Thoughts For The Day July 2, 2009

July 2, 2009

I have been busy this time so I have an excuse for being irresponsible. 

At the risk of jinxing it, I seem to feel better. Physically, anyway.  So I’ve been pushing myself lately.  Not too much, just enough to feel it a little bit.  Usually when I feel good I push myself way too far and end up FUBAR’d all over again.  I’m trying to use a little common sense this time and push myself a little at a time. 

I go outside even when it’s hot.  Doesn’t seem like much, does it?  But for me it’s huge.  I don’t do heat well at all.  It scrambles my brain and my body.  It makes me feel like I’m suffocating.  It turns my face bright red, and I get dizzy.  My body feels weak and I can’t think right.  I hear words but I don’t understand them.  It takes about four repetitions before I can finally make them make sense.  The inside of my head sounds like helicopter blades….whoomp  whoomp  whoomp.  I know how to do things but the proper order escapes me, so I get bogged down in trying to figure out if I have it right or if I’m forgetting something.  I can’t start anything because I have to keep going over it and over it to make sure I have it right.  It’s never in the same order, no matter how many times I think it through, so I never know which one is right.

I do more things that require strength.  I have a garden.  I work in it.  I dug holes and mixed dirt and planted some plants.  The Buddha and Princess Bella planted alot of plants too.  Like I said, I’m trying to push without over doing it.  Whenever I do anything that requires muscle, I only have a limited amount of time and strength to do it.  After that it’s all I can do to haul my tonnage back to a chair.  I can do it again after I rest.  No matter how much I work at them, my muscles will burn and give out after only a little bit.  I’m trying to have more little bits now, so maybe I can build myself up some. 

I take chances again.   For instance, MDH and I went canoeing down the Dan River a couple of weeks ago.  I was really scared that I wouldn’t be able to pull it off.  But I’m tired of being left behind and never doing anything, so I went.  It was awesome!  Granted, the Dan River was way high, and way fast and mostly all we had to do was steer, but I went!  And, even though my wrists still hurt even after two weeks, I did it.  The satisfaction is well worth the price. 

I drive…..far away…..every week.  The Buddha’s new counselor is in Chapel Hill.  That’s an hour drive from here.  It kills me.  Did you ever make mud pies?  Remember how they would start to dry out, but you could pat them and they would get wet all over again?  Well, riding in a vehicle is like patting my brain.  It gets all mushy and starts to lose it’s form.  It’s a damn scary thing, driving that far away.  I’m never sure if I’m going to be making it home under my own steam or not.  And it is exhausting.  Every time.  It takes me days to get over it, but I DO it. 

I read more.  This should be the easiest thing in the world, right?  No stress, no strain.  It’s not hot, it doesn’t require strength.  However, it does require me to understand the words.  If I’m doing ok, it’s easy.  If I’m not doing ok, it’s hard work.  I have to re-read the same sentence over and over to get it.  I read every book at least four times the first time I read it. 

MDH built a fire pit in our yard.  I love that thing!  I love a campfire.  There was about a year or more after our house burned down when I would go quietly insane whenever I smelled smoke.  I had a raging case of PTSD whenever I saw a flame.  I woke up a bazillion times a night thinking we were on fire again and every time I did, the house looked smokey.  But, I don’t do that much anymore. 

Anyway, we cook on the fire pit every Friday night, weather permitting.  It’s all very cave girl.  Um, cave girl and pioneer I guess.  We have the big ol Dutch oven.  That little baby is a gem!  I can start the fire, keep it going until I have enough coals to cook using the Dutch oven, and feed it coals until the food is done.  Like I said, I love that fire pit.  Can you tell?  One of my favorite things about the fire pit is that I don’t heat up my house by cooking inside.  By dinner time, the heat starts to build up in the house and the last thing I want to do is heat it up even more by cooking.  (remember the heat intolerance thing?  riiiight!) 

We moved our picnic table from the back deck to the fire pit area.  It’s the perfect place for all of us to gather up and play games or just sit and talk.  It’s also nice to sit there in the cool of the morning and drink coffee and watch the day start.  Especially since the outside dogs have taken over the porch swing and now I need to get new cushions for it before humans can use it again. 

My hummingbirds are back this summer.  I have two feeders that hang on the front porch.  If they start getting low on food, the hummers will come and hover in front of the screen door, waiting for me to come fix it!  They are fascinating to me.  The males fight like cats and dogs.  There are four hummers all together.  Two males and two females.  The males spend all of their time chasing each other away from the feeders.  The females wait until they are zooming around the field, then they will swoop in and eat until one of the males comes back.  Then they go sit in a tree until it starts again, which is usually about six seconds. 

We have quite a few bluebirds.  They love to sit on MDH’s motorcycle mirrors and fight with their reflection.  It’s hilarious.  But every once in a while it reminds me that the ancient dinosaur birds were pretty mean fellas.  I forget what they are called……raptors?  Is that it?  Anyway, birds are definitely not serene by nature.  Those pretty little bluebirds are aggressive with those reflections.  And they are building up some new White Cliffs Of Dover on the handlebars, too!  MDH is not amused.

I am now the proud new operator of a riding mower that doesn’t give me vertigo.  I can mow until my heart’s content and still be able to walk upright back to the house when I’m done.  I love the instant gratification of mowing the lawn.  I also love the smell.

All in all, for summer, things are going pretty good.  I’ve knocked wood and rubbed The Buddha’s belly for luck to keep from jinxing myself here.  (you could have bought The Buddha for a nickel when I did that) 

P.S.   Artisan Bread In Five Minutes A Day – This book rules.  The recipes are easy, they really work, and it feels really good to make your own bread by hand without having to knead yourself into oblivion.  If you’ve never made homemade bread, you’ll be an old hand at it after the second time.  It sorts itself out in your head pretty quick, and considering MY head, that means it’s easy to do.  If nothing else, borrow it from the library and try it at least once.  New experiences are good for you.


2nd Hand Alcohol

June 19, 2008

I’m about to gag myself to death with the latest California brainstorm wanting to ban smoking in apartments and condos. 

Before you EVEN start let me say that YES I smoke.  Yes I know it’s bad for me and you and everyone else in the universe.  I have no problem with not smoking in a restaurant.  I will gladly wait to light up after we all get done eating.  I have no problem not firing up on the airplane.  I get it, OK?  I understand that my choice to smoke is just that…MY choice.  I understand that I have no right to impose MY choice on YOU.  By that same token, you have no right to impose your choice NOT to smoke on ME. 

  I happen to have the opinion that the OWNER of an establishment should have the choice of whether said establishment is smoking or non-smoking.  And that we as consumers have the option of choosing whether or not to patronize that establishment based on that, or any other criteria we want to employ.  If the owner makes his establishment a smoking environment and we choose not to patronize it because of that and his profits then go down, he must either bow to the bottom line and change his mind or he must accept the loss in profits.  On the other hand if his profits do NOT go down, then the opponents of smokers must then suck it up and go off to find a cleaner environment to plot the reduction of rights the citizens of this country can call their own.

I find it cosmically frightening that the citizens of America are blithely watching their rights being whittled away without so much as a whine.  The fight against smokers is only one example, but it is a glaring one.  In the scheme of things I can think of a dozen more rediculously obvious dangers than second hand smoke.  But millions of dollars in cash as well as matching amounts in time and effort are spent making good, decent people feel like second class citizens. 

I, as a smoker, have never driven down the road on a nicotine high and killed innocent people in a head on collision as a direct result of over consumption of cigarettes.  I, as a smoker, have never smoked a six pack of cigarettes and beaten my children because I can’t handle my nicotine anymore.  I, as a smoker, have never given my child brain damage that will last a lifetime because nicotine makes me angry and vindictive and violent every time I light up a cigarette.  But you be sure to ban me from smoking in a BAR!!!!!!!!  We wouldn’t want all those bar patrons who will be out there “drinking responsibly” to suffer from second hand smoke, right?

What am I missing?  I see on the news with sickening frequency stories about multiple teenagers in alcohol related accidents.  Dead, maimed, brain damaged, crippled for life.   And let’s not forget the innocents.  Those folks whose only crime was being on the road at the same time as someone who was drinking and driving.  Not one suggestion of a ban on drinking in apartments and condos.  Not one mention of bans on alcohol anywhere.   Could it be that there are far more lawmakers that drink than smoke?

I have six….yes I said SIX cousins who are orphans because their parents and their oldest brother died from second hand alcohol.  They were killed by a drunk driver as they were returning home from Christmas shopping.  I guess we should be thankful that they didn’t die from second hand smoke, huh?

So…How Did Your Christmas Go?

December 31, 2007

Well, it went according to plan!  Hell must have frozen over solid.  Which means now I have to do all those dumb ass things I said I’d do when hell froze over!  (insert OH SHIT face here)

We woke up when it was quarter to light, made a pot of coffee, positioned the sleeping children in photogenic areas of the living room, poured the coffee, put on our happy faces and woke them up.  At this point they turned into the Tasmanian Devil in stereo.  The entire living room was aswirl in wrapping paper, squeals of delight, boxes, OH MY GODs, ignored socks and underwear, tiny pieces of now unplayable games, the sounds of every kind of noise making device known to man, and the grown ups laughing our asses off. 

It’s really a good thing that The Buddha keeps these memories like photographs because the camera apparently decided to take Christmas off and went to Bocca for the Holidays.  I couldn’t find it anywhere.  So memories and eighteen bags of trash are all we have to remember it by. 

The Buddha promptly re-wrapped every single one of his gifts just so that he could re-open them.  Seems that he really likes Christmas a lot.  Princess Bella copies every move he makes so she did the same thing, not as neatly or as consistently but she tried. 

I got a painting the I’ve been jonesing for, for about 3 or 4 months now.  After it was wrapped and put under the tree The Buddha kept trying to get me to guess what it was.  I kept guessing it was an Ipod.  It’s about 15 x 20 inches.  I tried to wear it on my arm, I tried to plug ear buds into it, I looked for music on I tunes for it.  It cracked him and Bella up over and over.  Lucky for me their entertainment threshold is as low as mine.

So now my painting is forever named Ipod.  Do you ever name your inanimate objects?  Like, my vacuum is named Eric because it sucks so well and I knew a guy named Eric who sucked just as bad  good.  It’s good for a vacuum but bad for a person to suck like that.  “Of all my relations I like sex the best and Eric the least.”  I love that quote.  It’s not mine, it’s from a book, but every time I think of Eric (the person not the vacuum) I think of that quote. 

Intyways, as Princess Bella and The Buddha say, I hope your holidays have been wonderful so far. 

We’re cooking for New Years.  It will be an all day affair starting tomorrow and ending on the first.  Down here in the Carolinas you have to have black eyed peas and collard greens for New Year’s Day.  The collard greens are for dollars and the peas are for cents.  It’s good luck.  We’re having some country ham, squash, potato salad and cornbread too.  Yall Come With Us Now. 

That’s a North Carolina saying.  You say that when you’re leaving someones house.  Now, if you were going to be here with us on New Year’s Day, we would be trying to send you home some of the left over food.  Cuz you do that in the South too.  It’s just good manners to send some home.  My freezer is full of that stuff.  Hey!  Lightbulb moment!  We’ll have some of that good stuff for New Year’s Day too!  Yall best come on over here and help us eat it, now!

Court Ordered Child Abuse

October 4, 2007

I watched the news today and saw a story about a foster child being sent into court ordered risk of child abuse.  I have first hand experience with exactly this issue.  It is both astonishing and sickening how many people will blindly send a defenceless child into danger simply because the letter of the law says to do so.  It sounds eerily similar to the Nazi’s claiming that they were only following orders. 

In the case of the foster child, he is 2 years old and has lived with the foster parents virtually his entire life.  His parents have lost all parental rights and the foster parents want to adopt him.  The birth father, a convicted pedophile who is a Mexican national, stated in court that when released from prison he intends to return to Mexico to live with his mother.  His birth mother never showed up for the hearing. 

However, before the foster parents can adopt him the state must try to find a blood relative who is willing to take him.  After a 2 year search, the mother of the pedophile finally agreeed to take the child.  Yes, this is the same woman that the pedophile father will be living with when he gets out of prison.  In another country.  Where the United States, the birth country of this 2 year old child, will have no jurisdiction.  And the state is actually defending their position of sending this AMERICAN child there and not letting him be adopted here by the only family he has ever known. 

He will be taken away from the only parents he has ever known and sent to a country he has never seen to live with people he doesn’t know, who speak a language he doesn’t understand.  And why are they even thinking about doing this?  Because the stated goal of Social Services Departments in this country is to keep families together.  NOT……I repeat NOT the welfare of children.  Look it up.

If this isn’t a case of court ordered child abuse I’ll kiss your ass on the courthouse square at high noon.

Did you know that if you have a child crossing a county line for visitation and they are abused, if you do not see the abuse yourself, and there is no physical proof of abuse, you cannot report it in your county?  Because YOUR county doesn’t have jurisdiction in any other county.  Think about that for a second.  This means that you have to literally stand outside the windows on the sidewalk peeking in and witness the abuse yourself in order to report your child being abused in another county.  Scary isn’t it?

Can you imagine what it would be like for a child to be sent into another country?  No offense to Mexico, I happen to love that country.  The fact that it’s another country just makes it exponentially more likely that he’ll be lost.   

We wonder why people are so much more violent than they were in the past.  It isn’t the availability of guns.  It isn’t violence in movies and on TV.  (although it might have something to do with the JackAss movies and Bam, but that’s another blog)  It isn’t even drugs.  For the most part those things are all symptoms and tools.  Until children are big enough to DO the things that catch our attention, we allow the most atrocious things to happen to them and we hide behind the letter of the law like that makes it alright.

It took My Dearest Husband and I years of anguish and pain, along with the help of an incredibly wonderful counselor who was willing to actually DO something, to finally get our daughter out of a sentence of court ordered child abuse.  And now we are seeing all the unfortunate effects of the time she spent in that hell.  She will never be who she could have been if there had been more people like her counselor.  She will never be the happy, light hearted little munchkin she was the first time I saw her.  With alot of hard work, she CAN be a fantastic, wonderful, caring, happy woman.  Unfortunately, she will have to fight a fight she had no business having to fight.  She should have been protected.  She wasn’t.  She was tossed under the wheels of the bus by the Social Services system who believes that the law is more important than the well being of children and that blood is more meaningful than love to a child.

What the hell are we thinking?

Random Thoughts October 3, 2007

October 4, 2007

Life is perception.  How we perceive an event is our reality of it.  One man’s ceiling is another man’s floor.  One man’s trash is another man’s treasure.  What you perceive as meaningless, someone else might perceive as the most meaningful thing in their life.  Pay attention to how those important to you perceive the events in your lives.  It counts.

Inaction is an action all by itself.  It indicates indifference on a massive scale. 

Why in the hell would anyone in this country with even ONE functioning brain cell think that Hillary Clinton would make a good president?  This is a woman whose self esteem is so low that she stayed with a man who cheated on her in front of the entire world on more than one occasion.  This can only mean one thing:  He will pay in front of the entire world, and he will pay big!  So, let’s put her in the White House?????  Is she planning on giving her VP a BJ on TV during a State of the Nation Address?  (Do you think I used enough acronyms in that sentence?)  Women who stick around after being treated that way have one thing in mind: revenge.  If Bill is smart (I know, I know, but it’s only a figure of speech) he would do something searingly outrageous and destroy her chances.  It might save his life.  And speaking as a woman myself, I can tell you this: Hillary remembers every one of you who have screwed her over.  You might not even be aware that you did. *see paragraph one*  And you will not get away unscathed either.  Kenneth Star, I’m especially talking to YOU!  She will smile for the cameras while she is listening in her earpiece to them tell her that the “package” has been deposited.  That will be you in the East River wearing a pair of cement overshoes, going to sleep with the fishes.  But only after she has caused them to make you scream like a girl.  Think about it guys.  Women are by far more vicious than men will ever be.  And we never forget a slight.  We certainly never forgive one.  Putting Hillary Clinton in the White House is like dressing up Brittney Spears and putting HER in the White House.  Sounds good, don’t it?

I wonder if the people that Blackwater were hired to guard and protect in Iraq want them gone?  I haven’t heard anyone ask them.  I haven’t heard any of them say.  I would love to hear the answer to those questions.  I also wonder who it was that Blackwater had with them at the time of the last big incident that caused all this hooohaaa.  I hate magicians because I feel like misdirection is inherently dishonest.  So this last big deal over Blackwater makes me wonder who was there and why all the fingers are pointing in so many different directions, but no one is saying who was with them. 

Why are children always at their most obnoxious when my head hurts?#$%^&*

What parents say and what kids hear are two completely different things.  example: Me-“Hi Honey, how was your day?”

Them-“Why R U gettin all up in my KoolAid?”  That wasn’t a good exchange at all was it?  We had no exchange of information, no exchange of pleasantries at all.  That’s because what they hear is not what we said.

Me-how was your day       translation:  What did you do that was wrong or that I’m going to get a call from your school about before the day is through?

No wonder the response is so vehement!  I have no solution for this distortion as yet, however I am working on it and as soon as I perfect the formula, I will put it on a paid programming commercial at 4:45am and you too can have it for 6 easy payments of JUST $19.95 plus shipping and handling! 

When we were kids our dad used to wake us up every morning and whip us before he went to work.  He did this because he knew that before he got home that night we would have done something to deserve it.  He was right.  I’m thinking about reviving that old tradition.  Either that, or take up drinking.  I’m not really sure which way I’m going to go yet.  I’m leaning towards the whipping, but I’m not sure I could stand all that whining and crying.  But after the first time or two, I’d probably cowboy up and stop doing that.  On the other hand, drinking would be so much less work for me.  *sigh*  decisions, decisions

Random Thoughts 9/28/07

September 28, 2007

Don’t say yes if you mean no, then get all pissed off later.

If you have something to say, say it.

If you have nothing to say, say nothing.

If your significant other asks you a question, answer them as honestly as you can.  Do NOT expect them to read your mind.  That’s just stupid and unfair.  If they could read your mind, they would have already got the Pick 6 number and you’d be filthy rich and boppin the pool boy/girl.  Give them some information they can use.  Play fair.

Keep in mind that it is not being mean if you hang up on someone who has called YOU.  Especially if you don’t know them. 

When someone calls you and starts asking questions, your automatic response should NOT be to answer, but to start asking questions of your own. 

example:  Riiiiiiing.  Hello.  

Is Mr. Whoozit in? 

 No, may I take a message? 

Who am I speaking to?   

That’s not really your business.  Who am I speaking to? 

This is Mr. Soanso from Suchandsuch.  Do you have a number where Mr. Whoozit can be reached in an emergency? 

IS this an emergency?  If you’ll give me your number I’ll get in touch with Mr. Whoozit and give it to him and I’m sure if it’s an emergency he’ll be sure to get back in touch with you as soon as humanly possible. 

*SIGH* Nevermind, I’ll just try back later.  CLICK!!!! 

Seriously, it is NOT someone else’s place to be asking you questions on your phone and it is not rude, mean, or socially unacceptable to refuse to answer them. 

Listen to your instincts.  Human beings are still alive today because of them. 

Pay attention.  To Everything. 

Be careful what you say.  You can’t unring a bell, and you can’t unsay an unkind word or undo the hurt it causes.



September 28, 2007

Our oldest daughter came home yesterday.  It’s been three years since I’ve laid eyes on her.  My heart has seen her twenty-four/seven but my eyes have hungered for her non-stop.  Going long periods of time between physically seeing her is normal.  She is a natural born gypsy.  She comes by that honestly. 

I never seem to be prepared for just how overwhelmingly happy I am to see her.  I kept poking her on the arm.  She kept looking at me.  Finally, the last time I did it she said, “Believe I’m really here yet?”  There seems to be a Birdie shaped hole in my being when she isn’t with me that immediately fills up when she comes home. 

It’s like that with all my family and to a lesser degree with my friends.  I’m like a puzzle.  I’m this huge picture.  I know what it is, I know what it looks like.  But I’m only really complete and the whole big picture when everyone is together.  I almost had it this Labor Day. 

Labor Day marked the one year anniversary since the house burned down.  All in all things have progressed fairly splendidly since then.  We moved into what seems to us to be the perfect house in which to finish raising the kids, finish growing old, hobble around awhile, become a burden to said kids, make them change our diapers just like we did theirs, and eventually be remanded to an old folks home, there to linger and molder away, forgotten and neglected while the aforementioned kids are happily enjoying the life of Riley back at the old homestead.  So we decided it was time to conduct a good ol fashioned throw-down. 

The icing on the cake was that my mom (you remember her, I am now the proud owner of her hands) and my brothers and my sister(in law) and my niece(my GOD I love that kid) all came up from good ol FLA to attend! AND My Dearest Husband’s Grandma came from 250 miles away along with his mom.  Most of our closest friends were able to attend.  The few that weren’t were in our thoughts.  Our new neighbors were here.  We had just the best time ever!  The best count we could get was approximately 47 people.  Not bad. 

The kids all played and didn’t fuss and fight.  The grownups all played and didn’t fuss and fight.  Even I was nice! (I think) It lasted from around noon until way, way late.  Actually it lasted until way early the next day.  We had two chefs that cooked on the grill for us.  OMG  They ruled!  My Dearest Husband’s Aunt and Cousin brought some kick ass goodies.  We cooked.  I say “we” as if I actually helped any!  LOL  I didn’t!  Don’t let me fool you.  I was absolutely NO help of any kind at all.  My help consisted of staying out of the way and trying not to talk too much.  Because by the day of the party I had been off my meds for a fair amount of days ( another story for another time) and I was having major difficulties even saying words.  Mostly I just wandered around aimlessly.  But at least I wasn’t destructive.  That in itself was helpful.

The bros and the hubbie knocked out a couple horse shoe pits and everyone threw some shoes.  Down here in Carolina you ain’t had a party if you haven’t threw the shoes.  After everyone left, my little brother, Pony, got out my guitar and he and my older brother, Pork Chop, and I sat out on the front porch and sang all the old songs while the dogs lay around under our feet.  Pork Chop said it was like being in Mayberry. 

The puzzle was mostly put together that day.  Only a few missing pieces.  It was good to have everyone here.  It’s been awhile since we’ve been able to do that. 

Big party, lots of people, food, beer, family, friends, no bloodshed = success. 

*sigh* (insert big sappy grin) I love reunions.

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