18 October 2010

I'm told I don't come across well.


There's a reason I seldom leave home.
There's a reason I enjoy my solitude.
There's a reason I don't get close, and keep my distance.
There's a reason...

So, don't come into my world and tell me I'm rubbing you the wrong way.
My world doesn't touch yours...
     and, I never invited you in.

You click on the bookmark
*no referring link*
so you can find something which incites you
between my words.

You love to hate me.
Me... the mother of your offspring?
The one who got away?
The reason for your failed relationships?
The reason for your failed life?
The reason you burnt your toast this morning?

You think my words are directed at you.
You anon yourself into my blog.
You cajole and you quip;
You twist and you turn and you lie
safely
warmly
snuggly
inside the blanket of a mask
you stab me with your keyboard.

You know who I am.
I'm the reason you're miserable.
I'm the reason you fight.
I'm the reason you can't sleep at night.
Me...without even trying.

I
am
just
sitting
here
putting
one
word
after
another
on
this
page...

You read the words and go berserk.
"What a moron!; What a jerk!"
"What a worthless piece of work!"

So... stop reading my blog.

I write to express, to talk, to feel...
something.
A gift I've not had access to in my non-virtual world,
as I feel my soul slowly dying...
like my skin - shriveling up and thinning; blotchy; tired

...and so very much alone; untouched.

Words I speak aloud are seldom heard;
they fall to the floor and seep into the cracks
where they cushion the soles
of the people I pick up after.

...until I put them down here
and you read them
and decide for yourself what I'm saying
and it's never pretty...

for you don't see me as pretty
you can't see me as pretty
you won't see me as pretty
...on the inside

I write for myself
I write of my feelings, my thoughts and my fears.
I don't write for you.
I don't know who you are.

Were we once friends?
Did you once care?
Because if so, I don't know you anymore...

and you most certainly don't know me,
...if you ever did.
So, stop reading my blog.

In Joy & Enjoy

.

20 September 2010

Universally Speaking

...
The other day as I was driving to the store, I contemplated getting a dog for the girls.  "After all," I spoke to my head, "it'd teach them more responsibility.  It'd bark if we were in danger.  It'd be a comfort to me on long, lonely nights.  I could get exercise by walking it.  It would eat crumbs off the floor."

I thought about it all day.  I even considered stopping by the pound to see if they had any puppy dogs which called out to my heart.
I didn't.
Something stopped me.

It seems I didn't need to do anything; the Universe heard my thoughts and answered.

Be careful what you ask for, you just may get it.

I came home to this announcement:
"Look what followed us home from school.  Can we keep him?"

A min-pin mix looked up at me through sad, watery eyes.  Its worn collar stated his owner is a Harley Davidson fan.

After informing the girls we needed to find said owner, so don't get attached, the dog settled in to a daily routine of chewing up everything in the house; emptying the garbage can and chewing up its contents, scratching our legs and tearing our clothing by jumping up on us, and incessantly barking at the neighbors.
Anyone who knows me knows I like to walk barefoot around my property ~ in and outside.  I've stepped on one too many sharp bone fragments in my house these past couple of days.  I've yet to step in doggie doodoo outside, but I'm sure that's next.

The Universe heard me... and ...

Well, my sister said to me the other day, sometimes ...

Wait, I think I have to explain something first. My mother was somewhat of a free-spirited hippy when we were growing up.  She shoved nutritional pills down our throats and warshed (you're welcomed, mom) them down with ghastly-tasting protein drinks.  However, she did not shove organized religion down our throats, for which I thank her daily.

Instead, she told us every situation was a learning/teaching one and we bring people into our lives for a reason; a lesson needing to be learned.  She says we draw to us the experiences we have, and these people treat us the way we let them/subconsciously request of them.  She also says everything is an illusion, including me... ...but mom, that won't get anyone out of paying child support, or flushing the toilet.

So, my sister said to me the other day, "Sometimes the experience we have with other people aren't our lessons to learn. Sometimes we're there for them; to help them grow."  I believe she's right.

The Universe heard me.
I came home to a dog.  (We're still looking for his owner)
Do I garner from this experience the Universe gave me what I asked for?  Or, do I take this as a learning experience after shredding my feet on sharp bones and picking up tortured trash and ruined treasures and realize the Universe was telling me what "it" already knew - I really don't want a dog?
Or, is it really all just an illusion... and my stuff self-destructed?

I realize I don't want a dog. Not yet in my life, anyway.
It's still too hectic with kids.

In Joy & Enjoy

26 July 2010

Silver Memories

...
My sister and her husband celebrate their silver anniversary today. 25 years together. I am truly very happy for them.

Oh, I got a full house all right, but this just isn't in the cards for me, anymore...


Happy Anniversary, Donda & Shannon. May the best be yet to come!

...now the most pressing question in my life for me is.... razor or pills? hrm...

decisions... decisions...
No. Really. I'm very, very happy for her... :o)

In Joy & Enjoy

p(m)s. Click on the blog title for a song dedicated to my sis and my bro-in-law (and lighten up).  Happy Anniversary. Amazing!

21 July 2010

Odd thoughts, and things that smell better than my feet.

...
So many times I'm struck by a thought (ouch!) ~ a muse about something of which I want to write. But, unfortunately life blocks my path - I'm hard at work or not near anything scribble-able. These past three days... maybe even weeks, have been like that. I awoke from a dream just this morning with a blog bubbling up to the surface, but by the time I'd stepped out of the shower and dried off, the idea had seeped away with the droplets of water which coated my skin; vague memories soaked up by my damp towel. *sigh*

I decided on this, my past birthday ~ which was 2 July, I'd start telling people I'm way older than I am ~ maybe 68. That way they'll look at me and say, "Why, you don't look a day over 50."
Vanity.
It gets you in the end.

So, I'm 48. I feel half that. Pretty soon my older dotters and I will act the same age. ::shiver::

They say I look like my dotter... what do you think? Twins?
I had a neat birthday present, thank you for asking. My book, Daddy's Boots was deemed Book of the Month by the Military Writers' Society of America for July 2010 ~ I was notified on my birthday.  Awesome! That's cause for a toast... with jelly even... red... my favorite color...
...my birthday balloon? Red. My favorite color...
Then, just recently I was told both Daddy's Boots and Momma's Boots are in competition with each other in the "Children Under 12" category for an award from same organization. I'll let you know how that turns out. I can't win for losin'... or lose for winnin'... or something like that. Actually, I have some pretty tough competition. I could lose on all accounts. It's an honor (seriously) to have been chosen, so this author is jazzed.

Tangent ~ As you know, I've been a single unit for over a year now.
we go out the same way we come in

Someone - who shall remain nameless - approached me today with a proposition for a blind date.

Bleh.

She informed me he's 62 (a tad too old for me), more into 20-30 year old females, but for me he'd sign a waiver... (double, pineapple sucking hamburger, parts-is-parts bleh) and he's good-enough looking... even better looking when he's wearing his dentures. heh. Yummy!
Those are her jokes ~ credit where credit is due. Too flippin' funny.
Then, she tried to take my picture so he could approve of me...

I'm glad she caught me on a good day

I just had to pass on that offer, stellar as it is. I'm told he's rich, so I'd be able to get a nice dinner - maybe two - out of the bargain. If nothing else, she said, I would have more fodder for my blog.

Hey! I don't HO! HO! HO! myself for no one, not even for my blog... much.

Erm... although I did tell her I'd date him for a paid-vaca-time-off week-long trip to Belize, where I could snorkel and scuba and enjoy the turquoise blue water paradise.  Hell, I'd even date my own cousin for that carrot on a stick.. if my cousin were Steve Zahn, that is.

oh, yeah... I'd snorkel with him.

... I had wanted to say much more in this entry. I'm left with a vague memory that at one time I had one ~ a memory, that is.

Odd thing ~ I came home tonight to a surprise waiting for me; a dozen, long-stemmed red roses on my door step. There was no note attached; no reason for such a wonderful gesture. I've questioned all my friends as to who would send such a beautiful arrangement, but no one 'fesses up to sending it. It derailed my train of thought.

Ok... what'd you do now?
What a wonderful, albeit somewhat disturbing event. Who would have sent me flowers? And why? None of my past companions ~ married, or living ~ ever saw fit to do such a thing for me.  Maybe the flowers were meant for my next door, tree-maiming neighbor? A belated birthday present perhaps?  A secret admirer, or unrequited love? An apology of sorts?  A random act? No matter. Their beautiful aroma fills my home with wonder... and they're mine now!

Just like sores on our covered parts, we must accept gifts of life when they come ~ no matter how curious they are or how many questions they raise.

Enjoy & In Joy
,

17 July 2010

Growing... vertebrally speaking

...
It all started about a week-ish ago. I received a bizarre call from a psychotic woman, and almost everything in my life went downhill from there.

A few weeks ago, I took my car into 9th St Radiator and A/C to have the A/C compressor replaced.

I had taken it in to the same place last summer when it stopped working. No one could find anything wrong with it. Finally, the mechanic said it needed replaced at a cost of $650. I didn't have the funds at the time. I went without A/C.  You do what ya gotta do, right?

I sold my youngest child and came up with the funds... which had somehow increased in a year to $850.  It worked for a little over a week - thankfully long enough to drive up to Wyoming and back. Then it stopped working. Just stopped. the day after the dragon lady called me. Me thinks her evil witch powers are great. The dark side of the force is strong with that one.
She attended the all-day seminar.
I have a catalpa tree growing in my back yard. It's just a little sprout. It is nicely snuggled in the corner of my property. I like it. It'll give wonderful shade in a couple of years.  My goal is to make a back yard retreat - hidden from snooping eyes... speaking of snooping eyes. My next door neighbor - who is 86ish now, told me she didn't want me growing a catalpa tree - she sees them as messy and doesn't want it to litter her yard. She asked if she could cut it. I told her I'd like to let it grow out a bit, then I would have it trimmed up in about a year - once I knew it would survive.

BTW - I know all about neighbor's trees littering one's yard. Boots has two humongous sick elms which litter my yard with sticky dead leaves all spring, summer and autumn-long. Whenever I step outside barefoot to change the water hose position, I have to peel layers of blechy leaves off my feet. I'm just saying - it's the price of living in a neighborhood. You deal.

When my A/C stopped working, I called the dude at 9th street. I took it back. Seems it's a hose - the high pressure hose - which is leaking and they didn't know it had a leak until the pressure reaches... blah, blah, blah. Twixt I asked, "So, could it have been the hose all along, and not the compressor?"

Didn't really get an answer on that one.
What we have heah is a failure to communicate...
He did state someone must have leaned in on the hose and split it.
"Cool," said I. "Considering you and your boy have been the only people under my hood in over a year. Do you think maybe one of you may have split it?"
"... just let me know when you'd like to get it fixed, or what you want to do about it."

OH! And a big fat BTW! The hose itself supposedly costs over $100.

Let's do the math - $350 last year for a "let's try it fix" which didn't. $850 for a new compressor which worked as well and as long as the "let's try it fix" - and all the time and energy and doing without wheels. Um. Shall I run back up to 9th Street Radiator and plunk down at least another Benjamin? I'll jump right on that derailing train!

(What's a girl to do? I'll let you know when I figure it out. As for now, I really am one hot momma!)

With all the minutia going on in my life, it felt as if my life was a stacking up like a pile of cold pancakes of despair...

they're just drippin' with despair
...when I stepped outside yesterday on my way to work and noticed my baby catalpa was sheared on the neighbor's side... over 9 inches into my yard.

One might say it's such a stupid thing to get upset about - but it made me cry.  I can't explain it. I just started bawling. Like a frickin' baby - and I couldn't stop.

I wrote a note to my un-home neighbor (and it's verbatim - I saved it. I can prove it):
"Hey Boots - I hope you're doing well. I asked you to please not cut my tree because it's still so little. Please don't. I don't want it to die. Thank you. I appreciate it. - Sandi"

When I came home from work yesterday, Boots was still un-home, but I had an answer written on the back of my note, taped to my back door, written by her daughter.

"Sandy"... yeah - she didn't notice I spell my name with an "i" because like most self-ass-orbed people, they just don't give a damn about anyone but themselves, their things and their wants... [Disclaimer - I don't really care how you spell my name, but if you get a note from Ethel, you don't want to reply to Myrtle - I'm just saying.]

"Sandy - I spent almost 2 hours last week trimming the bushes that had grown over from your side of the fence onto Mom's side preventing her from easily getting to her trash can and alley access. Our trash man hauled away 3 cans full of the trimmings. Please keep the branches trimmed from now on. Mom has told you that she doesn't want the catalpa branches to come over onto her property because catalpas are a messy tree. Please keep the branches trained to your side. (By the way - I have seen a calalpa [sic] resurrect itself from a stump. They're impossible to kill.)  - Cathy"

I called the city and asked about the municipal code on such matters. An officer of the law came out to inspect the damage.

I learned quite a few things from Officer JC yesterday afternoon:


Did you know it's not your responsibility to keep your bushes off your neighbor's lawn? That's on them. If they don't want foliage to intrude on their space which may prevent one from trashcans and alley access... they alone are responsible for clipping them, or moving their trashcan to a more accessible area - whichever is easier. Oh - btw - the bushes she's complaining about - not that it matters much - are out of control sprouts from Boot's own elm trees. I've tried everything to kill the buggars, to no avail.

If your foliage is intruding on their space, they are allowed to cut it - even if you don't want it cut. But... and she has a big butt... they are NOT allowed to venture even a millimeter over onto your side of the property. By coming in 9" from the fence line onto my legal property to trim my baby catalpa, wonder woman plopped herself down in the "WRONG!" category.
...to be a good neighbor.

The irony here is I've done so much for Boots when she needs it. When she needed something done in the past, Boots would call me. I'm heartbroken Cathy had to trim the bushes for her 86-year-old mother. Oh, the humanity!

Officer JC gave me a little courage. I wrote another note - because Boots is still un-home. I'm thinking she's on vaca and her LOVERLY daughter is taking care of the place while she's away.

"Cathy..." I maybe ought to have written "Cathi"... hrm... too late now. Anyway -
"Cathy - According to municipal code, any branches which hang over to your (Boot's) side of the property are your responsibility - Not mine. As for my tree, you are not legally within your rights to reach over to trim my tree. You may only cut branches and leaves which hang over your property. Please refrain from clipping my tree in the future. If you feel a leaf or random branch which hangs over your property causes you strife - feel free to cut it - as long as you NOT venture over my legal property line. By the way - I don't want a stump in my yard - I want a (not-deformed) catalpa tree. - Sand i"

Some of you (most likely including Ms. Guided) may incorrectly state it's Karma coming back at me full force. I disagree whole-heartedly.

I think the Universe offers situations which, by how we act, can either teach us to be stronger or allows us to whimper away, defeated and a lesser person.
Defeat isn't always this cute.
Ms. Guided started it by shrieking sick accusations via Ma Bell. I did what I always do when anyone yells at me over the phone: I hung up - and whimpered away a defeated and lesser person. I ought to have stood up for myself and told her what a sick, deranged individual she was for even considering such. The lesson may have stopped there.

But I didn't. I reacted ...well,  I'm not very proud of the way I handled that situation - therefore the Universe stuck another test in my path - my broken A/C. I still haven't faced that challenge.  So, once more my personal rights have been violated in the shape of a vulnerable baby catalpa tree.

I think I'm finally learning the lesson. I feel my spine strengthen a little bit every day. Who says you can't teach an old dog new tricks?

In Joy & Enjoy
OMG! JD! (for no reason what-so-ever)

04 April 2010

a cavemom can do it

.
I look around my house and see piles of crap doing what they're wont to do ~ pile up. Have you noticed, nothing ever piles down? ...erm... except for maybe stalactites. I stand corrected.

Anyway, I asked the girls the other day... for the umpteenth time to PLEASE pick up after themselves.

I swear! These Neanderthals I call my children have their father's disease. I'll give it a name... wait for it... hrm...
Let's call it the "goo-D-nuf disease" (I may come up with a better word before I'm done here).

The goo-D-nuf disease... you know ~ they put the dirty dishes next to the dishwasher, or next to the sink... never in either one... if they bother bringing their dirty dishes back to the kitchen at all, that is.

They put their dirty clothes (if they take them from the middle of their bedroom floor) next to the closed laundry room door.  When they put their clean, folded clothes away, they only make as far as next to their closet or their dresser.

They put their trash next to the trash can ~ either on the floor or on the neighboring counter... if they bother to bring it in from the surfaces throughout the house which surround our lives...

...and all this they declare is goo-D-nuf!

Seriously?!?  You already brought it most of the way. Finish the job, for goodness sake!  How hard is it to actually put something where it belongs?

The other day I told Jo and Jack I wished they'd let me know who and where the maid is, because I needed to fire her ~ she's not doing her job... in fact...  I pondered aloud to them... I doubt she even exists as I don't remember hiring her... and I've never seen her...

Twixt Jo said, "That's because you never look in the mirror... I know this because your hair needs combed... badly!"

Oh, yeah? Well, sweetheart (and I use the term lightly), if I didn't have to keep picking up after Neanderthals with goo-D-nuf disease, I might have more time to work on my hair. bleh!
(...and my hair already is combed badly, thank you very much!)

How hard can it be?  It's so easy...

Enjoy & In Joy.

(Looks like I failed at a better name. You got a better one? LMK.)
:o)

27 March 2010

And, I know how to use a saw...

"...because of you I find it hard to trust not only me but everyone around me. Because of you, I am afraid.  I lose my way, and it's not too long before you point it out. I cannot cry, because I know that's weakness in your eyes. I'm forced to fake a smile; a laugh every day of my life. My heart can't possible break when it wasn't even whole to start with..."

Love that song...

Yes, I am listening to music while typing, why do you ask?  Now... what was I going to tell you today? Oh, yeah.  Self-sufficient, smart women...

In my world, a self-sufficient, smart woman who takes personal responsibility for her actions ought to be at the top of the "desirable" list.  Society ought to celebrate these women, regardless of their waist size or bra size... or how hawt others deem them to be.

"I have a dream that my five little girls will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their hair, or the size of their boobs... but by the content of their character."


Oh! I got off track. Sorry about that - I tend to do so... often. What is this blog about, you ask? Get to the point, you say! Here it is:

I am surrounded by what one may consider attractive women (and some not so attractive... some downright frumpy-dumpy), who are otherwise charming and engaging and pretty... until they open their mouths to speak, that is.

You know, I can plaster my walls, change my oil, change a flat, grow a garden, nurse a baby back to health, clean my house and all things in it, bring home the bacon and fry it up in a pan and never let you forget you're a man, 'cuz I'm a woman... (heh - you may not be old enough to remember that commercial)... I can install a ceiling fan, unplug a drain, sew clothing, bake cakes, take out set-in stains... like blood... not that I've ever needed to... that you know... I can rake, mow, clip, trim, tile, glue, hammer, nail, sand, paint... and I know how to properly use a saw...

...I also know if you're gonna use "seen" in your sentence instead, you always - without exception - have to use an auxiliary verb with it.

Everybody knows this, right? I mean, we learned this crap in 4th or 5th grade, right? After all, it's not rocket surgery!  (Side note - when my older girls were in high school and they came home with an "A" in French class, I'd ground them... because they brought home a lesser grade in English. heh. And, I wonder why they hate me. No. I'm not being serious. It's called a joke, people!)


English. The language of the free, home of the brave.

I know you were teached correctly. I seen you sitting right there beside me in class; I seen the teacher write it on the board more then once... right before we done gone outside fer recess... Ain't I beautimous?  I seen you lookin' at me. *wink, wink*

Who needs to use brains when you gots the parts with which all the boys want to tinker?

Yeah. I know how to use a saw... for all the good it does me. ;o)

In Joy & Enjoy

21 March 2010

Time to Soak It All In

.
In Greek mythology ~ and other spiritual memes ~ water is the element of emotion.  Maybe that's why after a hard, exceptionally emotional day I find myself longing for the comfort of a soak in my uncomfortable bathtub.

Seriously? Why do they make small bathtubs, anyway? It seems a waste of time and materials to me. I'd imagine even little people like to immerse themselves in hot, soothing water 'way past their ears. I know I do... or would like to, anyway.

So, picture this... well, all but the me naked part, please:

I draw a bath (no, not with a pencil... keep up), grab a glass of whine... I mean, wine, and a good book (currently that book is "For Shrieking Out Loud!" by Joyce Faulkner) and start to slip into the warm blanket of tangible emotion... until the slipping comes to a screeching halt as my feet hit the opposite side of the tub and my arse barely makes the cut. And I'm short... so... I'm just saying... small.... really small...

I turn off the water, because it's already filled the two-bucket tub to the brim, and soak my noassatall, legs and feet.

A sip of wine, a crack-open of the book later I find myself shivering, as my metal, too-small tub has effectively shortened the lifespan of the hot factor of the bath water in record time.

You know, at this point I'm sure tree huggers hate my stress-reducing ritual.

I drain the tub a bit, and then add more water - straight hot this time, until it starts to turn tepid from the spout (I have water heater issues, too). I put down my book and wine glass, and sticking my feet in the air, I soak my top half - head and all. As the warm, fuzzy water enters my ear canals and reverberates the creaks, bangs and other sounds of (apparently) my home's digestive system, I relax and ponder the events of the day. My mind wanders... and I wonder...

I wonder if Ted Bundy knew Ann Rule, his co-worker, had a penchant for writing, and his life would soon be on display in a loverly little book of hers, The Stranger Beside Me. I wonder if he would've treated her any differently having had known that.

I wonder why some of the people I've met recently look and act a lot like Andrea Yates.
...I wonder if it's something in the water in this little town which makes almost every woman I've met (who's lived here all her life) want to not cut her hair...ever... or desperately attempt to keep the spiral perm of the 80s perpetually "in style" by donning it for decades... and it makes me wonder why most of these women seem to be so... obtuse.
I know they watch TV... well, at least the important shows like "Dancing With The Next American Idol", and "The Last Surviving Bachelor"... they ought be somewhat fashion-savvy.
And, I wonder if there's a book in there for me to write.

With little exception ~ unless I'm alone in my home ~ I am reminded to wonder why me sitting in a tepid tub, soaking away the effects of the day is call for little ones to barge in to ask such inane questions as, "what are ya doin?" or say grating things like, "She won't let me watch what I want to watch..."

And, I wonder why, when they are soaking, they inevitably scream from what should be the calm interior of the bathroom, "MAWM!!!" (and upon entering the bathroom, I most often hear phrases like, "Can you hand me the soap?' or "Please turn off the water.") Why is that, I wonder?

I wonder if bubbles really are tiny universes full of little worlds and other lives which exist for their own definition of eternity while the fragile emotional orb remains intact ~ a belief I've held tightly in my mind's grasp since I first discovered the concept at the age of... three?

With that thought in mind, I wonder if creating the bubbles, then popping them makes me a God or a Demon...

I sit up; drain the tub; refill it ~ using the aforementioned steps for which ecologists despise people like me. Lather, Rinse, Repeat...

And then I wonder what it's all about, Alfie. I wonder why people treat people the way they do... Why men cheat; why women bitch; why kids are abused and neglected...

And then I think, "You know, if I had a hot tub my kids would be hot tub orphans."

Heck, even if I had a just a little larger tub they'd be pseudo-neglected...

Maybe that's why they make too-small tubs.
For mother's like me.

I wonder...

In Joy & Enjoy

pass the popcorn, please!