hey there everybody! i've been absent for a little while...but...I'M BAAAAAACK! i know this just gave you a little thrill, didn't it? ...it's okay to admit it. you've missed me, haven't you? i've had alot of things going on these last couple of months...and truthfully, my humor has taken a backseat to everything else. i've missed writing, i've missed laughing...shoot, i've even missed peeing my pants...a little bit.
hang in here with me...i've got some stories coming! after all, my life is like a three ring circus...always something going on...and i'm more often than not, the CLOWN in the middle of it all.
thank you to those who "follow" me...i will try very hard not to lead you astray...like i did my friend in...just kidding. i was always the one led astray. BWAHAHAHA!!!!
stay tuned...
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Saturday, February 20, 2010
a tale of two Valentines Day THIEVES
i have always loved valentines day. ever since i was a little girl and we would decorate our "mailboxes" at school with markers and little heart stickers, and lay them on our desk where everyone would go around and put their valentines in each others boxes. i couldn't wait to get home and dig through the pile, looking for that "special one" from that "special boy." then i got older and started dating and instead of the little mailboxes i started getting big red heart boxes filled with chocolates and then it was a dozen roses.
when "the middle-aged man who left me for greener pastures" and i were trying to decide what day we would get married we settled on february 15. i had owned a flower shop at the time and of course, valentines day was the busiest day of the year. so we thought that since i was ordering so many flowers it would be a good time to just add my wedding flowers to the same order and get married the day after. and so we did. and that always made it a little more special because i got to celebrate two holidays in two days. and that usually meant two presents. and i liked that part. about the two presents. after we had been married a few years he started just combining the two and getting me one gift. i didn't like that part so much. but hey...i didn't complain, because one gift is better than NO gift...right? i love the whole idea of romance. sappy love stories, men who cry, unexpected love notes...flowers and chocolates. and hearts.
this last week mama and daddy got an unwelcomed visitor at their house. MR. STOMACH VIRUS. i packed a few things that i NEEDED, like my own pillow and my laptop and headed over to their house to stay with them while it ran its course. and play nurse. then my nephew, ryan, got it. and then my sister, paula, got it. i avoided it because my uniform of choice was this
i wore these for eight days. because that's how long it stuck around. and i am the only one who escaped that evil man's clutches!
valentines day fell in the middle of this week. and i realized when i woke up that this was the first year EVER, that i did not have anyone that would be sending me a valentine. and deep down inside, and a little bit on the surface, i was mad. at "the middle-aged man who left me for greener pastures." not because HE had a NEW valentine, but because i DIDN'T! he had ruined this holiday for me. all i had was virtual valentines from a few of my facebook friends. (don't get me wrong, i loved them,) but i was not going to hear the florist delivery van drive up the driveway so he could deliver me roses and i wasn't going to get a card in the mail. and worse...i was not going to be getting any CHOCOLATE!!!! and on top of that, i wasn't going to get an anniversary present the next day either. that stunk! this was the second holiday he ruined for me. (mothers day was the first, but that's a whole nother story.) at this rate, i wasn't going to be celebrating anything anymore...and trust me when i say this...i gave him a tongue lashing like you wouldn't believe!!! only he wasn't around to hear it. dadgum it!
my second oldest son, christian, sent me a valentine's message on facebook. and my oldest son, landon, called me that night to tell me happy valentines day. but i didn't hear anything from micajah, except when he called me to see if i was coming home that night. he was staying at our house to take care of all the animals. i told him no, that i needed to stay one more night. he told me what he had gotten his girlfriend and i waited to see if he was going to say Happy Valentines Day Mom! i love you! but he didn't. and i whined about he never thinks of me, except when he needs something, and how all he cares about are his friends. i whined about it alot. he called me the next day to see if i was still coming home that night, but by then daddy was getting sick again so i told him no, it would have to be the next day. i wondered why he was wanting me at home. he doesn't talk to me a whole lot when i AM there, so i figured he needed some money or some laundry done. he speaks to me alot when he needs MONEY .yesterday afternoon i returned home like the prodigal mother, draggin my pillow and my laptop behind me. i walked into my bedroom and there on my other pillow was a card that said MOM. it was a valentine from my baby boy. and what he wrote inside just melted my heart. "i love you whether you think i do or not. micajah" i had tears in my eyes. and i went in the bathroom to get a kleenex and there in the trash can was a single yellow rose in cellophane. i went to his room to thank him for the card and asked him what a rose was doing in the trash can. i thought maybe he had gotten it for his girl and then decided not to give it to her. but he said, "i got it for you but you didn't come home in time and it died. and i didn't want to give you a dead rose." awwwww...tears welling up. sigh. sooooo sweet. my baby boy loves me. and i realized right then that valentines day is not just for the romantic kind of love. it's just about love. plain and simple.
a few years ago when micajah was in the sixth grade, he had his eye on a girl in his class. valentines day was approaching and i kept asking him if he wanted to go to the store and get her something. but he kept saying no, he didn't think he was going to give her anything. i thought that was a little odd, because at his school the kids would all exchange things with their sweetie and come walking out the door at the end of the day with flowers and balloons and teddy bears. i couldn't figure out why he wasn't giving her anything. a couple of days later, it was a sunday, and i had just gotten home from church, when i walked into my bedroom and noticed immediately that something was a little off kilter. i'm one of those people that can tell instantly if someone "strange" has been in my house. or if something has been moved. and i was noticing then that something had been moved. i kept my jewelry box on top of the dresser and in front of it i had two little wicker baskets and a little doll of some sort. and they had been moved. just a little to the right. and one of the drawers on the jewelry box was slightly open. i asked "the middle-aged man who left me for greener pastures" if he had been looking for something, but he said no. so, i asked micajah, the only other person who lived there and he too said no. SOMEBODY WAS LYING. so i pulled the jewelry box down and began to go through it and noticed right away that one of my rings was missing. and i knew it because i know where everything should be because i have ocd, remember? i'm organized. everything has it's own little place in the world. i thought, well who in the world would come in my house and just take ONE ring? hmmmm. doesn't make sense to you either, does it?
and then it dawned on me. i knew who would do something like that. an eighth grade boy with a girlfriend. whom he would want to impress on valentines day! i called micajah in the room and asked him point blank if he had given my ring to this girl. and after a few futile attempts to lie about it, he confessed. so...i did what any normal mother would do. i thought of the "worst punishment for him" and i told him that he had to call the girl and tell her she had to give the ring back because it belonged to his mother. and that if he didn't do it, and in front of me, that i would be calling her mother myself. he did it. and he was humiliated beyond belief. and i felt sorry for him...but i wasn't about to let him off the hook after giving away my jewelry to a girl he would be breaking up with in a matter of days! he told me i was a mean mama. (he steals my jewelry and lies about it and i'm a mean mama!) but he lived through it. and i got my ring back the next day. and he dumped the girl two days later.
i decided this year that since i won't be celebrating an anniversary anymore that i would come up with something NEW to celebrate on that day. so...i'm thinking on that. and i'm thinking that it needs to involve me eating an absurd amount of chocolate. sounds like a plan is forming.....
when "the middle-aged man who left me for greener pastures" and i were trying to decide what day we would get married we settled on february 15. i had owned a flower shop at the time and of course, valentines day was the busiest day of the year. so we thought that since i was ordering so many flowers it would be a good time to just add my wedding flowers to the same order and get married the day after. and so we did. and that always made it a little more special because i got to celebrate two holidays in two days. and that usually meant two presents. and i liked that part. about the two presents. after we had been married a few years he started just combining the two and getting me one gift. i didn't like that part so much. but hey...i didn't complain, because one gift is better than NO gift...right? i love the whole idea of romance. sappy love stories, men who cry, unexpected love notes...flowers and chocolates. and hearts.
this last week mama and daddy got an unwelcomed visitor at their house. MR. STOMACH VIRUS. i packed a few things that i NEEDED, like my own pillow and my laptop and headed over to their house to stay with them while it ran its course. and play nurse. then my nephew, ryan, got it. and then my sister, paula, got it. i avoided it because my uniform of choice was this
i wore these for eight days. because that's how long it stuck around. and i am the only one who escaped that evil man's clutches!
valentines day fell in the middle of this week. and i realized when i woke up that this was the first year EVER, that i did not have anyone that would be sending me a valentine. and deep down inside, and a little bit on the surface, i was mad. at "the middle-aged man who left me for greener pastures." not because HE had a NEW valentine, but because i DIDN'T! he had ruined this holiday for me. all i had was virtual valentines from a few of my facebook friends. (don't get me wrong, i loved them,) but i was not going to hear the florist delivery van drive up the driveway so he could deliver me roses and i wasn't going to get a card in the mail. and worse...i was not going to be getting any CHOCOLATE!!!! and on top of that, i wasn't going to get an anniversary present the next day either. that stunk! this was the second holiday he ruined for me. (mothers day was the first, but that's a whole nother story.) at this rate, i wasn't going to be celebrating anything anymore...and trust me when i say this...i gave him a tongue lashing like you wouldn't believe!!! only he wasn't around to hear it. dadgum it!
my second oldest son, christian, sent me a valentine's message on facebook. and my oldest son, landon, called me that night to tell me happy valentines day. but i didn't hear anything from micajah, except when he called me to see if i was coming home that night. he was staying at our house to take care of all the animals. i told him no, that i needed to stay one more night. he told me what he had gotten his girlfriend and i waited to see if he was going to say Happy Valentines Day Mom! i love you! but he didn't. and i whined about he never thinks of me, except when he needs something, and how all he cares about are his friends. i whined about it alot. he called me the next day to see if i was still coming home that night, but by then daddy was getting sick again so i told him no, it would have to be the next day. i wondered why he was wanting me at home. he doesn't talk to me a whole lot when i AM there, so i figured he needed some money or some laundry done. he speaks to me alot when he needs MONEY .yesterday afternoon i returned home like the prodigal mother, draggin my pillow and my laptop behind me. i walked into my bedroom and there on my other pillow was a card that said MOM. it was a valentine from my baby boy. and what he wrote inside just melted my heart. "i love you whether you think i do or not. micajah" i had tears in my eyes. and i went in the bathroom to get a kleenex and there in the trash can was a single yellow rose in cellophane. i went to his room to thank him for the card and asked him what a rose was doing in the trash can. i thought maybe he had gotten it for his girl and then decided not to give it to her. but he said, "i got it for you but you didn't come home in time and it died. and i didn't want to give you a dead rose." awwwww...tears welling up. sigh. sooooo sweet. my baby boy loves me. and i realized right then that valentines day is not just for the romantic kind of love. it's just about love. plain and simple.
a few years ago when micajah was in the sixth grade, he had his eye on a girl in his class. valentines day was approaching and i kept asking him if he wanted to go to the store and get her something. but he kept saying no, he didn't think he was going to give her anything. i thought that was a little odd, because at his school the kids would all exchange things with their sweetie and come walking out the door at the end of the day with flowers and balloons and teddy bears. i couldn't figure out why he wasn't giving her anything. a couple of days later, it was a sunday, and i had just gotten home from church, when i walked into my bedroom and noticed immediately that something was a little off kilter. i'm one of those people that can tell instantly if someone "strange" has been in my house. or if something has been moved. and i was noticing then that something had been moved. i kept my jewelry box on top of the dresser and in front of it i had two little wicker baskets and a little doll of some sort. and they had been moved. just a little to the right. and one of the drawers on the jewelry box was slightly open. i asked "the middle-aged man who left me for greener pastures" if he had been looking for something, but he said no. so, i asked micajah, the only other person who lived there and he too said no. SOMEBODY WAS LYING. so i pulled the jewelry box down and began to go through it and noticed right away that one of my rings was missing. and i knew it because i know where everything should be because i have ocd, remember? i'm organized. everything has it's own little place in the world. i thought, well who in the world would come in my house and just take ONE ring? hmmmm. doesn't make sense to you either, does it?
and then it dawned on me. i knew who would do something like that. an eighth grade boy with a girlfriend. whom he would want to impress on valentines day! i called micajah in the room and asked him point blank if he had given my ring to this girl. and after a few futile attempts to lie about it, he confessed. so...i did what any normal mother would do. i thought of the "worst punishment for him" and i told him that he had to call the girl and tell her she had to give the ring back because it belonged to his mother. and that if he didn't do it, and in front of me, that i would be calling her mother myself. he did it. and he was humiliated beyond belief. and i felt sorry for him...but i wasn't about to let him off the hook after giving away my jewelry to a girl he would be breaking up with in a matter of days! he told me i was a mean mama. (he steals my jewelry and lies about it and i'm a mean mama!) but he lived through it. and i got my ring back the next day. and he dumped the girl two days later.
i decided this year that since i won't be celebrating an anniversary anymore that i would come up with something NEW to celebrate on that day. so...i'm thinking on that. and i'm thinking that it needs to involve me eating an absurd amount of chocolate. sounds like a plan is forming.....
Monday, February 1, 2010
the "reconstruction of ME"
ok. soooooo...today is DAY ONE of my "reconstruction of me" project. a project that will involve sifting through the rubble that my life has become and digging deep, to see if i can find any gems that are worth salvaging. (you know...bits and pieces of self-esteem, self-worth, good qualities, etc.) these things have been sorely lacking in my life for the past year. well, actually, more like the last 18 years. and now that i am "going through the big D, and don't mean dallas" thing, i thought that i would re-invent myself. undergo a major reconstruction job both on the inside and outside. "fix" some things that need to be fixed. sort of like plastic surgery. nip a little here and there. cut some things out. add a little bit of this and that. but first, i wanted to do a little self examination and see if i could find anything about me that might be worth keeping or if i need to just start over from scratch. (after a few hours of looking at myself under a microscope i'm thinking i better go with the start over from scratch idea.) God is going to be with me throughout this process, so i know i'm in good hands.
as a lover of all things scrapbook related, i am jumping on the bandwagon and beginning the Project 365. this is where you take a picture a day, all year long, of things that encompass your daily life. people you love, people you love that don't love you back, friends, pets, places you shop, places you go, things you eat, things that will eat you. you get the idea. little things in life that add up to the big things. i will be posting the pictures here in an album entitled "Project 365 minus the first 31 days of 2010." because i got started late. but better late than never, right? so, if you are at all interested in bits and pieces of "me" check out the pics. if you're not...well then...don't. HA!
last week my family and i got into a big discussion on OCD. for those of you that don't know what that is...it stands for Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. and i have it. but personally speaking, i feel that people who DON'T have it are the ones with a disorder! i tend to believe that it GIVES me order. anyway, i do not suffer in this alone. many others in my family also tend to "lean that way." with varying degrees of the disorder. i think that my own degree is slight, however, there are those who would tend to disagree with me. i have always known that this a part of me, though i wasn't always aware there was a name for it. i have always liked to think that i am very discreet about it. if you don't know me well, or if you weren't reading this, you would probably never know that i can be freakish about some...things. and if you're wondering right about now why i'm talking about OCD, it's because after our big discussion about it i have determined that this is one of the areas of my life that needs to be reconstructed! makes perfect sense now, huh?
one symptom of OCD is when a person has a compulsive desire to do something. maybe a certain number of times, or a certain way. and there is usually a reason WHY you need to do it, although you might not always KNOW what that reason is. for instance, i have to do certain things in even increments. not everything. but certain things. and i can't tell you what those things are, because they can change on a daily basis at any given time. i can tell you that i have to do them an even number of times. and this can drive a sane person, well, insane. like turning a light switch on and off. and then on and off again. or scratching my head. and then scratching it again. or having to have everything in the food pantry organized. by fruit, soup, breakfast foods, baking items,etc. and then within the food group itself. and labels facing out. and all in a perfect row. my sister, terri, and i used to own a gourmet gift basket business. we stocked alot of boxed candies and nuts and fruits. we also had alot of different gift lines. every day before i went home i would go around and line up all the little boxes. in perfect rows. but at an angle. and when i would come in the next morning, all the little boxes would be in perfect rows still. but lined up one in front of the other. i would "fix" them again and the next day...same thing. this went on for awhile. one day i mentioned it to mama (who worked with us) and terri, and told them how it drove me nuts that someone was always "undoing" the order of things. and terri admitted that it was HER! see, she has this same disorder. but where i like things at an angle, she likes them perfectly straight. so...most people would just do some sort of compromise...or let it go altogether. but not us. not TWO people with OCD. we just continued on with what we were doing. i would "fix" things and she would "mess them up." drove mama up the wall.
terri also has the "even" thing. but she is waaaaay more conspicuous about it than i am. one thing she does...when we are in the car and she is driving, if anyone is sitting in the backseat and says something to her...she has to flip her head around like you would do if you were looking for oncoming traffic before merging into a lane. and she does it twice. and if you happen to be going on a long trip with this going on...let me just say that by the time you reach your intended destination you have a car full of unhappy campers and a driver with whiplash. it even drives a fellow OCDer batty!
there is a show on tv called HOARDERS. these people suffer with a form of OCD. i watch the show...but i don't suffer anywhere near this degree. i don't hoard junk. or trash. or food. or animal feces. i went to mama and daddy's house the other day. when i walked into daddy's office there was mama sitting on the couch surrounded by empty boxes and...stuff. i asked her what she was doing. she said that alot of things they had gotten for Christmas had been left down there and she was taking it all out of the boxes so she could put it where it belonged. so i jumped right in and began tearing down the boxes. you know. to put in the trash. and then mama had a little "OCD issue."
"what are you doing...i want those boxes!!!"
"for what?"
"because they are "good" boxes. just put them in the closet over there."
"ummmmmm...for what?"
"because when i need to mail a gift and i need a box i'll know where they are. you can never have too many boxes."
"but you don't even shop anymore. so you don't mail gifts. so you don't need boxes. and if you ever DO need one...i will go to the store and get you one...if you don't already get one free with whatever it was you bought."
"but i hate to just throw away "good" boxes." (said as i am madly tearing them down still.)
"mama...you do not need boxes. you are wanting to get rid of "stuff" not collect more "stuff." the boxes GO!"
"fine!! but at least give me that big shoe box. i need that to put my tax stuff in." so i let her have the shoebox. (and today she told me she lost it.) go figure.
two of my sisters, paula and terri, AND both mama and daddy have a thing for boxes. and empty bottles. and styrofoam ice chests that daddy's insulin comes in every month. so i have to keep them all in check because i don't share this trait, and i throw them away when nobody's looking.
to top all of this crazy behavior off...i was a decorator. and for any of you fellow decorators or scrapbookers...you know what it's like. certain things have to be in groups of 3 or 5. what kind of chaos do you think THAT rule does to an "even numbered" OCDer like me? YES! you do understand don't you? you can spend literally hours working on a page and everyone will ooooh and aaaah over it (you caught that i had to do 4 o's on each word, didn't you?) and tell you how pretty it is and how talented you are. but YOU KNOW that something just isn't right. it's missing that one little thing. and you can't be happy with it or done with it, until you find that ONE little thing. then...and only then...is everything right in your little corner of the world. thank you! i knew there were people out there that can relate to me!
in my very first picture of my Project 365 minus the first 31 days of 2010 album, you may notice in the background a large pile of clothes. on hangers. but not hanging in the closet. yep...this was taken in micajah's room. i wash the clothes. i hang up the clothes...on plastic hangers...because i CAN NOT have wire hangers in my closets! and he lays them on the bed. why? because he is 17 yrs. old. and his job is to drive his mother looney. which he does mighty well. MIGHTY WELL INDEED!!!
all of this to say...this problem needs some attention. some "fixing." i drive myself nuts sometimes. i tell myself over and over again that NOTHING IS GOING TO HAPPEN IF I DON''T TAP THE TABLE FOUR TIMES. OR FLIP MY PILLOW TWICE BEFORE I GO TO BED. OR BRUSH MY TEETH TWO TIMES BECAUSE I CAN'T REMEMBER IF I REALLY DID BRUSH THEM OR IF I JUST THOUGHT I BRUSHED THEM. but, i have a hard time listening to myself. therein lies the problem.
so this will be a work in progress. this is just the beginning. hang on if you're going on this ride with me. it might get a little ummmmmmm out of sorts!.
as a lover of all things scrapbook related, i am jumping on the bandwagon and beginning the Project 365. this is where you take a picture a day, all year long, of things that encompass your daily life. people you love, people you love that don't love you back, friends, pets, places you shop, places you go, things you eat, things that will eat you. you get the idea. little things in life that add up to the big things. i will be posting the pictures here in an album entitled "Project 365 minus the first 31 days of 2010." because i got started late. but better late than never, right? so, if you are at all interested in bits and pieces of "me" check out the pics. if you're not...well then...don't. HA!
last week my family and i got into a big discussion on OCD. for those of you that don't know what that is...it stands for Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. and i have it. but personally speaking, i feel that people who DON'T have it are the ones with a disorder! i tend to believe that it GIVES me order. anyway, i do not suffer in this alone. many others in my family also tend to "lean that way." with varying degrees of the disorder. i think that my own degree is slight, however, there are those who would tend to disagree with me. i have always known that this a part of me, though i wasn't always aware there was a name for it. i have always liked to think that i am very discreet about it. if you don't know me well, or if you weren't reading this, you would probably never know that i can be freakish about some...things. and if you're wondering right about now why i'm talking about OCD, it's because after our big discussion about it i have determined that this is one of the areas of my life that needs to be reconstructed! makes perfect sense now, huh?
one symptom of OCD is when a person has a compulsive desire to do something. maybe a certain number of times, or a certain way. and there is usually a reason WHY you need to do it, although you might not always KNOW what that reason is. for instance, i have to do certain things in even increments. not everything. but certain things. and i can't tell you what those things are, because they can change on a daily basis at any given time. i can tell you that i have to do them an even number of times. and this can drive a sane person, well, insane. like turning a light switch on and off. and then on and off again. or scratching my head. and then scratching it again. or having to have everything in the food pantry organized. by fruit, soup, breakfast foods, baking items,etc. and then within the food group itself. and labels facing out. and all in a perfect row. my sister, terri, and i used to own a gourmet gift basket business. we stocked alot of boxed candies and nuts and fruits. we also had alot of different gift lines. every day before i went home i would go around and line up all the little boxes. in perfect rows. but at an angle. and when i would come in the next morning, all the little boxes would be in perfect rows still. but lined up one in front of the other. i would "fix" them again and the next day...same thing. this went on for awhile. one day i mentioned it to mama (who worked with us) and terri, and told them how it drove me nuts that someone was always "undoing" the order of things. and terri admitted that it was HER! see, she has this same disorder. but where i like things at an angle, she likes them perfectly straight. so...most people would just do some sort of compromise...or let it go altogether. but not us. not TWO people with OCD. we just continued on with what we were doing. i would "fix" things and she would "mess them up." drove mama up the wall.
terri also has the "even" thing. but she is waaaaay more conspicuous about it than i am. one thing she does...when we are in the car and she is driving, if anyone is sitting in the backseat and says something to her...she has to flip her head around like you would do if you were looking for oncoming traffic before merging into a lane. and she does it twice. and if you happen to be going on a long trip with this going on...let me just say that by the time you reach your intended destination you have a car full of unhappy campers and a driver with whiplash. it even drives a fellow OCDer batty!
there is a show on tv called HOARDERS. these people suffer with a form of OCD. i watch the show...but i don't suffer anywhere near this degree. i don't hoard junk. or trash. or food. or animal feces. i went to mama and daddy's house the other day. when i walked into daddy's office there was mama sitting on the couch surrounded by empty boxes and...stuff. i asked her what she was doing. she said that alot of things they had gotten for Christmas had been left down there and she was taking it all out of the boxes so she could put it where it belonged. so i jumped right in and began tearing down the boxes. you know. to put in the trash. and then mama had a little "OCD issue."
"what are you doing...i want those boxes!!!"
"for what?"
"because they are "good" boxes. just put them in the closet over there."
"ummmmmm...for what?"
"because when i need to mail a gift and i need a box i'll know where they are. you can never have too many boxes."
"but you don't even shop anymore. so you don't mail gifts. so you don't need boxes. and if you ever DO need one...i will go to the store and get you one...if you don't already get one free with whatever it was you bought."
"but i hate to just throw away "good" boxes." (said as i am madly tearing them down still.)
"mama...you do not need boxes. you are wanting to get rid of "stuff" not collect more "stuff." the boxes GO!"
"fine!! but at least give me that big shoe box. i need that to put my tax stuff in." so i let her have the shoebox. (and today she told me she lost it.) go figure.
two of my sisters, paula and terri, AND both mama and daddy have a thing for boxes. and empty bottles. and styrofoam ice chests that daddy's insulin comes in every month. so i have to keep them all in check because i don't share this trait, and i throw them away when nobody's looking.
to top all of this crazy behavior off...i was a decorator. and for any of you fellow decorators or scrapbookers...you know what it's like. certain things have to be in groups of 3 or 5. what kind of chaos do you think THAT rule does to an "even numbered" OCDer like me? YES! you do understand don't you? you can spend literally hours working on a page and everyone will ooooh and aaaah over it (you caught that i had to do 4 o's on each word, didn't you?) and tell you how pretty it is and how talented you are. but YOU KNOW that something just isn't right. it's missing that one little thing. and you can't be happy with it or done with it, until you find that ONE little thing. then...and only then...is everything right in your little corner of the world. thank you! i knew there were people out there that can relate to me!
in my very first picture of my Project 365 minus the first 31 days of 2010 album, you may notice in the background a large pile of clothes. on hangers. but not hanging in the closet. yep...this was taken in micajah's room. i wash the clothes. i hang up the clothes...on plastic hangers...because i CAN NOT have wire hangers in my closets! and he lays them on the bed. why? because he is 17 yrs. old. and his job is to drive his mother looney. which he does mighty well. MIGHTY WELL INDEED!!!
all of this to say...this problem needs some attention. some "fixing." i drive myself nuts sometimes. i tell myself over and over again that NOTHING IS GOING TO HAPPEN IF I DON''T TAP THE TABLE FOUR TIMES. OR FLIP MY PILLOW TWICE BEFORE I GO TO BED. OR BRUSH MY TEETH TWO TIMES BECAUSE I CAN'T REMEMBER IF I REALLY DID BRUSH THEM OR IF I JUST THOUGHT I BRUSHED THEM. but, i have a hard time listening to myself. therein lies the problem.
so this will be a work in progress. this is just the beginning. hang on if you're going on this ride with me. it might get a little ummmmmmm out of sorts!.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
BIG HAIRY THING
I was driving over to mama and daddy's house the other day to take them this for lunch.
a huge crockpot that was filled to the brim with beef stroganoff. not from a box, i might add. ten hours of home cooked goodness. i had it sitting on the floorboard of the passenger seat and during the 20 minute ride i had to kind of bend over and hold the lid on, so as to keep this goodness from spilling out onto my floormats. see, i had cooked this very same meal about a month or so ago, and on the ride there i didn't notice that it was making a puddle. that's because i was having a moment of road rage, i'm sure. and when that happens i don't notice much of anything except the person who is making my blood boil with their obvious lack of driving skills. so, when i finally made it to mama's house and went to get it out of the car, i saw that half the contents were no longer IN the crockpot, and therefore, someone would be getting a much smaller portion on their plate. unless they wanted to go scrape it off my floor mats. then they could have a little dirt with their stroganoff, and call it pepper. HA!
anyways...this time i didn't want to have to tell anyone that might be riding in my car anytime during the next week, that the fragrance they were smelling was "Eau de la stroganoff," so i bent over and made sure the lid stayed on.
it's hard to keep your car in between the lines when you are hunched over, holding the lid on a crockpot while driving 45 mph in traffic. it is even harder to do when you bend down and see movement on your windshield out of the corner of your eye. which is exactly what i saw. movement. and that movement was attached to something BIG and HAIRY. and it had 8 legs! and i am not the least bit ashamed to say that there was some high pitched screaming going on in my car. because when i was able to stop at a light and focus...THIS is what i saw.
what? you don't see it? let me give you a couple of other views.
are you seeing this ginormous thing now? well, i saw it...and let's just say i was freaking out a little bit. okay, more than a little bit. i like watching spiders build their webs. i think they are fascinating creatures. but i don't want to give one a ride on my car. because i just knew that when i opened the door, that BIG HAIRY THING would be IN my car. with me. and that i can tell you would not end well.
so, i did what most anyone would do...i accelerated, hoping that the wind would be strong enough to blow him away. my hopes were dashed. that BIG HAIRY THING wrapped those 8 legs around the windshield wiper and hung on for dear life. i'm sure that people riding beside me thought i was having some kind of a stroke or something. there i was, bent over to the right, holding on to that lid, driving with my left hand on the wheel, screaming at the top of my lungs, like a banshee (i'm sure i was in violation of the "loud noises coming from your car law") and weaving in and out of my lane. but no one cared enough to call the police, or an ambulance to check on me and see if i needed any help. (nice, people.) i made it to mama's house and before i could figure out just how i was going to get out of my car and walk around to the passenger side to open the door and get my beef stroganoff out, without this BIG HAIRY THING attacking me and jumping inside my car, my nephew, Ryan, drove up. i was saved! here was a 19 yr. old macho man. i would get HIM to remove the BIG HAIRY THING. and then i could go on. with lunch. with life.
i called out to him. "hey, Ryan, you aren't afraid of spiders, are you?"
"ummmmmm. no. not really. well, it depends. on what kind of spider it is."
"well, i don't know what kind it is, except it is a BIG HAIRY one, and it is on my windshield. and if you want to eat lunch, then you have to come and get him off."
and Ryan strolls over to the car, very nonchalantly, (after all, he's a macho man) with a McDonald's drink in one hand, and he's expecting to see something the size of a dime. he's sorta thinking that i'm exaggerating and he's going to have to be the big man and come take care of this little nuisance for his BIG BABY AUNT.
and then he walks to the front of the car and sees it.
"Holy Cow...that is the biggest spider i've ever seen! what am i going to get him with? Oh man...that thing is huge!"
so i say, "just get a stick and knock him off." and i proceed to find one. but, when i went to hand it to him, he had walked off towards the garage and when he came back...THIS is what he had found to get the spider off my windshield.
a machete.
"NO, i screamed. you can't get him with that. you'll bust my windshield."
"well, i'm not using that little stick. i'll just try to brush him off with this."
and when he touched the BIG HAIRY THING it started uncurling those 8 legs and Ryan started backing away. and IT started walking towards us. and i was still screaming like a banshee.
yeah. you thought i was exaggerating too, didn't you?
not hardly.
THE BIG HAIRY THING ran down the side of my car and Ryan finally poked at it enough to make it jump to the ground and what happened next...well, i can't post a picture of it. it was too gruesome.
Ryan chopped that BIG HAIRY THING into a million little pieces. it was like he went into a frenzy. like something on a horror movie, where the guy has an axe and a victim and he just hacks and hacks and hacks. it was overkill, to put it mildly.
i said, "Ryan, i didn't want you to kill it. i just didn't want to have to give it a ride back to my house."
and he said, "well, i don't want it to get inside OUR house. that thing is HUGE."
aaaaah...big macho men. you gotta love em.
(but Ryan should have never let me know that he's afraid of spiders. i see some practical jokes in his future!)
Thursday, December 31, 2009
i ain't never birthed no puppies.....
aaaaaahh...september 29. as i remember, it started out like any other day around here. nothing really spectacular had occurred. until that night. the night that my home turned into a "dog house." our lab, zoe was pregnant and i wanted to find a book on what to expect when you're expecting puppies. like the book they have for pregnant mothers.
i wanted to know what was in store, as "i ain't never birthed no puppies before." and the more i read, the more terrified i became. this was much, much worse than the book i read when i was expecting my first child. i was only having one baby. not anywhere from eight to fifteen! i needed things. you know, in case i was called on to "help" with the delivery. things like white towels and a thingy you suction their nose and mouth with. boiling water and forceps and a scapel in case i would need to perform an emergency c-section. i would need scales to weigh them and tags to label them and a "whelping box!" what in the world was a whelping box? a box to put the mother in when she starts writhing in agony? or, a box to put ME in, when i started writhing in agony? so, i sent micajah to wally world...for supplies. i sent him with a list. and on that list was a package of white cleaning cloths from the automotive section (i'm cheap and didn't want to buy white towels that i would never be using again) and if he couldn't find those, to go to the baby department and get a package of white cloth diapers. he calls me from inside the store.
mom, "i'm in the automotive section and they only have one package of white cloths and there are only three to a pack."
"well, that's not enough. go to the baby section and get the cloth diapers."
"i don't know what they look like, mom. where are they?"
"they are in the BABY department. in a package. where all the other diapers are. just ask someone to show you where CLOTH diapers are."
"fine. whatever. i'm not going to ask somebody where diapers are. i'll find them. bye."
a few minutes later he arrives home. with these.
BWAHAHAHA! i asked him, "micajah, what am i supposed to do with these? these are pampers. am i supposed to put a pamper on each puppy? and besides that, they are jumbo size, for 35 lbs. and up!"
"well, i told you i didn't know what they looked like. you said cloth diapers. those are diapers...and they are made of cloth." hmmmmmm...is this the way all seventeen year old boys think?
we were sitting on my bed, with zoe. not suspecting that she was in labor at that very moment. she wasn't pacing. or whining. or digging her nails into my wrist, like i did to micajah's father when i was giving birth. she just sat there, licking herself, the way dogs do all the time. and then there was a puppy coming out. and then there wasn't. she had eaten it before it was born. and i began to panic. THIS i had never heard of! i had a cannibalistic dog! i grabbed the laptop and did a few searches on dogs who were cannibals and learned that this was a totally natural thing. that dogs instinctively know when the puppy is stillborn or when it won't survive, and they eat it. and it is actually good for them. but it was not good for me! i was in full blown panic mode. we didn't even have the whelping box yet! what to do?
we layed some towels on the floor in my bedroom and put zoe on them and i got out the camcorder and the camera and we waited. for a long time. and nothing. micajah went on to bed and i was just sitting on my bed when i heard a single groan and then i saw movement. she had given birth to the second puppy and this one was alive. i yelled for micajah and we watched her clean the baby up and get the sac from around it's face. and a few minutes later, more licking, a glimpse of a puppy, and then...no more puppy. another one stillborn. another panic attack from me. i thought birth was supposed to be a beautiful thing. this was not shaping up that way. about 30 minutes later she began the licking and then she jumped up and there was a baby trying to be born and she leaps up onto MY bed, walks around with this puppy hanging halfway out of her and then just sits down. on top of the puppy that is trying to make its way into the world. and hopefully, live here awhile. we managed to lay her down and "assist" her in getting the puppy out and she cleaned it and all was well.
to make this already getting long story a little shorter, i will just say that through the course of the night, until 6:00 the next morning, zoe labored and gave birth to 12 beautiful little puppies. there were no more stillborns. there was no emergency c-section. there was no whelping box.
but there was another kind of box. one that micajah built in our garage. to keep the puppies in so i wouldn't have to smell poop all day long. it was large enough to hold all 12 puppies as they grew...and until they went to their new homes.
it was great too. or it was until they got big enough to be weaned and began eating real puppy food. then they would push their bowls all the way to the back of the pen.
which meant, of course, that this 50 yr. old woman had to climb over the front, which was built low enough for zoe to climb in and out, but still high enough that the puppies couldn't climb out. or that i couldn't lift my leg high enough to get over it easily. there were times when i would put one leg over, and get stuck. or i would get splinters in my hands trying to heave myself back over it. or in my backside when i just gave in and sat down to rest a minute. i just knew that one day i would slip and fall...into the pen. and into the poop and pee of 12 puppies. and lay there, unconscience, with the razor sharp nails of all those dogs digging into me. i had horrors of laying there for several days, bleeding, being wet on, until micajah got hungry enough to come in search of his mother who should have been placed on the missing persons list days before. had anyone missed me enough to place me there.
there were days through all these weeks of puppies, that i would cry out to God, "when will my life be normal again? when will i be able to have a conversation with humans again, instead of this dog language i had acquired while conversing with these animals? much like women who stay home with their children all day, longing for adult companionship. to hear words other than MOM, MAMA, MOMMY a million times in 24 hours. i began praying for the day these puppies could be listed on craigslist in search of a new home. i loved them. but keep in mind...i already had two yorkies, a cat and two ginormous labs. plus a teenager. a boy teenager. the food bill alone was killing me.
and finally. FINALLY the sun shined down on me and God spoke. He said, "today is the day." Oh, thank you, Lord. thank you. the puppies were placed on an ad and within three days, they all had new homes. the last to go to his new family was King Kong. the week before Christmas, he was going to be the biggest present under some little boys tree. i was ecstatic. i want to show you WHY the name King Kong...
the pen came down that very day. the wood went to the dump. the garage was cleaned out. the blankets were thrown away and my house was cleaned for company. my dog house had officially been DE-PUPPIFIED. and on its way to being a home again. for people.
a couple days later patrick, micajah's friend, came walking in my front door. with these words.
"hey mom, is Bailey pregnant?" (he just calls me mom because, well, he practically lives here.) (and Terri, if you're reading this, i mean that in a GOOD way! really. seriously. i love patrick.)
NOOOOOOOOOOO....this could not be happening to me. Lord, haven't i been good this year? haven't i done everything you asked of me? am i being punished for something? talk to me. please. talk to me. and He did. He told me that yes, indeed, bailey was pregnant. she's our "other" lab. zoe's sister. and we figured she would give birth sometime around the end of january.
Christmas Eve was last thursday. my son, christian, and his girlfriend, missy came up from florida for the holidays on wednesday. we got up thursday morning and went to one of the cemeteries to take pictures. we put zoe and bailey in the garage while we were gone. so they wouldn't terrorize the neighborhood (as my grumpy old neighbor likes to say.) we were going over to some friends house for dinner that night and when we got home i had some cooking to do and some presents to wrap. while i was in the process of doing just that, micajah came running into my room.
"mom, bailey is having her puppies. she already had some. come to the garage, QUICK!"
and sure enough, the dog that we had just found out was pregnant, was giving birth. once again, we weren't prepared. no whelping box. no clean, white towels, (diapers) no scapel or nose sucking thingy. she did it all on her own anyway. the first five puppies didn't survive. the last three she cleaned up and then she deserted them.
i had to clean them off once she had gotten the sac off. she wouldn't nurse them. she wouldn't go anywhere near them. she kept trying to eat them. so micajah and christian rushed to petsmart and got the last two baby bottles and a can of milk replacement. and we took the puppies to our friends house with us. and we all took turns bottle feeding them.
ryan, my nephew
sarah, our pastors daughter
that night i had to get micajah up every two hours to hold bailey down, so i could put the babies up to her and let them nurse.
i knew they needed their mothers milk and i knew that bailey needed the relief. but bailey didn't like it one single bit. she hated those puppies. Christmas morning we were like zombies. we went to my sisters for lunch, puppies in tow and it was clear by that afternoon that the puppies were not liking the bottles. or the milk. so that night i tied bailey up to my bedpost with her leash and had the puppies on the floor in a basket, by my side of the bed. when they cried, i held bailey down and put the puppies up to her and after about the fourth time she began licking them and cleaning them and that mama dog has just about licked the skin clean off those babies since then. she won't leave their side for a minute. her motherly instincts kicked in some 24 hours after giving birth and she went from total neglect to "i'll kill you if you try to hurt my babies" mode. (notice the one puppy, laying between her front paws and the other, between her back legs)
twelve puppies...to three. and these three are already spoken for. and the mama's? oh, trust me. they will soon be on their way to the vet for a little ummmmmm...O-P-E-R-A-T-I-O-N.
i sometimes wonder WHY God allowed such a thing as this to happen to me. didn't i already have enough on my plate? was there a lesson here? well, of course there was. isn't there always, where God is concerned?
BE STILL, AND KNOW THAT I AM GOD.
it's that simple. this verse comes to me time and time and time again. it's Gods way of reminding me to LET GO and LET GOD. i have a tendency to hand things over to God, only to snatch them back when i think i have a better plan. or i think He is not moving things along as fast i would like him too. having all these puppies to take care of in the midst of all that i am dealing with in my personal life, has taken some of the edge off. it has kept me focused on things other than myself and my problems. God could very easily have left me saddled with all those puppies. i would have had to take them to the pound where they would most likely have been put down. and then they would have needed to put me down. but God took care of the situation. he found new homes for all of them. with good people. and these last three?
they remind me of my own three boys. when you walk towards bailey and reach for one of the babies, she reaches her long legs out and gathers them to her. she looks up at you as if she's saying, "i dare you to hurt one of them."
that's how i feel about my boys. although they are all grown up now, and don't need my arms around them all the time, keeping them safe...that's the feeling in my heart whenever i see one of them. to want to protect them.
God has blessed me. tremendously. and i thank him for the lessons he teaches me on a daily basis.
and he answers prayers. whether we see the answer or not. it's always there.
oh. and one more lesson i learned through all this. puppy poop is hard to get out of most fabrics. i never knew that before. just saying.
mom, "i'm in the automotive section and they only have one package of white cloths and there are only three to a pack."
"well, that's not enough. go to the baby section and get the cloth diapers."
"i don't know what they look like, mom. where are they?"
"they are in the BABY department. in a package. where all the other diapers are. just ask someone to show you where CLOTH diapers are."
"fine. whatever. i'm not going to ask somebody where diapers are. i'll find them. bye."
a few minutes later he arrives home. with these.
BWAHAHAHA! i asked him, "micajah, what am i supposed to do with these? these are pampers. am i supposed to put a pamper on each puppy? and besides that, they are jumbo size, for 35 lbs. and up!"
"well, i told you i didn't know what they looked like. you said cloth diapers. those are diapers...and they are made of cloth." hmmmmmm...is this the way all seventeen year old boys think?
we were sitting on my bed, with zoe. not suspecting that she was in labor at that very moment. she wasn't pacing. or whining. or digging her nails into my wrist, like i did to micajah's father when i was giving birth. she just sat there, licking herself, the way dogs do all the time. and then there was a puppy coming out. and then there wasn't. she had eaten it before it was born. and i began to panic. THIS i had never heard of! i had a cannibalistic dog! i grabbed the laptop and did a few searches on dogs who were cannibals and learned that this was a totally natural thing. that dogs instinctively know when the puppy is stillborn or when it won't survive, and they eat it. and it is actually good for them. but it was not good for me! i was in full blown panic mode. we didn't even have the whelping box yet! what to do?
we layed some towels on the floor in my bedroom and put zoe on them and i got out the camcorder and the camera and we waited. for a long time. and nothing. micajah went on to bed and i was just sitting on my bed when i heard a single groan and then i saw movement. she had given birth to the second puppy and this one was alive. i yelled for micajah and we watched her clean the baby up and get the sac from around it's face. and a few minutes later, more licking, a glimpse of a puppy, and then...no more puppy. another one stillborn. another panic attack from me. i thought birth was supposed to be a beautiful thing. this was not shaping up that way. about 30 minutes later she began the licking and then she jumped up and there was a baby trying to be born and she leaps up onto MY bed, walks around with this puppy hanging halfway out of her and then just sits down. on top of the puppy that is trying to make its way into the world. and hopefully, live here awhile. we managed to lay her down and "assist" her in getting the puppy out and she cleaned it and all was well.
to make this already getting long story a little shorter, i will just say that through the course of the night, until 6:00 the next morning, zoe labored and gave birth to 12 beautiful little puppies. there were no more stillborns. there was no emergency c-section. there was no whelping box.
but there was another kind of box. one that micajah built in our garage. to keep the puppies in so i wouldn't have to smell poop all day long. it was large enough to hold all 12 puppies as they grew...and until they went to their new homes.
it was great too. or it was until they got big enough to be weaned and began eating real puppy food. then they would push their bowls all the way to the back of the pen.
there were days through all these weeks of puppies, that i would cry out to God, "when will my life be normal again? when will i be able to have a conversation with humans again, instead of this dog language i had acquired while conversing with these animals? much like women who stay home with their children all day, longing for adult companionship. to hear words other than MOM, MAMA, MOMMY a million times in 24 hours. i began praying for the day these puppies could be listed on craigslist in search of a new home. i loved them. but keep in mind...i already had two yorkies, a cat and two ginormous labs. plus a teenager. a boy teenager. the food bill alone was killing me.
and finally. FINALLY the sun shined down on me and God spoke. He said, "today is the day." Oh, thank you, Lord. thank you. the puppies were placed on an ad and within three days, they all had new homes. the last to go to his new family was King Kong. the week before Christmas, he was going to be the biggest present under some little boys tree. i was ecstatic. i want to show you WHY the name King Kong...
the pen came down that very day. the wood went to the dump. the garage was cleaned out. the blankets were thrown away and my house was cleaned for company. my dog house had officially been DE-PUPPIFIED. and on its way to being a home again. for people.
a couple days later patrick, micajah's friend, came walking in my front door. with these words.
"hey mom, is Bailey pregnant?" (he just calls me mom because, well, he practically lives here.) (and Terri, if you're reading this, i mean that in a GOOD way! really. seriously. i love patrick.)
NOOOOOOOOOOO....this could not be happening to me. Lord, haven't i been good this year? haven't i done everything you asked of me? am i being punished for something? talk to me. please. talk to me. and He did. He told me that yes, indeed, bailey was pregnant. she's our "other" lab. zoe's sister. and we figured she would give birth sometime around the end of january.
Christmas Eve was last thursday. my son, christian, and his girlfriend, missy came up from florida for the holidays on wednesday. we got up thursday morning and went to one of the cemeteries to take pictures. we put zoe and bailey in the garage while we were gone. so they wouldn't terrorize the neighborhood (as my grumpy old neighbor likes to say.) we were going over to some friends house for dinner that night and when we got home i had some cooking to do and some presents to wrap. while i was in the process of doing just that, micajah came running into my room.
"mom, bailey is having her puppies. she already had some. come to the garage, QUICK!"
and sure enough, the dog that we had just found out was pregnant, was giving birth. once again, we weren't prepared. no whelping box. no clean, white towels, (diapers) no scapel or nose sucking thingy. she did it all on her own anyway. the first five puppies didn't survive. the last three she cleaned up and then she deserted them.
i had to clean them off once she had gotten the sac off. she wouldn't nurse them. she wouldn't go anywhere near them. she kept trying to eat them. so micajah and christian rushed to petsmart and got the last two baby bottles and a can of milk replacement. and we took the puppies to our friends house with us. and we all took turns bottle feeding them.
ryan, my nephew
sarah, our pastors daughter
beverly and sarah, pastors wife and daughter
caleb, pastors son
that night i had to get micajah up every two hours to hold bailey down, so i could put the babies up to her and let them nurse.
i knew they needed their mothers milk and i knew that bailey needed the relief. but bailey didn't like it one single bit. she hated those puppies. Christmas morning we were like zombies. we went to my sisters for lunch, puppies in tow and it was clear by that afternoon that the puppies were not liking the bottles. or the milk. so that night i tied bailey up to my bedpost with her leash and had the puppies on the floor in a basket, by my side of the bed. when they cried, i held bailey down and put the puppies up to her and after about the fourth time she began licking them and cleaning them and that mama dog has just about licked the skin clean off those babies since then. she won't leave their side for a minute. her motherly instincts kicked in some 24 hours after giving birth and she went from total neglect to "i'll kill you if you try to hurt my babies" mode. (notice the one puppy, laying between her front paws and the other, between her back legs)
twelve puppies...to three. and these three are already spoken for. and the mama's? oh, trust me. they will soon be on their way to the vet for a little ummmmmm...O-P-E-R-A-T-I-O-N.
i sometimes wonder WHY God allowed such a thing as this to happen to me. didn't i already have enough on my plate? was there a lesson here? well, of course there was. isn't there always, where God is concerned?
BE STILL, AND KNOW THAT I AM GOD.
it's that simple. this verse comes to me time and time and time again. it's Gods way of reminding me to LET GO and LET GOD. i have a tendency to hand things over to God, only to snatch them back when i think i have a better plan. or i think He is not moving things along as fast i would like him too. having all these puppies to take care of in the midst of all that i am dealing with in my personal life, has taken some of the edge off. it has kept me focused on things other than myself and my problems. God could very easily have left me saddled with all those puppies. i would have had to take them to the pound where they would most likely have been put down. and then they would have needed to put me down. but God took care of the situation. he found new homes for all of them. with good people. and these last three?
they remind me of my own three boys. when you walk towards bailey and reach for one of the babies, she reaches her long legs out and gathers them to her. she looks up at you as if she's saying, "i dare you to hurt one of them."
that's how i feel about my boys. although they are all grown up now, and don't need my arms around them all the time, keeping them safe...that's the feeling in my heart whenever i see one of them. to want to protect them.
God has blessed me. tremendously. and i thank him for the lessons he teaches me on a daily basis.
and he answers prayers. whether we see the answer or not. it's always there.
oh. and one more lesson i learned through all this. puppy poop is hard to get out of most fabrics. i never knew that before. just saying.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Heroes...and a panty bomber
so...today there are two stories making headline news, both of which are the meat of this post. the first is a story of an american father, who was married and had a son. his wife leaves, with son in tow, to visit her homeland in brazil. her husbands understanding was that she would return in two weeks, however, that didn't happen. instead, she divorced him from brazil and kept their son away from him, eventually remarried and then was killed in an accident. leaving the boy with his step-father and his maternal grandparents. for five long years, this man fought the legal system, in two countries, to regain custody of his son. finally, after 5 long years, the father and son were reunited, after brazilian courts turned custody back over to him, and on christmas eve, they traveled back to new jersey, to begin the long process of becoming re-acquainted and putting their family back together again.
the second story is of a would-be terrorist, who is being dubbed "the panty bomber" by the press. he tried to blow up an airplane, filled with passengers, enroute to Detroit. his weapon of choice...a bomb. strategically placed in his underwear. his attempts were foiled, when a nearby passenger heard what sounded like firecrackers going off, and saw smoke rising from the man's lap. he leaped over the man sitting next to him and on top of the "panty bomber." he saved lives. and was burned himself, in the process.
you may wonder what in the world these two stories have to do with me. and why would either of them be the subject of one of my own stories. i will enlighten you.
in the first story, this father is to me...a hero. a man, who would travel to the ends of the earth to save his relationship with his son. a man, who has proved, time and time again, that there is NOTHING he wouldn't do to make that happen. i, personally, don't know ALOT of men who would do that.
most of you who are reading this, know that i am a christian. i have a pretty close relationship with God and strive each day, to draw even closer to Him. most of you also know that i am in the process of going through a divorce. my youngest son, micajah, is also in the process of going through a divorce. as much as some of us would like, these kinds of things do not affect just the husband and wife, but the children, the grandchildren, the in-laws, and even your friends. suddenly, everyone you thought loved you, feels they must "pick a side." one day you wake up and realize that this person you intended to spend the rest of your life with...is a virtual stranger.
today, i am angry. today, i am sad and hurt and desperately need to pray. but, i can't pray. today is one of those days when the words just will not come. i know that in times like these, the Holy Spirit takes over for you and petitions God, the Father, on your behalf...but it makes me feel so inadequate. today, i find myself slipping back into the hole...alone and scared and without answers.
who was this man i was married to for almost 18 years? the father of my youngest child. the man i committed my life to. the man who said he was a christian? who was this man that i shared my family with, that came into my life like a whirlwind and promised me a stable home, filled with love and honesty and faithfullness? who i believed, would go to the ends of the earth for HIS son...if need be? he was a wolf in sheep's clothing. he devoured me. he took what self worth i had, and over the years has ripped it to shreds. until there is not much left. it is soooo cold here in this hole. a place i do not like to be, but find myself sinking to, quite often these last 9 months. and i wonder how much colder it is...for my son.
nine long months. and if i counted, and rounded off and stretched the time as far as i could, the amount of time my son has been face to face with his father would total maybe, MAYBE 10 minutes. that, my friends, is 600 seconds. in 9 long months. and how much more time has been spent with his "greener pasture?" as far as i can see, that "greener pasture" would be better defined as "gone to pasture." but that's just me. so, yes. the man in the first story is a hero to me. a man who would give up his life...for his son. i have 2 fathers like that. i know the feelings that come with having a Heavenly Father that has unconditional love for me, as well as an earthly father..., who would go to the ends of the earth for me. my son will know that kind of love from me, his mother, and from his Heavenly Father. but not from his earthy father. and that makes me angry. which leads to the man in the next story.
the "panty bomber." the would-be terrorist. no, he is NOT a hero. his religion tells him that if he dies while killing others he will receive 70 something virgins on the other side. i don't know what, had he succeeded with his plan, he would have done with those virgins, seeing as where the bomb was placed and all. but, i'm kind of liking the idea of a "panty bomb" as a form of punishment...for men who stray. and dump their families. i am thinking about petitioning my congressman to possibly use this device in my upcoming divorce. the "one who strayed" could be locked inside of a bomb-proof room, with a small device tucked into his underwear...at a strategic place. and the "one who was strayed on" could take their time...mosey on over to a switch on the wall and ask, very politely, of course, if they have any "last words" before they lose their....well, you know what i'm saying here. it wouldn't kill them, of course...but, they wouldn't stray again. i think this idea might just save some marriages. this idea is almost enough to get me out of this hole i'm in.
if someone would throw me a phone book down here...i'm going to start on that petition right now. but, i need the number of my congressman!
the second story is of a would-be terrorist, who is being dubbed "the panty bomber" by the press. he tried to blow up an airplane, filled with passengers, enroute to Detroit. his weapon of choice...a bomb. strategically placed in his underwear. his attempts were foiled, when a nearby passenger heard what sounded like firecrackers going off, and saw smoke rising from the man's lap. he leaped over the man sitting next to him and on top of the "panty bomber." he saved lives. and was burned himself, in the process.
you may wonder what in the world these two stories have to do with me. and why would either of them be the subject of one of my own stories. i will enlighten you.
in the first story, this father is to me...a hero. a man, who would travel to the ends of the earth to save his relationship with his son. a man, who has proved, time and time again, that there is NOTHING he wouldn't do to make that happen. i, personally, don't know ALOT of men who would do that.
most of you who are reading this, know that i am a christian. i have a pretty close relationship with God and strive each day, to draw even closer to Him. most of you also know that i am in the process of going through a divorce. my youngest son, micajah, is also in the process of going through a divorce. as much as some of us would like, these kinds of things do not affect just the husband and wife, but the children, the grandchildren, the in-laws, and even your friends. suddenly, everyone you thought loved you, feels they must "pick a side." one day you wake up and realize that this person you intended to spend the rest of your life with...is a virtual stranger.
today, i am angry. today, i am sad and hurt and desperately need to pray. but, i can't pray. today is one of those days when the words just will not come. i know that in times like these, the Holy Spirit takes over for you and petitions God, the Father, on your behalf...but it makes me feel so inadequate. today, i find myself slipping back into the hole...alone and scared and without answers.
who was this man i was married to for almost 18 years? the father of my youngest child. the man i committed my life to. the man who said he was a christian? who was this man that i shared my family with, that came into my life like a whirlwind and promised me a stable home, filled with love and honesty and faithfullness? who i believed, would go to the ends of the earth for HIS son...if need be? he was a wolf in sheep's clothing. he devoured me. he took what self worth i had, and over the years has ripped it to shreds. until there is not much left. it is soooo cold here in this hole. a place i do not like to be, but find myself sinking to, quite often these last 9 months. and i wonder how much colder it is...for my son.
nine long months. and if i counted, and rounded off and stretched the time as far as i could, the amount of time my son has been face to face with his father would total maybe, MAYBE 10 minutes. that, my friends, is 600 seconds. in 9 long months. and how much more time has been spent with his "greener pasture?" as far as i can see, that "greener pasture" would be better defined as "gone to pasture." but that's just me. so, yes. the man in the first story is a hero to me. a man who would give up his life...for his son. i have 2 fathers like that. i know the feelings that come with having a Heavenly Father that has unconditional love for me, as well as an earthly father..., who would go to the ends of the earth for me. my son will know that kind of love from me, his mother, and from his Heavenly Father. but not from his earthy father. and that makes me angry. which leads to the man in the next story.
the "panty bomber." the would-be terrorist. no, he is NOT a hero. his religion tells him that if he dies while killing others he will receive 70 something virgins on the other side. i don't know what, had he succeeded with his plan, he would have done with those virgins, seeing as where the bomb was placed and all. but, i'm kind of liking the idea of a "panty bomb" as a form of punishment...for men who stray. and dump their families. i am thinking about petitioning my congressman to possibly use this device in my upcoming divorce. the "one who strayed" could be locked inside of a bomb-proof room, with a small device tucked into his underwear...at a strategic place. and the "one who was strayed on" could take their time...mosey on over to a switch on the wall and ask, very politely, of course, if they have any "last words" before they lose their....well, you know what i'm saying here. it wouldn't kill them, of course...but, they wouldn't stray again. i think this idea might just save some marriages. this idea is almost enough to get me out of this hole i'm in.
if someone would throw me a phone book down here...i'm going to start on that petition right now. but, i need the number of my congressman!
Saturday, December 12, 2009
things that go BUMP, BUMP...in the night and the day
in the previous post i mentioned some other "unusual" things my car had hit.
when i finished my first (and only) year of college, back in 1978, i went to work for a large law firm in downtown west palm beach, fl. i was in a pool of six girls who each did secretarial work for about 12 attorneys. we had an hour for lunch every day and so three of us girls, myself, marion and ginger, would sometimes take a ten minute ride down to palm beach and sit on the sea wall and eat our bag lunch. (which translated to scoping out the surfer boys.)
this day we decided to do just that and we were going to go in my car, a toyota celica, which meant that i was driving. we were in the right hand lane, cruising right along on the main drive through palm beach, (yeah, THE PALM BEACH) where all the filthy rich people live. now, any time the three of us girls got together, i can assure you there was plenty of noise, with us singing to the radio, laughing and checking out the local "dudes." to see if we might draw the interest of one of them. a filthy rich one. so that we might marry one and live in one of those mansions on the water one day. i realize now, some 31 years later, that cruising down worth avenue in a toyota celica would probably not draw the attention of anyone that had a dime to their name, but we didn't know that back then. we were young, and stupid and we looked good to boot.
the light turned red and i came to a complete stop. just like the drivers manual instructs you to do. we were laughing about something and when the light turned green, i put my foot on the gas to go, because i was the first one in line and those people in palm beach mean for you to GO when that light turns green. then, as quick as a lightening strike my little car collided...
with one of those humongous ROLLS ROYCES! we went right through the back door of that monstrosity and the old man at the wheel just kept on going...pulling my car, with us still in it! he was going to try and make this little accident a hit and run, but i think he realized that he would have a pretty hard time explaining to his wife exactly WHY he had a toyota celica with three young girls, planted in his back seat. he pulled off the road and that was the very first bag phone i had ever seen. he called the police and we just sat there, until they arrived with a tow truck to pull the car, and us, back out into the real world.
this man had been drinking during his lunch hour, and while we were heading east, towards the beach, he was headed west, towards home...or a bar...or somewhere. he didn't know, because he was drunk. he had come to the same traffic light, on the other side of the median and had decided that the red light didn't apply to Him, so he made a left turn and i put my foot on the gas just as he passed me. he never spoke one single word to us girls throughout the whole time we sat there. in his backseat. and we weren't physically hurt or anything, thank God, but wouldn't you know, out of all the cars in the world, i would have to have my little bump with one of the most expensive ones. my car had to be hauled off on the tow truck, and he got to call someone to come and drive his away, since he was under the influence, minus a back door.
the old man, of course, was charged in the accident and us girls...well we got to take an extended lunch hour that day. and then we had to get a ride back to work from the policeman who was handling the accident. my insurance covered the damage to my car and life went on.
fast forward a few years.
i had just bought a brand new silver volkswagon jetta. my sister, terri had just bought a red mitsubishi eclipse. just a few short weeks after my large purchase, my radio and cassette player just quit working. a girl can not have THAT! we must have our tunes to rock out to...so i had to take my car over to west palm beach and leave it for a couple of days at the dealership, so they could replace it. i was living in clewiston at that time. and it so happened, that mama was over in ft. myers, in the hospital. i can't remember if it was for gall bladder surgery or if she was having a kidney stone...but that's where she was anyway. ft. myers was an hour and a half west of clewiston, and west palm beach was the same distance, east. i needed someone to drive me over to get my car, which was on a friday, so terri said that she would take me.
now. let me stop here and tell you this. mama was always telling us girls, "y'all don't need to be out at night in those little miniskirts. if you got stranded on the side of the road some maniac serial killer/rapist would surely get you."
we didn't always listen to mama though. we were bad girls. and besides, we were going over to west palm in the daytime anyway. we would be back home before dark. let me also stop here. and tell you that mama doesn't like to hear about things we did when we were younger. even though many, many years have passed, and we never really did anything that every other young person did/does. she might still get mad. like sometimes how you might have a bad dream about your spouse having an affair with your best friend, and the next morning you would wake up furious at them, and be mad all day long. and they don't even know what they did. (don't pretend like you've never done this before) so...mama, if you're reading this, you might want to stop. now.
after we picked up my car we decided we didn't really feel like driving right straight back home. there wasn't anything to do there on a friday night. so we made the bad decision to go visit some friends. and it got later and later, and it was really, really dark by the time we decided we need to go. so, we left, with me driving my car in front and terri following me in her car. we were on a main highway, but it was not a busy highway. not in the middle of the night. and it didn't have street lights. and on one side of the road was a canal. a very, very deep canal. it was a four lane road, and i was driving along at a pretty good pace, when i suddenly started getting very sleepy. it was getting to the point where i could hardly keep my eyes open, so i rolled down my window so i could get some wind blowing in my face. thinking that this would wake me up.
i turned my head, briefly, towards the open window and when i turned back towards the road, in that instant i saw that there was something in the road, and i knew that i was going to run over it. and i did. it was lying horizontal to my car and it was longer than my car was wide. it got caught on something and my car began swerving, because i was trying to put the brakes on...but my brakes went out. and then my power steering went out. and i ended up in the far lane...the one going in the wrong direction than i had been going in, and then this thing, whatever it was came free from the car and started rolling down the road towards terri, who was fast approaching. she swerved to avoid hitting it and ran her car along the guard rail that was up to keep idiots like us, out of the canal. she was scared to death that i was dead, and that whatever or whoever i hit was dead and that she was out there in the dark all by herself. she got out and came running over to my car and there i was, slumped over the steering wheel...i don't know if i had been knocked out for a minute or two, or if i was just in shock. what i did know was this. we were out on a dark, lonely highway, in the middle of the night. not a soul knew where we were. i had just possibly killed someone. and we were both wearing mini-skirts. now there were two of us scared to death. we knew that if a maniac serial killer/rapist didn't get us, mama surely would when we got back home.
there was no such thing as cell phones in those days. and the closest thing to us, that was inhabitated with humans, was five miles back down the road. and before we could go anywhere to call anybody, we had to walk down the road and see what it was that i hit. and see if we could render first aid. soooo...huddled together and muffling our screams we headed in that direction, and the closer we got...the bigger it got! we didn't see any movement at all, or hear any thing resembling a cry for help, or a breath. or a gasp. we crept closer. and this is what had hit my car
not exactly this one, but one that looked just like it. a 9 1/2 ft. alligator. with his head smashed in. we started screaming bloody murder and ran as fast as we could back to terri's car and hauled our badonkadonks five miles back down to that truckstop we had passed. one of those 24 hour ones. where truckers hang out in the middle of the night. and ogle young girls. in mini-skirts. we went inside and had the cashier call the police and they told us to wait there for them, so we could lead them back to the gator. when they finally got there we drove back to the scene of the "crime" and waited while the trooper took his report. and then he told us that we would have to wait for a wildlife officer to come, because i had run over an endangered species! and i was thinking, "whoa there officer...that alligator was "jaywalking" on a dark highway in the middle of the night. it was not MY fault he couldn't outrun my car!" i was thinking that i was going to jail that night. the officer finally came, after about an hour, and he had to measure the gator and they removed the head and then they put the body of the alligator in the back of his truck. i don't have the faintest idea why they did that. but i imagine they took it for the tail meat. gator tail is considered a delicacy in those parts of south fl. we were finally free to go. minus my car. it had to be towed away.
we made it back home, and then the scariest part of the whole night came when we had to call mama and daddy and tell them what had happened. (the "not the WHOLE truth version") and of course, mama wanted to know what we had been wearing. and we had to listen to her telling us, in that way that only mama's can do...I TOLD YOU NOT TO WEAR THOSE MINI-SKIRTS AT NIGHT!!! WHAT IF A MANIAC SERIAL KILLER/RAPIST HAD BEEN OUT THERE ON THAT HIGHWAY!!! and i'm sure we were probably grounded for life.
that alligator had done $3,000 worth of damage to my brand new car. tore out the whole bottom of it, blown two tires, took out the power steering, the brakes, and a heap of other things.
i never went down that road again, without thinking about how lucky we were...to have a mama that prayed for us. all the time. probably prayed alot for herself too...that she would live through all the stuff we kids would get into. we did some crazy things. some downright stupid things. but one thing we DIDN'T ever do again...was to wear mini-skirts out, in the middle of the night. we didn't want mama to have the satisfaction of being able to say she told us so...again.
when i finished my first (and only) year of college, back in 1978, i went to work for a large law firm in downtown west palm beach, fl. i was in a pool of six girls who each did secretarial work for about 12 attorneys. we had an hour for lunch every day and so three of us girls, myself, marion and ginger, would sometimes take a ten minute ride down to palm beach and sit on the sea wall and eat our bag lunch. (which translated to scoping out the surfer boys.)
this day we decided to do just that and we were going to go in my car, a toyota celica, which meant that i was driving. we were in the right hand lane, cruising right along on the main drive through palm beach, (yeah, THE PALM BEACH) where all the filthy rich people live. now, any time the three of us girls got together, i can assure you there was plenty of noise, with us singing to the radio, laughing and checking out the local "dudes." to see if we might draw the interest of one of them. a filthy rich one. so that we might marry one and live in one of those mansions on the water one day. i realize now, some 31 years later, that cruising down worth avenue in a toyota celica would probably not draw the attention of anyone that had a dime to their name, but we didn't know that back then. we were young, and stupid and we looked good to boot.
the light turned red and i came to a complete stop. just like the drivers manual instructs you to do. we were laughing about something and when the light turned green, i put my foot on the gas to go, because i was the first one in line and those people in palm beach mean for you to GO when that light turns green. then, as quick as a lightening strike my little car collided...
with one of those humongous ROLLS ROYCES! we went right through the back door of that monstrosity and the old man at the wheel just kept on going...pulling my car, with us still in it! he was going to try and make this little accident a hit and run, but i think he realized that he would have a pretty hard time explaining to his wife exactly WHY he had a toyota celica with three young girls, planted in his back seat. he pulled off the road and that was the very first bag phone i had ever seen. he called the police and we just sat there, until they arrived with a tow truck to pull the car, and us, back out into the real world.
this man had been drinking during his lunch hour, and while we were heading east, towards the beach, he was headed west, towards home...or a bar...or somewhere. he didn't know, because he was drunk. he had come to the same traffic light, on the other side of the median and had decided that the red light didn't apply to Him, so he made a left turn and i put my foot on the gas just as he passed me. he never spoke one single word to us girls throughout the whole time we sat there. in his backseat. and we weren't physically hurt or anything, thank God, but wouldn't you know, out of all the cars in the world, i would have to have my little bump with one of the most expensive ones. my car had to be hauled off on the tow truck, and he got to call someone to come and drive his away, since he was under the influence, minus a back door.
the old man, of course, was charged in the accident and us girls...well we got to take an extended lunch hour that day. and then we had to get a ride back to work from the policeman who was handling the accident. my insurance covered the damage to my car and life went on.
fast forward a few years.
i had just bought a brand new silver volkswagon jetta. my sister, terri had just bought a red mitsubishi eclipse. just a few short weeks after my large purchase, my radio and cassette player just quit working. a girl can not have THAT! we must have our tunes to rock out to...so i had to take my car over to west palm beach and leave it for a couple of days at the dealership, so they could replace it. i was living in clewiston at that time. and it so happened, that mama was over in ft. myers, in the hospital. i can't remember if it was for gall bladder surgery or if she was having a kidney stone...but that's where she was anyway. ft. myers was an hour and a half west of clewiston, and west palm beach was the same distance, east. i needed someone to drive me over to get my car, which was on a friday, so terri said that she would take me.
now. let me stop here and tell you this. mama was always telling us girls, "y'all don't need to be out at night in those little miniskirts. if you got stranded on the side of the road some maniac serial killer/rapist would surely get you."
we didn't always listen to mama though. we were bad girls. and besides, we were going over to west palm in the daytime anyway. we would be back home before dark. let me also stop here. and tell you that mama doesn't like to hear about things we did when we were younger. even though many, many years have passed, and we never really did anything that every other young person did/does. she might still get mad. like sometimes how you might have a bad dream about your spouse having an affair with your best friend, and the next morning you would wake up furious at them, and be mad all day long. and they don't even know what they did. (don't pretend like you've never done this before) so...mama, if you're reading this, you might want to stop. now.
after we picked up my car we decided we didn't really feel like driving right straight back home. there wasn't anything to do there on a friday night. so we made the bad decision to go visit some friends. and it got later and later, and it was really, really dark by the time we decided we need to go. so, we left, with me driving my car in front and terri following me in her car. we were on a main highway, but it was not a busy highway. not in the middle of the night. and it didn't have street lights. and on one side of the road was a canal. a very, very deep canal. it was a four lane road, and i was driving along at a pretty good pace, when i suddenly started getting very sleepy. it was getting to the point where i could hardly keep my eyes open, so i rolled down my window so i could get some wind blowing in my face. thinking that this would wake me up.
i turned my head, briefly, towards the open window and when i turned back towards the road, in that instant i saw that there was something in the road, and i knew that i was going to run over it. and i did. it was lying horizontal to my car and it was longer than my car was wide. it got caught on something and my car began swerving, because i was trying to put the brakes on...but my brakes went out. and then my power steering went out. and i ended up in the far lane...the one going in the wrong direction than i had been going in, and then this thing, whatever it was came free from the car and started rolling down the road towards terri, who was fast approaching. she swerved to avoid hitting it and ran her car along the guard rail that was up to keep idiots like us, out of the canal. she was scared to death that i was dead, and that whatever or whoever i hit was dead and that she was out there in the dark all by herself. she got out and came running over to my car and there i was, slumped over the steering wheel...i don't know if i had been knocked out for a minute or two, or if i was just in shock. what i did know was this. we were out on a dark, lonely highway, in the middle of the night. not a soul knew where we were. i had just possibly killed someone. and we were both wearing mini-skirts. now there were two of us scared to death. we knew that if a maniac serial killer/rapist didn't get us, mama surely would when we got back home.
there was no such thing as cell phones in those days. and the closest thing to us, that was inhabitated with humans, was five miles back down the road. and before we could go anywhere to call anybody, we had to walk down the road and see what it was that i hit. and see if we could render first aid. soooo...huddled together and muffling our screams we headed in that direction, and the closer we got...the bigger it got! we didn't see any movement at all, or hear any thing resembling a cry for help, or a breath. or a gasp. we crept closer. and this is what had hit my car
not exactly this one, but one that looked just like it. a 9 1/2 ft. alligator. with his head smashed in. we started screaming bloody murder and ran as fast as we could back to terri's car and hauled our badonkadonks five miles back down to that truckstop we had passed. one of those 24 hour ones. where truckers hang out in the middle of the night. and ogle young girls. in mini-skirts. we went inside and had the cashier call the police and they told us to wait there for them, so we could lead them back to the gator. when they finally got there we drove back to the scene of the "crime" and waited while the trooper took his report. and then he told us that we would have to wait for a wildlife officer to come, because i had run over an endangered species! and i was thinking, "whoa there officer...that alligator was "jaywalking" on a dark highway in the middle of the night. it was not MY fault he couldn't outrun my car!" i was thinking that i was going to jail that night. the officer finally came, after about an hour, and he had to measure the gator and they removed the head and then they put the body of the alligator in the back of his truck. i don't have the faintest idea why they did that. but i imagine they took it for the tail meat. gator tail is considered a delicacy in those parts of south fl. we were finally free to go. minus my car. it had to be towed away.
we made it back home, and then the scariest part of the whole night came when we had to call mama and daddy and tell them what had happened. (the "not the WHOLE truth version") and of course, mama wanted to know what we had been wearing. and we had to listen to her telling us, in that way that only mama's can do...I TOLD YOU NOT TO WEAR THOSE MINI-SKIRTS AT NIGHT!!! WHAT IF A MANIAC SERIAL KILLER/RAPIST HAD BEEN OUT THERE ON THAT HIGHWAY!!! and i'm sure we were probably grounded for life.
that alligator had done $3,000 worth of damage to my brand new car. tore out the whole bottom of it, blown two tires, took out the power steering, the brakes, and a heap of other things.
i never went down that road again, without thinking about how lucky we were...to have a mama that prayed for us. all the time. probably prayed alot for herself too...that she would live through all the stuff we kids would get into. we did some crazy things. some downright stupid things. but one thing we DIDN'T ever do again...was to wear mini-skirts out, in the middle of the night. we didn't want mama to have the satisfaction of being able to say she told us so...again.
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