CA - RAZY MAN!~

Did you know that people are wierd. If you didn't I thought I'd tell you.

Wierd. Strange. Freaks.

I like it! I am not a "normal" person because I believe "normal" is subjective and up for debate. I think people who go around beating their "normal" drum are one step away from a padded cell and an injection from Nurse Ratched. I prefer to embrace my other selves, talk to myself so I won't get lonely or looney, and I answer myself too.

Now - the big question is: WHERE THE HELL IS MY CELL PHONE CHARGER?

GAH! I can't find it. I know I put it right where I could remember and now? Can't find it. This sucks. Sucks big time. I sleep with my cell. It's my companion, my calendar, my alarm, and my link to others. Now? It's D.E.A.D. We can't perform CELLular P.R. on it because I can't find the CHARGER!

Now, which one of you non - normal people have it? Just give it back. I talked to my other selves and they assure me that one of you took it. Give it back.

Now.

Thanks.

Ciao!~

"...that no good white - trash ho!"

LOVE this song! Love it! This is the kind of song that has me tapping my toes and looking for some husband - stealing, white - trash, no - good, low down ho just to beat the shit out of. :D

My Town Monday: Grotto of the Redemption Revisited

Back on July 20, 2008 I wrote a post for My Town Monday about The Grotto of the Redemption located in West Bend, Iowa. Travis Erwin, the founder of My Town Monday, urged me to find the pictures I had taken. Well, I found those pictures today and felt it was appropriate to revisit the Grotto through the pictures I took. I hope you enjoy them as much as I do each time I look at them. Some of them are wonky because I didn't have them perfectly aligned in the scanner so my apologies.

Photo 1: This is mother preTzel standing near the Grotto when we first arrived.



Photo 2: A wide view.



Photo 3: Inside view. Sign reads :Thou Wilt Enter Into Life.




Photo 4: An area separated from the main Grotto area.



Photo 5: Another side of the Grotto.



Photo 6: Looking down from the highest peak.




Photo 7: Looking up to the highest peak from below:



For more My Town Monday posts please visit Travis Erwin's blog.

Shhh, it's story time.

Once upon a time...

There was a dimunitive young girl who loved nothing more than to play in the sunshine and carry her favorite stuffed animal around with her. The stuffed animal was a raggedy, used puppy that had been given to her and she named him "Poopsy". For a long time Poopsy was her companion and many times his natty fur would darken as she shed her tears upon his back. At night she would whisper all her secrets to him and ask him not to tell a soul. Poopsy never did and those secrets stayed only between her and her dog.

As time passed Poopsy somehow became lost as stuffed animals are wont to do and she found herself crying in to her pillow and missing his dirty, natty fur catching her tears. She had no one to share her secrets with. No one to tell when her heart was broken by a harsh word or the swing of a belt or open hand.

Over the years the stuffed Poopsy would flit to and fro in her memory and she would mourn his loss as she faced life's difficulties. Poopsy is still told her secrets but only in the darkest of nights when no one is around to hear...

The diminutive girl's name was Padelaine. She hated her name and wished they could have given her a name that sounded more exotic but, alas, her fate was to be Patricia so there it was.

Padelaine started life in a home that was more broken than not. Both her parents lived at home but when her mom became angry or upset her father would be asked to leave amidst cries and hiccups from Patricia and her siblings. While Father was the one that wielded the belt or open hand it was Mother who used the sharpness of her words to inflict wounds that went deep. Mother would pit child against child in verbal and physical altercations and if one didn't want to participate she would verbally lash out calling them horrible names. For weeks that child was put on a "list" of chores that only they had to do while the other children walked on egg shells and thanked the heavens they weren't on the "list".

Padelaine's teachers took pity on her because they knew the type of home she came from. Most times she would show up to school, like her siblings, in threadworn clothing, hair barely brushed, and usually hungry for more than breakfast. She thrived in school and loved to be the center of attention but the kids made fun of her, called her names, and more time than not, would spit on her and kick her. There weren't laws about bullies and zero tolerance during that time and when Patricia complained to her teachers she was told to stop being a tattle - tale.

Padelaine did what she had to survive living in the turmoil that surrounded her on a daily basis. She put up with the ridicule, dodged her uncle's wandering fingers in the summer time as he tried to slide his fat fingers up the open thighs of her shorts to pinch her labia. He thought it was in great fun; Padelaine felt sullied and ashamed. She wanted to run to the bathroom and wash herself each time he did it. Padelaine once told her mother about it and her mother told her to stop being stupid. Padelaine kept her mouth shut from then on and avoided Uncle as if he were a leper.

Once her body began to mature her parents noticed and started calling her budding bosoms "radio knobs" and soon all the family, on both sides, adopted that nickname for her. Padelaine learned to walk in a hunch, to avoid shirts that clung, and would sit curved so that no one would notice and they would stop calling her those names.

As time passed Padelaine began fantasizing about leaving that place of desolation and abuse. She began to think of ways to run away, live on her own, and survive. She knew to do that she had to straighten her back and learn as much as she could so that once she was away there would be no turning back. It would take a lot of years but she vowed, at the tender age of 13, that once she left she would never return.

Your Slip Is Showing.

Mr.'s last day of work is Wednesday "indefinately". He received the notice on Friday. All weekend I've tried processing this information because this means a *huge* cut in our income that could cripple us financially. I'm not afraid to admit that I'm more than worried. In the past our house payments were small and manageable if he were laid off but our house payment is now HUGE and his unemployment benefits and my income do not come close to meeting all of our bills.

We've been crunching numbers, scratching off certain unnecessary bills, and readjusting to see if we can cut corners anywhere so that we can meet our monthly expenses. Our two largest bills are house payment and groceries. We spend more in groceries each month than we do our house payment. So we're trying to figure a way to feed 3 growing males (2 teeanagers) and cut that food bill and so far we've come up empty.

His work has stated that they are unsure of "the future of our business" and they aren't sure they will be able to even keep that portion of the business open. Mr. works in the vending machine business and no one wants to buy them. They've gone to trade shows and contacted clients only to be told that the economy sucks shit and they ain't buyin' right now. This means if they don't buy Mr. doesn't work and our financial status goes from slightly comfortable to desperately seeking cash.

Thankfully I have insurance through my work so we won't have to be hunting for COBRA or some other expensive insurance to cover our sick asses. I will continue to work and my job and may need to seek a second job to help bring our income up from desperately seeking cash to slightly wobbling on the top of a mountain of bills.

Could we lose our home? You bet. This worries me more than anything else. I have 3 boys to keep a roof on their heads. I have a dog, a cat, 2 birds, and a guinea pig to care for. (The rabbit died recently.) So we wait and see. We hold our breaths hoping against hope that we'll miraculously come in to money to save our hides through this horrible predicament we've found ourselves in.

Christmas will be a bust for us. We have not told our boys yet but I'm sure when they wake up Christmas morning and find that I've saved all of the dust bunnies and carefully wrapped them so they could at least have a new pet they will catch on that something isn't right in preTzelville.

So if you have good karma send it my way. We need it.

Is It Saturday Already?

Time is fun when you're having flies. Oh wait! That's supposed to be "Time flies when you're having fun!" DOH! Time has been flying around here but not because we're having fun. I wish.

Middle is back to his old tricks of not doing homework and lying. Mr. was so mad at him the other night he literally walked out of the house and took a drive because he was afraid he'd smack him right across his face. We're not hitters in this house and Mr. and I do a lot of "spotting" of each other when one is stressed to the max. I've received e -mail after e - mail at work this week detailing how Middle has so much work to catch up on (8 assignments in one class alone) and that he is only passing 3 of his 7 classes and only one is above a D.

We have tried "tough love", "natural consequences", and the usual grounding from privileges but nothing has swayed this child. Not one damn thing. I am thinking it's time to really pull out all of the stops and make him volunteer at a homeless shelter for teens to show him what happens to you if you don't take your education seriously. Mr. thinks we might need to put him in placement for a month or two just to send the message home that we're not playing. Middle thinks school is a "waste" of his time and energy when he could be doing "real" life things like...playing video games, reading the Twilight series, or just hanging out with his friends. We didn't want to take away the friends because he's struggled for years to make and keep friends in school. He's painfully shy and has just started making friends in the last two years. With having those friendships he's lost interest in school and wants to go to movies with them, spend the night, and have fun. Last night his friends called and wanted Middle to go to the movies to see the new James Bond flick. We told him he could not go and why. He held his hand over the phone so his friend would not hear what we were saying. He doesn't want them to know how he behaves here at home. I would feel the same way if I were him.

If you have suggestions I'm open to them.

There was a comment on my other post that had me thinking. I see my dad at least once a week, sometimes more. We play cards with them 2 to 3 times per month on the weekends. We talk on the phone daily. I don't know how to explain the turmoil in our relationship and how it has healed in just the past 3 years. The years in between were rough. We would see each other about every 2 years during that time. Baby mentioned that he would not be sad if they moved away because he doesn't really "know" my dad. This breaks my heart because my dad loves the boys dearly but spending time with them is hard because my stepmom is not fond of little kids. She's not a bitch but she can't stand it if a child is "seen and not heard". My dad loves to wrestle with them and get them riled up and she is constantly yelling at him to knock it off. If he moves away I'm so afraid that the little relationship they do have with him will become non - existant.

Yes, he's an adult. Yes, he's married. Yes, she has a right to be near her daughter too. But it upsets me. I've tried to put it in to some perspective this week but it is just not happening. I'll continue to think on it and try to understand. I want to thank you all for the comments as they were supportive and gave me food for thought. Even if I don't like that kind of food. :)

Can we talk about Survivor for a minute? Randy? I hate that man. He's a mealy - mouthed weasel of a bastard and I'd love nothing more than for him to GO! Ugh. And to think that African woman was coming on to him? Oh. My. God. I laughed and gagged at the same time. I doubt she wants some pasty, old, saggy, mean, cold - hearted white man over what she has. And if she does? She must be blind and deaf.

Jeff Probst? I am so wanting him. Everytime I see him I get goose bumps. He's just yummy and divine.

Well, I am out of here because I have a playdate with my youngest nephew today. I'll be blogging about it soon. I love this little guy. He's a cute - patootie and my heart just swells everytime I see him and my uterus aches. Not that I want another one but if I did have another one *he* would be perfect. I wonder if his parents would notice if I stuffed him in my purse?

Daddy's Girl.

I received a phone call last night informing me that my stepmother forgot to refill her medication before going on their "mini" vacation and would I be so kind as to get it filled and mail it. I assured her I would then she went on to talk about how they will be traveling to Colorado and South Dakota over the next two weeks.

When I got the call Saturday afternoon that they were already en route I was a bit perturbed that they didn't tell me sooner. I was worried about them traveling that far...and now that I think about it my stepmom did ask me about rental cars on Thursday. I asked her why and she said that my dad was looking in to it for a friend. That's a lie, isn't it? I might just make a trip out to their apartment complex tomorrow, weather permitting, to see if both their vehicles are there. If they did rent a car then I know she lied to me. Grr!

I need my dad right now. I hate to admit this but I'm a daddy's girl and always have been. My dad and I were always close when I was growing up and after he and mom divorced there was a period of years where he would not speak to me. After a long time he did start speaking to me again and we've been close ever since. When I lost my grandmother last year it was my dad I turned to for solace and we have spent oodles of time with Dad and Stepmom ever since. We play cards with them almost every weekend and now...

So...back to that phone call:

She says "Yeah, we're looking at houses out here."

You could have knocked me over with a feather. This is the first I have heard of this. I know her daughter lives out in western Nebraska and has for years. (Almost 20.) Needless to say the conversation quickly deteriorated with me in tears. She kept telling me to "not get upset" and to "calm down, you don't need your blood pressure going up." I asked why and she said they were just looking around.

Then she put my dad on the phone. I just bawled like a baby. He wanted to know why I was upset so I said "I just lost grandma about a year ago and now you're going to move 12+ hours away and what family will I have then?" Even now, typing this, my throat is starting to close and my eyes are burning. He said "I'm just looking for a job right now Sis, we'll talk about it when we get back."

Oh, so wait until you come back on Thanksgiving and ruin MY holidays with YOUR selfish plans? I don't think so buddy! I didn't say that but I wanted to. My dad will be 60 in March and while he has a lot of years left (knock wood) I don't want him that far from me. My mother could move 12+ hours away and it would not faze me one bit but not Dad. What am I going to do? How will I deal with this? I'm not sure but I'm simply unhappy now and pouting worse than a toddler wanting their way. I'm off to bed and to pout some more.

Missing Them.

I've been thinking about my grandmother a lot this weekend as she passed last year two days after Thanksgiving. I miss her terribly and wish she was here so I could go talk to her. I miss her smile, I miss talking to her, I miss her hugs, I miss hearing her telling me she loved me more than I could love her, I miss talking to her about grandpa; I miss her terribly and as the day grows closer I find myself bereft.

When I was younger we used to go to Elkhart, Iowa to a shelter and all of my dad's side of the family would gather for Thanksgiving dinner. My grandfather would bring his electric knife, pies would be sitting out waiting to be cut, potatoes boiled, gravy simmered, stuffing steamed, and sweet potatoes baked. I remember running around with my cousins and having so much fun and watching my grandmother bake delicious meals with a smile on her face and a twinkle in her eye. The voices were loud as everyone chatted and caught up on each other's lives. I remember thinking I wish I could stop time on those days and just repeat them over and over.

My grandmother used to try to teach me how to make homemade egg noodles and no matter how much I tried they've always been crappy. Hers were always fluffy, firm, and good. Mine either go *poof* and resemble dumplings or they are thin and taste like cardboard. I miss her egg noodles and I'll try to make them again this year in her honor but I'll keep a couple of bags of frozen egg noodles on hand just in case.

When we lived on the farm my grandparents would drive up in the Spring from Lufkin and stop at our farm for a few weeks to visit before heading back to their trailer in Des Moines. I remember waking up some mornings to find they had made their way home over night and coming down the stairs and my grandfather saying "Morning Glory." His smile was bright and his hugs were warm and tight and my grandmother would admonish "Leroy, let the girl breathe." Then he'd let me go and she would take her turn to hug me and take my breath away. On those mornings my mother would cook because she was putting on a show but I didn't care because when my mother cooks she cooks delicious foods. We'd have homemade cinnamon rolls, biscuits from scratch, pancakes, bacon and sausage gravy from a hog that was slaughtered in the fall, and I'd be sent out to gather the eggs. I hate fresh eggs and hated them then. Those damn chickens would peck my hands as I stole their eggs. I have not eaten fresh eggs since I was on the farm and I won't do it anymore. I don't know what it is but their flavor is disgusting to me. But my grandfather? He'd smack his hands together and rub them fast as I walked in and he said "I can already taste them." I let him eat mine too. He'd give me a wink as he snuck them from my plate.

Those were good times with them and I miss those times. I know as I put the turkey in the oven in a Reynold's cooking bag (which my grandmother loathed) and smell the smells of our dinner cooking that they will be on my mind. As I make our homemade stuffing, green bean casserole, sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes, crescent rolls, noodles, gravy, and more that I will think of the times my grandmother's hands whisked eggs, mashed potatoes, rolled and cut biscuits, and tasted her cooking to see if it was good enough for everyone else. I will think of my grandfather giving the blessing before anyone was allowed to take a bite.

Parent Blogger's Network has a contest going this weekend that is sponsored by Butterball. I was going to write this earlier and take it a different direction but as I talked to my stepmom and she told me that she and dad were out of town and won't be back until Thanksgiving my heart became heavy. I'm sad my dad is away. I'm glad he was able to take a mini - vacation but if they don't make it back my Thanksgiving will be even more bereft. At least with Dad here I'll feel like they are closer to me. I hope they make it back.

“This post was written for Parent Bloggers Network as part of a sweepstakes sponsored by Butterball.”

Signs Of Age.

Hello. Once again I've been derelict in my blogging and reading duties. *sigh* Time seems so fleeting lately that to just muster the energy to sit down and construct a post seems daunting. I feel drained of energy and much more today than any day.

Last night I attended a conference and decided to take a hotel room. After the Motivational Speaker #1 finished his spiel we all spilled from the room out in to the lobby for nachos, pretzels (the food, not me), and a cash bar. But...we also were given drink tickets - so those that didn't drink (pussies!) or were driving home (FOOLS!) were giving away their drink tickets to those of us (BIGGER FOOLS!) who were staying. I ended up with 3 coveted tickets. I waited in line and waited in line before reaching the bartender.

"What can I get you?"

"I'd really love a margarita but I prefer lots of Jose Cuervo and very little Triple Sect and flavor."

"No problem."

Shit! Sure it wasn't a problem. The girl splashed in some TS, then POURED the Jose. Lots and lots poured and poured and I'm watching as the 1/8" filled at the bottom with TS was swallowed by Jose. There was just enough room at the top of the glass for a squirt of the mix and some soda water. (Why she shot it with SW I do not know!)

After 3 I was toast. I am not a drinker and when I do drink I tend to cause problems. A friend and I sat in the conference room where the "social" was being held and talked on and on about nothing in particular. Neither of us are drinkers so there we were, two light - weights, pretty well lit and trying to remember where our rooms were. Mr. helped us to the elevator and up we went. Luckily her room is right off the elevator so she stumbled in to her room as we made our way down a long hall to our room. Mr. passed out (and he was sober) and I just laid there praying that Jose would stop spinning the damn bed.

2:30 am rolled around and I was still laying there praying to either vomit like crazy or pass out. The next thing I know the alarm is ringing telling me my 3 hours of sleep have passed and I needed to get up for the next round of meetings.

So here is what I know:

1. Ten years ago I could have pulled this off with barely a groan. I also could have downed 10 margaritas before the spinning would have commenced.

2. Ten years ago my breasts were not trying to strangle me in my sleep.

3. Have you ever tried pulling your tits out of your underpants waistband while still intoxicated because 3 hours does not sober you up?

4. Ten years ago I would have grabbed my husband by his wanker and dangly berries and rode him until the sun rose, showered, and ran to the meetings with out feeling a thing. Last night he passed out as I was spinning.

5. Age says "Who cares if you have bags under your eyes?" I say "I DO!"

6. Your breath really reeks in the morning after drinking. Mr. found it quite funny when I said "It smells like a horse shit in my mouth!"

7. Never let your friend say "Oh, don't mind her, she had an affair with Jose last night while her husband slept in the next bed." They all look at your like a skanky whore while you're drunkingly trying to scoop more scrambled eggs on your plate only to feel your stomach revolting at the smell.

So there are 7 signs that I've aged. I feel horrid. I feel tired. I know I won't be drinking again for some time to come. I just want to crawl in to my bed and fall fast asleep. I'll be back tomorrow. I promise. :)

My Town Monday - Election Eve

As I traveled through my town today I thought about what an historic area that I am blessed to live in and truly can thank Mr.'s, and my, ancestors for paving the road for today. As we all sit back and take a deep breath before an historic vote tomorrow I want us all to think back and remember the past and wonder what impact we, as parents and adults, are making for the children of the future.

I hope everyone, who has not voted early, thinks back to the days when women were not allowed to vote. All the women before me that marched in the streets, met at rallies, and let their voices be heard that we, as women, are worthy to vote. We are more than just a vacuum and newborn pusher, we're more than meatloaf and pot roast, we're more than brownies and milk. We have a voice. Use it.

I think back to the many women who did not have access to birth control, women who had back alley abortions, and the many, many who were forced to carry a mass of cells because everyone thought it was wrong to rid your body of cells that were created through rape or incest. I am still boggled today at the amount of humans on this earth that feel the life of cells is more important than a life already living.

I think back to when black people were unable to vote.

Rosa Parks stood her ground and rode at the front of the bus.

Martin Luther King Jr. marched for freedom, civil rights, and the rights for all people. Not just african - americans, but for *all* people. For everyone to treat each other with love, tolerance, acceptance, and equality.

In today's society it is time to let your voice be heard. If you are Republican, Democrat, Independent, Libertarian, or whatever - do not waste your vote. Write your own name in if there is no candidate you like. Don't let your voice go unheard.

I am a democrat. I am a union member. I am a woman. I am a mother. My voice will not be stifled.

Like my ancestors before me I step forth in my town on Tuesday to forge a path to the future. Let my voice be heard. Will yours?

My condolences go out to Senator Barack Obama's family on their loss. What a horrible blow to come at such a momentous and historic election.