The Things I have To Put Up With

5:23 am this morning:

*Chris is poking me with his boy bits and nuzzling*

Chris:  If you have sex with me I'll make you coffee.

Me: It's 5:23 in the morning.  It's inhumane to have sex at this hour.

Chris:  It's good coffee.

Me: Go back to Key West.

Chris:  I love you.

Me: You'll still love me at 7am, we'll talk then.

Chris:  Please, baby.

Me: No.

*more nuzzling*

Me: Are you going to let me sleep?

Chris: After sex.

Me:  That coffee better be like fucking nectar from the Gods.

A Noraism

This morning my daughter was helping my mother-in-law in the kitchen, making a apple pie.  She had the apple core/peeler thingie (yes, technical term)and she was peeling and coring the apples, but you screw them on to do that first.  So, here is the conversation that ensued:

Me: Hey princess, what are you doing?

Nora: Ah, nothing, just screwing apples.

I love children.

Oy. Husbands.

I am leaving to go on a trip today.  We're stopping in Virginia first to see the in-laws and then making our way up to Pennsylvania to see my brother and gram.  Unfortunately my husband cleaned.  Yes, you read that properly, he cleaned.  I like clean, in fact, I really prefer it.  However, my husband is a interesting cleaner.  I'm not actually certain he understands how cleaning works.  You see, in Shell World things have a place, they come from said place and when you are done with them they get put back into said place.  My husband does not live in Shell World. Things go back, well, wherever he puts them, which isn't necessary where they came from.  This, my friends, means I CANNOT FIND ANYTHING!

A 6 Year Old's Birthday Party

I debated about posting on this, because, well most people don't want to hear about your children or other people's children and what not.  So, I was being polite, but then I remembered that this is my blog, so yeah, here we go: A six year old's birthday party.

Here are some sage words of advise in case any of you have the divine pleasure of hosting a child's birthday party in the future *said with just a touch of sarcasm*:

1. If you rent a bouncy house make sure the sand box they are making out of your yard does not end up inside said house.

2. If a child says he wants in the bouncy house but he does not want to take off his shoes, simply explain life is full of decisions and it is either the shoes or the bouncing.  If he picks shoes, let it go, we all have our preferences.

3. When decorating for a birthday do not draw your own My Little Pony horses, you will be asked to draw things for other children and if you are busy fitting in the time for this can be a bit sketchy.

4. If a child runs into a tree, do not inquire as to why he did such a thing.  He doesn't know, he is 6, and therefore insane.

5. Remember you are serving food for the pallets of children, not adults.  Anything that contains spinach, peppers, tomatoes or any other form of vegetable is deemed inedible and will be spit out.

6. If having a pinata, enforce a five foot rule, as to not allow one child to bludgeon another.  However, if one child refuses to adhere to this rule, simply let him go bat to head, he will then understand the need for the  rule.  Do not, I repeat, do not take a turn from the child and say he cannot participate if he does not listen to your rules. Bite your own finger off, this will be less painful.

7. If you have a cake made for the birthday and it is decorated with figurines or toys on top, remove the toys before placing the cake in front of the children.  If you do not, every child will have a icing lathered toy inside their mouth before you can say "happy birthday."  This is gross.

8. If you allow your child to have a sleepover and throw a large mattress down for both girls to lay on and are then requested to stay on the mattress with them, bring an oxygen tank and mask.  Children roll to warmth and will inadvertently attempt to suffocate you at night by stacking directly on top of you.  Do not attempt to move them, this does not work, they will return.

9. In the morning after, when the children arise, remember they are not possessed by demons, they are simply tired.  I realize the similarities to a demon possessed being will be uncanny, but I assure there is no need to call a priest.

10. Buy wine.

Sweet Slumber

So, question for all you cat owners out there. Can I train my cat to stay awake during the day and keep his happy ass asleep at night?  Please say yes.

Just For Me

I've been trying to think of something fun to post this week, so you wouldn't all think I'm a perpetual downer, but thus far I've been fairly down and unable to.  They say writing is therapeutic, like a long run, it kind of helps get it out.  I've been kind of wanting to talk about this to someone since my counseling session last week, but so far the words haven't come out, even in email.  I'm not allowing comments on this post and I hope none of you think badly of me for that, but this one is just for me, because some things have been slowly eating away at me since that session and it may help to just write it out.  Thank you for understanding.

I was asked, "what's your first memory as a child."  "I don't know" was my automatic response.  Think about it, just sit and try and think of the first thing you can remember.  I'm not sure if this was an attempt to bring up a happy memory or not.  What's your first memory?  I was young, small enough that I still went to the bathroom in my pants sometimes and it was cold out, maybe fall or early spring, I don't know, but the ground was cold and I was naked, my brother was naked and we were being chased in the backyard, getting spanked and sprayed with a cold hose water by my father, because one or maybe both of us had an accident.  We ran in circles, trying to evade the hose and the smacks, but I can clearly recall seeing the outlying red of hand prints on Mike's back and butt while I was running.  That's my first memory.  I keep trying to remember something else, something before that, but nothing is presenting itself from the depths of my memory.  I remember more though, things I haven't thought about for a very long time.

I remember being in the bathtub, sitting there and being asked something and perhaps I responded smartly or said the wrong thing or was being a brat, I really don't know, but I was taken out of the bathtub and smacked several times with the belt.  I remember being a bit older and I don't know why, but my father had a big pot of cold water and kept throwing over my head to get the shampoo out.  I remember saying it was really cold.  I remember getting yelled at an not knowing why.  I remember he was sober then.  I always recalled the alcohol after and even before my mother passed and it was forever a well, he was an alcoholic, that's why he was mean.  He was sober.  I remember good things too though.  I was falling, off a board at my grandma's barn loft and my feet had all ready come off and I was grabbed by this big hand and pulled up.  It was my dad.  I have a lot of happy memories, they're not all bad.  I remember watching my mom fence (she took fencing at the local college), watching and doing Tia Chi with her, sitting in her friend, Sue's house, where there was a sky mural on the wall and meditating.  I remember canoeing as a family with my brother and father in one canoe and my mother and I in another, I remember long bike rides next to my mom, hikes and water skiing.  I remember my mother asked for a new pair of running shoes a week before she died.  I remember she used to stop and give the local (there was only one at the time in my small town I knew about) homeless man food.  I remember she laughed a lot and she loved me.  Happy, my mother knew how to make people happy, how to be a good friend and she loved easily.

So many good memories and yet the haunting words echoing in the back of my head this week are: he was sober.

I Need Help

So, being the mother I am, after my daughter came home Halloween night with her massive bounty of candy and fell asleep, I went out, took half of it and put it into her pinata for her birthday (in 2 wks).  No, I wasn't being mean, but she had loads and she didn't need to be eating it all.  I'd never sleep!  I then took the remainder of the candy and placed it in a bag on top of the refrigerator where I have to stand on tiptoes to retrieve it, thus making it inaccessible to her.  It works out grand, because she can have two pieces a day and I don't have to worry about a sugared up wee one bouncing off my walls wreaking havoc.  There is, however, a fundamental flaw in my plan.  I can still reach the candy.  *sigh*

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

As some of you are aware, I was working a haunted hay maze this past Friday, jumping out of corners, scaring teenagers, who would actually be far less easy to scare if they would close their mouths, but since they talk continuously you always know where they are.  It was the most fun of this entire fundraising endeavor.  One teenage boy knocked his girlfriend on her butt attempting to get away from me, another fell on his face in a mad dash when I freaked him out by being one place and then when the maze diverged in an area that would meet up again, I was in front of him when he came out the other side.  It was good fun.  I enjoyed myself and of course all the girls screamed until I thought my ears would bleed.  It helped that some of us are so familiar with me maze we know our way in and out practically with our eyes closed, which is actually beneficially when you're attempting to scare the pee out of young people.  I had an old hatchet I carried around, it was real, but so dull it wouldn't have cut anything even if you tried. I was there until almost 1am, but the fact that I haven't laughed that hard in a very long time helped make being up that late (may be a first in yrs for me) worth it!

I'm including a pic of how I looked for the maze.  It's not my Killer B costume, of course (unfortunately, I didn't have my camera on me to take a pic of that!  I took the maze pic costume when I came home in the wee hrs of the morning).  I wore the Killer B during the day and the little kids were staring at me going, "I don't get it."  My daughter, however, did and proclaimed that I am very silly.  Anyways, I digress, this is what I looked like for the maze:

I know, I was looking HOT!  :D

I hope you all have a marvelous Halloween!  

F.T.

Preschoolers on field trips all day long.  I think my brain has atrophied due to exhaustion.  I'm not made for such things.

When Things Become Too Much

I've been a bit stressed lately.  I have a bad tendency to get involved in things too much, where I try and do everything for everyone and belatedly realize I'm up to my forehead in stress and a hairs breath away from a massive breakdown.  I volunteer a lot, I know most of you know that and while I do enjoy helping, sometimes it becomes too much.  I'm either at the school or the hospital every day and that includes the weekends.  I do field trips throughout the weeks this month with the kids every day I'm not at the hospital, which is Tuesday, Thursday and Friday.  On the weekends I work at the school fundraiser that's happening this month, sometimes all day from 10:30am - 9:30pm.  I realized last night, as I was going to bed at 8 something because I was so exhausted that I'm spent.  I woke up this morning, looked at my house and had a panic attack (I'm a wee bit obsessive about my house, it doesn't have to be perfect, but clean is good).  My daughter and my husband helped me get everything in order.  I adopted a stray cat that was in a parking lot who was very hungry and flea infested, when I went to lunch last week too, which is odd, because I hate litter boxes, but he's sweet and he loves me and I'm keeping him.  At any rate, in order to not break down again I meditated and decided to think about all the things that make me smile.  Here is a short list:  

My friends (you know who you are and I love you)

Nora's laugh

My husband's kisses

Simon & Midas (pets)

Yoga or a run

Pumpkin spice coffee

*takes a sip of pumpkin spice coffee*  See?  Bliss.  Be well.

SIMON ROBERT H.

Music I Love

My Attack Puggle

I apologize for being the worst blogger ever!  I could use the fact that I've been busy, out of town and sick as an excuse, but I won't. :)

One of my sister-in-laws got married last weekend.  That was interesting.

I know some of you know this, but I'm going to share a few conversations that took place with my father-in-law over the few days we were in Virginia visiting for the wedding.

Dad: I turn left?

Shell: Yeah, left, right.

D: Right?

S. No!  Left!

D: This left?

S: No, the next left.

D: Where?

S: By the steps.

D: Which steps?

S: Those steps!

D: Those steps?

S: Right!

D: Right?  Now?

S: No!  Left!

*drives past road*

Shell: I'm older than Ms. Thompson

Dad: You're older than Wisconsin?

Shell: That's because of the booze.

Dad: The boobs?

S: Booze!

D: Foods?  Whose?

S! No, booze!

D: Jews?

S: Boobs!  Crap, I mean booze!

D: Boobs?

S: Just drink your boobs and shut up, Tom.

I love him.

On the way home we were stuck in Atlanta (God, I hate flying through that airport) for a few hrs too long, but made it without having to spend the night there, so I wasn't complaining too much.

Then after I picked up my much missed pup from his dog-sitters and had gone to bed I hear this crazy barking and anyone who I've ever talked to about my dog knows he doesn't bark.  Really.  I've had him since 2009 and I've heard him bark maybe 3 times.  So, obviously I jump out of bed to see what all the fuss is about and there's my dog going nuts and it's dark and I can't really make out what he's so upset about, so I go back into the house to get a flash light.  My husband then walks into the living room and asks me whose dog that is (lol) and I tell him Midas and he's as stunned as I am, so we both go out, with the flash light and there's Middy having it out with a armadillo!  I realize what it is and I yell at my dog, honest to god, "Midas!  No!  That's a armadillo!  They're linked to leprosy (I read an article about it one time) and ... and...they have germs!  No!"  He, of course, ignores me and continues his battle, until the poor armadillo turns around, obviously having no knowledge that I'm standing a few feet behind him and heads in my direction.  Oh my!  I squealed and my little pudgy pup lost his mind!  Chris had to intervene and I grabbed Midas and took him inside.  My husband, however, was rather impressed with his new killer instinct possessing dog and kept letting him back outside just to watch him bark.  *rolls eyes*

Here's a pic of my fearsome guy.  Don't mind the butterfly wings, he was playing dress up with Nora.

Yawning.

A Few Things About Shell

Ok, so I was trying to think of something at least halfway entertaining to say, since I've been offline for a bit.  Unfortunately, I'm not a very entertaining person and my life is actually fairly normal and uninspiring.  Aside from that I suffer from depression, so really, wanting happy humorous entertainment from me is kind of a daily hit or miss.  I can give you fake happy if you'd like, I'm fairly good at that.  It's one of my talents.


Having said that I see that there are a few new followers to the blog *waves madly at T, Brad and Matt* Hence, I'm going to do a short about me bit to give those who don't know much about me a bit of a background.  Sound good?  Grand, here we go.  I'm a mother of one (only one, thank you Jesus, love her, there will be no more), I'm in my early thirties, ok, 31 to be exact.  I'm originally from Pennsylvania, but moved down to finish my degree at USF in Tampa halfway through college.  I've been married to my hubs for 7.5 yrs.  Wow, 7.5 years.  Dang, it doesn't seem like it's been that long.  He's a USMC officer in flight school at the moment.  He's been in the military about 9 years, I know, they beat me to him!  The bastards!  He was with the Am Tracks (Assault Amphibious Vehicles) before finishing his degree and going to officer school.  Thus, I kind of follow him around.  He was deployed to Iraq three times with the Am Tracks and now if all things go his way he would like to be a Cobra pilot.  (The helicopters with big guns - that's how I remember which one is which).  I'm sure there will be more deployments in our future, but at the moment I'm enjoying having him here.  We're not anything alike, honestly.  It amuses some of our friends and family how vastly different we are, but it seems to work for us, so I'm not questioning it.  A few examples of our numerous differences:  I'm a pacifist, he's a Marine, I enjoy long distance running, he thinks anything over 3 miles is excessive, I'm a - oh my do I even go into politics? - let's just say liberal, he's conservative.  I believe the universe is all connected, he believes we turn to dust when we die.  I drive a hybrid, he drives a truck.  I'm emotional, he's logical.  He wants to take care of me, I try to take care of the world (fyi, this never works, the world's too damn big).  I'm bisexual, he was raised Catholic.  Oh wait, no no, the raised Catholic thing was suppose to go somewhere else, I meant to say before meeting me he was just sexually repressed!  lol.  Fine, I'll be serious (he was though!), he's straight (at least I certainly hope he is, otherwise I missed something big along the way!)  Yeah, that's us, in a nutshell.  We're in Florida at the moment, until we get sent somewhere else.  I don't mind too much though and besides, when it's all said and done and I get to grow old with him, it'll be worth it, even if he is a bit odd.  :)

Woot! I have a new monitor!

Hi guys!  Sorry I've been MIA lately.  My daughter had a run in with her hand and my computer monitor (yes, purposefully and yes we had a long talk about hitting things), so I was computer-less for a week.  It sucked!  I thought it would be kind of nice to get away and it was for maybe a day, then I was over it and grumbling about not having my computer.

I'll post more soon.

My Gloom Cloud is Raining

A friend of mine and I were discussing blogs one day.  His blog is much more entertaining than mine and I enjoy listening and partaking in the banter there very much.  However, this is my take on my blog. It's one of my releases, like a good run, meditating or doing a little yoga.  I won't always be entertaining or chipper, but I'm not IRL either.  Yes, I laugh a lot and I talk a lot, but for the most part I'm rather serious, enjoy my alone time, dislike crowds and I'm rather neurotic.  That's me.  So, I may let my little gloom cloud rain here every now and again.  I'm sorry, I'll pass out umbrellas later.

That all leads me to this: today is not one of my better days.  I kind of knew it was coming, I usually do.  I've noticed I sometimes feel very antsy before a depressive episode.  Is that even what they're called?  Episodes?  I don't know, but the days where you wake up and want nothing more than to pull the covers back up and ignore the rest of the world.  I didn't though, no worries.  I have a whole set of things I'm suppose to do to try and get me out of my funks, my counselor seems to like to give me suggestions for fighting my depression.  They're good suggestions and they do work sometimes, it's just hard to get myself started.  I feel like I'm climbing out of a humongous ditch and I can see the light way up top, but it's so damn far away and the climb up really sucks.  It helps if I stay busy though and I know that.  So, I got up, made Nora lunch, let her sleep in an extra half hr and drove her to school,(rather than having her ride the bus) went and ran a few errands and then went to the field where hay was suppose to be dropped off today for this enormous hay maze that's being made for the month of October to raise money for the school.  Swear to God, only this close to Alabama (sorry, anyone who loves Alabama, but...uh, it kind of sucks rocks) would people be making a hay maze.  It's nice, yes, I understand, but really, hay is itchy, bales are heavy and well, I just don't like it.  lol.  I did take my raggedy ass out and move hay bales to help today though and after that I came home, took a shower, and went for a long, hard run.  I know, it seems silly to shower before running, but trust me, running with hay on me would have been miserable.  I did a hard run to help with the depression and it helps, I know it does, but it scares me too.  Let me explain and you'll all be the first to hear it, because I haven't said it out loud yet and am not sure how to voice it really.  Things are always easier to write than they are to say.  Some of you may think differently of me though.  I don't know, I do sometimes.  When I'm depressed and I just want to run, it's a release, yes, but that's not what bothers me.  It's just, when I'm in that place I want to run until it hurts.  I want it to hurt.  That pain that you get when you're running hard and it feels like your lungs are burning and your chest hurts, that's what I'm striving for when I'm in that place and I don't know why.  I'm punishing myself or I guess that's how it feels.

Shell's Life

I apologize, I'm running on very little sleep again, so if this post sounds as if it has been written by a three yr old that's why, or at least that's the excuse I'm using!


My daughter has asthma, seasonal allergies and eczema.  Apparently they generally come in threes and she was blessed with them all.  Hopefully she'll out grow them and the eczema isn't too bad, although that may be because I lather her up with loads of cream as soon as she gets out of the bath everyday.  At least she's good about it, she now just grabs her towel, throws it on the bed and lays on top of it as if to say, "I know we're doing the whole grease monkey thing, so let's just get on with it."  Her allergies this week have been atrocious though and neither of us got much sleep at all last night.  She gets drainage (yeah, gross) when she lays down at night, which causes her to cough, which last night caused her to vomit.  Ah, the joys.  I ended up sleeping in her bed with her, which let me tell you, sharing the bed with a 5 yr old is like wrestling a live octopus.  Lord.


So, moving along with the rest of the life of Shell.  I know, you're all anxiously waiting on the edges of your seats to know what I've been up to for the last week.  Well, Nora began kindergarten in August.  I am now the "Room Mom" for her class.  Yeah, I don't know exactly what that means either, but her teacher sent me a note saying she put me down for it and if I could please go to the meeting, which I did and then ended up as the Volunteer Coordinator for the PTO, as well.  *shakes head*  Today at some point, I'm going in to the Associate Health Clinic of the hospital here and getting my TB skin test done, which I'm guessing takes an entire minute to do, turning in my immunization records and then I'll have a short orientation and should be good to go to begin volunteering there on Mondays and Wednesdays. 

The Muddled Mess of Shell's Brain

I admit, I can be less than intelligent at times. *points at Iv & P* Hush, peanut gallery! However, this morning I was particularly brilliant. Really, I was.

My husband got up at 5:45am, hence I got up. I've tried sleeping through him getting up, but usually it's rather pointless. I'm a light sleeper and for as small of a guy as he is you would think he would pad quietly through the house. No, not even close. He always feels bad too, “oh babe, I'm so sorry! Did I wake you?” No, love, of course not, the other elephant did. So, this morning we get up and I decide to be a nice wife (happens on occasion) and make him breakfast before he goes to fly his little plane up in the sky.  Well, my husband enjoys biscuits and gravy, so that's what I'm going to make. I don't usually eat it, not that I don't like it, but if I'm aiming for cardiac arrest I'd rather have a snickers. At any rate, there I am, decked out in my jammies, in the kitchen at that ungodly hour when I begin to suffer from morning brain. Truly. It's a sickness. Happens all the time and rarely goes away before the second cup of coffee. Now, I'm making biscuits and gravy, but I decide to do it the easy way since it's entirely too early to actually make anything. Thus, I go to the fridge and pull out the biscuits. I then grab the can opener and begin opening my biscuits. My easy-to-open canned, with a image and nice pull here to open directions with a yellow tab biscuits. At this point you would think some synapses would begin firing and say “Hey Brainiac, unwrap the can.” Alas, that did not happen. Instead, I stood mystified by the oozing dough coming out of the can and yelled (no,honest to God, I did) “Chris! Chris! There's something wrong with the biscuits!”  My husband, who was in his office getting ready, came running in to assist me with my seeping pile of dough, took one look at it, looked at me, busted up laughing, didn't even say anything, just pulled the tab, opened it, handed it back to me, smirked, kissed me on the forehead and walked away. Can you believe that bastard?

Happy Labor Day!

Originally this weekend I was to go camping with my daughter, husband, his sister and brother-in-law.  However, due to Tropical Storm Lee and the fact that we live on the Florida Panhandle our camping plans were cancelled.  Can't say I was all that broken up about that.  Instead we hung out, went hiking at a wilderness trail nearby,(We were all sufficiently soaked by the end, but it was good fun, even the dog seemed to enjoy himself.) ordered pizza, visited the Aviation Museum, and made smores using the fireplace.  No use letting perfectly good marshmallows, graham crackers and chocolate go to waste!  It was rather enjoyable, I must admit, even if I did have to have guests staying at my house for a few days.  It's a shame you can't tell family to get a hotel.  Lmao.  Sorry, I'm not much for guests!  Although, my husband did make fun of me when I pulled the vacuum out as they were leaving this morning.  In my defense though, I couldn't help it.  I hate chaos and my house was chaos by the end of the weekend.  I needed to re-establish a bit of order to things.  A friend of mine told me today that I have a "touch of OCD."  I informed him that I have a touch of I don't like a messy house!  There's a difference, thank you.


I hope you all had an enjoyable, relaxing long weekend!

Mysteries of the Heart

As a few of you know, I don't exactly have the best relationship with my father, Harry.  It's not awful anymore, rather not exactly there.  Quick background story, my mother was diagnosed with cancer when my twin brother and I were 6, she passed away when we were 14, almost 15.  For the last few years of her life my father wasn't around much, always working late or on business trips and when things got bad, I assisted Mom and took care of her as much as I could in between hospice and the nurses.  My father seemed to disappear in his own world more and more, sometimes taking my brother with him and I stayed home with Mom.  I was kind of a Mama's girl, so it was ok. When she passed though, he turned what was a bit of a habit into all out alcoholism.  I don't know if any of you have dealt with alcoholism much, but anger, grief and booze are kind of a recipe for disaster.  I look quite a bit like Mom, so things were worse for me most of the time.  He became abusive.  I understand it now, in a way, or I at least accept the hows and the whys of it.  I'm in counseling and I take anti-depressants for my anxiety, ptsd and depression.  My brother forgot about the four years after she died until we left for college until a few years ago when he began having flashbacks (yeah, really) reading his high school English class 1984 by George Orwell.  It was something we read the year she died, so it makes sense in some ways.  The human mind is odd.  That was three years ago.  He's still in counseling and on anti-depressants as well, but doing much better.  We both are.  So, why this post you may be wondering?  No, I don't normally spout out the more private things in my life, or I didn't use to.  I'm trying to work on that.  It's suppose to be therapeutic, I hear.  Personally, I think a five mile run works better, but it's dark and raining outside, so I'm out of luck there.  A few months ago, Harry went to the doctor and they found that his liver wasn't functioning as it should be.  Partially from the drinking, I'm sure, but they also found Hepatitis C in his blood work when they ran a bunch of labs.  To be honest, I don't know a lot about the disease, but I do know they think he contracted it many many years ago (before they screened blood) when he received a blood transfusion after losing his arm in a car accident.  His doctor suggested an antiviral treatment (I think that's what it is) which he was suppose to begin this month.  I just found out, although I'm not sure when the decision was made, that he will not be starting treatments and is apparently going to go to another doctor to get a second opinion.  When I worked up the nerve to call and inquire about this with Harry, he stated that he'd lived with it this long and it hadn't killed him yet.

I can't exactly explain to you why I'm upset, because I don't know.  I speak to the man, maybe four times a year and see him very infrequently and yet, I'm sad.  Like I said before, the human brain is odd, but I find the human heart to be even more strange.

Hurricane Nora

So, a friend of mine posted the other day about he and his husband's imperfect relationship and how he is a bit of a mess maker.  I related and felt for his husband when hearing this, because my hubs is a bit of a slob, as well and I was thinking about all the things he does and ways he doesn't clean up after himself or pretends he can't do something so that I'll just do it for him.  Seriously though, is it all that difficult to move the dishes from the sink into the dishwasher or put the empty cereal box in the recycling or put your dirty socks in the laundry?  Really?  These are things I do simply out of habit, so when it's not done I find it to be a tad annoying at times.  Having said that, I realized this morning that I should thank my lucky stars my husband does what he does and that he is not as messy as a 5 year old.  You see, my child is a disaster.  I know, aren't they all?  However, she is more of one sometimes than others.  Normally my day begins by cleaning up whatever chaos she has left in her wake the night before.  Last night though, I walked into her room and was so stunned I stood there for a few minutes taking it all in.  She has a tendency to wake up at night and eat or play, or what have you.  No worries, I have bells on the doors, just in case she decides one night it would be a good night to take a stroll!  Last night I went to bed about 9:30pm (What?  I'm old!), woke up at 11:30pm, checked in on her and went back to sleep until at 2am, when I woke up again and once more went in to check on her.  Now, sometime in those 2.5 hrs I was sleeping in between my wee love decided to get up from her bed, grab some snacks and throw herself a bit of a party in her room.  Toys were everywhere, books were out of the shelf, puzzles were on the floor...I almost passed out.  It was clean when I went to bed, I cleaned it!  At 2am I, of course, turned myself back around, crawled into bed, closed my eyes and prayed it was all a bad dream.  Alas, it was not.  When I asked her this morning what in the name of God happened in there last night she proclaimed that "the vampire team came in, Mama.  It was scary, but it's ok, I kept us safe."  Uh huh.  *wide eyes*  Vampire team?  Lord.  Where does she get this shit?

Be Nice

Watch your thoughts; they become words.
Watch your words; they become actions.
Watch your actions; they become habits.
Watch your habits; they become character.
Watch your character; it becomes your destiny.

—Lao-Tze

I've left a group recently online that I had been a part of since I joined goodreads.  It was for those who enjoyed a common romance genre, but in recent days and perhaps weeks and months before that I've found it contaminated with negativity, judgement and arrogance.  I may be wrong in saying that myself, because I am, in the process judging the group as a whole, because of what I've seen.  I do, however, stand by a statement I make quite often: there are both good and bad individuals everywhere.  For me though, the bad I have seen lately greatly outweighs the good.  Remember when you say things online or you speak badly about someone there is a person on the other side of that avatar that is representing them.  Someone is sitting in front of their computer typing those words and they have a heart and a soul and feelings just like the rest of us.  Be kind whenever possible and before you write something putting down someone else, think of how you would feel if the same thing was written about you. 

Online Madness Rant

You know, being online sometimes, especially in certain venues makes me rather happy I am a woman.  Is it just me or does anyone else find it odd that in places like blogs, goodreads and facebook I am never questioned about my identity.  No one has ever asked me to prove who I am.  Which is grand, because I'm sure I would take such inquiries oh so well.  Yet many of my male friends in these same places have been asked to prove themselves.  And my question is why?  Is it less believable that there are *gasp* gay men reading m/m books?  Please, someone explain it to me, because honestly I just do not understand.  Also, why is it the friends who are not in happy committed relationships are questioned less?  Do we as a society believe that only heterosexuals are capable of loving, lifetime commitments?  I certainly hope not, seeing as how that's asinine. 


Another thing I would like to address is online photos.  No, you don't need to say that's me and use someone else's photo, but it does happen and it is not the absolute worst thing a person can do.  Let's be serious.  No one is getting shot down to the sixth circle of hell for putting a hot pic up that's not them.  In the grand scheme of things it's rather inconsequential in my book.  They are online friends and like real life friends their appearances should not matter.  What someone looks like is irrelevant, it's who they are as people that should matter.


All right, I'm done with my rant.  I'll get off the soap box now and put my bitch to bed.  Good day!

Decisions

I'm sure any of you that know me, know I'm an emotional person. Ok, fine, I'm a sap. Sometimes I cry simply because I need to. Sometimes I cry because I'm fighting with my husband, or I'm overwhelmed or hurting or my friends are hurting or my daughter is hurting or I miss someone. I know these things about me. I know I'm sensitive, but I don't perceive it as a bad thing, it's just part of who I am.

Online has become a difficult place for me now and then. For various reasons, mostly lies, deceptions, and disappointments. I still try and give everyone a chance and see the situation through their eyes as much as I'm able, but there are times I find that task more difficult than others. I like to believe that people generally do not lie simply because they can though. Generally there are reasons, sometimes even good ones for a person's deception. I, however, can never quite bring myself to be deceitful. I am who I am, nothing more and nothing less and there are times that is not a good thing. I'm not stunningly beautiful or exceptionally intelligent. I don't have the perfect past or the best mental state. I struggle with depression, anxiety and PTSD and many times I wonder if it's worth the fight. I know it is, deep down, but there are days I battle more than others. I can be short tempered and a majority of the time I react to things emotionally and the logical side of it all takes awhile to catch up. I spent a lot of my life blaming someone else for my faults, but my faults are my own. Your family, your parents, your past; they can effect you, yes, but we can all choose how we'll react and who we'll be in our present lives. Will we forgive, will we judge, will we hate...they're all decisions each of us have to make at some point in our lives and the decisions will be different for all of us. Online the biggest issue for me always becomes, will I give them the benefit of the doubt? Will I believe my friends, these people I have allowed into my heart, simply because they said it. The answer is almost always yes, but if something happens and I find that those I have befriended have not always been completely honest with me, how should I react? Should I be angry, should I judge? Or should I let it go and hope everything else has been real? I think I'll go with the latter.

Reading

So, I'm reading another psychology book.  I know, I know, you're all stunned by that revelation.  Honestly though, it's intriguing and a little scary too, in a comforting kind of way.  Does that make any sense?  The psychologist that wrote the current book I'm on specializes in the treatment of trauma survivors and it's odd, yet somehow consoling that I've found myself various times throughout the first hundred pages thinking, "oh, I do that too" or "wow, I'm not the only one with the brain of a 90 yr old" or "ah, so maybe that's why I do that."  Arm yourself with knowledge, as they say.  There are a few passages I've particularly identified with.  I guess I can share some.  I marked a few as I was reading.  I do that when I read these books and find something I can relate to.  It makes me feel a little more stable and a little less alone in the weird world of my mind.  Here are just a few, all from The Myth of Sanity - Divided Consciousness and the Promise of Awareness by Martha Stout, Ph.D. which I'm reading now:

"Perhaps worst of all, as time passes we often feel that we are growing benumbed, that we have lost something - some element of vitality that used to be there.  Without talking about this very much with one another, we grow nostalgic for our own selves.  We try to remember the exuberance, and even the joy we used to feel in things.  And we cannot.  Mysteriously, and before we realize what is happening, our lives are transigured from places of imagination and hope into to-do lists, into day after day of just getting through it. Often we are able to envision only a long road of exhausting hurdes, that leads to somewhere we are no longer at all certain we even want to go.  Instead of having dreams, we merely protect ourselves. We expend our brief and precious life force in the practice of damage control.

And all because of traumatic events that occurred in the long-ago past, that ended in the long-ago past, and that, in actuality, threaten us with no present danger whatsoever.  How does this happen?  How do childhood and adolescent terrors that should have been over years ago manage to live on and make us crazy, and alienated from ourselves, in the present?

The answer, paradoxically, lies in a perfectly normal function of the mind known as dissociation, which is the universal human reaction to extreme fear or pain."
 -----
"Prior to recovery some trauma survivors study, buy and stockpile weapons against outside threats.  Sometimes a certain special weapon will be concealed and carried with the person, as routinely as someone else might wear a wristwatch.  The concealed mace or knife or gun seems to be a defense against a horrible, nameless danger that never materializes, but is constantly expected, a testimony to the monstrous threat the individual knew in the past, and was unable to defend herself against." 
-----
"In Julia's case, though she had no questioned her poverty of memory for the past, she had begun to suspect even before she came into therapy that she was losing time in the present.  Probably this is because there are more external reality checks on the present than there are on the past.  From other people - and from radio, television, the internet, date books - there are ongoing reminders of the present time of day and the day of the week.  Markers of time in the past are less immediate, and sooner or later most dates and chronologies for the past begin to feel amorphous to us all.  It is hardly amazing that one should have forgotten something that happened twenty years ago.  But if a person lets on that she has no memory of an event that occurred this very week, friends and associates are unlikely to let such a lapse go unremarked."

A Week

This week has been odd for me.  It's been a huge amalgamate of good and bad and I find that I'm having a difficult time figuring out how I feel about it all.  On the plus side my husband was promoted, I now have a working oven (the oven was fried during a lightening storm last week), my tire is losing air incredibly slowly which leads me to believe the screw that is in it must be a small one and perhaps they can simply patch it, my sister-in-law that is getting married in October called to ask if I could do a reading at her wedding.  I did one at my brother's and at my other sister-in-law's weddings, so I'm not worried about it and I'm counting that on the good side, because we can sometimes have a rather strained relationship.

On the much less than lovely side of the week, a Marine flight student passed away during survival water training, which as much as my husband likes to pretend doesn't affect him, does.  He becomes quiet and very stoic when he's upset about something and has been behaving that way for the past few days.  It's understandable, I may be scared if it didn't affect him.  I also had a death that affected me personally, as well.  It was a little odd, in fact, that on another friend's blog one of the contributors to the blog posted about a friend that had committed suicide when he was in high school.  That was Wednesday.  The next day, I received a call from a close friend of mine telling me that a friend of ours from high school had committed suicide.  It was a friend that we were all aware, even all those years ago, had a lot of problems and all of us who were her friends at one point or another tried to help her and she had pulled her life back together for awhile.  She moved away from home, became a chef, married, but then she ended up divorced and went to live with her family again in our small hometown, probably more depressed than ever.  She committed suicide by purposefully ODing in another friend's front yard.  It's tragic.  If you knew her, you may think even more so.  She had problems, yes, but is there anyone that doesn't?  I mean, really?  As a person though, she was one of the sweetest people I've ever known.  She was a very kind, empathetic and sensitive woman.  I hope where ever she is, she's happy now.  I often find that suicide is one of those strange phenomenons where even if you yourself have been that low before, still becomes hard to understand when it's someone else.  I know my mother never quite comprehended why my uncle took his own life and it always haunted her.  Wanting to be able to do something, to stop it, questioning if she could have, but living with those questions plaguing you is toxic.  Some things simply are and when you can't change them, obsessing over them only harms you.

I hope both Patrick and Beth are at peace now.  Maybe next week will be a happy one.  *crosses fingers*

For Beth, because she loved Journey.

Changes

I feel rather bad for those of you following my blog, because I must admit I am a rather awful blogger.  I can't come up with things to say every day and mostly I don't have much news or anything exciting to pass along or talk about.  So, my posts will probably be spotty and only one or two times a week.  I apologize.  If I become a more thrilling, news-filled, adventurous person you all will be the first to know.  I wouldn't hold my collective breathes were I you though. 

A Favorite

Years later and this still makes me smile.  I love Christopher Walken.

Back

Well, I'm back from a weekend away with the wee one, which can't really be classified as anything other than comically disastrous. Still fun though, thankfully.

The ride home was a bit rainy and windy, but it was off and on, so again, not too bad. Other than the half hr drive through the middle of nowhere Florida, where I really really had to go to the bathroom and there was honest-to-God nowhere to stop. I actually considered pulling over on the side of the road, in the rain and running into the woods (yes, I was that desperate), but then I remembered a rather unfortunate incident when I was ten and on a car trip with the fam. I had to go to the bathroom then too and after much begging and pleading convinced my father too pull over. He did, at which point I jumped out and over the guard rail, hunkered down to do my business and upon standing, with panties still around my ankles, mind you, slipped and rolled head over feet down the hill to the gulley below. It was a high point in my life, obviously. One that I recollected as I was debating doing just that and decided very quickly against that course of action! No worries, I made it. LMAO. I don't need depends just yet, people! Give me a few years!

Anyways, upon arriving back home, I found my husband with my very pathetic dog who had apparently been starving himself since I left Friday afternoon. My husband said he was refusing to eat anything and the food and water in his bowls was the same food and water I put in right before leaving. It's ok, my poor pup is no longer on in starvation mode. I went and sat down by his food bowl and hand fed him. He ate it all in a matter of minutes.

Going back to the car ride I was telling you about though, during it my daughter was asking questions about those less fortunate. She's been asking more and more questions like that recently and we were discussing it in detail and during the conversation, I explained again how if you have more than you should give more to those in need. She agreed, but the whole conversation kind of reminded me of this Phil Collins song, which is one of my all time favs.

Mich Has Been Thinking

So, I've been thinking. I know. *gasp* Thing is, I've been reading a few psychology and behavioral books lately and I now find myself wondering more and more about society, specifically western society.

I read a book recently titled The Sociopath Next Door and in it the psychologist discussed how the tendency to become a sociopath is merely 50% genetic, at the most. Then the other 50% is what exactly? Learned? It seems more than likely when you look at the fact that eastern countries, where the group as a whole is focused on more, have a lower case of sociopaths than those in the west. What are we doing to ourselves? And when did the focus shift from caring about each other, to caring solely about ourselves, or was it always this way? And I don't mean caring about your best friend or your husband or your child. I mean caring about others simply because they are human, strangers and loved ones alike.

For example, not to rip on my husband, because I do love him and he is a good person, but he's very resistant to helping others sometimes. Partially because he feels they should learn to help themselves, but also because it's not something he feels should be his problem. When we discuss the fact that I help out our elderly neighbors when they need it he seems a bit puzzled as to why I feel the need to help in the first place. He'll say things like, “why can't their kids do it?” or “they can hire someone.” Yet, if one of his friends needs help, he's always the first too offer assistance. We've helped move friends of his on various occasions, loaned money, allowed a few of them to crash on our couch when they needed to. Now, I know the difference is that he has an emotionally attachment to his friends, but shouldn't we all have an emotional attachment to each other simply because we're all people? Am I the only idealistic loon that feels this way?

Attack by Pancake

Tonight, since my husband is working late and it's just my daughter and I, I asked Nora (my daughter) what she wanted me to make her for dinner.  "Pancakes, Mama!" was her rather enthusiastic reply.  Shocking.  9/10 times she will request pancakes when I say she can have whatever she wants.  Maybe I should just start taking the pancake mix out and then asking her, just to be polite.

So, there I am, in my "Mama mode" making her favorite chocolate chip (the chocolate is a must) pancakes and sporting my rather ruffle-happy, cherry pie apron. And all was well, until I handed her the fresh out off the skillet breakfast treat and she forked a piece on the side (you know the little extras you get sometimes when some of the batter decides it doesn't want to join in with it's other pancake batter friends) and somehow launched the hot doughy morsel at my face.  Accidentally, mind you, which is why I wasn't having a fit when said pancake piece hit me in the mouth.  Now, that wouldn't be bad, just a rather hot mouth to pancake contact.  However, those chocolate chips I was talking about?  Yes, well, one raging, I swear lava-filled, piece stuck to the direct middle of my top lip and seared the crap out of it!  I now have a chocolate chip sized burn on my lip.  It's even puffed up a wee bit to let me know it's going to blister soon.

Oh and yes, before anyone asks, I did tell her it was hot before I gave it to her.  More than once!

Good Friends

So, I had a bit of a morning.  A long-time friend asked me to write a character affidavit for her in the custody battle she's having with her ex.  I chose not to do it.  Not because I don't love her or that's she's not a good friend, but because the father is actually the better parent of the two.  He's more responsible, more attentive and seems to put their son first all the time.  She's not a bad mother, she loves her son, I know she does, but she's not the most responsible individual in the world and sometimes her son ends up taking a backseat to whatever else is going on in her life.  It was hard.  I debated and I thought about it a lot and it took me a few days before I could actually work up the nerve to tell her no.  I'm not sure I did it as eloquently as I could have, but I did try.  She's my friend and I care about her, but kids have to come first, right?  I'm not sure she's going to be able to forgive me ever for saying no and I'll honestly be very surprised if she does, but I thought it was the right decision.  The right thing to do. Saying it sounds so simple doesn't it?  Do what you think is right.  It should be easy, second nature, in fact, but I've found in some situations, such as this, what is right is so damn difficult to do.  I lost a friend and I was crying and feeling downright miserable, when I emailed an online friend.  One that I tend to email frequently on those bad days, or when there's something I want to discuss, or when I need a pick-me-up or for no real reason at all really.  It helped, it always helps.  Then, three of us (two online friends and I) began to banter back and forth and tease one another.  We always tease and I was laughing.  Honest to go belly laughing.  I love that even when you're having a crap day there are those friends that can kind of pick you up and make you feel a bit more normal.  I have two online friends that I tend to email more than anyone else and I love them, they brighten my days with their wise ass remarks and peculiar humor.  It's strange to me, in a way, that two friends that know me better than most have never even met me, but I won't question it.  Good friends are hard to find and I'll take 'em any way they come!

Love Her

It Doesn't Last Forever

A friend of mine once told me that sometimes it helps to simply write it out.  I'm going to try it today.  I don't usually write on this blog, nor do I plan on continuing to do so, or telling anyone I wrote anything to begin with.  I can only think of a few people I would tell anyway, but releasing the darkness, just a little bit today, may help.  I couldn't run, it's storming out and I have my daughter to watch, so I've been cleaning.  Scrubbing away all the grit and grime where there really isn't much in the first place.  It's therapeutic though, in a way, sometimes I imagine I'm scrubbing away the sadness and chasing away the demons that occasionally decide to dominate my soul.  I fight it as best I can and the medication and counseling has helped, however, I've discovered that depression isn't exactly curable.  There's not a magic pill they can give you or wand they can wave to eradicate it entirely and it creeps up on you and suffocates the happy facade you've created.

I don't generally like to tell anyone about the bad days.  I know my husband sees them and my little girl too more than likely, although I try and shield her from it.  Every now and then I mention it to a few good friends, but I've found that saying I'm sad is often followed by a feeling of guilt.  Everyone has bad days and my friends have many too, some more than me.  I don't need to burden them with mine.  And what do I have to be sad about, really?  I have a husband that loves me, a beautiful daughter, a nice house that we rent, a dog, friends...the most painful struggles in my life thus far have passed and here I sit some days ensconced in a sorrow so thick it's difficult to simply breathe.

Tomorrow will come though, or maybe sooner a happy moment.  It doesn't last forever, the mantra of my day.

A Little Something I Enjoy