on. I was concerned that a wild life rehabilitator wouldn't take the bird in because they are basically a dime a dozen. There was no way I could bring the baby bird in my house with 2 cats and a dog that wants to eat everything that moves. I didn't know what to do. My mother insisted that I should wash my hands before I did anything further. In my mother's eyes, god only knows what diseases the bird was carrying and I had been touching it.

After speaking to my mother, I went back out and the bird was gone. I can only hope that it wasn't sick, that it was a new baby and needed to rest for a couple of minutes before it found the energy to go live it's life. Sweet little angel baby!

The knee cap issue

2009-09-03T19:12:00.004-04:00

This past Monday at about 4:15, my son dislocated his left knee cap while tackling another kid during drills at football practice. I got the call at about 4:25, and by the time I got to the school (less than 10 minutes) the trainer had already put the leg into a full leg decompression device and called the team doctor. The team doctor is an orthopedic, and was willing to see the boy as soon as we could drive there so the doc could pop the knee cap back into place (the knee cap was completely on the left side of his leg...). Apparently time is of the essence in these kind of injuries. The trainer was leary of popping it back in himself, he thought it would be better to have the ortho do it. Because I live so close to the school and could get there so quickly and get him to the ortho, the trainer didn't think it was necessary to call an ambulance.

When I got to the school, the boy was pale but seemed okay in the compression device. I was concerned about my insurance not paying for a specialist without a referral. Please don't think me cold hearted. If the trainer had popped the boy's knee cap back in place on the field I still would have taken my son to the ER to make sure he was okay. Just as the trainer was thinking it would be an unnecessary expense to call an ambulance just for transportation, I was really worried about out of pocket expenses if the insurance didn't cover us going straight to the ortho. I called the primary care pediatric and asked for an immediate referral rather than waiting until after, and it's a good thing I did because they wouldn't give me one. They told me to go to the ER.

We got to the ER at 5:05. They didn't put his knee cap back into place until after 8:00. At least they gave him a morphine/valium cocktail first, which he wouldn't have had at the ortho's office. Of course, he wouldn't have needed it if he hadn't had to wait almost 4 hours with the joint swelling! Anyway, the ER took x-rays (during which the knee cap popped out again, ouch!), and no bones are broken.. We didn't get home until almost 10:00 that night, and the ER didn't prescribe anything for pain except otc ibuprofen.

I'm still struggling with guilt over putting money before my son's pain. If I had known there was going to be such a long wait, I'm not sure if I would have done things differently. It's a really hard call. If we had gone to the ortho without a referral, I would owe him a lot of money. The office has signs all over their walls advising that if you don't have a referral, you need to pay for services rendered right there and then. Not to mention the follow up treatment which wouldn't have been covered, because the first visit wasn't covered. Now I only owe the hospital a co-pay, but made my son wait hours in pain... As it was, the hospital tried to collect it's $75 co-pay, and I could not give it to them. It was Monday, I had just spent every last penny getting the boy his books for school. I asked them to bill it to me, they are going to have to wait...

We had an appointment with the ortho yesterday, my son can forget playing any football this season. There is definitely a torn ligament in his knee, but they are hoping that will heal on its own. They are trying to get us an appointment as soon as possible for an MRI to rule out torn cartilidge, which the ortho assured me would be rare. If there were to be torn cartilidge, there would probably have to be surgery. If not, he has to wear a long leg brace for 3 weeks, a short knee brace for at least another 3 weeks, and physical therapy. His thigh muscle has already started to atrophy from the swelling in the knee and he's having difficulty picking the leg up because of it. Thankfully the ortho gave him a prescription for something stronger than otc ibuprofen. The kid is in pain! He said the swelling is normal, they don't recommend draining the knee any longer as it will just swell back up. The swelling will probably be there for six weeks!

Here are some pics of his knees I took yesterday at the doctor's office while the brace was off. Yeah, I know, GROSS!

I'm over it

2009-08-23T18:53:00.002-04:00

Thanks for all your kind words, I was in a funk, but I'm over it now. One good thing that came out of my last post is that an old girlfriend who reads my blog reached out and her husband offered to give my son guitar lessons for free. So we took a long ride out to their house this afternoon and she and I caught up for hours while the guys played with guitars in the garage. It is impossible to not be happy when I am around these people, they are the human equivalent of sunshine. It went so well, they invited us back next weekend!

Let me tell you something. True friendship is hard to come by. I've screwed it up with her twice in the past. We were best friends in high school, she is my son's godmother, and I love her and her husband dearly. I'm a very lucky lady to still have these people in my life, I think I'll be trying harder to not screw things up with her in the future!

p.s. a word to the wise, celebrating your first day of senior year by doing Kamikaze shots at 7am is a baaaaad idea.

Envy

2009-08-20T21:28:00.006-04:00

I've had a couple of people ask where I've been. Thank you for your concern, everything is okay.

Things have been strange, and I'm having trouble adjusting. Mom and my sister, Shoufie, arrived home about a month ago. Mom stayed in my room, so I didn't really have as much access to my desktop as I would have liked. Mom is gone, now, but Shoufie remains. Shoufie is my special sister that lives with me. Which presents a whole new set of problems. For both me and my son.

Add to that I've recently been reacquainted with some old girlfriends on facebook. While I'm extremely happy for them that they are doing well, I'm envious as hell of their life styles. And I've been reluctant to talk about it. Hello? Pity party of one? We have a seat for you!

Why the hell was I not born as smart as the girlfriend who makes more in one week than I do in a month? We're both single mothers, our kids are 3 months apart. Yet, she's a brainiac that travels the world doing computer jobs and I'm still trying to figure out how I'm going to pay the electric and cable, and get my son uniforms and books in time for school to start.

The worst part about the money situation is the poor kid had someone give him a guitar. All the kid has wanted since his birthday is guitar lessons, which I cannot afford. Football starts on Monday, which is the only sport the kid plays, and I cannot afford that either. The kid deserves so much better. I'm having a difficult time rectifying my issues. My son deserves so much better than what I am able to give him. I would give him the world if it was within my reach. It is not.

I'm overwhelmed right now. And I'm probably going to wish I hadn't shared all of this. Even reading other people's blogs seems like too much, never mind commenting on them.

Never mind dealing with the special sister who keeps tattling on the teenager because she is mentally younger than he is. And dealing with the teenager who can't stand having his special aunt living with him.

So, I'm envious of people with more money than me, I'm envious of people who don't have special sisters living with them, I'm envious of people who have extra bedrooms for their mother to stay in, blah, blah, blah.

I guess this is a start. Admitting the envy is a way to overcome it. If you're my friend on facebook, you know I'm playing a lot of the game Mafia Wars. It's an easy fix to a complex situation. It doesn't require anything more from me than showing up. And right now that seems to be all I can handle.

Fritters

2009-08-04T19:53:00.005-04:00

Wondering what to do with all that zucchini and summer squash in your garden? I have a delicious way to help you out. I didn't say a healthy way to help you out, you should have figured that out with the "Fritters" title for yourself. While not healthy, I swear to god this recipe will make you friends.

This recipe will make eight good sized fritters. I wasn't sure how my Tuesday night dinner crowd of 6 adults and 2 kids were going to like it, but apparently I should have doubled it. For every one that didn't like it, there was a person willing to take two of them. One of my nieces actually intentionally licked one so no one else could claim it. One of my other nieces had her feelings hurt that I didn't save her more than one...

So, here we go:

Fritters

3 cups grated veggies
*(zucchini, summer squash and onion; or zucchini, potatoes and onion; or potatoes and onion; or fresh corn and onion; whatever floats your boat - throw in some fresh grated carrots too! Flavor and color are the name of the game. Whatever ratio you use, make sure only about 1/4-1/2 cup is onion. Also be sure to put the grated veggies into a colandar. Then squeeze all the juice out before you put it into the mixing bowl. The only exception would be with already cooked corn. Remember "Don't squeeze the Charmin"? Don't squeeze the corn.

Put the squeezed veggies in a bowl, add grated black pepper, a generous helping of Kosher salt (about 2 TBSP), some chili powder, and whatever else floats your boat.

Then add 1/4 teaspoon baking POWDER (not baking soda, make sure it is the baking POWDER to make it light and fluffy), 1 cup flour and 3 eggs that you have already scrambled in a bowl.

Stir it together well. It may go through a couple of phases where it looks really dry until the egg kicks in, but by the time you stir the shit out of it, it will almost look watery. At this point, you can let it sit if you need to make sure the rest of your dinner will come out on time. If you absolutely need to prepare it in advance, stick plastic wrap on it's surface and stick it in the fridge so it doesn't crust on top.

When you are ready to fry the fritters make sure you have a fry pan with high sides, otherwise use a dutch oven. Preheat vegetable or canola oil, about an inch deep in the pan, over medium to medium high heat. The oil is ready when you have a few drops of water on your fingers and shake them into the pan, and the oil spits.

Using a 1/4 cup measure, pour each pancake into the hot oil. Let heat until each pancake seems to be cooked up it's sides. Only when each pancake seems 3/4 of the way cooked through - flip to cook on the other side. This will help cook the veggies inside and prevent running. If running occurs do not be alarmed. Adjust the temperature as necessary if the cakes are cooking and browning too quickly. The running also makes for deliciousness in the frying arena.

Serve with ranch in smaller measures as an appetizer, serve with dinner in larger quantities. I have a hard time thinking there is a way that this won't be eaten and loved!

Your loving son

2009-08-01T20:35:00.000-04:00

Many years ago, a young couple moved in next door to us. They were younger than I was, but that didn't seem to matter. The father had custody of his son who is a year older than my son, almost to the day. Their birthdays are 4 days apart. The boys never went to the same school, but have remained friends since then. We all have remained friends.

Believe me when I say these people have seen me at my absolute worst and remain non-judgmental.

The funny thing is, sometimes you meet people with whom you have a few things in common and somehow you become family to each other. Their son is like my son from another mother, and they feel the same about my son.

They recently moved out to New Hampshire. They came down and picked up my son a couple of weeks ago and brought him up to stay with them for a week. I was happy to reciprocate, and was given a 16 year old last night to spend the week at our house. I'm not kidding when I say I love this kid like he's one of my own. I also wanted to steal their almost three year old giggle monster little girl, but they weren't giving her up. So I guess I was stuck with "my boys".

Apparently, "my boys" decided sleeping in the same bed wasn't cool, and one sleeping in the bed and the other sleeping on the floor wasn't fair. So they chose to sleep in the living room - one on the couch and the other on the love seat.

If you know me, you know I love taking pictures. I especially love taking pictures of sleeping children.

Considering "my boys" are both rapidly approaching six feet, I would have loved to have taken a picture of them sleeping cramped up on a couch and a love seat. Throw in a dog, and I'm practically drooling.

As a matter of fact, I may have taken a picture of sleeping boys just a few weeks ago when there were four of them in my living room, and a very happy puppy making her rounds.

So, I was completely surprised when I woke up this morning and found this note:

I'm not quite sure what he's trying to say. I think it has something to do with his love of God, and also his love of me.

Wordless Wednesday, more pretty flowers!

2009-07-29T06:00:00.001-04:00

C'mon a my house, my house...

2009-07-27T18:21:00.017-04:00

Mr. Condescending put out an interesting meme of sorts recently, and he was kind enough to ask me to play along. As usual, I'm extremely late to the game, but at least I showed. It's called:

Here are his suggestions:

I would like to know a few very important things about you, along with some photographic evidence preferably. If you were going to allow us to spend a night at YOUR home, I would like to know the following:

What books are on your favorite shelf?
What DVD's are on your favorite shelf?
What are your TWO favorite cookbooks.
Select 1-3 recipes you will cook for your special guest.
What will we be drinking that is available?

My bookshelf is a study in disorganization. But it is full of things I have loved enough to save. You might notice I never give away my Stephen King books. You might also notice that I never dust it because it is usually full of framed pictures, and that I was still too lazy after taking off said pictures to bother dusting it before I took the picture. I'm just keeping it real.

The DVD's are the only ones I've cared enough to own, I guess. I have a million other VHS tapes that I never watch. I usually just rent, unless I find something dirt cheap that I feel I'm going to need to watch again. I pretty much watch nothing over and over again enough to actually buy it. I'm usually too busy on my computer to watch movies or television.

My two favorite cook books are as follows. The Joy of Cooking was my first cookbook, a gift from my father while I was still in my teens. I still consult it every time I need a basic recipe. This book changed my life. Every recipe is idiot proof, and it gave me the confidence I needed to try new things.

My second favorite cookbook was a gift from my son many Mother's Days ago. It was basically an empty binder to put my favorite recipes into as I found them. I'm constantly updating it, and always keep the card he made me to go with it in the front pocket.

Our dinner menu will probably depend upon the time of year I invite you over. Here are two alternate dinners. Both will start with this recipe for Orange garlic shrimp by Pastor Ryan on Pioneer Woman's cooking site. This stuff will knock your socks off! I could eat it every night and never get sick of it. Try it for yourself sometime, it's easy and delicious.

If it's summer, I will probably serve you a chicken breast with a lemon cilantro pesto under the skin, grilled to perfection and a heaping serving of chunky avocado salsa on the side. You might even get lucky enough to have this grilled zucchini and red onion pasta salad that I made the other night. I threw in some spinach and shrimp to make it a meal, it was sooo good.

If it's winter, you're probably going to get an herb crusted prime rib meal, complete with au jus, sauteed baby bella mushrooms, fresh mashed potatoes, and my special mashed baby carrots. This particular picture was taken at Christmas last year.

Summer or winter, spring or fall - if I'm going to serve a special dinner, it's going to be on my Haviland Springtime china.

I adore this dish set in ways that no one should love inanimate objects. Here is the story behind it. My mother had an extremely successful antique and collectibles shop around the same time I got engaged, many, many years ago. An older couple was downsizing and asked my mother to try to sell their over 50 year old dish set in her shop. I fell in love with it, and asked my mother to buy it for me at her discount as my wedding present. She bought it, paid for it, and then I broke off the engagement. She flat out told me I would need to get married or she would have to die before I got that china set. I just needed to wait her out, because when she moved to Florida 7 years ago, she gave it me rather than having to move something else. It's an almost perfect set for 12, and I look for reasons to break it out.

Last but not least, what would I serve you to drink? I think wine could be the perfect accompianment to almost any meal, but I'm not really a wine drinker any longer. Therefore, I have no idea what is good and what isn't. Back in the day, I was fond of something called Col Di Sasso, which I now realize isn't very good. But it tasted fine to my uneducated palate.

So, I'm pretty sure my standing BYOB pertains here, also. I also have generic ginger ale, and ice cold water, if you're interested. Iced coffee? Diet soda? Anyone? Bueller, Bueller?

My version of poetry

2009-07-25T19:22:00.012-04:00

We decided to spend the late morning going to tag sales. This is my mother's passion, and I enjoy it once in a while as well. We finally had a beautiful summer day, and I enjoyed just driving through the country side looking for the signs on the side of the road.

Somehow we ended up way out in the boonies. I'm talking old school New England colonial backwoods, with horses and stone walls. That is where we found an estate sale on a property that was incredible. The adult children were helping their parents clear out the many buildings as the property had already been sold. I can only guesstimate that it went in the millions.

My mother walked around finding things to buy, while I walked the property taking pictures. Afterward, I tried explaining the pictures I had taken to my mother. I told her how I had seen things that I HAD to take pictures of, in between the green of the leaves and the trees and the stone walls and the dappled sunlight.

My mother was trying hard to understand me, I was so grateful. She told me that the words I used to describe what I was taking pictures of sounded like poetry. "Momma", I said, "they looked like poetry to me". I had no other way to explain what I was trying to do. She understood that a picture is worth a thousand words.

We had a moment there, and it was almost as beautiful to me as the pictures in my mind. I don't know if the pictures in real life capture it, but here they are.

Happy first blogiversary!

2009-07-24T14:43:00.004-04:00

I can't believe tomorrow will be a year since I started this blog. I can't believe how much this blog has changed me, for the better. I can't believe all of the wonderful people I have met. I'm so lucky! I love you guys!

Check this out, my first post.

Image borrowed from Fancy Schmancy Cakes.

Wordless Wednesday, Pink this week!

2009-07-22T18:18:00.004-04:00

Dear Lady Gaga

2009-07-21T08:52:00.003-04:00

Taking a page from the book of Cora, at Love Letters by Cora, I'm penning a letter to Lady Gaga.

Dear Lady Gaga,

I understand your profound urge to be unique and original.

I empathize with your insatiable need for attention.

But don't you think this crosses some invisible line. By like a mile?

Sincerely,

What the fuck were you thinking?

Reflection and instrospection

2009-07-17T20:40:00.000-04:00

My brain has been on overdrive this week for reasons unknown. However, I have some ideas.

1. I think I'm trying to relive my life through my child.

If you are keeping score at home, you may have noticed that was only one idea. Yay for you! You win a prize! I'll tell you how to claim it later!

In the meantime, please try to focus on me and my almost mid-life crisis.

I guess I am having a hard time because I want so much for the boy. I want his life to be different than mine was when I was his age, or any age for that matter. I didn't even realize I was trying too hard. I was being myself, which, like I've said is cool one minute and embarrassing the next.

The fact that this normal teenage trait even bothered me showed me that something was wrong, with ME. Because, really, if you're embarrassing your teenager - you're doing something right. Am I right?

There is an extremely thin line between being the cool mom, and being one of his friends. I would like more than anything to be both, but I rationally know that's neither healthy nor practical. It's not that I'm having difficulty setting down rules and guidelines (I'm not that cool). It's more that I'm inserting myself too much into his personal space, and he's starting to resent it. Stupid Facebook. Considering that one of my major issues with my mother is her lack of boundaries, you would think I would know better.

But, goodness, the separation stings... I will always want him to be my baby. He's not having growing pains, I am. I distinctly remember someone talking about their teenagers, and thinking, "my boy will always want to cuddle on the couch with me, these people don't know what they're talking about."

Do you know what I would give to have my boy cuddle on the couch with me right now?

This song makes me cry, every time.

Twofer almost Thursday, or Twofer after Tuesday - WHATEVER!

2009-07-15T20:04:00.001-04:00

I've been tagged with 2 awards, one with a meme.

Jocelyn at Physical Possum tagged me for an Honest Scrap award, and Silver at Tantalizing Treats tagged me with a Bella Sinclair award! I'm so honored by these two lovely ladies!

The Bella Sinclair award states by it's creator, Ces:

“I designed this award to celebrate art in the blogs and to honor the value of friendship, sisterhood, sharing and caring. It is to be awarded to the gifted, accomplished, eloquent and talented blogger whose friendship and influence inspire us to do our best. That I named it after Bella Sinclair is because she epitomizes all of these things. She is an inspiration to many of us”.

“I hope that when Bella returns, this award would have already circulated in the blogs. It is my honor to give this award to the first recipients who I hope will find the same pleasure as I have in spreading its crown, giving shade and the comfort of friendship and caring and of sisterhood by sharing this award with their blog-friends and sisters!”

By the way, Silver, thanks for introducing me to Ces's blog, I can't wait to dig in and read more!

The Honest Scrap rules are as follows:

“The Honest Scrap” award is not one to hold all to your self but it must be shared!
First, the recipient has to tell 10 true things about themselves in their blog that no one else knows.
Second, the recipient has to pass along this prestigious award to 10 more bloggers.
Third, those 10 bloggers all have to be notified they have been given with this award.
Those 10 bloggers that receive this award should link back to the blog that awarded them “The Honest Scrap’ award.

Are there really 10 things you guys don't already know about me that I actually want to share? This might be a tough one.

1. I have always loved animals. I wanted to be a wildlife rehabilitator when I was in high school, but then I realized wild animals are fucking scary.

2. If I won the lottery, I would probably go back to school for a veterinarian degree.

3. I honestly don't think I'm smart enough to get a veterinarian degree.

4. Scratch 2 & 3. If I won the lottery, I would probably go back to school for photography.

5. If I'm running late, I won't shower that day. I take the old French Whore's Bath. All day long I feel disgusting. Which does not stop me from doing it again the next time I can't drag my lazy ass out of bed.

6. I dropped out of high school, and got a full-time job making tie-dyed tee-shirts. I had fucked around my senior year doing things like early morning Kamikaze shots. Then I got really sick and had to have my tonsils out. I lost credit and realized I wasn't going to graduate with my class, so I got a full time job doing something I loved instead.

7. I went to business school after my full time job 5 days a week, and earned a "Word Processing" certificate before I received my GED in the mail.

8. I firmly believe that if roughly 25% of my graduating class had to take their GED, they would not have received their diploma. That shit was hard!

9. I had a pet python for about 7 years before he died, I got him when he was a baby, 6 weeks old and I was 17. I still feel guilty about his death, because I hadn't educated myself enough in advance in the proper care and handling of pythons, and he probably should have lived much longer. I will never forget the day my mother found out I had had a snake in her house for 3 weeks without her knowing! "Get you and your fucking snake out of my house!" Ha-ha, she was so pissed. And then she ended up being the one to name him. She grew to love him, or at least tolerate him. Whatever, I moved out soon after.

10. If I could make money making tie-dyed shirts, or at photography, or working with animals, I would quit my job in a heartbeat.

Bonus 11 - Lucky you! I worry way too much about what my son thinks of me. One minute I'm the cool mom, and the next minute I'm soooo embarrassing. What I really worry about is that he is going to feel about me the way I feel about my mom. He's my only child. What if he and his future wife hate me and move far away from me? I know I worry too much in advance about things. While I'm enjoying a week to myself right now, I wonder what the hell I'm going to do in 3 years when he goes off to college. I'm absolutely certain that the fact that my mother is coming in less than a week to stay for a month has nothing whatsoever to do with this weighing heavily upon my mind!

There you have it! Now for the tags.

I've started following a lot of new blogs, lately, so I'd like to hear from them. If you're not into doing memes or accepting awards, it's all good. There are no obligations, no strings, no worries. But please know that that I bloggy love you enough to tag you, in alphabetical order!

Char, at Char's Today

My sissy, Chaos at It's all the same fuckin' day, man. Kouf, come out and play?

Proud Dogmom of Lola, at Life, Love and Lola

Judi, at Lines Composed

Andrea, at My Life's Second Half

Shana, at Shana's Place

Ebony, at Sizzling Publications

Naomi, at Surviving Single Motherhood

Raine, at True Confessions of a Single Mother

SRG, at Two Black Cats

That should do it! If you choose to accept this assignment, both awards, I look forward to your posts! I'm already following all of your blogs, so I'm hoping I might have stuff to read from you all soon! If I was cool enough to be southern, I'd call you all, y'all. But I'm not southern. Or cool.

According to my son, my cool levels plummeted in the last couple of days. Crap, I don't even know why! I must have embarrassed him somehow, by like being alive and/or breathing. Or something.

Wordless Wednesday, purple rain

2009-07-15T16:34:00.007-04:00

Fancy Pictures - 365

2009-07-14T17:03:00.002-04:00

The Vegetable Assassin left me a comment saying she had started a 365 project and asked me to join along. A 365 project, if you're not familiar with it, means taking and posting 365 pictures in 365 days. Should be a no-brainer for me, unless I'm out of town as I don't have a laptop. I'm making the commitment to try to be as dedicated to it as I can within reason. If you'd like to check it out, clicky here.

Totally awkward Tuesday

2009-07-14T15:16:00.004-04:00

Hosted by Tova Darling, go check it out!

I was driving home from the amusement park on Saturday and we were listening to an alternative station on the radio. The boys are all musically inclined, and have eclectic tastes in music, so we have similar likes. When Insane in the Membrane came on, I cranked it. And then I realized I wasn't alone in the car, and I had no idea how they felt about being subjected to Cypress Hill at full volume.

As I was turning it back down, I said, "Sorry guys, that was really loud". One of my son's friends from the back seat pipes up with "It wasn't too loud, you're too old". I thought that was funny as hell, but the poor kid started furiously back-peddling. "Mrs. S, I didn't mean for it to come out like that. My uncle says it all the time - if it's too loud you're too old. But I didn't mean YOU were old...". I was still laughing my ass off, and wasn't about to cut him any slack. "It's too late, kid; you can't fix it". Good thing a half hour earlier he had already told me I was the coolest mom ever or he might have been walking home.

No comments

2009-07-14T13:10:00.001-04:00

Hey, Raine, your new blog layout looks great! But nobody can comment on it, and no one knows how to get a hold of you to tell you! Hope you read this!

What bugs me

2009-07-13T22:30:00.002-04:00

I have a confession to make. I am obsessed with taking pictures. I know! Big shocker!

I love not only taking the picture, but playing with them after. I will literally take a picture of anyone or anything at any time as long as I have my camera handy. If I find a subject that is willing to have their picture taken, I just don't stop. Anyone who is friends with me on Facebook can attest that I've uploaded at least 100 pictures within the last week of just family and friends. I didn't even upload the pictures I took of my little nieces at the beach. Their mom is not cool with that, so I respect her wishes.

This is the time of year I go wild for taking pictures of flowers and bugs, also. Tonight was my first opportunity to start playing with some of those pictures, so prepare for an avalanche of them in the next week. Mother Nature is such a generous spirit.

These pictures are just a fluke that I happened to be there, and I'm so excited by them. I was at my cousin's house last Friday, and apparently there is a wasps' nest under one of their kitchen windows. I didn't even know that wasps kill and transport other bugs back to their nests for food. I usually don't like the kind of bugs that can sting me, I have a little bit of an allergic reaction to them. However, this guy was already busy with his own problems and obviously had no intention of bothering me.

I took pictures of the wasp and his grasshopper meal for a good 10 minutes before he got them both into the particular panel of siding he was trying for. I was absolutely fascinated with how many times the wasp hit that opening, trying to go in. Then he would stop and take a break, and try again. The grasshopper had to weigh twice as much as the wasp did, and that wasp kept trying every different angle he could for a long time until he got in. In insect time, it must have been like 7 dog years. Goddamn, he kept taking breaks, readjusting his load, and trying again, I was actually rooting for the stupid wasp after a while.

Perseverance won the day, and we didn't see the wasp again for the rest of the evening. However, don't think I won't post a picture of a spider catching this particular wasp in her web if I have the chance. It's all about Mother Nature, and my photo opportunities!

Never a dull moment

2009-07-12T19:30:00.000-04:00

I swear to god, I haven't had a free moment in like 9 days. Okay, sorry god, I may have been exaggerating a little bit, but not by much. Have you ever wondered whether god cares if her/his name is capitalized when you're using it? Everyone knows you should capitalize it when you're taking her/his name in vain, but what about every day use? When I say "I swear to god" is that technically taking her/his name in vain? Do you think she/he gets upset when people type omg instead of OMG!?

Moving on. I've been having a really great time IRL, and I have been ignoring my cyber-friends as a result. I apologize for that, because you all are my world during the 99% of the time that I have nothing going on IRL. I haven't been commenting on your blogs, but I have been reading when possible. When possible meaning only at work last week when I was there, which wasn't very often.

The reason I could only access the interwebs at work was because SOMEBODY chewed through the network cable that links my computer in my bedroom to the modem in my son's bedroom. SOMEBODY couldn't get into her boy's room after I left for work on Monday morning and apparently had a hissy fit.

Who, me?

Fucking ridiculously cute bitch. It is a good thing she is so fucking cute, or I'd probably be pretty upset about the whole thing!

I took this call at work last Monday, "Um, mom? Yer, yer, you're not going to like this, but, um, the cable to your internet is completely severed...". Smart boy called me at work where I couldn't have a complete meltdown. I was limited on cash and time, so I went to Radio Shack and bought an incredibly expensive 25' network cable before I went home. Dammit! I needed a 50' cord! No time, no money!

Tuesday we had birthday dinner for both my son and my great-niece who were born on the same day. Wednesday was their actual birthday, and we all went to the beach together. Friday we hung out at one of my cousin's house to spend time with her sister and niece from out of town. I finally got my internet back up and running Friday night, but still had no time.

When my son got back from one of his friend's pool party, he brought 3 friends with him, and one more just showed up the next day. Saturday morning we all went to my company picnic at a local amusement park and had a fantastic day! I mean, awesome. I'm so lucky they let me hang out with them, I had a great time!

Saturday night, two of my son's friends went home, and one more came over. Have you ever smelled a gaggle of teenage boys? Helloooooo, soap and water do a much better job than AXE body spray! By the time the Febreeze cleared around 2:30 this afternoon, I had my house completely to myself. For the first time in I cannot tell you how long. My son is in New Hampshire for the next week, and I'm going to party like it's 1999.

Partying while cranking the Grateful Dead off youtube on my antiquated computer speakers while I put my laundry away, singing at the top of my lungs. I'm going to party so hard, I might have to take a nap in between the loads of laundry that need to be folded. I'm so badass, I'm going to see the new Harry Potter movie with my sister this week while my son is gone! That's right, Harry Potter. You can only wish you were as cool as I am...

Happy birthday, to my son

2009-07-08T07:00:00.000-04:00

Stars and Stripes, Forever!

2009-07-04T11:34:00.003-04:00

I saw this at Cake Wrecks, and had to go to YouTube and find it and share it with you all. That's just the way I roll, it's all about the giving, and the taking, and the sharing. This is just awesome. Happy Independence Day, America! Woot!

A change in plans

2009-07-04T00:13:00.003-04:00

I just had the most wonderful day, and none of it went the way I had originally expected.

I got to spend it with family, and we had a great time even though thunderstorms canceled out swimming, the party my son was supposed to go to, having an outdoor picnic, and the town fireworks.

The highlight of my day may have been this little angel sleeping in my arms for a half an hour. Pure joy.

Actions speak louder than words

2009-07-02T18:30:00.000-04:00

Remember my landlord, Douchey McDoucherson and the parking situation? I have never said a word to him in 3-1/2 years about it. But my nieces and sister are pretty vocal when they come over and can't find a place to park in our huge driveway, so maybe he overheard them.

I was out weeding my garden last Friday when Douchey came out to tell me that he had placed a big red bulls-eye on the concrete planter at the edge of my garden next to the trellis. He said he put it there so his son would have somewhere to aim when parking his car. He thought his son was parking too close to my car, which I didn't think was the problem but I kept my mouth shut. Remember that he came to me about this.

Douchey explained that with my car on the far right, and his son's car on the far left, his wife could still park next to the son's car and there would be enough room for "that girl" when she comes over. "That girl" being either of my adult nieces. Both come over EVERY Tuesday and assorted other times. (Totally off subject - he still calls my son Jeremy, which has not even once been his name in the 3-1/2 years that we've lived here.)

There is also plenty of room in front of the garage where Douchey keeps his new car, but no one dares park there for some dark unspoken reason. I'm guessing it's mostly because he's a douchebag.

Since last Friday, every time Mrs. McDoucherson has parked her minivan she has pulled head in - in the middle of the space between the son's car and mine - diagonally. Only the tiniest of cars could possibly fit on either side of her. I don't know if it's passive-aggressive, malicious or just stupid. One of my nieces thinks it's malicious. The other thinks Douchey told her how he wanted her to park and this is her way of rebelling against him, or maybe even against me. She always seems nice enough when we talk, which really isn't that often.

Tuesday night, one of my nieces sardined her car between the minivan and my car. I thought for sure she was going to have her daughters hit the minivan with their doors on purpose, but thankfully that wasn't the case. The other niece just parked on the street. While outside, one of the little nieces asked why and my older niece yelled at the top of her lungs, "cause there isn't any room to park in the driveway!".

Last night while in the kitchen making dinner, I saw the minivan pull in - driven by Douchey. I thought to myself, "Oh goody! He's backing it in - he's going to show his wife how it should be done!"

Say it with me now, "What a fucking douchebag..."

Wordless Wednesday Part the Second

2009-07-01T19:25:00.003-04:00

Here is where I was exactly one year ago - Perkin's Cove, Maine. I'm so jealous of myself...

Wordless Wednesdays - Even Lillies can bloom during a Monsoon...

2009-07-01T06:00:00.000-04:00

Totally Awkward Tuesday

2009-06-30T06:20:00.000-04:00

For the original Totally Awkward Tuesday, visit Tova Darling.

I have to give a shout out to Mjenks and his birthday post to his wife and daughter that is totally not family friendly! When I read that, it made me remember this little incident.

I had been dating a guy I'll call RJ (the R standing for Redneck) for about 9 months when he asked me to marry him. Even though he was pretty rough around the edges, I thought I was in love with him. He and my two year old son were definitely in love with each other, that sweetened the deal. I was living with my sister at the time, so when one of his father's rental properties opened up in the next town the next logical step seemed to be for us to move in together.

I loved the house we moved into, which was actually a little shit hole, but it was out in the middle of nowhere. The yard backed right into a huge state park, where it was not unusual for deer and coyotes to wander through, and you couldn't see or hear the neighbors because the houses were spaced so far apart. We even had moose and black bear sightings in our town. I'm a city girl, it took a little getting used to.

When I say RJ was a redneck, I'm not joking. He was a tobacco chewin', beer drinkin', gun totin', big truck drivin', gramatically challenged, pee off the back deck kind of guy. His parents had worked hard and made some money, but they were also salt of the earth, just plain nice people. I really liked them, and his sisters, and they welcomed me and my son into their family with open arms.

The night we moved in, his parents came over with a plant and some beer, making sure everything went smoothly for us. I thought that was really kind. RJ's friends had helped us move, and then we went to a local pub where we paid them back in beer and pub food. I had an overnight sitter and didn't have to be anywhere too early the next day. We were too tired the night of the move, and possibly too inebriated, to christen the house properly. That wasn't the case when we woke up the next morning.

We started doing the things a young couple does the first morning in their new home when they have an overnight sitter and the whole house to themselves. And because we were alone for possibly the first time ever, we didn't bother closing the bedroom door or being particularly quiet about what we were doing. Until I heard a noise. Not a being in the middle of the woods noise, a noise inside the house.

"RJ, did you hear that?" He was too busy, and hadn't heard anything. He got me to focus again on the task at hand for a short while until I heard the noise again. "RJ, I swear I heard something!" He tried to convince me it was just the cats, but I knew my cats weren't heavy enough to make the stairs leading up from the locked front door into the living area creak. The mood was lost for me and I made him get up to investigate. I had images of bears in our living room, or at the very least rabid raccoons who could manipulate a locked door.

The first thing RJ did was check the bedroom window that looked out on the driveway. He looked at me all confused and said, "my father's truck is in the driveway". I threw on a bathrobe and went out into the hallway leading to the living area - sure enough there was his father standing at the top of the stairs with a big shit-eatin' grin on his face.

RJ trailed behind me in his boxers and we exchanged good-mornings. RJ and his father were now both wearing shit-eatin' grins - my face was an unusual shade of pink. I offered his father a cup of coffee, but he just held up his hand that already had a Dunkin' Donuts cup in it. He said he was just stopping by to make sure things had gone okay with the move, which I was pretty sure we had already established the evening before. He said that he had knocked on the door, but we obviously didn't hear it. And then he just stood there grinning at us. When the silence and awkwardness threatened to become overbearing, I announced I was headed for the shower and turned and walked back down the hallway.

I heard RJ and his father saying goodbye, and his father walking down the stairs. Then I heard what I assumed was the front door opening. My mortification quickly turned to anger - I don't if any of you know, but I have a little bit of a temper.

I whipped open the bathroom door and confronted RJ with "You have to nip this in the bud, NOW! Just because he has a key DOES NOT mean he has the right to let himself in when he knocks on the door and doesn't get an answer! For God's sake, it's 9:00 on a Saturday morning! We have a right to our privacy! How long was he standing there listening to us having sex after letting himself into our house - And Still Didn't Leave?! Dude, that's weird! I will not live like this, wondering when your parents are just going to let themselves in to our home! You had better take care of this, or I will!"

RJ just stared at me open mouthed while I again heard a door downstairs open and close. RJ knew, but hadn't gotten the chance to tell me that his father was going into the basement to check the dehumidifier before he left. So, he not only heard us having sex, he heard me totally bitch his son out about him.

It was awkward in the extreme at the time, and especially awkward at every gathering after that as they made it the running family joke. His parents never showed up without calling first after that.

I feel for you

2009-06-28T19:33:00.004-04:00

Have you met Chaka?

I only recently started reading his blog, but I know what I like when I see it. He's smart and he's funny. Also, if he's to be believed, he's extremely proficient at reproducing. (Really Chaka, 9?!)

Anyway, he's kinda bummed that he doesn't have more followers. Actually it seems as though he is seriously bummed about the situation, because he has let it be known that if he doesn't get 100 followers before the end of July, he's shutting the place down.

I think that would be a shame, especially since I just found him. If you are not already one of his followers, would you click the above link and check out his blog? If you like what you see (and I think you will) and decide to follow him, make sure you tell him Fancy sent you. I like to help my fellow bloggers out, it has nothing to do with the fact that he dangled the idea of a prize in front of me.

*I hope it's shiny, and not one of his children*

For some reason, every time I see his name I think of this:

I have babies

2009-06-27T16:17:00.005-04:00

Who knew I could have babies, at my age. They are so cute, I could just eat them up, but I'm going to give them some more time to grow, first.

I honestly did not know how it would turn out. Would these babies grow in a potentially hostile environment? Would the temperature ever go above 80 degrees? Would it ever stop fucking raining? It was iffy, and it still is with some of them - I doubt the eggplants are going to make it. But everything else is growing and throwing blooms! Even the tomatoes are getting ready to flower.

I'm so excited, which is ridiculous considering everyone in the country, outside of New England, is already eating straight from their garden. I'll take what I can get, because I really enjoy the process. Will you look how pretty my babies are?

RIP, Jacko

2009-06-26T09:08:00.001-04:00

To make up for the totally tasteless post I left ab0ut Michael Jackson last night, please read a post I did about him last March. Click here.

Holy crap

2009-06-25T18:48:00.004-04:00

First Ed McMahon died, then Farrah Fawcett. Someone at work today said they come in threes. Who would have thought it would be Michael Jackson, from a heart attack?

Not a real good week for celebrities, huh?

I'm seriously shocked about Michael Jackson, for many reasons. The first is that he was 50, he doesn't look a day older than - when he was a black person. The second is that his heart withstood that much abuse for over 40 years. The third is that he died in the United States (didn't we ban him from our country or something?). The fourth is that he didn't die during sex like many men do. Their little hearts just give out during sex, especially when they are having sex with little boys.

What, too soon?

Happy Birthday, Meghann

2009-06-25T06:00:00.000-04:00

Today is one of my darling niece's birthdays. I am so lucky that my sisters had daughters for me to fawn over, without me having to deal with their teenage histrionics. As the youngest of the siblings, I first became an Aunt when I was 11, and then again when I was 14. I always felt very close to my older niece, KM; but I didn't really feel like I became an Auntie to my younger niece, Meghann, until recently.

The weirdest part about that is this young woman is more like me than a daughter of my own could possibly have been. I adore her. She is her own person, not ever compromising her personality or her beliefs for anyone, anytime or anywhere. She has been that way since she was a toddler.

Of course, back then we just called her stubborn. Now we call her that tree-hugging, granola-crunching, Birkenstock-wearing, hippie-chick. I'm just kidding, we only call her that behind her back... But, for real, she has a tattoo of a tree on her foot. Her FOOT! It is fucking awesome!

Two years ago when her mother moved out of state, I started having her over once a week for dinner. I wanted to get to know her better, and I wanted her to have someone in the area that she could go to if she needed it. Turns out, I rely on her a lot now also. I'm not the only one, she is like my son's older sister. His first word wasn't Mama, it was "Eggy". The bond between them is strong.

Megallah, I love you more than I can measure. I'm grateful for the time we have shared over the past couple of years. You're like a daughter from another mother. I love that we share a love of food and cooking, both of our passions. Thank you for letting me into your life and letting Tuesday Night Dinner become much more than just dinner.

I think I can safely speak for all of us when I also say thank you for not burping once at your birthday dinner this week. And, good call on asking me to make an untried recipe called Shrimp Limone with pasta and asparagus - holy mother of God that was delicious!

Meghann gave me permission to share some photos from her childhood, but she didn't get to approve them, ha-ha. I decided not to post anything more recent than about 16 years ago, so unfortunately you cannot see what a beauty she has become (unless you know me on Facebook, of course).

I call this one "Elfen Magic" (would you look at those adorable baby rolls?!)

Always with the tongue hanging out

Did Auntie give you a bunny for Easter?

Auntie also made you a tie-dye for Easter, your Mommy let you wear it for your second birthday

Sweet, fearless girl holding Auntie's python (yes, that was my real python)

Professional photo shoot, she wanted to wear Auntie's hat

The first night of Desert Storm (she's saluting)

1993 visiting Auntie when I lived in The Keys (I think she was practicing her Thriller moves)

The southern most point in the continental United States, Key West (me on the right, my sister Bouf on the left)

October, 1993 with Auntie at the pumpkin patch (I don't know where she got that sticking her tongue out thing)

Why, yes, I am a judgemental bitch! Thanks for noticing!

2009-06-19T18:52:00.010-04:00

Have you ever heard the phrase, "when you are pointing a finger at someone else, four more are pointing back at you"? I'm willing to take that risk with this post.

There's a guy at work, I'm going to call him Lou, that just bought his first house. Lou is rough and gruff, and often socially unacceptable. He'll tell you the truth as he sees it whether you ask for it or not. He works out in the shop, and is the kind of guy that you can't imagine in anything other than a tee shirt and jeans, usually dirty, with the jeans always falling off his ass and him hitching them up. I've never seen him with clean hands, and I've never seen him not in motion. He doesn't make a lot of money, and he works hard for it. His wit and humor are almost as quick as his temper. But his heart is pure gold and the size of Texas (provided you stay on his good side, of course).

He's the kind of guy that will bend over backward to help you anytime you need it, no matter what you need. He might grumble a little bit about it, but he gets it done. I'm not just talking about stuff at work, he doesn't see a line in the sand like that. If you need something personally and he can do it, he will. He won't take anything for his help, either, although he has been known to accept any kind of chocolate as repayment.

When there are leftovers in large quantities at any kind of work function, he's the kind of guy that will ask if he can take them to the battered women and children shelter. He personally donates his own free-from-the-company turkey to the shelter every Thanksgiving, and asks if he can take any of the extras to them, also.

He's the kind of guy that has faced many personal demons and has beat them into submission. He may still be haunted by them, but he uses humor to get past that. I admire and respect him for that.

I'd put him in his early 50's, and he's been saving for years and years to be able to buy his own house. A few years ago, he had a set-back where he used his savings to rescue his only child legally. His kid repayed him by moving up to Maine and never paying him back. Then, 2 years ago, Lou had a heart attack. He went through all of his sick time, vacation time, and short term benefits. Then he went through most of what he had started saving again just to survive and pay the medical bills.

When Lou told me early last month that he had finally found a fixer-upper and made an offer on it, I was so happy for him. All he has wanted for so long was to own his own home. He made jokes like, "did you know when you buy your own house, you have to buy curtains and blinds and stuff, too?". I bit, and said, "Lou, don't you have curtains in the apartment you're in that you can bring with you?". Turned out he has been living in a basement apartment for eight years with only those 2x3 basement windows, he has never needed curtains or blinds before.

Lou decided that he was going to just move in, and let the neighbors take up a collection amongst themselves. "After a couple of weeks of me living there, they are going to pay me to put up blinds!" Like I said, he's pretty funny.

I took up a collection at work to give him a house-warming type of gift card that he could use. I got permission to send out an email to the office (about 20 of us) and the field (about another 40 people) asking for donations for Lou for his new home. I'm not a pushy "in your face" type of donation collector, either. I'm more of a "it's your personal choice if you decide to donate toward a cause" person. Everyone's financial situation's and personal beliefs are their own. No hard feelings.

I guess I knew Lou better than some people did, and maybe my idea of helping him wasn't what other people had in mind. I won't even go into some of the negative comments that were made. Those people have their right to their personal opinions.

I had gotten quite a few responses that people wanted to contribute, but they didn't actually come through with the money right away. So I delayed it by one week, even though Lou had closed on the house the first week of June. I sent out a reminder email, and got a few more stragglers. I waited one more week, and then gave up. Out of all those people, I had only collected $150. I was disappointed, but I had done all that I could. I wasn't going to hound people about it, that's just bad taste.

I anonymously put a card and the cash in Lou's mail box yesterday. The card was a simple congrats on your new home thing, and I put in block lettering, "from your friends at (our company)". I decided to go the cash route because basically every appliance he had been counting on had failed as soon as he moved in. The seller had really taken him for a ride. I chose not to have just the contributors sign the card because I didn't want him to know who did and who didn't contribute.

Since Lou didn't know who to thank, he paged over the loudspeaker system, "Thanks, everyone, for the card!". When you page in our office, each individual phone is also a loudspeaker, and you can see who is sending out the page. Instead of responding to him personally at his phone, at least four people paged the whole office saying, "You're welcome". Which was probably supposed to be funny. Except two of those fuckers hadn't even contributed.

I was livid. LIVID! How dare you say "You are welcome" when you didn't contribute, you fucking scumbag? Some people gave $5, some people gave $10, some people even gave $20. You didn't give one fucking cent and you're going to try to take any fucking credit? Are you kidding me? You are the lowest of the low, the slimiest of the slimy. I wouldn't touch you with a 39 and a half foot pole.

I am too much of a professional to confront them on it, but I will not forget it. Maybe I need to get a life. Getting this upset over something that happened at work is not healthy. What it comes down to is that I still want to believe the best in everyone. I actually think that might be a good sign. I haven't evolved completely into a horrible cynic who only expects the worst, and every time I am confronted by the pond-sucking bottom-dwellers, it pisses me off.

Anger is better than laying down and rolling over, right? Or should I be striving toward not even letting things like this bother me in the first place? Hard telling, not knowing.

Causing a Scene

2009-06-18T20:27:00.005-04:00

I was talking to someone at work about that Hammertime video I last posted, and he started telling me about a performance art group called Improv Everywhere. He suggested I go to You Tube and look up the one he really liked where a group of people just froze for a couple of minutes in the middle of Grand Central Station. I found that one and enjoyed it and then went to their website and found the following video (and a lot more cool stuff!).

This is just amazing stuff. They made these people's day and gave them a story to tell about their wedding day for the rest of their lives. It's really touching. After watching the video, go here for the back story and more pictures.

I seriously love this

2009-06-18T15:02:00.000-04:00

This makes me smile every time I see it:

Wordless Wednesday - A rose by any other name... is still just a fucking rose, man

2009-06-17T06:00:00.001-04:00

You know you live on a busy road

2009-06-16T20:02:00.006-04:00

You know you live on a busy road when the Ice Cream Truck is willing to pull into your driveway.

My son and nieces were willing to cross the busy road to a side street, but the driver was more than happy to try keep them safe. I ran upstairs to grab my camera, and when I came outside everyone had some ice cream, and were happy to have their pictures taken. Or at least they didn't grumble too much. Of course, I got pics of the kids that I won't show here, but I wish I could. Even the driver got in on it! What a nice guy!

Dear Jon Stories, part 11

2009-06-14T18:35:00.005-04:00

For part 10, click here.

When I left off on part 9, I was on my parent's front porch when Jon told me that he was already on his way back to New Jersey to his wife and family. This was around 3:00 in the afternoon on Labor Day, 2001, and I already had a really good buzz on. Most of the rest of the next week is still a blur to me, but here is some of the ridiculousness I either remember, have been told, or have pieced together.

From the front porch, I ranted and raved at Jon on the phone. I told him that I forbade him to go back to his wife, and he better turn his car around right now and come back to me. And then I selfishly ran out in the middle of a family picnic yelling, "will someone please bring J (my 7 year old son) home for me?". My mother asked if all was okay and I told her that Jon had left me to go back to his wife, that was all I told them before abandoning my kid and taking off. I didn't even wait to see if it was convenient for anyone to drive my son home. I couldn't stay a minute longer.

When I got home, revenge was on my mind. Well, revenge and more drinking, of course. I was sending messages from my email to his phone, to his email, I was crazed. I only had dial-up internet access back then, so nobody could even call me if they needed to get through to tell me there was a problem with my son, I just never even thought about it.

I started sending Jon's wife copies of every saved email between he and I. That was my twisted idea of payback for everything that I thought she had put me through. I wanted her to see how much Jon and I loved each other, and I deliberately wanted to hurt her. Apparently, I didn't feel like I had hurt her enough, already. Please don't ask what the fuck I was thinking, because I obviously wasn't thinking clearly.

I don't think I've told before now the ridiculous amount of emails Jon and I had sent to each other, nor the special emphasis we had put on certain things. Anything dealing with Shakespeare, lighthouses, or the Dave Matthews Band had extra-special super-duper secret-handshake meaning between the two of us. We acted like children the way we carried on with silly codes and special importance on what turned out to be basically nothing.

Smart bitch that Lily was, she pretty much scoffed at it all as fool's play. Which is what it was, I just didn't recognize it at the time. I was 30 years old and acting like a love-sick teenager, because no one had ever before been in love as deeply as I was.

Labor Day evening, someone in my family was kind enough to bring my son home to me. Again, it is all a blur for the rest of that week. I was on a serious binge. I didn't go to work, and I'm not sure who brought the boy to school. It might have been me, it might have been my cousin who lived with me. I know for sure that people were picking him up for me, because I was definitely too drunk for that. I don't even remember how I was getting the alcohol, but I'm pretty sure no one was enabling me. I might have been dropping the boy off to school and then hitting up the liquor store on my way home. There was also a store in the area that would occasionally deliver and take a check.

One thing I remember for certain on Labor Day after I got my son to bed was getting off the internet because Jon wasn't responding to me. I called his cell, which he did not pick up, so around 10:30 pm I called the home phone in New Jersey. Their 10 year old daughter picked up. Even I knew that it was a bad idea to ask for her Daddy - I hung up. I will forever wonder what the fuck they were thinking. I found out after that they had caller ID. The daughter knew it was me, and they still let her answer the phone - at 10:30pm on a school night.

On Tuesday, my mother came over to check on me mid-afternoon, before she went to the school to pick up my son for me. I'm extremely proud to say that she found me in bed laying in a pool of my own vomit. Ah, good times. She was kind enough to help me take a shower and change my clothes and my sheets before my son came home to see me in that condition. I've never told her how sorry I am that she saw me in that condition.

My mother was also kind enough to call out from work for me that week. All she told them was that I was in "too much pain" to go to work. God bless her, she didn't give them another shred of explanation.

During that week, I was sending out emails and phone calls like a..., well, like a madwoman. Jon and Lily were trying to respond, but my family was screening my calls for me. My family couldn't be there all the time, though, and when I wasn't on the internet I called them myself.

Lily was trying to be magnanimous as she was the woman who had won at that point, and everyone could see that I had flipped my fucking lid. She kept trying to tell me I had to get up and go to work, I had to be strong for my son. When I look back and think about it, I cringe in horror. Here was a woman who's husband had left her for another woman, trying to help the other woman be strong when he left her, too. I'll never forget thoughtlessly saying to her, "but he promised me he would never leave me...". She reminded me that he had taken vows before their family, friends and God that he would never leave her.

By the time Friday rolled around, I had gotten an appointment with my previous therapist. He agreed to give me a return to work date of the following Monday, but he was not accepting new clients, so I had to find a new therapist asap.

By Friday, I had finally stopped crying and started trying to return to normal. And I started getting angry, which was a good thing. I also started cutting back on the drinking. I smashed the acoustic guitar I had bought for him into smithereens. I gathered up everything Jon had left behind into a couple of garbage bags. I smashed picture frames and threw the glass into the garbage bags. Every rose he had ever given me that I hung to dry got crushed and thrown in next. Then I took every bottle of lotion in the house and squirted them all over the inside of those bags. Want your stuff back now, bastard?

That Sunday was my great-niece's baptism. My head was pounding, I was sweating, I was having heart palpitations and having trouble breathing. I had no idea that drinking as heavily as I had for the past week could cause severe withdrawal when you quit cold-turkey. But I stayed sober that day, and went home to try to normalize both mine and my son's life.

While on-line that night after my son went to bed, Jon texted my email from his cell and asked if he could call me. I was insanely curious about what he could possibly have to say and said yes. He called and almost acted like nothing had happened, "What are you doing?". Um, I'm on the phone with you wondering what the fuck you want. What are you doing? He said he was at the grocery store picking up stuff for his kids lunches for the following week. Then he finally got to the point.

"I think I made a mistake."

I was in no mood to be nice to him. "What you made a mistake by not realizing your kids need lunch for school for the next week until after 10:00 on a Sunday night? Because, really, your mistake may have been thinking that you had any parenting skills."

"No" he responded, "I think I made a mistake going back to Lily".

Where my paranoia takes over

2009-06-14T12:11:00.003-04:00

I was checking my stat's this morning for giggles, and got freaked out!

Someone stumbled upon my blog two days ago while searching the term Fancy Schmancy in Google. That someone read at least three installments of the Dear Jon Stories.

That someone's computer is logged on in a town in New Jersey where I believe either Lily or Jon resides (I honestly don't know if they ever got back together).

I haven't had contact with these people in over 5 years. What are the odds that one of them would find this blog and these stories? I hadn't thought about that possibility before now. That would be awkward, to say the least. Also, uncomfortable, and a little scary. Please, Lord, let it not be one of their children. I've always had an irrational fear that someday the daughter would confront me. I'm not ready for that, nor do I think I ever will be.

I love popcorn

2009-06-13T23:37:00.006-04:00

This would be perfect with some butter, salt and parmesan cheese!

hahaha ur crazy

2009-06-12T14:31:00.005-04:00

Warning, shocking news ahead:

Carrie Prejean, now the former Miss California, is a silly little twat.

I just read this on Jezebel, which I found through Gawker. I'm not stealing it, I'm borrowing it for the common good and amusement of my fellow bloggers. I have absolutely nothing to add, it speaks hysterically for itself!

Fox News has apparently obtained a transcript of e-mails suggesting that Carrie Prejean lost her Miss California USA crown for making unauthorized public appearances and generally being incredibly difficult. We translate the exchange from Prejean into English.

A note on the text: Keith Lewis is a Miss California USA pageant director. cprejeanXXXX here denotes Carrie Prejean.

From: "Keith Lewis"Date: Fri, 29 May 2009 07:19:18 -0700To: Carrie PrejeanSubject: FW: Messages

Carrie,

The Style Network has asked to schedule a general meeting. Generals in the entertainment field are an opportunity for casting and producing executives to gain a better understanding of a potential talents range and demeanor in order to consider them for future projects. They are done without a specific agenda. I have had great success with my actors who have taken generals and would suggest you give it strong consideration. You never know where it may lead and sometimes they develop entire shows around you. The following days are available to meet with them here in LA. Please let me know as soon as possible if any of them work for you.

Best regards,

Keith Lewis

Translation: For some reason we think that the ratio between how interesting you are and how much media attention you have received is not ridiculously unbalanced enough. To remedy this, we want people to develop entire shows around you.

From: cprejeanXXXXSent: Friday, May 29, 2009 7:38 AMTo: Keith LewisSubject: Re: Messages

What is this for?

Translation: I did not read your e-mail.

From: "Keith Lewis"Date: Fri, 29 May 2009 07:43:45 -0700To: Subject: RE: Messages

Carrie,

It is for a general meeting – please see the explanation below.

Best regards,

Keith Lewis

Translation: Read my e-mail.

From: cprejeanXXXXSent: Friday, May 29, 2009 7:42 AMTo: Keith LewisSubject: Re: Messages

Just as you need details for things so do I. Also nice move trying to make money off of my appearances Also.. Do not try and silence me by saying I do not have a comment about the prop 8 ruling. Maybe you don't. I do

Translation: I mistakenly assume that the world needs to hear my opinions on controversial issues. Also, I still did not read your e-mail.

From: "Keith Lewis"Date: Fri, 29 May 2009 07:49:07 -0700To: Subject: RE: Messages

Carrie,

I have given you the details completely. Perhaps it is not something you would like to partake in, either way, you can let me know and I will respond to them today.

Best regards,

Keith Lewis

Translation: Read my e-mail.

From: cprejeanXXXXSent: Friday, May 29, 2009 7:40 AMTo: Keith LewisSubject: Re: Messages

I expect you to be forwarding me ALL email requests and interview requests to me. I know how you are and its not right if you are selecting things for me. Thanks for your cooperation And fyi I am a presenter of medals at the special olympics in a few weeks for the summer games. So now u know I am doing this and I expect your full support. Also I was asked to fill in for a dj on a local radio show.. Ill be reading from a show biz script monday. I am doing this

Translation: As my self-absorption increases, my spelling and punctuation decline. Also, I am going to be in "show biz."

From: "Keith Lewis"Date: Fri, 29 May 2009 08:01:35 -0700To: Subject: RE: Messages

Carrie,

As we have discussed, there is proper protocol and we have not waived our rights in any way to your contract. I am happy to try and facilitate the request. Please forward over the information along with the proper contact and we will try and confirm the appearance right away.

Best regards,

Keith Lewis

Translation: It is an enormous strain to continue being polite to you, but I am contractually obligated to keep trying.

From: cprejeanXXXXSent: Friday, May 29, 2009 7:57 AMTo: Keith LewisSubject: Re: Messages

You do not cooperate with me, and you pick and chose the the things YOU want me to do. That is not happening anymore. Stop speaking for me. I have MY own voice. What are u gonna do fire me for volunteering for the special olympics hahaha ur crazy No I am doing this appearance. You do not need details. Its for the SPECIAL OLYMPICS!!! You just need to know I will be doing it alright

You will not facilitate this appearance

Translation: I see no contradiction between my total rudeness to you and my implication that appearing at the Special Olympics makes me a good person. Also, you're not the boss of me. hahaha

Event planners the world over are presumably psyched that Prejean is now released from her contract, and free to bring her charm and politeness to other engagements.

Got Milk?

2009-06-11T18:24:00.007-04:00

I don't know what started me thinking about milk this morning, but it's been nagging me all day.

It might have had something to do with Tuesday night dinner when I asked my son and nieces what they would like to drink. Three out of four of them asked for milk. My adult niece was apologetic about even asking for it, which made no sense to me. Her reasoning was that she knows it's expensive and she didn't want to be a drain. I reassured her that "it's the calf over there", pointedly turning my eyes to my son, that is the drain on the milk situation.

I was only half joking. The child drinks at least 3-4 gallons of milk a week. I know it's him because right now it is just he and I in the house, and I cannot remember the last time I voluntarily drank a glass of milk. (For the record, I would rather he drank milk or OJ fortified with calcium than soda or sports drinks, so I'm not really complaining.)

It's funny that my brother was the same way. My mom was a single mother with 5 kids at one point, and we were going through 1-2 gallons of milk A DAY! I remember that she used to try to add water to the milk, or try to fake us out by putting Carnation's instant milk into the milk container. We always knew the difference, and didn't want to drink it. Except my brother, he would just mix in chocolate powder so he couldn't taste it.

I was diagnosed as lactose intolerant right before I turned 20, and I've tried to avoid dairy as much as possible since then. I can tolerate it in small amounts, and I usually try to go for the lower fat versions as they don't seem to affect me as badly. I will eat an occasional yogurt, I will throw a little cheese into a dish that I'm going to eat, but offer me a lasagna with Ricotta AND Mozzarella and I'm going to be in distress for weeks after. Heavy cream and butter are the stuff of my dreams, and also the stuff of my digestive system's nightmares.

What the hell was I talking about? Oh yeah, milk. I'm wondering that if calcium is so necessary for the body, what did people in ancient times do? There were no calcium pills. No one at that point worried about bone loss, probably because no one lived past 30.

Now that life expectancy is at least twice that, it turns out that nothing beats cow milk for calcium. These are some non-dairy foods that naturally contain calcium:

Salmon
Tofu
Rhubarb
Sardines
Collard Greens
Spinach
Turnip Greens
Okra
White Beans
Baked Beans
Broccoli
Peas
Brussel Sprouts
Sesame Seeds
Bok Choy
Almonds

Keep in mind that most of these nondairy sources of calcium do not have that much calcium per serving, especially as compared to milk or most calcium fortified foods. For example, a cup of broccoli has about 90mg of calcium, while a glass of milk has about 300mg.

That started me thinking. Why would "nature" create a creature that weans its young at an early age and then mandate that it needs an essential of that breast milk to keep it healthy for the rest of its life?

Who was the first person to see another creature's breast milk supply as an opportunity? Think about it. Was there a first guy looking at a goat and asking, "why am I not creating cheese from that bitch's teats?". Did his friends and family think him insane?

How did they choose which mammals were worthy? We have goat milk, cow milk, yak milk, even soy milk. How come we don't have horse milk or whale milk? We have goat cheese, buffalo mozzarella, and a million varieties from the cow. Who chose the cow to be the most represented? Am I missing sheep milk, is there demand for that? Has anyone even tried to make a product from zebras? And what about the milk from carnivorous mammals? Why not tiger milk or wolf milk? I'd bet they have a nice meaty flavor.

I'm just saying that maybe if somebody tried harder, I'd be able to eat a tasty lasagna or some stuffed shells once in a while. And maybe the price of cow milk wouldn't be more per gallon than the price of gasoline. For fuck's sake, don't we have more cows in this country than the countries we currently occupy for the oil to produce the gasoline?

Monkey Cuddles

2009-06-10T17:20:00.000-04:00

I was flipping through a magazine at work today when I came across this hideous monstrosity. They label it "a delightful achievement in miniature art!" and are actually trying to sell it to people for real money. I personally think it's one of the ugliest fucking things I've ever seen. It's not even so ugly that it's cute, it's just ugly. As in U-G-L-Y, you ain't got no alibi, you ugly (what-what?), you ugly.

You judge for yourself. I present to you Monkey Cuddles from the Just a Little Monkey Business miniature monkey figure collection:

Need a close-up?

But wait, there's more, and they are even fucking uglier if that is possible.

Note that "This figure is not a toy. It is a fine collectible to be enjoyed by adult collectors.". I'm going to let the fine collectible part slide and go right to the part about the adult collectors. That is because they will scare the crap out of your children and quite possibly scar them for life! "You'd better behave little Suzie, or mommy will send Monkey Nibbles in to your room after you fall asleep! He may look innocent, but he'll rip off your face just like Travis the Chimp!"

If I haven't dissuaded you and you still have to have it (Gwen and WhiskeyMarie, I'm looking straight at both of you. Well, maybe one eye on each of you.), they can be yours for just $19.99. Each. Be sure to order now because The Ashton-Drake Galleries assures me that they are available for a limited time only and demand is expected to be great. Unfortunately, the magazine I ripped this page out of is from last September. I'm certain they're all gone by now. Or not.

Wordless Wednesday - Pat, I'd like to buy a verb to solve the puzzle

2009-06-10T06:00:00.001-04:00

Thanks Aunt Becky for the head-up on the typo in my "Wordless" Wednesday title! Ha-ha!

Totally awkward Tuesday, late night edition

2009-06-09T20:29:00.002-04:00

I haven't done a Totally Awkward Tuesday post in a while, but this morning was just perfect for it. To see the original lady, go to Secret Life of Tova Darling.

I had a little bit of a rough morning, couldn't quite wake up. Have you ever had one of those days where you are operating in a daze? This was my day (daze).

Before 8am, 2 co-workers and I started talking about our boss's dental issues. Somehow, we went from there to our own dental and orthodontia issues while growing up. Both of them had braces. We joked about how our teeth were still constantly shifting as we got older. One of the ladies said that her 12 year old daughter would have her braces coming off soon.

She told us that the new rules of orthodontia called for her daughter to wear her retainer well into her twenties to make up for this shifting of teeth we had been speaking of. Before I ever even thought about it for a second, I said, "Well, that should help keep her a virgin!".

Three seconds later, we all looked at each other, and I started apologizing profusely to the HR lady for the inappropriate comments I made about her 12 year old daughter, while the other lady was laughing so hard that I wondered if she was wearing a diaper to help with her peeing her pants.

As I tried to explain to the lady who wasn't the mother of the child I insulted, I have to keep a vigilant watch at all times. If I let my guard down for even one second, my brain will let my mouth say whatever it wants to at any time.

Look what Scope did

2009-06-05T09:05:00.006-04:00

Scope at Scope-Tech left me a comment on my last post letting me know to go check his blog this morning. When I got there, I found this:

Can you believe it? I'm flabbergasted. I'm sitting at work trying not to sob like a little girl, but I have tears rolling down my cheeks.

It's not just the award, but what he wrote about me. It's probably one of the most thoughtful things anyone's ever done for me, and just when I needed it most:

"... there's a blogger whose honesty and openness make me look like a filthy lyre. She came close to quitting blogging a while back. Made it a whole day before she was driven back. Not because she wanted to make us laugh or smile. But because we're her friends, and when things go bad, you don't push your friends away, you pull them closer.

Right now, she telling a heart ripping tale from her past. Fancy, know I haven't commented much, but there isn't much to say. But I HAVE been reading. And interspersed in the story, are posts that make me smile, too.

So, Fancy Schmancy, today I proudly present you the "Honest Blogger Award." Just to be clear, this does not require you to list 6 things about yourself, show the contents of you purse, or pass on to other people. This award was had created especially for you, because you deserve it..."

Say it with me, AWWWWWWWW! Thanks so much, Scope. Virtual hugs are being sent across the wires to you. That was awesome.

Dear Jon Stories, part 10

2009-06-04T18:09:00.003-04:00

For part 9, click here.

I left off on Labor Day, 2001 for a reason. The rest of the story is really hard for me to write about. I've started having nightmares again, and am having trouble sleeping period. There is no gore, no crimes committed, no physical abuse or anything like that involved. These are things that I need to personally confront, crimes against myself if you will. Crimes that I committed morally against other people, most especially my own child.

It is difficult because I have basically never spoken to anyone about this period of my life. My family and I have never really talked about it again, except to nod our heads knowingly about "that time when I was sick". So to talk about it in a public forum is unusual, but reliving it personally is even more so. I have been stuffing it down inside of me for so long that I'm not sure how to react to memories as they are popping up. My past mantra when the memories came was, "it's over, let it go; it's over, let it go". Deliberately delving into the memories is a whole different beast.

It's like picking at a long gone scab, which is now just an ugly scar, trying to make it bleed again. I know for a fact that the scar is never going to go away, it is a part of who I am. But maybe if I make it bleed again, it will this time get rid of the infection festering just under the surface.

To that end, I need to say that Jon wasn't completely the bad guy that I have painted him to be. Obviously, or I wouldn't have loved him with the devotion that I did - obviously, neither would his wife. He was beyond charming and had unbelievably redeeming qualities.

Of course, so did Ted Bundy.

I've come to view Jon in the only way that I can and still retain my sanity. That is as an incredibly lovable sociopath. Not the kind that kills and eats people, but a sociopath all the same. That is the only way I can rationalize my behavior with this man. Read more on that link if you are interested in the psychology of a sociopath. It thoerizes that,

"The main characteristic of a sociopath is a disregard for the rights of others. Sociopaths are also unable to conform to what society defines as a normal personality. Antisocial tendencies are a big part of the sociopath’s personality. This pattern usually comes into evidence around the age of 15. If it is not treated, it can develop into adulthood.

Visible symptoms include physical aggression and the inability to hold down a steady job. The sociopath also finds it hard to sustain relationships and shows a lack of regret in his or her actions. A major personality behavior trait is the violation of the rights of others. This can appear as a disregard for the physical or sexual well being of another.

Although these symptoms are all present, they may not always be evident. Research has shown that the sociopath is usually a person with an abundance of charm and wit. He or she may appear friendly and considerate, but these attributes are usually superficial. They are used as a way of blinding the other person to the personal agenda behind the sociopath’s behaviour."

I should have realized that the two people I was closest to in my life hated him with reason - my best friend-sister, Kouf, and my best friend-cousin, Jenni. (Jenni was living with me at the time.) And Jon hated them both back, with a passion.

Have you ever heard of an abuser's method of starting out slowly alienating the people close to "the victim"? Well, these two stayed in the game for a long time, and I'm so thankful for that! At the same time, I have a hard time labeling myself as the "victim". For fuck's sake, I was so totally in love with this guy that I willingly put my love for him before the love and welfare of my child.

I was so messed up, I'd like to say I didn't know what I was doing, but that would be a blatant cop-out. Right now, I'm all about trying to take responsibility for this hot mess.

I'll post more about what happened when I'm ready and able. If you made it this far through the post, thanks.

If I have to be a loser...

2009-06-03T17:23:00.009-04:00

This was a pretty good group of losers to be with.

Dr. Zibbs over at That Blue Yak held a contest to see if someone could come up with a new header for his famous, award winning blog. I was bored on a Saturday evening so I amused myself by toying with my crappy photo software with some pictures I borrowed from the interwebs. Except the first one, that's part of a photo of what I did for another of his contests last year. Can you tell I submitted it on October 31st?

Surprisingly, none of my elaborate designs won. I wasn't going to bother showing them, but Zibbsy was kind enough to list me among the other entrants and link to my blog. He even called me his dear, dear Fancy friend. Awwww....

I don't know if anyone came over here looking for the headers today, and found only misery and the soul-numbing, life-sucking Dear Jon Stories, but here is where I try to make up for that! Please be sure to clicky on the linky above to not only visit his site and see his new header, but also for the links to the other losers, er, I mean runners-up.

Wordless Wednesdays - Someone got left inside during a game of Freeze-Tag

2009-06-03T07:00:00.006-04:00

Happy Anniversary of the day of your birth

2009-06-03T06:00:00.000-04:00

Gwendolyn, this post is for you.

I wish you a very happy birthday, and many, many more.

You are awesome! You are smart, and funny, and unique and strong. I admire you as a blogger, as a person, and as a woman.

Here's hoping for more of the happiness that should rightfully be yours to follow.

To check Gwen out in all her monkey goodness, click here for Every I like causes cancer.

If you're not following her, you should be. She is amazing.

p.s. Gwennie, sweetie, sorry but the card is going to be late in the mail. You know how goddamn slow that U.S. Postal Service works. And also how I procrastinate about things. But I promise that I love you anyway, if that helps at all...

Dear Jon Stories, part 9

2009-06-02T21:25:00.001-04:00

For part 8, click here.

Aren't you people sick of listening to me whine, yet? Yeah, that's rhetorical. You'll either read on, or you won't. The thing is, I'm getting sick of listening to myself whine. Although I'd like to try to speed this up, I can't.

April through August of that year were pretty much more of the same, with the following exceptions. Jon spent an exceptionally large amount of time at his wife's house, and I spent an exceptionally large amount of time drinking. Both issues started causing us to constantly bicker.

The first week of July, one of my sisters and I rented a cabin on Lake Winnipesaukee in New Hampshire. I invited Jon to go (free of charge), but he said he couldn't be away the whole week. Instead, he would spend the first part of the week with me, and the second part with his family at Lily's parent's beach cottage on the Jersey Shore.

When we got to Winnipesaukee, Jon confided in me that he had been laid-off from his new job. It turned out that he basically had gotten fired because he had not sold one thing since he took the job over six months previously. He was feeling really low the whole time he was with me, but just really focused in on berating me for everything he thought I was doing wrong, especially my drinking.

After a couple of days, I was like, WTF - I'm on vacation! He was transferring all his negative feelings on to me, so I basically didn't take his calls to my cell phone for the rest of the time I was away unless he was willing to talk to me civilly. By this point, I was starting to rebel a little bit at his authoritarian attitude. I don't answer to anybody!

I came home from vacation to a shit storm from not just him, but also Lily. Apparently, I was the one to blame for him losing his job and their whole family not having an income. I was the one to blame for him leaving his job at our company to begin with. She even tried to blame Jon's father's cancer scare on me. If he hadn't been so stressed out about the state of his son's marriage, he would never have been unhealthy enough to possibly get the cancer that it turned out he didn't have.

I tried to get Jon to talk some sense into the woman. For fuck's sake, if I had a magic wand that I could wave around making people get cancer, did she not think I would have used it on more important things, like making her shut the fuck up? He just told me the same thing he probably told her, "I have no control over the things she says or does". Yeah, if I had a magic wand, I would have made him grow some balls, at the very least.

By the middle of August, Jon had begged for and received a job back at the company we worked for. But he received an older position, the one previous to the position that he had left - at a seriously reduced rate of income than he had been receiving when he left. At least he was bringing some money home.

When my pussy boss found out Jon was back with the company, he decided to try to regulate Jon and I communicating on company time. He drew up a document with a bunch of ridiculous stipulations about how and when Jon and I were allowed to talk on the phone or see each other in the office. He called me in to his office with a co-worker who wasn't even my supervisor and asked me to sign it. When I asked, "Do I have to?", he answered, "Yes". Which made me believe that my job was on the line if I did not sign the document. Jon was never asked to sign anything.

I eventually had to go over pussy boss's head to the corporate HR department to deem that the document he made me sign under duress was null and void, actually it was illegal. From that point on, pussy boss did everything he could to find any reason under the sun to fire me. He also moved me from my pod that covered New York and New Jersey to a pod that covered Northern New England. That way, at least, Jon didn't have a valid reason to have any communication with me at work.

Fast forward to the end of summer. For some reason, I was still completely in love with Jon. I don't know why I thought things were beginning to settle down, and we were going to make things work out between us. I felt like we had gotten through the work thing together, Lily was quieting down a little bit, I felt that the end of summer was going to be a happy time for us. Jon attended my family reunion, and was a big hit. I remember encouraging him to show off the beautiful pictures of his kids, and him being so reluctant to do so. Again, that didn't strike me as odd at the time.

The next weekend was Labor Day weekend. Jon stayed with me from late Friday to early Sunday. He had agreed to go down to the Jersey Shore to spend time with his kids for the last weekend of the season, and also to watch them while Lily went out Sunday night with her girlfriends.

Here is where it gets really weird for me. I thought Jon and I had reached a point in our relationship where we could be extremely honest with each other with no recriminations. It turned out that when I bared my soul to him, he couldn't handle it.

On Sunday morning, I admitted to him with all the honesty that I had in my heart that I thought I had a problem. It was 10:30am on a Sunday and I wanted to start drinking already, and I didn't know what to do. I didn't beg him for any answers, it wasn't a Hollywood chick flick moment where everything gets resolved at the end of 90 minutes. I was extremely open and honest with him, in a way that I had never ever been with any other person up until that point. I felt like I was sharing my raw soul with him. This is just what it is, and where I was, and I didn't know what to do.

Jon didn't have any answers for me, he didn't even have time to call me later that night. Down at the shore, he didn't have any email access. He left a message on my answering machine long after I had gone to sleep to let me know that Lily and her friends were going to be out really late and he would have to stay the night at the beach house. When I woke up on Labor Day I knew something was not right. First of all, he was already supposed to be at my house. Second of all, my calls to him were going straight to voice mail.

I had made a promise to my parents that I would go over to trim their front hedges, which is what I did on Monday. Everyone asked me where Jon was. The only honest response was, "I don't know".

Around Noon on Monday, Jon finally started responding to my phone calls to tell me he was on his way. I asked him why he had not responded to my phone calls and he told me it was because he had been having breakfast with his son. This just didn't make any sense. When he actually showed up at my house, I asked what the hell was going on. I was pretty pissed, and was being a total bitch to him. He basically refused to give me a straight answer. He finished installing my dishwasher, which he had been working on, and then went upstairs "to get ready". While he was upstairs, I bitchilly told him that he had about 5 minutes until I was ready to go to my parent's house without him.

He missed the deadline, so I left without him.

Turns out he was only finishing the dishwasher so he didn't feel badly about leaving me in the lurch. He only came back to my house to get his stuff.

The night before when he had told me was with his children, he had actually crawled into Lily's bed and asked her if she could ever forgive him for the things he had done, and she did. That explains him not responding to any morning phone calls, they were enjoying the morning together as a family. He spent that morning holding his wife in his arms asking her to take him back. And she did.

By the time I called him from my parents front porch to find out where he was, he was already on his way back to New Jersey. To say I didn't take it well would be an understatement. I had a complete breakdown. A complete and total mental breakdown.

Silly Cat Post

2009-05-30T23:49:00.005-04:00

Have you ever seen a cat as fat as my fat-boy?

Look, even the dog is laughing at him.

The dog is laughing because fat-boy always fails to realize he is bigger than the dog is, and only occasionally takes a little swipe at the dog when she goes over the line. Which she does by sticking her nose up the cat's asses multiple times a day. Thank goodness for fat-boy's lack of short term memory.

Every day is a new day in this house!

Dear Jon Stories, part 8

2009-05-29T14:22:00.011-04:00

For part 7, click here.

As I said, I stupidly forgave Jon for fucking up my 30th birthday party. A week later was Christmas. His wife took their children down south to visit her sister, and Jon was devastated by this. He was already the kind of person who didn't deal with Christmas well, he apparently had moped before and after the holiday for years. I'm assuming it was something like what we all felt when we didn't believe in Santa any longer - too old for toys, too young to enjoy the spirit of the season. Except he never got over that anticlimactic feeling. I don't know if he thought I was going to magically make it all better, but I couldn't.

We made it through Christmas Eve with my extended family okay, but Christmas morning Jon was a basket case. I tried to buy him quirky, thoughtful gifts that I thought would make him happy, but I failed miserably. On the bright side, I had much better luck with my son! And that should have been what I was focusing on. After we finished opening presents, I started cleaning up and preparing for my family to come at noon for brunch. Jon had decided to go back to New Jersey to spend Christmas day with his parents, and I assumed he was upstairs getting ready.

I went up to check on him when I realized I hadn't heard the shower running or any noise from him in a little while, and found him curled up in the fetal position on my bed crying. My heart was broken for him because he was so sad, so I curled up around him and held him for as long as I could. I finally had to say, "I have to get moving, I have my parents and sisters and nieces coming in an hour." He convinced me to take a shower with him, and I felt so bad, I couldn't say no. Needless to say, when my family arrived there was basically no food ready for the brunch buffet.

That was always how it went with Jon. I felt like I wanted to please him so badly that nothing else mattered. No matter what it was that he wanted, I almost never said no to anything. I don't understand how he functioned on as little sleep as he did, either. Sometimes he showed at midnight and woke me up, and then he would set the alarm for an hour before we actually had to get up for work. Sleep deprivation is a torture technique used for keeping people disoriented, and I swear it started taking its toll on me after a while.

We settled in to a routine, as I had mentioned before, of him spending many nights every week at the family house, and a night here or there at my place. This never changed for the duration of our relationship, by the way. No matter where he was living, and he finally ended up moving back in with his parents, he could not ever justify having the kids over to stay with him. He always went there.

At the end of that December, he changed jobs, hoping to alleviate the strain on our work relationship. Lily had started leaving messages on the main work number's general mailbox like "Fancy Schmancy is a fucking cunt!" among other things. Jon thought the new job would actually make him more money, and ease my boss's angst about our personal relationship interfering with his office.

Over the months that followed, I tried really hard to put the work in to what I thought was our relationship, and I thought I was being supportive. I kept drinking more and more, so in retrospect what I thought was being supportive at the time was really just numbing myself in an effort to not pick fights with him over what I knew was not right.

I took him away for his birthday at the end of March, 2001 to Newport, RI. I spent a small fortune on that weekend that I didn't have, and found out two weeks later from Lily that he had been trying to get busy with her again. The main reason I knew for certain that they hadn't actually done the deed was because I knew she would have told me about it. Jon admitted to getting too friendly with Lily on a couple of occasions but swore to me that he was committed to making things work with me.

Like a fool, I believed him. I begged him to stay away from her, make new arrangements where he took the kids outside the house to help out with them. He kept saying that the best way he could still be a good father was to be there in the house to help out with them. It was too soon, he argued. It's been six months, I argued. Not to mention, how could Lily possibly have any time to get over him when he was in her fucking face in their house every night least 4 times a week?!

Remember when I said that in the beginning, every step I took backward made him come rushing forward, and every time I got complacent was when he "fell back in love" with his wife. I still felt that pressure, and so did Lily. He was playing us both. And we both fell for it. I found out after that for every bad thing he told me about Lily and their relationship, he was confiding in her all the bad things about me and our relationship.

The therapist that had been giving them marriage counseling had agreed to treat Jon alone when they split. The therapist flat out told him that he needed to give up both of us for a while and work on himself before he could commit to either of us. Needless to say, he promptly gave up therapy.

Dear Jon Stories, part 7

2009-05-27T17:43:00.007-04:00

For part 6, click here.

Where I left off last, Jon had technically left his wife. He spent that whole first weekend at my house, and Lily called his cell phone constantly. There were a lot of issues that needed to be worked out, but mostly she just wanted to scream at him. A lot.

Lily worked part time as a teacher's aid, there was no money for Jon to get an apartment of his own. She absolutely refused to go back to work full time - they had an agreement that their children would never go to daycare so she was going to be there for them before and after school. She rationalized that since none of this was her fault, she and the children should not have to suffer for his mistakes. He couldn't just come live with me full time as she needed him to be there to help take care of his children.

That weekend, Jon called one of his friends who lived in the same area of New Jersey. He had a house with extra bedrooms which Jon asked if he could crash in for a little while until he got things under control. His friend had just gotten engaged, so it was only a temporary solution.

Sunday night, I asked him how things were going to work out, if there was going to be a specific schedule, but he just didn't know at that point. Monday morning as we were both getting ready for work, I turned to him and asked, "Are you going to come back to me?". He promised he would, and he did.

There never was any specific schedule made, and Lily expected Jon to be at her beck and call at all times. I think the worst part of that time was when Lily sat the kids down in front of Jon that Monday to tell them he wouldn't be living there any longer. She told them that he didn't love "them" any more and a mean, evil lady had stolen him away from them. I was horrified.

From pretty much the moment he left my house that Monday morning, her phone calls to me started again. She would leave messages at my house when Jon wasn't with me, voice mails at my work when he was. When he was with me she called his cell phone constantly, he always answered. At one point it was 11pm. We were getting intimate and he answered the fucking call. I was furious. He tried to rationalize that there might have been an emergency that involved his kids. I responded that she knew my home number - if it had been an emergency she would have called that if he didn't answer his cell. He was totally torn, and didn't have a clue of how to handle it. I knew for a fact by then that he didn't have a pair of his own, but I still loved and wanted to be with him, and I really empathized with his need to protect and take care of his kids.

Not having a schedule meant that I never knew when I could make plans, or what we were going to be doing at any given time. Jon and Lily settled into a routine where he would go to their house and help out with the kids a few nights a week, then spend a night with me. When I say help out with the kids, I mean he went there straight after work, they all had dinner together, he helped with homework, he helped with dishes, he helped with laundry, he helped put them to bed and he stayed there until the kids were asleep. His kids didn't fall asleep right away so most nights he was there past 10pm. Which is about my bed time. He expected me to be awake to take his phone calls when he left there, and was upset when I wasn't. He even continued to do all the yard work on the weekends. I tried to explain that this whole situation wasn't normal.

I mean, where do I begin that this wasn't normal? I was so torn between feeling he should be there for his kids to help make this transition easier, and the fact that when couples separate, there should be some kind of separation. I argued that Lily only worked part time, why would she need so much help with the cooking and dishes and laundry. I was a single mother who worked full time, I got it all done on my own, including my own yard work. I was obviously extremely biased and judgmental at the time. Like I have said before, I had developed an unhealthy hatred toward this woman. I couldn't understand why she still needed her husband for all these things because it was getting in the way of MY relationship with him.

Lily said to me at one point, "just because your son has never grown up with a father doesn't mean my children have to". That floored me, because it was true. Jon tried to rationalize the time he spent in their home as being a good father, because that was also true. He said that doing the dishes and laundry was helping take care of his responsibility of what his children used and needed. That was also true. But it still wasn't normal.

I was having a really hard time wrapping my head around what role I was supposed to be playing. For a while, I played the supportive girlfriend role, taking whatever I could get and being happy for it. That lasted a couple of months. We spent Thanksgiving of 2000 together with my family. If I recall correctly, Lily threatened to put the kids in her minivan that weekend and drive them up to CT so they could witness their mother kicking that mean, evil lady's ass. She never showed up.

That December, Lily upped her game. She announced that she was taking the kids down south to visit her sister for Christmas, and Jon couldn't do a damn thing to stop her. In the meantime, she had starting working evenings at a local home goods type store, so Jon had to be there to watch the kids while she worked. She made sure she was on the schedule every Thursday-Friday-Saturday for the month before she left. Obviously, they needed the money, but she made sure to go out with her girlfriends on Friday and Saturday long after the store closed. That meant that if Jon wanted to come up and see me, sometimes he couldn't even start to make the hour and a half drive until after 2am.

This all came to a head the weekend of my 30th birthday. My older sister had made plans with me and Jon to go out for my birthday the Saturday before Christmas. I had a sitter, and Jon had made certain in advance to tell Lily that that day was off limits. She not only scheduled herself to work that day, but made sure to call me and taunt me about it. She called my answering machine at home and told me that she had every intention of ruining my "surprise" 30th birthday party as my being in her life had ruined her 40th birthday that past summer. Shortly after, Jon called to tell me that he had to bow out of our plans that night.

I asked him, "Jon, are they throwing a surprise party for me tonight?". He admitted that there was a party, but he couldn't be there. He swore up and down that there was no one else who could babysit his kids that night, he begged me to forgive him in advance. Dumbass that I was, I did forgive him. I forgave him for telling Lily about the party so she could ruin my surprise, I forgave him for not showing up to the party, and I forgave him for not showing up at my house until 4:30am. Lily had stayed out as long as possible without pulling an all-nighter.

I forgave him. This and so much more. These are the things that I think about when I ask myself, "what was I thinking?". "How did I not see the signs?" "Why did I keep going back for more?" "What was wrong with me?"

Wordless Wednesday - Flowers

2009-05-27T06:00:00.000-04:00

Dear Jon Stories, Part 6

2009-05-26T17:22:00.008-04:00

For part 5, click here.

I'm having trouble writing this next installment, and I'm not sure why. I've been putting it off, but I guess the only thing I can do is jump in and start writing, and sort it all out after.

I left off around the end of August, 2000. They both pretty much left me alone for a while, but Jon was always kind of around the edges, looking for a way back in. He was having an early mid-life crisis, and I was the fuel feeding it. He eventually came to realize that his rich fantasies of me and the reality of me didn't mesh. At the time, however, I was still forbidden fruit, ripe for the picking.

As time wore on, I grew less furious, and started taking his calls at work, although I would have nothing to do with him otherwise. I kept our calls strictly professional, although sometimes I would intentionally taunt him by telling him I had started dating again. I was seeing two men at the same time, casually. I also made sure to tell him about the awesome Halloween party I had for my son's entire class. Especially the part about how I dressed up as Cleopatra for the party. Cleopatra was a nickname he had given me because of my dark eyes and "mysterious aura". But I wouldn't let him talk to me about anything personal on his end.

Even though I was not even remotely over him, still totally in love with him, I wasn't even really trying. Apparently not caring about him or his life had some magic effect on him. Two weeks after Halloween, his wife called me on a Friday afternoon at work. I was shocked, and had no idea what to say. "Lily, why are you calling me at work?". My pod-mate (who it turns out also knew what was going on) graciously put her phone on unavailable and left the pod so I could have some privacy.

Lily told me to cut the bull, she was sure Jon had already filled me in that things were less than perfect in their relationship. I truthfully assured her that was not the case. I told her that other than a few professionalish phone calls recently, I had had nothing to do with her husband for months. While she seemed to believe me, she told me it was over. She was sick of him moping around and not even pretending to make an effort to fix things with her anymore. She told me she washed her hands of him, she was done and I could have him. As a matter of fact, he was standing right there listening to her.

I had no idea what had led up to these events, but I wasn't about to be tricked again. I asked, "Are you sure this time, Lily?". She assured me that she was, and handed Jon the phone. He sheepishly asked if he could come up and take me out to dinner. Before my brain could think rationally, I told him I would make him dinner, instead. But he had to promise me he wouldn't go running home the next day if she changed her mind. This had to be it, he either had to leave her for good, or leave me alone.

He promised me on the phone, in front of her, that he was leaving her and their family and their home for good. And I believed him. I didn't understand at the time the differences between what that meant to me and what that meant to him.

I thought I was so in love with him, and he was so in love with me, that we could make anything work. I didn't foresee problems with his wife, complications with children, the long distance factor, our families, work, etc.. I wasn't looking at any of that. Even if I had been, I would have had no way of knowing how we eventually tried to deal with it, or didn't deal with it at all.

All I knew was that I loved him more than I had ever loved any other man. I put my blinders on, and I recklessly plunged forward. I opened myself up to that love, and I made myself incredibly vulnerable by doing so. Have you ever heard Anita Baker's song, "Body and Soul"? When you naively attach yourself to a tragic song like this before the relationship has even taken off the ground, you should probably know in advance that it doesn't have wings strong enough to fly.

This is why I avoid my mother's phone calls

2009-05-25T19:30:00.002-04:00

My mother calls me at least once a week. I hate to have to say that I avoid her calls like the plague. I almost never call her first, almost never pick up when she calls, and sometimes it takes me days to call her back. I often have to be in the right frame of mind to actually have a conversation with her. I will sometimes call her back from work while on a cigarette break so I can use that as an excuse for the limit of time she has to get to the point before I get off the phone.

She left a message on my machine Thursday night, and I waited until about an hour ago to return her call. Her message indicated that she wanted to talk about flights in and out to visit this coming summer. I called her back to get an idea of her travel dates, which were wacky. She might want to come in the first week in July and leave at the end of the first week of August. Which was not cool with me, but before I had a chance to say so, she said that she didn't think that would work after all. Maybe she would come in for the month of August. But maybe she would fly in the last week of July to Buffalo, and have her relatives from Ontario cross the border and pick her up and spend a week there.

I told her I would check her flight options for all those possible scenarios and let her know. BUT, was my sister Shouf (who technically lives with me), going to be a part of all of those flights? Shouf has special needs, and cannot, will not travel alone. Mother hemmed and hawed, until I picked up on the fact that she could not talk freely. Mom, can you leave the room so you can talk more? No. Okay, that didn't make sense. Is Shouf going to stay with Bouf for the summer or something? I can't say right now. This guess and non-answer thing went about two more rounds before I lost my patience.

Okay, I'm going to change the subject because this has become way too cryptic for me to handle. How is "85 year old boyfriend with his returning lung cancer"? Well he was sitting right next to her, so she told him that I asked about him, and he flashed the "V" for victory. I told her to send him my love, and asked about his treatment. Only 2 more chemo/radiation sessions left for next week! Good for him! Of course, she responded negatively to this because she is a drama queen, and that is what she does. Then she started chattering on about how she had the nerve to complain about something she was going through, but BoyFriend doesn't ever complain, yada, yada, yada. "Do you, Honey-Bunny? A-Han-han-ha...." Crap, she pulled out the fake, phoney-baloney laugh.

There is nothing I hate more than trying to have a phone conversation with someone who is putting on a show for another person in the actual room with them. If you are on the phone with me, give me your attention, or tell me you are too busy to talk and call me another time. I absolutely abhor talking on the phone in the first place. I didn't even realize this was what was happening, at first.

So, my mother tried to continue the conversation by saying she couldn't wait to find out what was going on with me. I started talking about planting the vegetable garden, but before I got very far she asked me about my cousin's new baby. Okay, I'll talk about that instead. As I started talking, I got off on a tangent about something else very personal. While I was talking about that part of my life, she actually responded in a way that I thought meant she was interested in hearing more about it. But as I started talking more, she interrupted me mid-sentence with "okay". "Boyfriend told me to tell your son he said hello". "Okay, mom, I will." Then she let loose with her fake, phoney-baloney laugh, and I knew the conversation was over. "Okay, honey, so call me again soon and let me know about those flights." "Okay, Mom, I love you, bye-bye."

She dismissed me mid-sentence. I didn't even want to call her back, and when I did I ended up feeling like I was only convenient as long as I was part of the show she was putting on - on her end of the phone call. I don't understand how Boyfriend hasn't seen through her act after all of these years. And I don't understand why I have put up with the act for all the years that I have been a part of it.

Thank God the weekend's over

2009-05-25T06:52:00.013-04:00

I've been waiting for the perfect weekend to plant my little vegetable garden, and this was finally it! We've literally still had frost warnings up through last week, and we might again this week, but the plants are in for better or worse.

This is what the area looked like in March.

This is what it looked like Saturday morning.

Son of a bitch, Douchey was right about the poison ivy. It wasn't in the spot he thought it was in, but it was coming out from behind the shed and that and something similar to bittersweet were choking the lilac bushes.

I worked much of the day Saturday clearing that crap and starting to turn the soil and get rid of the grass and weeds in the space itself. I gave up when my back couldn't take anymore, but got right back out there Sunday morning. I finished removing the crap, turned the soil, and added about 125 pounds of compost/peat moss/cow poop.

I could hear the thunder for over an hour before the storm actually hit. It was a weird storm, it moved almost all the way around us without actually hitting. The sky was black and we could see lighting all around us, but then it seemed to move off, so I started planting. And had to stop.

This is what the final product looks like. I don't know how people do this by hand with bigger gardens. My back doesn't hurt so much today, but quite a few of my unused muscles are protesting, and my hands are swollen to twice their normal size (damn carpal tunnel). I put a lot into a small space.

There are tomato plants, beans, burpless cucumbers, pickling cucumbers, eggplant, zuccinni, summer squash and carrots. I also have lettuce growing in a box on the porch, and a small herb garden with dill, cilantro, chives, basil, oregano and parsley.

The hard part is over, although I still have to make and put up trellisses. I can't wait to make eggplant parm with my own fresh sauce, rattatoulie straight from my garden, and my own pickles! My mother shared her recipe with me a couple of years ago that came from her father's Jewish side of the family from Russia. They are awesome!

On a weird note, Douchey came over and patted me on the back when I was done yesterday. He told me I had done and good job and he was proud of me. I don't know why he was proud of me, but I'll take it.

Dear Jon Stories - part 5

2009-05-22T18:45:00.000-04:00

For part 4, click here.

I got home from my family reunion probably around 6 or 7 pm. Not only was Jon not waiting in my driveway for me, there were no messages on my answering machine at home, no messages on my voice mail at work, and no emails from him all day. The lack of emails tipped me off. He often sent me emails all day long as they couldn't be traced, he could do it right under his wife's nose. He had multiple secret email accounts that she never knew about.

I started leaving voice mails for him at work, and emails, but got no response until late in the evening on Sunday when he called me at home. This was completely out of the norm. His first words were, "My wife is letting me call you."... Let that soak in for a minute. I knew this was going to be bad if his wife not only knew he was calling me, but was "letting" him.

He told me about how he and his wife had gotten a babysitter and went to the city (NYC) for the day and evening on Saturday. They had a really great time and he thought he had fallen in love with her all over again. They were really going to try to make it work this time. He couldn't explain it, but there it was. Remarkably, I didn't flip out. I wished them well. I really only wanted for him to be happy, and if he was going to be happier with his family, then good luck to them. Of course, I didn't really feel that way completely. No one is that magnanimous except when it's a really cheesy chick flick.

But wait, there was more.

He told me that she had been after him for months to find out my full name and where I worked. As a gesture of good faith to prove to her that he meant it this time, he totally and completely threw me under the bus. He told her every single little detail that she wanted to know about me, right down to what school my kid went to. That's when I lost it. He had told me stories about how kooky she could be, and I knew I was in for a shit storm in retaliation. I'm now certain I deserved all that I got and much more, but at the time I was naive.

I told him I didn't care whether they made it work or not, I wanted nothing to do with him ever again. He was not to call me at work for any reason or I would let everyone, and I meant everyone, know about us. No phone calls or emails when he changed his mind, nothing ever again.

So instead of him calling me, his wife started. I didn't pick up my phone at home, and she would leave me messages until she ran out of space on my machine. When she ran out of space, she would start leaving messages at work. She would sometimes leave 2-3 long drawn out messages every night. I don't know where she found all those words to say, but it would go on forever with barely a pause for breath. About how perfect they were for each other, how they listened to and loved all the same music, how they read the same books, how they had never had a fight in 13 years before this. None of that was true except the never fighting part, which still doesn't seem natural to me.

I sometimes think she was trying to talk herself into believing that they were going to make things work. She also threatened that if I ever got between her and her husband again, she was going to come to CT and kick my ass. She swore she would make my life a living hell, including but not limited to calling my son's Catholic school and telling anyone who answered the phone that his mother was having an affair with a married man. She had kinda gone off the deep end, just a little. Not that I blame her, now. She needed an outlet for all those angry feelings and she wanted to keep her husband. She couldn't direct those feelings at him for fear of driving him away, again.

Around the same time, my boss called me into his office and told me that he knew Jon and I were having an affair. Apparently the same cell phone bill Jon had worried that his wife would find was eventually submitted to the company on his expense account. The expense bills went through my boss before they went to corporate. While Jon paid for his personal calls off the bill, my boss happened to notice that a lot of calls after business hours had a CT area code. Nosy bastard that he was, he looked up the number. Lo and behold it was one of his employee's home numbers. He told me that my personal life was my own, but it was not to interfere with his office. If Jon showed up in the office for any reason, I was to tell him that he was not allowed to sit in my "pod" (Pussy boss couldn't even tell Jon himself. Believe when I say pussy boss shows up again later in this story.).

Without confirming or denying anything, I assured him that I would remain professional at all times. My boss told me that the only reason he thought to look at the phone records was because he already suspected something was going on. My curiosity got the better of me, and I asked why. He said, "because your faces both light up every time you look at each other". Sigh. At that point, I told him it had been over for weeks. He asked, "Then why is our voice mail system still getting several calls a night from New Jersey?". I promised him I would take care of it.

After work that day I called Jon on his cell phone. He was surprised to hear from me, he wanted to start talking about everything, telling me how wonderful it was to hear my voice, blah, blah, blah. I cut him short by telling him I had a few things to say to him and that was it. I told him what my boss had said, and again that he was not to call me at work for any reason. I told him to give his wife my email address and that she was to stop calling me at work unless she wanted me to smear her husband's "good name" through out the company. I knew she wasn't very computer literate and the emails would be much harder for her to send me than the rambling voice messages she left me.

I had never responded to any of her voice messages, even I knew at the time that she needed to get it out. I masochistically saved all of them and replayed them over and over because I knew I deserved everything she said to me. It was like pouring salt into my own wounds - I thought it would make me stronger, make me get over him sooner. I didn't realize I was deliberately hurting myself, nor did I realize I was only prolonging getting over him by doing so.

I ended the phone call by asking him to tell his wife two things for me. The first was that if she actually did come up to CT to try to kick my ass, I would defend myself. I was 10 years younger than she was and I took Cardio Kick Boxing three times a week - she should expect that I wasn't going to slap and pull hair. The second was that she could threaten all she wanted, but if she ever did anything to hurt my child, I would come looking for her instead.

They actually both left me alone for about 2 months that time.

Dear Jon Stories - part 4

2009-05-21T17:19:00.013-04:00

For part 3, click here.

For a couple of weeks after Jon's visit, I successfully ignored his emails and calls to my home, but I couldn't avoid him at work. It would have been too obvious, so he made sure he called me every day, at least once a day, even when he had no work related reasons. Sometimes he just made shit up. I remember telling him something ridiculous like that I had given him up for Lent. Secretly his persistence pleased me.

Ror 40 days I pretended to ignore him. I wouldn't answer his calls at my home, and I didn't directly respond to his emails. I would, however, respond to some of his emails with a quote or poem from an angst-filled poetess. Again, hind-sight is 20/20 and now I know I was just playing along with his games.

The Monday after Easter he asked if I would take the next day off work and spend it with him and I agreed. After that, I just stopped pretending that I was anything more than "The Other Woman". I really thought that Jon and I were best friends, we told each other everything. Everything included all the intimate details of his marriage, and I developed an unhealthy hatred toward his wife. More than that, I developed an unhealthy level of what I thought was love for this man that bordered more upon obsession.

When he was in town, I often spent nights in his hotel with him. Listening to him say goodnight to his kids was tough, but having to hear him say "I love you" to his wife would infuriate me. For months the poor woman thought that he was really trying to make things work with her while he was still carrying on with me behind her back. He would make sure he was home in the afternoon on the days that he thought his cell phone bill would come in the mail so she wouldn't find it. It was awful.

I can say it was awful now because I realize that the reason I developed that hatred for her was self-preservation. I took every negative thing he said about her and their marriage and spun it into a way for me to be able to look at myself in the mirror every morning. If I let myself think of her as a human, a wife and a mother who was innocent in all this, the shame would have killed me. I didn't know that shame and self-loathing were eating away at me, anyway - I was just using alcohol more and more as a way of dulling it.

Come summer, we eased up a little bit. It was harder for him to get away, the wife worked at a school so she and the kids were home 24/7 and he didn't have as much free time. Free time that he previously used to call and/or email me. Vacations also kept us away from each other and we used the voice mail system at work to leave messages when we couldn't call each other.

During the summer, he would call me at work on a Friday and kind of put me on alert that "this" might be the weekend when he would come clean and end it with her. For almost 2 months I spent every weekend waiting for him to call me and tell me he was on his way. And for weeks, every Monday morning was a let down. There was always some reason, someone's birthday, an anniversary, something coming up that he didn't want to ruin by leaving his family.

That was the summer of his wife's 40th birthday, when she bravely threw herself a party because he didn't do anything for her. He didn't even buy her a present. I realize now that he was provoking her with hope that she would throw him out again, as he was too passive-aggressive to make a decision on his own and follow through with it. That was the summer they finally started going to counseling together.

As the summer progressed, the Monday morning calls at work were always dreadful, and I would have to sit there listening to his reasoning and excuses without being able to say a word. I was at work, surrounded by people. So he did what he always did best and talked my ear off not caring what I had to say and telling me every little detail of what he and his family did that weekend. "Did I tell you about how my wife was upset about our last counseling session, so while I was mowing the lawn she filled a bucket with water and threw it at me while she was screaming at me on the front lawn?" No, you didn't tell me that part, it sounds awful. "Actually, I found it endearing."

Why the fuck would he tell me that? I don't know if he was intentionally torturing me, but that's what it felt like.

The last time I let it happen that summer was the third weekend in August. I know for certain it was that date because my family reunion is always the third Saturday in August. I left it early because I thought for sure he might be on his way to my house. As I didn't have a cell phone, I didn't want him waiting for me in my driveway for too long before I got home. He had made it pretty clear to me the day before that "this" really was finally the weekend. He was going to do it. There were no more birthdays or anniversaries or anything else in the way, he couldn't pretend with his wife anymore, this was it.

Look what I found!

2009-05-21T16:55:00.006-04:00

Minding my own business today, I happened to notice some money that came into my hands had writing on it. I don't know if it's some kind of code, but I intend to get to the bottom of it as soon as possible. I think the best way to do this would be to Google the term as instructed.

I was especially shocked at the blasphemy that follows. What is this, some sort of cult? Is Zibbs a man, or perhaps a God in his own right? If he is a mere mortal, I wonder if his first name is Jim, just like Jim Jones. Perhaps there is a Zibbsville, and this Zibbs has a special recipe for kool-aid.

Whatever the case may be, I know defaced currency is illegal, so I will be certain to get it out of my possession as quickly as possible. I wonder how many people in Connecticut will also search for answers in the strange term, "Google: That Blue Yak"?

Dear Jon stories - part 3

2009-05-20T17:21:00.011-04:00

For part 2, click here.

Before I continue the story, I have to say a couple of things. I didn't say up front that I knew he was married, and had children, because I was trying to ease into the story, feel it out. I can admit that I am scared of what people are going to think of me, and I have to warn you that it is going to get a lot worse. The red flag thing I keep throwing in is my hind-sight having 20/20 vision. I should never have allowed it to go beyond a friendship, and I should have seen the guy for who and what he was by the warning signs he was giving off. I would like to say I was young and stupid, but I was just stupid. He was a smooth-talking charmer selling snake oil and I bought his whole supply of it. When I pulled back, he pursued. When I needed him, he retreated.

This story is going to be very long, and I can only write little bits of it at a time. I'm trying to remember it, process it, purge the poison, and let it go. It's extremely painful, and I'm going to try to be extremely honest. It's going to be difficult, but it's something I need to do.

Jon showed up on my doorstep on a Saturday night in February, 2000 and we talked long into the night. The next day was a brunch for my Grandma's birthday and I left him at my house while I attended. He was feeling pretty badly about the whole situation, I could tell, and I felt badly for him. He suggested that when I returned, we would go rent a movie for after dinner. Unfortunately, his plans changed.

His exact words were, "my wife has been lobbying pretty hard for me to go back home". Apparently, when she kicked him out, she didn't think that he would actually leave. She had been leaving him messages all night on his cell phone that he ignored, and then she got his parents involved. While I had been at brunch, he had spoken with his wife, his mother and his father multiple times. He was just waiting for me to return so he could tell me he was leaving.

I sat my son down in front of the television and Jon and I went outside. I remember him talking incessantly about nothing for what seemed like an hour while I stayed mute and numb. Numb from my feelings and his words and the cold February wind which he didn't even seem to notice. He was all bundled up and ready to go and I didn't even have a coat on. My God, how that man loved to hear the sound of his own voice. I can't even remember what he could have possibly had to say, but when he was done I told him, "Go home to your wife and your children. Don't half-ass this, either make it work, or leave on your own. Please don't ever contact me again unless you are free to pursue a relationship with me."

After he left, I made sure my son was still happy watching a video and went upstairs to the bathroom. I shut the door and turned on the exhaust fan, then sat on the floor and cried my heart out. When I was done, I went back down to the living room and asked my son to sit on the couch with me so we could finish watching his video together. He was 5-1/2 at the time. After a little while, he turned to me and asked, "Momma, are you sad 'cause your friend left?". I said, "yeah, baby, I am". He took one of my hands in between his two little ones, patting it while he said, "I know, Momma, I liked him, too". Such a sweet little boy.

Within 2 weeks I had let the bastard suck me in, again.

Wordless Wednesday - Leapin' Lizards

2009-05-20T10:35:00.005-04:00

Dear Jon stories, part 2

2009-05-19T18:08:00.005-04:00

For part 1, please click here.

Jon and I continued to converse through email, the occasional lunch and once in a while dinner together through the early fall of 1999. By early winter we had started talking on the phone at home in the evening once or twice a week. He took me for lunch on my birthday in mid-December of that year, and I thanked him with an awkward one-armed hug. I wasn't very touchy-feely with my coworkers, and that was how I thought of it. He was still one of my coworkers.

By early January, I had started to fall for him. For the first time, I allowed him to come to my house to pick me up for dinner at his insistence, instead of meeting him at a restaurant. Shortly after that, we had our first kiss. But we still kept our distance, still tried to pretend this was a professional friendship. A long-distance friendship, even though we both knew we were falling for each other. And we both knew there were many reasons why we couldn't take this friendship further. So we restrained ourselves as much as we could, and tried to take a cool approach to things.

On Valentine's day of that year, he asked me if I would see him. I said no. When I got home from work that day there was a single red rose and a CD I had been coveting waiting for me in my back mudroom, obviously hand delivered. I emailed him a thank you, and continued to try to play it cool. That was not a tactic or a ploy, I just knew that I couldn't send him any more signals that I was interested in him. Even though I was. For right or wrong, come Hell or High Water, I had fallen for him.

Two weeks later, on a Saturday night, I went to a party for my cousin's birthday with one of my sisters (Kouf), while another of my sisters (Shouf) babysat for me. We should have stayed over with my cousin at the motel, because I had no business driving in the condition I was in. But, I didn't want to leave my other sister in the lurch babysitting my child at my house. So I drove home and I thank the Heavens that I didn't hurt anyone. I could barely see straight, could barely even stand and walk, I was so drunk and stoned.

I walked in the house around 11:30 and my sister Shouf immediately told me that there had been a firestorm on my answering machine! Not only had some guy named Jon been leaving me messages every 10-15 minutes for the past four hours, but our mother and other sister, Bouf, had called saying that he had also called them looking for me! (That should have been another red flag right there. Anyone willing to call strangers living in the same town who have the same last name as you, looking for you on a Saturday night when you have the nerve to not be home waiting for them, is not right in their head.)

Before I got a chance to figure out what was going on, or listen to the messages, the phone rang. I picked it up, and it was Jon. I said, "what the hell is going on?" He said, "come outside". I put the phone down and stumbled outside in the rain, and there he was in my driveway. I walked up to him and put my arms around him to keep from falling, and we kissed against the side of his very wet car. He said, "I've been circling the neighborhood for hours waiting for you to come home". At the time, I actually thought that was romantic. I asked, "what happened?".

He said, "I told my wife about us and she kicked me out. Can I stay here?"

Seeing things

2009-05-19T12:29:00.004-04:00

I know some of you are questioning my sanity about seeing things in the picture I posted over the weekend.

So here is my lame attempt at pointing out the face, click on the picture to enlarge it. Apparently Jodi came closest when she guessed I was hallucinating the Virgin Mary! Sorry, Jodi, you don't win anything.

Dear Jon Stories

2009-05-18T19:57:00.008-04:00

I once worked for a metalworking tool company for 7-1/2 years as a customer service rep. The office was a horrifically hostile environment for the most part, but I enjoyed the job and the pay and benefits were great. Being a single mother, that went a long way toward the reason I stayed there so long.

One of the bright sides were our sales reps in the field. Our call center supported New England, New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania and Maryland. The office was divided up into groups, "pods" that supported a specific area, it's customers and it's sales reps. The group that I was in for the majority of time supported New York and New Jersey. When you talk to specific customers and sales reps on the phone on a daily basis, you develop beneficial business relationships with them. Sometimes these business relationships lead to friendships, also.

Three to four times a year, each sales group would hold a meeting in the office, and the office workers of that group were invited to participate. These included obviously the sales meetings and in-office lunches, but also the out of the office cocktails and dinners. We all for the most part enjoyed each other's company, and looked forward to having fun outside of the office.

When one of the guys that I was particularly close to, Jon from New Jersey, took a different position within the company, it seemed only natural that we would continue our business relationship. Especially as his territory now covered the entire territory our office supported. I was doing the same work for him as before, just in a much larger area. It didn't seem odd that he was still calling me even though he had a different office staff in the home office he could have been calling, although that probably should have been a red flag. He and I had an established business relationship and already had a flow of working with each other. Technically, there was nothing wrong with him still calling me and asking me to do work for him. We enjoyed joking and bantering with each other.

As Jon's sales territory had expanded, so did his need to travel. He probably traveled beyond his home range in New Jersey three out of five days a week. In the beginning, if he happened to be in the Connecticut area, he'd ask me and my "pod-mates" out to lunch, his treat, every once in a while. Most often my "pod-mates" would decline because of prior commitments, and just Jon and I would lunch together. I'm not one to turn down a free lunch, and quite honestly I enjoyed his company. We talked a lot about work, we talked about how horrible the office itself was, and we started talking more freely about our personal lives.

As Jon happened to be in Connecticut more often on business, the more often we went out to lunch together, until it started being almost a regular thing, as often as once every week or two. Our friendship started becoming less work related, also. We started opening up to each other more. When he asked me for my personal email address, it again seemed natural. We had started talking to each other about our personal lives. Things that probably shouldn't go through the work email. That should have been red flag number two.

The first time Jon stayed over in Connecticut and asked my "pod-mates" and I to dinner, they again all said no. I asked one woman to please go with me, as I wanted to go but felt it would be awkward. She told me that she had a husband and step-children at home waiting for dinner. I wish she had said what she really had been thinking, but I don't know if I would have listened to her. I agreed to meet him for dinner, and it was just he and I and we had a really great evening.

He emailed me at my personal address shortly after to tell me what a great time he had at dinner. He told me that he could talk to me as a friend, and he really enjoyed and valued our friendship. He also told me about how, in the past, he had stared at my hands, and my eyes, during the sales meetings in the office. How he often thought of me when he was no where near me. How he thought of me often.

And I liked it. I liked this man who was charming and intelligent and funny and handsome. I liked the suits and ties he wore. I liked the way he smelled. I liked that he was much older than me but didn't patronize me. I liked that he valued my opinion of things professionally, that he thought I was undervalued at the job that I did, that he thought I was also intelligent, and funny, and dare I say it, sexy.

To be continued...

Tarot card reading, part the last

2009-05-18T19:25:00.004-04:00

This is the last part of my long distance tarot card reading. Instead of focusing on the past, it focuses on the present and possibly near future. It's at least something to think about. If you missed the other parts, and care to read them, here are 1, 2 and 3.

Someone has recently entered your life or will soon enter your life that you feel a real connection with for an experience here on the earth plane. It deals with something on the material/job type experience and you complement each other very well. You more or less both share the same plate as far as interests, hopes, aspirations or something along that line. This is not emotionally or romantically oriented but more progress oriented in a materialistic way in job, creating something or new ideas for something as far as a new approach to something.

On a spiritual plane there is an aspiration/desire coming to you that will bring about change in your life. The importance of knowing it comes from a spiritual plane is because this comes from your heart and soul. It is a desire within your being. As you proceed with meeting the goal of this you will see changes coming about in your life here on the earth plane/material plane. It is something that you’ve considered various times and felt that would be wonderful but there was no way to do it or accomplish it. However, at this point in your life it can be considered and you can begin to proceed with it. You’ve reached other aspirations successfully and this one will also bring success.

A few things come to my mind when I speak of this aspiration and I’ll share them with you. All the areas I see have care in common - nursing, foster care, stray animal care, humane society activities, and things along caring and giving love. Whether any of these are your aspiration I do strongly think caring love will be a component of it.

In closing, maintain balance in life and a sunny, bright attitude; allow any setback to be repositioning for the next breeze to move you three steps forward; simply be willing to allow things to fall in line by doing your part and letting the rest take place - the give it to God thing after doing your part.

Now, while I definitely have a thing for animals, I gave up on the idea of being able to work with them long ago. I also am not particularly fond of other people's children. In addition, while I once thought about going into nursing/EMT, I now have no desire to be in that field. The only thing that really rocks my world right now is photography. Unless I won the lottery, I doubt that would be something I would pursue as a career, either. I guess I will just have to be patient, work on continuing to heal my broken psyche, and be open to suggestions.

It sounds interesting, whatever it is!

Free your mind and your eyes will follow

2009-05-16T13:21:00.004-04:00

I took this picture last August of an overgrown flower garden in the park where we had our family reunion. It was one of my favorites and has been my desktop wall paper since then.

I don't spend a whole lot of time staring at it on my desktop, however, as I usually have something else to do on my computer. My old and ridiculously slow computer. Which I have been having trouble with for the last week or so. So, while the computer is thinking about what I have been asking it to do, I've noticed something about the picture that has been nibbling at me.

It finally hit me. Check the bottom right of the picture (click it to make it huge!), where the shadows and the wood of the fence come together. Do you see it? Or should I say, her?

Here's a close up. Is it just me, or is there something beautiful there?

Happy Saturday!

2009-05-16T10:24:00.002-04:00

And thank your lucky stars you are not this stupid. The up side is that it is permanent. Perhaps she could have an "L" tattooed on her forehead, next.

Tarot reading, part 3

2009-05-15T19:00:00.000-04:00

Here's the next part of the long distance tarot card reading I received. If you missed parts one and two, and care to, clicky the linkies.

The tarot cards have cards dealing with things on the earth/material plane, the emotional plane, the spiritual plane and the mental plane. In addition there are major arcana cards dealing with deep characteristics/traits we build upon. Your reading continues with a major arcana card which is the emperor card. This deals with a trait that is at your foundation in which you have a deep belief/connection to/from childhood and which you have built upon during your life. This character trait developed in childhood from your emotional feelings and it’s important to know it came from an emotional basis.

The trait contained within the emperor card is one of having the ability/drive to develop and maintain your empire. What I get is that this for you means the development of your life concerning home, finances, safety, security and growth. Many times emotions experienced in your childhood told you not to depend on someone else to help you do this or to supply it for you. So you moved ahead in adult life knowing you would supply shelter, food and clothing along with security, safety and an atmosphere conducive for growth for yourself and those in your family. It is something that adds to a great deal of strength/need for independence. This is a male energy trait and exists well with your female energy traits of giving and receiving compassion and love.

Wow, this is dead on accurate. You may have heard me say that I was raised by wolves. It's not far from the truth. I have major issues from my childhood, as do most people. I can recognize that certain behaviors of mine stem from certain circumstances surrounding my upbringing, and I'm pretty much okay with that. I'm a firm believer that at some point as an adult you have to stand up and take responsibility for yourself and your actions, and I do try to do that. But I have issues with myself that I'm unable to resolve. How can I be so fiercely independent, and still feel so very needy? Why can't I be less territorial? I'm awful about my personal space/stuff/emotion and you need to back the hell away from what is MINE. And don't get me started on my mother. Why can I not let my issues with my mother go? I still get seethingly furious when I remember some stuff, and I can't seem to get past it. I feel emotionally stunted. I'm terrified that I'm making some of the same mistakes with my own child that my mother made with me. Some days I think there isn't enough therapy in the world for me...

However, I continue to hear that during the development of this trait two ideas/thoughts got connected in your mind and heart which are not necessarily related or connected to each other. I’ll be blunt because I don’t know how else to put what I keep receiving. Men can’t be depended upon because they are not emotionally present on a consistent basis. The two separate thoughts are that some men can’t be depended upon and some men are not emotionally present on a consistent basis. Putting both together as one belief/thought may be what you have felt but it is not a logical given belief or thought. There is nothing that says you can’t simply keep this belief/thought and there is nothing that requires you to change it.

Changing it would require a willingness to open yourself to heal some feelings from your childhood. If desiring to do so remain very creative on the mental plane in the process. Revisiting feelings must be done creatively so knowing it is simply a VISIT and not moving in with these feelings. The knowledge must be maintained that the VISIT may be stopped at any time and be creative in developing a manner in which you stop the revisiting whenever you want. As an adult you will be quickly able to see what is related to each other and what is not as you revisit your childhood. Give feelings their real names and give ownership of behaviors to the people who should own them.

Here is where I get confused. I obviously have issues with men - I have sworn off them altogether because my choices are so bad. But does it really stem from my childhood? Granted, my father was a nasty drunk; verbally, emotionally and physically abusive. But lots of people can move past their past and have happy lives and successful relationships. My last therapist suggested that I deliberately pick people to be in my life that will disappoint me. (The scary part about that is he and I never even got into my relationships with men.)

I've noticed a pattern that I affectionately dub the stray kitten effect. Subconsciously, I seem to be attracted to men who are broken in some way. I don't know if I need to be needed, or I need to give comfort, or what, but I'm going to start exploring it more thoroughly.

I haven't talked much about my relationships on this blog for many reasons. I'm scared, and it hurts. But as suggested above, maybe this is how I can creatively explore it, purge it, expel the poison, and let it go. Another reason is that I've gotten to know some of you people who read me, and I'm very afraid of how you will feel about me after you've read some of the things that I feel like I have to write. I'm not proud of the way I have behaved in the past, but I've learned from it. Some of my actions were despicable. As much as I can "give feelings their real names and give ownership of behaviors to the people who should own them", I am also going to have to own and acknowledge the things that I have done before I am going to be able to move on.

Care to join me on a journey? If not, that's going to have to be okay, too.

Bird, bird, bird

2009-05-14T19:10:00.000-04:00

One of my favorite Disney movies is Bambi. And probably my favorite part of that movie is when Bambi learns his first word, "bird, bird, bird".

If you haven't figured it out by now, I love taking pictures. So here are some of my bird favorites.

Hawks circling:

Great Blue Heron being extremely patient with the lady taking 785 pictures of him:

Extremely friendly bird who was looking for a hand-out at a rest area along Alligator Alley:

Not your average sea bird, Manasota Key, very early in the morning:

Another sea bird, Venice Fishing Pier:

Brown Pelican, coming in for a landing and looking like a Pterodactyl, Venice Fishing Pier:

Brown Pelicans, fighting over a fish, Venice Fishing Pier:

Florida, Cheers!

2009-05-14T18:11:00.003-04:00

Someone, *cough Zibbs cough*, complained that I was still posting about Florida in the comments section of my Wordless Wednesday post. His exact words were, "I haven't heard someone talk about Florida this much since Cliff Claven."

I would have him know that I am nothing like Cliff Clavin. Note the spelling. I would also have him know that if anything, I am probably what the love child between Cliff and Norm would be.

Haiyeva, since Zibbsy Baby was so magnanamous as to mention fellow bloggers on his post today, and ask that we all do the same, especially with him, I have decided to help him out with his efforts at link love.

"Here are some random things about some bloggers that read my blog. Maybe I'll make this a regular feature. Please visit their blogs and tell them Zibbs sent you. Remember, the more we mention each other's blogs, the more popular our blogs become. But of course it makes much more sense to mention a blog like mine - because it's a famous one. Choose wisely."

I know all 41 of my followers are going to make a huge difference by going to visit Zibbs at his website, Total World Domination. You have to understand that Zibbs needs love. The way a vampire needs blood. The way Napoleon needed to make up for his shortness, or possibly a small penis. Whatever.

Please go give love and comments, and maybe become a follower. Because that is what Bloggy Peer Pressure is all about.

This concludes my public service announcement about pacifying one blogger before he shoots up a crowd of people at the West Chester, PA Saturday Morning Farmer's Market.

Wordless Wednesday - Sittin' on a dock on Lemon Bay

2009-05-13T06:00:00.000-04:00

Long distance Tarot reading, part 2

2009-05-12T18:58:00.006-04:00

I'm going to skip around the reading because, although I know that he wrote it in the order of the cards, certain paragraphs belong together, and certain paragraphs are just too large for one post. Sorry if this little epic becomes too much or too deep for you. Feel free to come back another time to look at pretty pictures, or be bored by me writing about my kid.

I happen to really like this paragraph, even though I'm having trouble making any sense of it.

In all of your experiences be very aware and knowing that your being offers a very deep aspect of compassion and healing. With this hand of compassion and healing you must always touch yourself first and care for and love yourself before you move on to others. You can not give what you do not first experience and therefore the compassion you feel and the healing you have must precede moving on to doing or giving to others. When we try to do for others first most disappointments not only arise but often move in for extended periods of time. So therefore self caring is foremost in importance. This spiritual level ability/gift reaches out to others in building/rebuilding bridges of harmony in lives and experiences. The orchestra that couldn’t create song now plays in harmony with your touch of compassion and healing. You can and do create rainbows.

I can and do create rainbows? I understand what he's saying about trying to heal myself. I'm pretty broken, but not as broken as I was. I don't see myself as compassionate, at all. I'm exceedingly selfish, and most of the time I'm just not a very nice person. I'm impatient, I'm angry, I'm negative, and I just don't care. Maybe that's it, what I need to work on. I remember someone once telling me that in order to have a better attitude, and be a positive person, I needed to concentrate more on only having a positive attitude and positive thoughts. And I remember thinking, "Fuck That".

Maybe I just give up and give in too easily, because it's easier to be negative and nasty. Is it easier to be that way because that is who I truly am? Can people change? Can I change? Do I want to? Do I even care?

I remember a time when I used to think so. I remember a time when I used to think that God would not ever give me more than I could handle. That was before I started thinking that maybe God hated me, that I had done something so grievous in a previous life that God was making me suffer in this life for it. I remember a time when I thought the world could be made better one person at a time, and I would be one of those people. I remember my family rolling their eyes at me every time I said, "be kind", like it was my mantra. I remember a time that I thought I could create rainbows, but I don't remember the exact point where I let the world start beating me into the cynic that I am now.

So very much to think about, and I haven't even gotten to the meat of the email, yet.

Long distance Tarot reading, part 1

2009-05-12T18:29:00.005-04:00

I recently wrote about my mom's friend who is a psychic that I met when I was in Florida. He agreed to do a tarot card reading for me and email it. I got it yesterday, and it floored me. It's extremely personal and intense, and I'm still trying to make sense of it. Since I'm all about using this blog as free therapy, I'm going to share some of it on here. The more I think about this guy's words and the way that he read the cards for me, the more scared I've been getting. But he's extremely reassuring and I feel like maybe this is going to be a big step for me to get rid of some baggage.

Your reading begins with the dealing with what we call disappointments on an emotional level. I say what we call because these are actually simple appointments that have not been kept for whatever reason. Just as we forget an item at the grocery store or an appointment with a doctor, so are these emotional disappointments. It is our own being that places such an emphasis on these when in actuality they are things that the person, place or thing simply did not do or keep. Perhaps they are not able to be who we want or need but it is definitely no reflection on you or any judgment with you. Allow it to belong to the other person, place or thing and continue growing and progressing within and of yourself. Other’s behaviors belong to them. This is followed with the creative card on the mental plane and is very appropriate to follow the emotional disappointment card. Creatively use your mind to concentrate on the positive aspects of yourself when disappointments come knocking at the door. Yes, you need to open the door and see what/who is there but you do not have to invite anything into your being. You can simply acknowledge what was there and move on. If it is someone or something you need to allow in remember not to have it move in for any period of time. It does not belong to you but has simply shown up for your information so you can proceed onward and upward without it.

He pegged me right in the first paragraph. I have a tendency to be oversensitive to what I consider slights. Then I have a tendency to overreact. Then I feel badly for overreacting, and wonder if I should have behaved better. Then I start to question myself for even feeling badly in the first place. NO! I have a right to my feelings. That person should have behaved better! Then I just hope it all goes away, all the while stewing on what happened. And then I file it in my victim folder and shove it down deep until the next time something happens. The problem is, the victim folder needs to be purged for it is overloaded and I'm too tired emotionally for any drama in my life. I don't yet know how to do this, but I would like to learn. I would love to believe it is as simple as what he is telling me, but I have not figured it out, yet.

Any suggestions?

Post Mother's Day post

2009-05-11T18:49:00.009-04:00

I skipped out on you all this weekend cause I was trying to be all productive and shit. A belated happy happy to all you mothers out there. Yes, I mean you, too. In the double entendre kind of way. Subtle, aren't I? And original, too. I know.

Saturday I had another tag sale, which went horribly wrong, pretty much. As soon as the weather on the local station showed that the rain showers had moved out of the area, I woke the boy up and we started bringing out stuff left over from last weekend. We also brought More stuff out of the attic and basement. As soon as we had stuff set up on the tables, it started raining again. I thought, well it must just be a left over sprinkle. Nope, it poured down for another 40 minutes or so. Luckily I was able to get any pictures and electronics back on the porch before they were ruined. But the rest of the day just kind of sucked.

On the up side, I was able to get rid of some stuff, and made some money to live on for the rest of the week. On the other side, I still have a porch full of crap that I don't want to drag back into the attic or basement. And the living room and dining room are covered in crap, also. I don't want to give it all away when I can make some much needed money off it, but I also don't want to have a tag sale every weekend for the rest of my life, either. It's not so much the getting up early and setting things up as it is the packing it up and putting it away at the end of the day that's the problem. Decisions, decisions.

Sunday morning I got up early and finished a wonderful book that I had been reading. That was a really nice start to my day as I don't often just squander 3 hours away reading. By the time I had taken a shower and was ready to go grocery shopping, the boy had awakened and gave me this great card. Which is spot on me, down to the purple shirt.

I don't care if it's my kid or a stranger in the front seat, if I'm stopping fast, I always do that! Obviously, I'm not the only one!

When I got home from the grocery store, the boy was ready to go with me on our second annual Mother's Day outing tradition. I pick out flowers to plant and he pays for them. The yard supports planters with Petunias and Impatiens, and he helps me pick out the colors. It's a nice tradition for me, because instead of a bouquet that dies quickly (and the cat will tear to shreds), I will look at them and think of him all summer long. He rolls his eyes and gets a queasy stomach every time I say that.

Bonus, he even cleaned the bathroom for me while I was outside planting. I tried to get him to vacuum the downstairs and fold my laundry for me, but he wasn't succumbing to any of my Jedi mind tricks.

After planting the flowers, and part of my herb garden, I made myself a lovely seafood dinner with a white wine, lemon, butter, garlic sauce over pasta, and then I went to bed early. I was pretty tired, because I'm anciently old and physical activity obviously wears me out. When I'm really tired like that, I get kooky. And I sleep-walk with no recollection of what is going on around me. I can have a full conversation with people and they think I'm perfectly normal, but I will not remember it.

Apparently I slept-walked into a wall/doorway last night trying to get to the bathroom. I vaguely remember thinking, "ow, that hurt, I wonder if I broke my nose?", and being too tired to go get ice for it. Probably for the best as getting ice would have required me going up and down stairs, which have never been my friend under the best of circumstances. When I woke up this morning, my nose was in a serious world of hurt, and blood was all over my sleep shirt.

It's not so very bad to look at, and I'm not blowing blood out of the inside of my nose, so I figure it's probably not broken. It's not like they can do much for it even if it was, so I didn't bother going to a doctor. It's just a little bruised and swollen, and my eyes aren't really blackening up much, just a little at the corners that I was able to cover up. I'm just thankful I didn't have my glasses on when it happened, or I would probably be out of luck right now.

But, boy did I get razzed at work today...

Class rings already?

2009-05-09T18:57:00.008-04:00

My son is in his freshman year at high school. Catholic high school. As some of you may know, I've been extremely lucky along the way of what I have considered to be his best educational opportunities in the town we live in.

But the school just asks too much, sometimes. It's almost like they forget there are people like me struggling tooth and nail to make ends meet. Even though they have been helping me with financial aid for tuition and books, I feel like they are hitting me constantly with fees for almost required activities, whether my son wants to participate or not. The latest example is school rings for the freshmen.

I have to admit that I came from a background where you got a few new outfits for the school year, and that was pretty much it. A class ring in high school was out of the question, I wasn't even able to buy a yearbook the year I was supposed to graduate. But then again, I didn't have any school spirit and at the time I didn't want any of those things, anyway.

The "activity fees" they charge every year include the yearbook, at least. I should probably be grateful for that, because this is what I have wanted for my son. I wanted him to be in the same school from Kindergarten through 8th grade. I want for him to graduate high school with the same kids he has known all of his life. I want more for him than what I had, always being the new kid, never having many friends, and when I finally made friends, we moved away.

So I reached way above where we should be living, and I carved out a dream for my kid. And I pushed and I pushed until I made it his dream, too. And now I'm complaining about all of the silly stuff that goes along with it that I'm having a hard time affording. If you're reading along and nodding, "Silly Bitch", yes I deserve that. But I feel that my kid deserves so much more.

I feel my kid deserves the education that so many other people's kids are getting. I honestly feel all kids deserve this same education, but I haven't found a way to make it happen for anyone other than my son. Please believe me when I say I am doing everything I can to pay these bills even with the help that I'm getting. And I'm going to complain and bitch and moan about it for the next few years. Because that is what I do.

I got this post card in the mail the other day. I didn't think I had to worry about this anytime soon, my kid being a Freshman and all...

Right now, I'm worrying about winter protection being over for the electricity, the gas bill coming due, paying the rent on time, and spending money on a vacation we had no business taking. Why the hell do I have to worry about a class ring right now? The kid is a freshman. At what point does a freshman have to worry about a class ring?

I know the boy will maybe want to remember his high school. But what if his memories fade? He only had school spirit for the K-8 school the last month around graduation. Will he really remember his high school with so much fondness after he leaves and goes to college? My kid doesn't even wear jewelry. What the hell?

So I asked him (obviously biased), "J, do you even want a ring?" That has to be ordered out of no where in the next week with an $80.00 deposit?

His response, "Um, mom, they actually have a ring ceremony for the Sophomores. How am I not supposed to be a part of that?" Shit, I had forgotten, they not only have a full freakin' mass, they also have a dance that weekend for only the Sophomores called the Ring Dance.

I'm wondering how much the ring company kicks back to the school for this racket. I know, bitch, bitch, bitch...

What Gwennie wants, Gwennie gets!

2009-05-07T16:54:00.017-04:00

When Gwennie says, "jump!" I say, "how high, SIR?", um, "M'AM!". Those military terms confuse me.

Anyway, the sweet, lovely, generous, beautiful, funny as hell Gwen over at Everything I like causes cancer has just celebrated her 600th post! Congrats! And slow the hell down. You're making the rest of us look bad!

On her 600th post, she told us about her pajama top: I love it because my mom gave it to me. I love it because it has rubbed against and been removed by every man I have ever seriously loved. I love it because it's comfortable. It never stays in my dresser very long because it's always my first choice. Apologies to all my other pajama tops, but this one is my favorite.

I suspect everyone has at least one piece of clothing like my pajama top: that pair of shoes you can't seem to throw in the trash despite them being broken down and sole less; that ratty-ass three-quarter-sleeve tee-shirt from the 1986 AC/DC Fly on The Wall tour that is covered in paint stains the same color as your second bathroom; that pair of jeans you finally had to make into cut-off shorts and now you can't get rid of the shorts even though your ass hangs out the bottom like a $2 hooker.

She asked her followers, read loyal servants, to celebrate with her by taking pictures and posting "your clothing/footwear/accessory equivalent of my pajama top and take a picture of the revered item" (check the whole post HERE).

Here you go, Gwendolyn.

This pair of shorts belonged to the last man I officially lived with, the one who gave me a beautiful engagement ring with an amethyst surrounded by diamond chips in an antique setting. I took the ring and the shorts with me when I left him - almost exactly 10 years ago to the day, coincidentally. I've obviously painted quite a few rooms in them, and somehow they have managed to stretch and grow with me. They are my go to pajamas/bum shorts in the summer. (note, this was not the guy that almost ended up killing me - I threw almost everything from him away!)

I bought this tank top because it looked really cute over a navy blue sports bra and bike shorts when I used to take kick-boxing. I doubt I'll ever see those bike shorts again, but the tank top, again, has managed to stretch and grow with me. Like the shorts, it's my go to pajama/bum shirt in the summer. As a matter of fact, I'm wearing it right now.

In the winter, these pants are a favorite. Ask anyone who knows me - if I'm home and don't have anywhere else to go that night, I'm probably wearing these. They are warm and soft and huge and comfy. I found them at Fashion Bug 3 Christmases ago, bought them and told my son to wrap them up and give them to me. Best $7 clearance special ever!

Here's where I'm going to get weird, because that is what I do. I know the spirit of Gwen's post was not just pajamas. It was about a soft sentimental item that you love because of nostalgia, sweetness, even poignancy. I'm going to let you in on a secret of mine that not too many people outside of my immediate family know about. (Here's the secret you asked for on Facebook, Cora.)

Some people have a lucky talisman, or an object that brings them comfort. Along those lines, I have Winslow. Winslow is a stuffed dog that was given to me by my brother, Jimmy, while I was in a hospital when I was 15. That silly little stuffed animal brought me much needed comfort at that time, and many times after. I have to admit that it has probably been held in a hug almost every time I have cried since then, for almost a quarter of a century. After my brother died 16 years ago, it took on an extra special meaning to me. As you can tell from the following pictures, I have almost worn the poor thing out.

His shirt used to say, "Winslow loves you".

And he used to have a tail. Repeated washing has lead to the use of safety pins, as I'm obviously much too lazy to sew him back up and sew his tail back on.

So, what do you think, TMI? Consider yourselves lucky, I didn't even tell you the whole stories. There are at least 4 more blog posts I could spin off from this one.

p.s. Gwennie, I may have been in a weird place last night when I offered to take off the actual tank top and send you a picture of it, and me NOT wearing it. If you're still interested *call me*. ;)

Shark's teeth

2009-05-06T19:10:00.000-04:00

One of the best things about the beaches we went to while in Florida were the fossilized shark's teeth. You don't even have to dig for them, they are laying right there on top of the sand. I don't know why this particular area is so good for finding them, but it's a lot of fun.

If you want to actually dig for them, or shells, they have these things call Florida Snow Shovels. It's basically a triangular metal basket on a long metal handle that you dig into the sand and then shake in the water to let all the sand out. Then you dump it and see what you got.

This post card identifies the different kinds of teeth, the species it was from, and approximately how old the teeth are. Many of the species are extinct, as these teeth are millions of years old.

While we were on the beach one day, a lady walked up and excitedly showed us something amazing. She had found it just laying on the beach about a mile and a half from where we were, away from the public beaches. It was from a Carcharodon Megalodon, and obviously the post card is not actual size because this thing was at least three inches on each side. Imagine five rows of those top and bottom taking a little nibble out of you *shudder*. Glad those fuckers are extinct.

My sister Bouf is living there right now and likes to take long walks on the beach in the morning and at sunset. She said it's the best time to collect the teeth, and also to see the wild dolphins (which I did get to see one morning, yay!). Her collection is awesome! This is my lame collection, from 2 different trips put together.

The night before we went to the beach for the first time, my mother felt she had to warn me not to let my son go out too far in the ocean. Apparently one time when he was there without me she took him to the beach and he went out above his waist. I appreciated her concern and told her so. I also mentioned the facts that he was either 7 or 10 at the time, and at least a foot shorter. Being my mother, she had to keep pressing the issue about how dangerous the surf can be, and how the sharks come close to shore, yada, yada, yada.

The woman is like a pit bull, she sinks her teeth into something and won't let go. "Mom, I've got it, I've done this before." Hi, we have an ocean where we live, too. I finally said, "if you're so worried, why don't you come to the beach and watch him for me!".

Yeah, I know, classy and extremely mature of me.

We saw no sharks the whole time we were there, but the lady who found the huge shark's tooth told us that the day before she was on the beach talking to a friend who was in the water. She saw what she thought were 2 dolphins jumping around and coming closer to shore. As they got closer, it looked like they were fighting. Dolphins don't usually fight with each other, nor do they usually come close to shore when there are a lot of people in the water. The husband of the lady in the water ran over yelling, "get out of the water!".

They were sharks and must have been following a school of fish or something. They had to have been pretty good size sharks if she mistook them for dolphins which are usually anywhere from 8-12 feet in length. She said they got as close to the shore as where the drop off went from like three feet to five feet. Literally in the same spot we had been swimming in earlier that day.

There's a reason I don't go out farther than I can touch my feet - it's called fear. And there's a reason I didn't tell my mother about that lady's incident - it's called bitchiness. Or dysfunctional self-preservation. Whatever.

Wordless Wednesday - one of my favorites from Florida

2009-05-06T06:00:00.002-04:00

Another installment of Douchey McDoucherson

2009-05-03T13:41:00.012-04:00

You guys remember my landlord, Douchey McDoucherson, right? The guy that talks out his ass about everything, and I never know when he's telling the truth, lying to my face, or making something up. Sometimes I think he even believes some of the ridiculous things he says.

He also has a tendency to give me permission to do something, then back out or change his mind, or tell me he never agreed to it. I had asked in advance for two things I was looking forward to this spring: having a tag sale, and planting a vegetable garden. I've been reminding him so he couldn't say he forgot, and I keep getting affirmative responses - with lots of negativity thrown in.

For example, "this is a busy road, no one will stop for a tag sale" and "I don't know what's buried under that spot you want for a garden. For all I know, there's a car buried under there and all you're going to be able to grow is motor oil.".

Last week, I gave him actual dates. Saturday the 2nd was going to be my tag sale, and Mother's Day weekend was when I was going to plant the garden. He was okay with the tag sale, but had to warn me that there was poison ivy growing in the garden area. I was suprised because I had never seen poison ivy on that side of the yard. I went over and took a look:

"Um, Douchey, that's - a - baby - tree... I think I can handle it."

We had the tag sale yesterday, and despite Douchey's dire predictions we had a freakin' lot of people stop by, and we made some money. Not as much as I would have liked, but my son and my cousin did pretty well.

One of the first people that showed up at the tag sale was a guy I went to high school with, Danny. He bought a vcr/dvd combo from my cousin while we were still unpacking boxes and she realized after that she hadn't given him the remote that goes with it. I couldn't for the life of me remember his last name so I couldn't call him. At the end of the day we just threw the remote into the big trash can out back with all the rest of the debris.

Of course Danny showed up at 8:30 last night when I was in my pajamas, with no bra on, wondering if I had the remote. Turns out he couldn't work the machine without it. I grabbed a flashlight, turned on the back light and we started looking through the trash can. And, of course it wasn't right on top, so I laid the can on its side in the driveway and we started carefully pulling out one thing at a time until we found it. Yay!

Just as we found it, the landlord turned on his back light and came not only outside, but down the steps into the driveway. "Fancy, what's going on out here? Is everything okay?" I explained the situation to Douchey, bid goodnight to my friend, and went inside to wash my hands.

Does Douchey always look outside and watch what I'm doing? He obviously realized it was me, as he called me by name. Does he really need to know why I'm looking through my own garbage?

If I want to go out back in my pajamas in the dark with a stranger and look through my own garbage can, why the fuck do I have to feel like people are watching me? Now that I know he's watching, maybe I should make sure to give him something to look at more often. And before your mind goes THERE, you pervert, I was thinking more like tap dancing in some crazy costume by the light of the moon. Give me ideas, people. Maybe if I really like the suggestion, I'll video tape me doing it and email it to you.

(for record, yes we do call each other Douchey and Fancy!) (also, you will have to sign a waiver that if I get evicted because of your suggestion, I get to come live with you)

The boys

2009-04-30T19:27:00.009-04:00

My mother has an antique shop in a nice neighborhood in a town near where she lives. The street that it is on is a little community of quirky shops and artisans. You can get anything from your nails and hair done, to original art - with ice cream, tapas and wine, good quality souvenirs, hand made jewelry, or a tarot card reading thrown in. Through this community my mother met the men she calls "the boys".

The boys consist of three men, probably in their late 50s or early 60s, that live together - Wade, Bobby and Gill. Wade and Bobby are a couple. Unfortunately, Gill lost his partner and I think he is single. I'm not sure how they ended up living together, or how they own 2 pieces of property, but they rent the house they don't live in to my mother. That is where she currently lives.

When I first heard about this, it blew my mind. My mother has gay men for friends? And Gill is a psychic that she lets read tarot cards for her? And she actually believes in it? Who are you and what did you do with my closed minded, judgemental, kinda prejudiced mother? And she laughs when she tells me how vulgar Gill is, she won't repeat anything he has said, but she thinks he's funny.

But more than that, these guys take care of her as best they can. Anything that she needs, if they are able to help in any way, they will, and they do. They are good guys.

On our last night in Florida, my mother had the boys over for dinner, a belated birthday dinner for Bobby. They were extremely nice, but Gill stole the show. My mother had asked him in advance to try to hold back because of my son. I told him to let loose, I knew my son would enjoy it as much as I would, and I was right. This guy is funny. The kind of funny that he doesn't care if anyone is laughing along with him. He lets out this infectious guffaw from deep in the back of his throat that you can't help but laugh along, "Hunh-HAAAA!".

The highlights of the evening:

Apparently the street the shops are on was going to be closed down for a Red Hat Society Parade. In order to march in the parade, you had to have a group of ladies in purple wearing the red hats, and each group had to elect a leader, The Queen. Gill's quip, "at least I won't be the only queen on the street that day, Hunh-HAAAA!".

During dinner, something on the table made a mess and my mother cautioned to watch out for it when picking it up, the bottom might be sticky. Gills quip, "Oh, I've had a sticky bottom many times. Hunh-HAAAA!".

After dinner, my mother put some candles in a cake and we sang Happy Birthday to Bobby. As soon as the singing was over, while the candles were still lit, Gill says, "Okay, Bobby, now do what we do best! Hunh-HAAAA!".

I love this guy.

Obama's Facebook - hysterical!

2009-04-30T13:13:00.005-04:00

I found this through Cajun Boy.

100 days of Obama's Facebook news feed.

By Christopher Beam and Chris WilsonPosted Wednesday, April 29, 2009, at 3:54 PM ET

News organizations have done an admirable job of recapping the first 100 days of the Obama administration. But rarely do we stumble across a primary source like Barack Obama's own Facebook feed. Scroll down for the full story.


	Barack Obama joined the Washington, D.C. network.
	Barack Obama is taking the oath of office.
	Barack Obama is taking the oath of office.
	Barack Obama deleted the group I'm a Lobbyist AND I Work at the White House!
	Barack Obama deleted the group Guantanamo Bay Detainees 4EVA. Khalid Sheikh Mohammed likes this.
	Reggie Love wrote on Beyonce Knowles' Wall. Not ready to put a ring on it, but I do like it.
	Joe Biden posted a note: 25 Random Things About Me. Chris Dodd #7 and #16 - Me too!
	Michael Steele created the group R to the N to the C.
	Rahm Emanuel updated his Education and Work info to Undersecretary of Go Fuck Yourself.
	Hillary Clinton, Tom Daschle, Robert Gates and others joined the group Cabinet.
	Hillary Clinton is adjusting :).
	Reggie Love joined the group White House Hotties. Tom Vilsack Welcome to the club! Steven Chu One of us, one of us, lol
	Senate Finance Committee invited Tim Geithner to the event Confirmation Hearing.
	Tim Geithner joined the group Cabinet.
	Senate Finance Committee invited Tom Daschle to the event Confirmation Hearing.
	Tom Daschle left the group Cabinet.
	Chuck Todd, Jake Tapper, Charlie Gibson, Anderson Cooper, Katie Couric, Matt Lauer, George F. Will, David Brooks, and Charles Krauthammer added the Twitter application.
	Joe Biden completed the quiz Which sexy man are you? with the result "Joe Biden."
	5 million people updated their Education and Work info to Unemployed.
	Barack Obama became a fan of Stimulus.
	Barack Obama invited the group Senate Republicans to the event Bi-Party!-sanship. Mitch McConnell Sorry ... Lost.
	58 people are fans of Stimulus.
	Susan Collins, Olympia Snowe, and Arlen Specter changed their political views to Moderate.
	61 people are fans of Stimulus.
	Paul Krugman is having an aneurysm.
	Bobby Jindal, Mark Sanford, Sarah Palin and Rick Perry created the group We Don't Need Your Stinkin' Money.
	Bobby Jindal, Mark Sanford, Sarah Palin and Rick Perry joined the Des Moines network.
	Michael Steele is When I say death, you say tax. Death! Death! Grover Norquist Tax! Grover Norquist Tax!
	Barack Obama added Canada to the Places I've Been application.
	Hillary Clinton added Egypt, Israel, Switzerland, the Palestinian Territories, Belgium, China, Russia, Turkey, Ukraine, Japan, Mexico, Brazil, and 37 others to the Places I've Been application.
	Joe Biden created the group "I Love ‘I Love You, Man,' Man.".
	Barack Obama posted a note to the group America. We are not quitters. Nancy Pelosi likes this. Bobby Jindal Why hello! Didn't see ya there. So what's the deal with volcano spending?? Say, wanna ride in my ice cream truck?
	27,198, 235 people left the group Jindal 2012.
	Barack Obama is no longer a fan of Iraq.
	Barack Obama is a fan of Afghanistan.
	Gordon Brown invited Barack Obama to the event Long-Ass Press Conference. Barack Obama Sorry ... Lost.
	Barack Obama is a fan of Stem Cell Research.
	Dick Cheney wrote on Barack Obama's Wall. http://tinyurl.com/c45gh5
	Barack Obama is OUTRAGED about AIG bonuses. Robert Gibbs He really is.
	Barack Obama posted a video: Me on Leno!.
	Hillary Clinton posted a video: Me on Leno in 1997.
	Barack Obama sent a friend request to Iran.
	Dick Cheney created the group Barack Obama: Enemy Combatant.
	Barack Obama sent the Queen of England an iPod.
	Barack Obama sent Somali Pirates a Trio of Snipers.
	John Boehner posted an article: GOP Alternative Budget.
	10 million people left the group Likely Republican Voters.
	Paul Ryan posted an article: Alternative GOP Alternative Budget.
	10 million people left the group Likely Republican Voters.
	Joe Biden completed the quiz Are you on a boat? with the result "You're on a boat."
	Barack Obama added Turkey to the Places I've Been application.
	Barack Obama deleted "Armenian genocide, 1915-18" from Interests.
	Sasha Obama and Malia Obama added the Dogbook application.
	Neil Cavuto sent Barack Obama a tea bag. Rachel Maddow !!! Neil Cavuto ? Rachel Maddow ;)
	Rick Perry left the network United States.
	Barack Obama posted an article: Torture Memos.
	Dick Cheney and David Boies are now friends.
	Barack Obama deleted "prosecuting torturers" from Interests.
	Barack Obama added "prosecuting torturers" to Interests.
	Hugo Chavez sent Barack Obama a book.
	Dick Cheney invited George W. Bush to the group Barack Obama IS ACTUALLY HUGO CHAVEZ. George W. Bush Sorry ... Lost.
	Arlen Specter joined the group Democrats.

Oink oink

2009-04-29T17:38:00.003-04:00

My throat is raw and scratchy, my chest is congested and I'm coughing. You wouldn't believe the colors of the stuff constantly being blown out of my sinuses.

Is it allergies, or Swine Flu?

I didn't go to Mexico, but I might have seen some Mexicans at the airport. Do you think that counts?