With this paper, I thee wed.

It’s amazing.  Truly amazing.  How one plain white sheet of paper with black letters can stir such emotions.

The Girl and I have decided to take the vows.  We’ve been talking for months.  The kids are on board, the family is on board…it’s two people, in love, deciding to commit to each other.

So we got an application for marriage from the State of Iowa.  Folks, let me tell you, when I held it in my hands, it didn’t burn me.  It wasn’t written in disappearing ink, it was simple and straight (pfftp!) forward. 

And it’s the same application for both hetero and same-sex marriages.  No fine print, no extra fees.  The same.  I dare say, it’s equal.  There’s not a separate set of rules for either sex, nor is there a special password or certain day of the week we can do it.  It’s the same.  Equal.

Here’s my thoughts, I will walk through the doors, I will say my vows to my Girl, in front of a judge or minister, whichever we decide and I will make those vows, to her, to my Lord….to myself.  To love and honor, to protect, to care for in sickness and health.  The same vows a man and a woman would take.  It’s equal.

I will walk out of those same doors and be the same person I was before the ceremony.  I won’t instantly grow horns or sprout a tail.  I won’t begin eating babies or sacrificing small animals.  I will still be me.  Only the other half of a whole.  An equal half.

And I don’t think that the sanctity of marriage will be in jeopardy or that 20,000 hetero marriages will suddenly fail because I married a girl.  

I don’t understand the hub-bub that this is going to cause.  The hand wringing, the wimpering.  It’s not going to infringe on anyone else’s right to wed, vote, bear arms, purchase alcohol, etc.  The world will not begin to spin counter-clockwise nor will the Earth fall off its axis. 

So for those that this is going to bother, I am sorry….wait, no, I’m not.  That’s on you.  That’s your judgement.  Not mine.  Not my God’s.  And your opinion will not matter to me one little bit.  Because at the end of the day, I will lay my head on my pillow.

With my wife next to me.

I belong.

Belongingness is defined as :

Belongingness is the human need to be an accepted member of a group. Whether it is family, friends, co-workers, or a sports team, humans have an inherent desire to belong and be an important part of something greater than themselves. The motive to belong is the need for “strong, stable relationships with other people.” This implies a relationship that is greater than simple acquaintance or familiarity. The need to belong is the need to give and receive affection from others.

I have decided that this year has been a year of finding my belongingness.   Where I belong.  Who I belong to.  Who I belong with.  It’s been an eye-opening experience and I wholeheartedly pray that everyone finds their belongingness.

I belong.

Now, I am right where I belong.  I have a sense of purpose that has been missing for years.  I feel lucky to go to work everyday.  I respect and admire my boss.  Tremendously.  I have a staff that has blossomed under my management which was simply an act of empowerment.  To let them do what they know…that we are in it together, to make it work… They look happier than months ago, they laugh and they know everyday how much I appreciate what they do and how well they do what they do.  My team rocks it and I wouldn’t trade a moment.  I have more to do everyday than I can do and I find that my day passes quickly and that in itself is a blessing.  I am good at what I do and that gives me a sense of pride in my job and in myself.  I belong.

I belong.

I found that I had become hard, angry person that took my position as “Family Control Freak” to the ‘inth degree.  My small family continuously looked to me to fix it, to vent, to lean on, to rescue.  And after a while, I got angry.  I got tired and I didn’t let go.  I realize now that this is the dynamic of this family.  I am the “go to” person.  I have been since I was 14.  And all it took was one statement from my sister…“You have been my mom and dad since I was 11….,” I realized at that moment, it was us.  And there was only the three of us left.  Or so I thought.  I let go of the anger, of the sense of helplessness that I felt every time my mom got sick.  I let go of the anger, the isolation I felt when my sister couldn’t help me.  I let go.  I simply realized that mom wasn’t doing it on purpose.  That she was more angry, more scared than I was.  I realized that my sister was doing the best she could with what she had.  And that she was more angry and more isolated than I was.  I let go.  I let them in, I told them how sorry I was, how I loved them.  And I found my place.  I found my sister, I found my mom…and the love that was always there…I also found that it wasn’t the three of us…there are aunts, uncles, grandchildren, “in-laws”, and soon to be in-laws, that are there to help me.  That these people are there as part of my genetic family.  That I have a place in a larger family than I saw.  And my, how I love this family.  They are mine.  I belong.

I belong.

A year ago, I changed my relationship with my kids.  I became a mommy again.  I changed the “friend” hat for the “parental” hat that I should have never taken off.  To show them that there were limits, that there were consequences to their actions.  That even in letting them learn from their mistakes, they will always have me in their corner. In the past year, I have seen their stability, their security, I have seen their smiles and heard their laughter.  I have seen a peace come over them that only comes with the knowledge that they are first.  I am more peaceful knowing they see me, really see me and the strength that comes with that.  I belong.

I belong.

I have found that I don’t need lots of friends.  I need good friends.  People in my corner that want to be around me.  Not for the parties I throw or the jokes I make.  Not to always be there to pick them up when they are down.  They want to be around me, just for me.  This year, I have learned the hard way that trust isn’t something you just “give away,” it’s something that is to be earned.  That people sometimes suck and they are selfish and have their best interest at heart.  It’s ok for them, but not for me.  That honesty is the best policy and that not everyone can handle it.  I learned that I have to be careful because my friends are an extension of me and speak volumes of who I am.  I love my friends, the new ones that have come into my life and the old ones (no, I am not calling you old, cutie!!!) that no matter what, loves me for me.  The person who is my soldier, my confidant, my soul sisters.  I have found that I fit this group of people and they fit me.  I can’t think of my life any longer without them…and without naming a single one of them…they will know who they are and they will smile.  Because I touch their lives as they touch mine.  I belong.

I belong.

I have loved.  I have lost.  I am not perfect nor am I innocent in any failed relationship in my past.  These days, these people have a fond place in my memories.  I choose to not dwell on where the fault lies, or who did what, who said what and the why of it all.  I simply honor my past, as it shaped me.  I move forward with this amazing woman.  This person that can read my thoughts and finish my sentences.  She shares my home, my children, my heart, my breath and my soul.  This person loves me for who I am.  For who I can be.  I have found support, trust, forgiveness, peace, integrity and a love that is beyond anything I have experienced.  I have found my place.  And it’s at the end of the day, in the crook of her arm.  I belong.

I belong.

It’s been a while since I have spoken loudly and proudly about my faith.  It’s not because it’s faded.  It’s simply because I quietly needed every ounce of it for myself.  I have had a terrifically rough 6 months and the end is in sight, but it’s not over.  I have put all my problems in His hands, asked that He hold me up and show me the path drawn for me.  At times, I don’t understand it, but I follow.  I lost my church home a year ago, it doesn’t feel as welcoming or warm as it once did and I ache for that sense of community, but in the times that I miss it most, I quietly talk to God, tell Him of my sense of loss and He brings me peace.  Someday, He will show me my new church family, it will feel right and it will be right where I need to be.  Until then, I will float on my faith.  Rejoice in His love for me, for my family, for those close to me.  I know that I am loved and forgiven.  That’s enough for now.  I belong.

I belong.

I have spent a lifetime putting everyone and everything before me.  Making sure that everyone else was happy, everyone else’s needs were met and that whatever they needed they had.  I took care of people who I now see, simply couldn’t or wouldn’t do the same for me.  That didn’t put me first.  That put their needs in front of mine and disguised is as their sense of concern “for me.”  I put that down a year ago.  I put me right where I need to be.  I find that I need to be quiet, I need to be sad, I need to be happy, manic, small, angry….I need to be human.  And anything more than that, well…

I belong to me.

Should be Un-Necessary Rules.

Well, we have hit a new low.  It does seem however, that it’s become necessary.  Rules seem to make things so much easier.  So I submit, the Rules for Public Potty Breaks.

  1. It’s a public restroom.  Remember that.  With that being said…you need to treat folks coming and going with a bit of respect and a lot of modesty. 
  2. If your “cube” mate happens to break wind while pottying – you don’t have to “excuse” them, “bless” them or snicker.  It’s a private stall for a reason.  If you two were sharing a stall, then you could say something…otherwise, zip it.  Folks fart…sometimes, it’s like a pressure valve…necessary to relieve…not necessary to mock.
  3. If you are on your phone when you walk INTO the bathroom….GET OFF THE PHONE upon entering.  Not everyone on the other end of the phone needs to hear anything about what you or your neighbor are doing.  Plus the acoustics are off…
  4. If you are NOT on your phone, don’t answer it when it rings.  It’s awkward trying to explain what you are doing and again…your neighbor may have performance anxiety and you are disturbing their mojo.
  5. To the person in the stall…if someone starts speaking, don’t answer unless called by name and even then, it’s a, er, crapshoot…they may have answered the phone and then you look like a tool, talking to someone who isn’t talking back. 
  6. When you walk in alone, and you seen someone you may know…make eye contact, say hello and drop it.  If they are going into a stall as you are going out…say hello and drop it.  Do not engage in a conversation with this person.  There are phones, e-mail and other public places you may pick up where you left off.  If they have issues they are dealing with (i.e. the trots) or simply need to be quick, you are slowing them down…and they are not gonna be happy upon exiting.
  7. If you have small children – for the love of all things holy…teach them the following:
    (a) how to NOT lock themselves in the stall.  If they are not old enough to understand the essentials of public bathrooms…go with them!
    (b) if they do get themselves locked in, teach them not to panic.  And scream.  Please God, no screaming.
    (c) if they do lock themselves in, teach them to crawl out under THE DOOR.  not the stall next to them.
    (d) teach them to be quiet…as opposed to “Mommy, their potty stinks!” or “Mommy, they sure are taking a long time!” or “Mommy, are they going number two?”  yeah…none of this is fun for any of us.  And I can wait you out…(true story, this happened to a friend and she walked back in the office in tears.  I however, couldn’t stop laughing…yep…I am THAT friend.)
  8. Before you leave your stall…put your clothes back on.  Don’t walk out, buttoning, adjusting, tugging or pulling…you need a mirror?  just guess. 
  9. Don’t walk in to a full public restroom and begin knocking on the stall doors thinking you know who is in it.  You may not and when I walk out and give you stink eye…don’t hug me and apologize…or better yet…go ‘head…I haven’t washed my hands yet and now…they are on your back…you’re welcome.  dick….
  10. You would think that this one would not need to be written…when you are done…WASH YOUR HANDS.  Don’t just run your hands under the water.  Apply some soap and rub your palms together vigorously.  You aren’t made of sugar, you won’t melt.  It’s gross.  Just help us all out.

I am thinking that maybe, just maybe…if we all follow these rules…the world will be a better place…or at least you can have some peace and quiet. 

Lest you have a scene like this hoisted upon you…(not the Irish assassin…but the Tom Arnold-y type person!)

Hey…that’s weird.

I have seen some really weird shit lately.  And because stupid and weird are like my air and water, I love it!  Just to point out to folks…

1)  To the lady in the grocery store in the lacy “thing”…it’s a grocery store, not a strip club.  We don’t need to see the girl bits and those are not the melons anyone wants to squeeze.  At least not at my Neighborhood Market and not at 8:00 on a Wednesday night.  Maybe its just me, but methinks the looks and snickers you got, were not meant in a complimentary way…oh! and maybe you should lay OFF the snickers…that lacy “thing” ain’t doing you ANY favors…

2) To the mommy that let her kid pee in the parking lot at my job…that car next to you, is MINE.  We have a potty inside, you are welcome to use it, it’s in the lobby…it’s cleaned everyday…she’s welcome to it.  Now I gotta step in 6 year-old tinkle to get in my car…thanks for that!

3) To the motorcyclist that is riding the white lines down the tollway in rush hour traffic.  You aren’t a bad ass…you have on white socks and black shoes.  You are an idiot.  Knock that shit off…you are gonna pull up on someone with strung out reflexes and full coverage…it won’t end well…stay in your lane.

4) To the guy in the car painted to look like a giant Nutter Butter…well done.  I tried to keep up with you to see if you had free samples…slow down.

5) To the guy behind me this morning heading for the freeway…the Jason mask hanging from the rear view mirror…freaks my ever-loving shit out!!!!  I can’t see you in the dark, behind the wheel of the car, all I can see in my rearview mirror….you guessed it…Jason mask.  Creepy.

I haven’t seen a lot of stupid or weird lately, made me feel good to have some almost everyday this past week.  It makes me feel like the universe is spinning in the correct direction again.  I may even venture to a Wal Mart and test my luck…

Wish me weird…

What Could Have Been…

Not to throw too many daggers today, not to be all political-like…but I was reading Vanity Fair, Todd Purdham’s article “The Man Who Never Was.” and this excerpt hit me between the eyes:

“At one point last summer, J. D. Hayworth said the country was better off with Obama as president than it would have been with an unreliably conservative McCain. McCain took great umbrage, but it’s an interesting thought experiment to imagine what the first two years of a McCain-Palin partnership in the White House might have produced. There would probably have been no stimulus bill, and the country’s economic condition would be no better (and probably worse). General Motors and Chrysler would have been allowed to go bankrupt rather than helped to emerge into a state of healthiness, as they may well be doing. There would have been no significant new regulation of the financial industry. The Bush tax cuts for those Americans with the highest incomes—something McCain had opposed before reversing himself—would have been extended. There would have been only modest health-insurance reform, at best—McCain’s proposals were Republican boilerplate and meant for use in the campaign, never a serious program. Perhaps there would have been greater progress on immigration, though McCain had already abandoned that issue, and it’s easier to imagine his taking the more nativist stance he has since adopted. There would be no Supreme Court justices Kagan and Sotomayor, but there would likely be two more conservative justices, and the days of Roe v. Wade would be numbered. There would be no troop drawdown in Iraq. The United States might well have bombed or blockaded Iran in response to that country’s flawed election last year, or in response to its nuclear program. There would have been serial feuds between aides to the president and vice president, but the fact that Vice President Palin had an independent power base, far larger and more enthusiastic than McCain’s own, would have limited what President McCain could do about it. The “Ground Zero mosque” dispute would probably have arisen anyway, and McCain might have been hard put to do anything but side with the opponents. The Palin-family soap opera would now be daily fodder for the national press rather than mainly the tabloids. Like Obama, President McCain would probably have been asked to give the commencement address at Arizona State University. Unlike Obama, he would probably have been awarded an honorary degree.”

I learned long ago that the grass is NEVER greener on the other side. 

Play Fair.

Folks, there are rules.  I have spoken of these.  Rules for work attire.  Rules for dealing with the Quiet Quotient of Stephanie.  Rules of Open Toe Shoes.  Rules of Concert Going.  The world is a better place with rules. 

I have now formulated Rules of Attending the State Fair.

See…it was the season of State Fair.  And every year, we wait, with bated breath to see what the Next Big Fried Thing will be.  Will it be Fried Snickers?  Why, of course.  Fried Butter?  You betcha!  Fried Cobb Salad?  Right over here!!!  This year…Fried Frito Pie washed down with Fried Beer.

Blech.  My “sensitive” system can’t handle that much fried anything.  I know, I know…as a born Texan, you would think I am all deep-fried and smothered in gravy…but my tummy is….sensitive.  Damn.it.

So I have been twice this year.  Opening day with my Girl and two of her buddies.  And then closing day with the son and my Girl.  The Daughter was supposed to join, but she overslept and well, didn’t call until we were on the Midway.  *sigh*

But there’s always next year.  And there’s always something else to be fried.

I say this, because I had a great day.  The weather was PERFECT and there were lots of people to watch and now, to mock. 

I submit the Rules of Fair Going…

  1. Wear comfortable shoes.  Seriously.  You are gonna walk 500 miles (da,da lat  da, da,da lat  da,….you’re welcome) so the more sensible and sturdy they are, the less you are gonna limp and groan…think orthorpedic.  Think white.  Leave the hooker heels at home. 
  2. While on the subject of hooker attire (not to offend the working folk that read this!  they do. I betcha) but seriously…more is better when strolling the Midway.  There are kids for God’s sake.  Cover them, cover it, cover THAT…just COVER IT UP.  I don’t need to know you have a third nipple or if you are wearing underwear.  I choose to leave that to my imagination.  Boobs are not meant for the Fair.  When Big  Tex says “Howdy folks!” it’s not code for “Show me your tits!”
  3. On the other end…if you are wearing pants, first, THANK you and second…make sure they fit.  I have seen the “Pants on the Floor” one too many times this year.  If they are that baggy, eat something.  A burger, ice cream, frosting….something.  Until you fatten up try this…either buy clothes that fit or buy a belt. 
  4. And in opposition of the loose baggy clothing, ladies…leggings are not meant to be worn by fat chicks.  As a fat chick I can say this.  It’s just obscene.  If I can see a tan line through your pants, they are too tight.  If you have to peel them off, they are too tight.  You aren’t a sausage…don’t look like one.
  5. Along the same line, if you aren’t sure if you should wear that midriff baring shirt.  If you are worried about your “muffin top”….DON’T wear it.  I have seen more bellies oozing out of shirts of women that, while overly confident in their appearance, should never wear anything less than a full smock. 
  6. And to the pretty, precious “boy” in the hot pink pants, the hot pink shirt and hot pink boa…Bobby Trendy called and he wants his image back.  You didn’t have to act a fool to get attention…those pants did it for you.  Trust me.
  7. Now, grooming.  Specifically, BATHING…to the smelly guy on the Pirate Ship next to me…you have B.O.  Not just a mild case of it…but a “I think I am gonna puke!” case of it.  Especially when you put your arm behind me on the ride.  Although I appreciated the support…seriously…you stink!  Say it with me…Body Wash.  Followed by Deodorant.  They are not your enemy…
  8. If you are too lazy or just too drunk to walk around the fair, stay home.  The scooters are there for folks that need them.  Not for you because you just can’t be bother to walk or my favorite…you can’t put the Budweiser down.  There are drunk driving laws…surely they are in effect for the fair…just imagine that on your rap sheet…DUI by scooter.  At State Fair. 
  9. Along the same lines, folks, don’t start walking in front of me, slow down or even stop in the middle of the path.  I am on a mission…I need a corny dog and you are in the wrong lane.  Move over…
  10. Texting isn’t allowed at the fair unless you have pulled to the side of the road and are no longer in front of me, fucking up my flow.  I gots corny dogs to eat and your OMG!  LOL!  TTFN!  isn’t helping this at all.  In fact, I will get around you, give you stink eye and blog about you later.
  11. Carnival barker guy…no, you don’t get to guess my weight.  It’s a lot.  Trust me.  And calling me out to have me step on your industrial scale isn’t gonna endear you to me.  Ever.  So let’s just agree to disagree and you go mess with the 7-year-old next to me…
  12. Take a second mortgage out on your home to afford the turkey leg.  It was the last thing we bought this year and the Boy did his level best to finish it…but it was as big as he was.  He gave it his all…until he broke out in meat sweats.  The L-tryptophan got a hold of him on the way home and he was comatose until we hit the driveway.
  13. Take a bag for all the useless shit you are going to buy.  And don’t buy it until the end of the day.   There isn’t any need to drag that 14 piece cookware set around and buy it a ride on the Merry Go Round. 
  14. Don’t put your kid on a leash.  It pisses me off.  If you can’t control them…leave them at home with a sitter.  But its humiliating and when you get older, they will remember it…be warned.
  15. Don’t fight with your boyfriend/girlfriend/husband/wife/mother/father/sister/brother/child in front of everyone.  All you are doing is being the example of inbreeding.  Put on your manners and leave the dirty laundry at home. 

Oh….I can’t wait for next year!!!!

So, for now, my childhood friend, I say to you…I will miss you…Come back real soon!

Somedays, it doesn’t pay…

You know, there are days, then there are days

Today, it’s one of those days.

See, mom is back in the hospital.  Yep, fourth trip in 30 days.  Word to the wise, MRSA is not something you screw with.  It’s dark and dangerous and extremely scary.  Mom contracted it during a surgery 8 years ago and the infection raged to such an extent, we almost lost her…it’s not fun…

So last Sunday, mom calls me, says she doesn’t feel right, something is wrong and she’s scared.  But her friend “Ken” is going to take her to the ER.  I call Ken to confirm and find that this is not the case.  My Girl and I rearrange the schedule of the day and go pick her up. 

It’s bad.  We stay with her…me going dark again…and my girl, keeping me up, asking questions and taking care of me and my mom.  But mom is safe, they are caring for her and it’s gonna get better…

So I update Ken, tell him what’s going on.  We lament that I am doing this, that I don’t have the help I need and if I do need anything from him, to simply call. 

After a terse conversation with the sister, where we finally, FINALLY make a breakthrough in all things related to family, I go to bed.  Exhausted…emotionally and physically.  I give up…the universe has won this round.

Fast forward to the end of the week and I get a text from my sis and let me tell you, this chick is my hero…not only did my feelings, my words hit the spot they were supposed to, she listened and reacted…just like a sister is supposed to.  It’s the first time in a long time, we weren’t fighting over who was supposed to do what, who said what….it was nice.  She stepped up, took things on that I normally do and just helped….me….how the hell do I adjust to that??!!?!?!?

I love where me and the sister are at this very moment.  (Someone, print this sentence, so when I say otherwise, you can shove this up my nose!!!)

Fast forward twenty-four more hours to today…

Once we get up and moving around we decide than instead of going to the hospital FIRST, we are going to get all of our chores done, get things taken care of that are necessary and then go visit with mom, without a list of “chores” hanging over our head, so we can just sit and enjoy our visit.

So we get everything done that we need to…and I get a call from Ken…mom needs some things taken care of, just wanted to give me a heads up, don’t shoot the messenger type thing…we laugh, I tell him it’s already in the plans and we hang up.  A quite pleasant conversation.  At least in my mind!!!

It’s early evening, we are at the hospital visiting, having a good time.  Mom feels good, is getting better, stronger and is clear of infection!!!  So we are relaxed, laughing and getting ready to leave when I get this text message (these are word for word, spelling mistakes and all):

So Ken starts with:

“Enuf already it is time for u and your sister (name withheld) to get ur shit together ur her (name withheld) kids and as such need to step up to the plate.  I am her friend but have my own head shit and mom to. Deal with that’s why I am disabled.  So quit ur whining and do ur job!”

I reply:

“What is this?  We are here now.  Been here.  Got clothes.  Sister is taking care of the laundry.  You don’t need to talk to me like this.  Ever.  I handle more of her shit than you will ever know about.”

Oh, no, Ken’s not done:

“Ira about time first there this week?”

To which I respond:

“Ken, I am not sure why you feel the need to judge anything I do.  I do plenty.  If you have nothing constructive to say to me, then don’t speak to me.”

Think he’s done?  Oh, no:

“Because u girls don’t usually follow through and as ur mothers friend I am in the middle.  Delivering laundry when stated coming when u say etc. today a late exception.  But someone had to call u.  Gold bugs”  “Sorry goodnight”

Well, now you have done it…cause I am not taking this shit!:

“Again, I am her daughter and my job is to care for her and I do but not at the expense of my home or my family.  Be her friend.  Stay out of the middle of things you don’t understand and out of my relationship with my mother and my sister.”  “Goodnight”

Oh….not yet:

“hmmm wow u would have loved for me or anyone else to assume the responsiblity of transporting ur mom to the hospital last Sunday that’s the problem with u an d sister u can’t balance family which will always include parents.  At it does in most fmaily units why u would thnk otherwise is disgusting.”

Stick a fork in me Chuck…I am done:

“Sweet dreams.  Goodnight.  Don’t text me again.  Period.  I won’t contact you again.”

Now, let me make it clear…I am there for every major surgery my mother has.  It’s our ritual.  I am the last face she sees before she goes back; I walk with her on the gurney as far as they let me.  I say a simple sentence to her that is between us and she hands me her glasses.  I sit and wait, all day if necessary and I am the first face she sees when she comes out of recovery.  Every surgery.  It’s been this way since the first knee surgery in 1994.  Every surgery.

Let me make it clear, I am my mother’s executor.  I hold her medical power of attorney.  I hold her financial power of attorney.  Her doctors know who I am and will speak to me on her behalf.  My mothers best care is PARAMOUNT to me.  To my sister…believe it or not…we love her.  We want her healthy and to have a long life.  I say this so you will understand…this is MY family. 

When I say I will not put her ahead of my family, I am stating my children.  I know where she is, that she is being cared for and if something happened…they know to call me.  If they can’t reach me, they have My Girl and my sister’s number and to start blowing up every number they have.  One of us will be there.

I have moved my mother in with me to convalescence.  Slept on a couch so she can have my bed…taken care of her when she couldn’t take care of herself.  In fact, six years ago, I built out  an extra bedroom in my home so she had a place to stay.  For 10 months! 

Further…I have put family trips, outings, quiet time, homework and dinners on hold to rush her to ER’s, doctor’s appointments, etc.  I have taken more time off from work for follow-up appointments than I have for vacations…and all done because she is my mom.  As the oldest, it was my job.

I didn’t ask Ken to take mom to the ER.  EVER…I asked if he was.  That was all. 

We were SHOCKED, mother included, when I got these texts tonight.  In fact, mom called me an hour ago just to tell me she was sorry.  That she was embarrassed and worried that I was upset.  I assured her that it wasn’t her.  To not be embarrassed and I had let it roll off.  That I would blog about it, write it down and let it go…(this seems to be my therapy…your check is in the mail doc!)

See, how I see it is, it doesn’t pay to have a friend speak for someone.  Ken put words in my mom’s mouth.  “Spoke” for her…only, when you do that…make sure the person you are speaking for, actually knows you are doing it.  Otherwise, you look like a tool.

Yes Ken, you look like a tool.  Or douchebag…just so you understand fully…it was a jerk move.

It would be different if this was the first time Ken did this.  He’s done this several times, put his foot and his mouth into business where it didn’t belong.  In my life.  Once, telling folks I was battling cancer (I wasn’t, never was, THANK GOD), another almost cost a friend her position in our church by telling a story that apparently I had told him (nevermind I hadn’t spoken to him or seen him in 6 months!) and another to blast me on Facebook about something he was 1,000,000,000% wrong about. 

The obsession with being a douchebag in my universe is scary and leaves me wondering what in the hell I have EVER done to him for him to be fixated on causing drama in my life…to cause problems when before he opened his mouth there were no problems. 

Each time, I have called him out, told him to quit gossiping and to leave his bullshit at home.  Each time, he has apologized and I forgave him…each time, I stayed further and further away from him.  At this point, I see him maybe 3 times a year…and those times are only at my mom’s and by sheer accident! 

See, now, it’s not gonna pay; cause when you decide to pick the phone up, to call and check on her…it’s best that you call someone else.

My sister and I…we don’t need you and your help.

It’s been great in my world lately.  All shiny and bright.  Mom is getting better everyday and that makes me happier with each positive report.  I can’t wait until she is up and around and spoiling the grandchildren again. 

My Girl and kids are awesome on toast.  Fair day tomorrow and we are meeting up with the sister, the niece and the boyfriend…it’s gonna be fun.

The job rocks…the Boy is excelling at school and the Daughter is back in college…my faith cup is overflowing and I am grateful and blessed by Him and praise Him with every thought that passes through my mind.  I am on the path that leads me where I am supposed to be and I am finally, FINALLY, enjoying the scenery as I pass it…I see this bullshit tonight as a mere puddle on my journey…one that is behind me and put down.

someone pinch me…I must be dreaming!!!

My One.

Itsa mushy kind of night, I think I am gonna just burst with happy and love…so, try to control your gag reflex and let me just bask in the glow…if you need, feel free to join in…not my glow, perse….go find your own…it’s soooooo worth it!!!

I always say there is One out there for everyone.  You can THINK you found your One…and you can be ok…for a while…then you start to just know, they aren’t your One.

Then you think, “uh…if this isn’t my One, then who’s One do I have?”

hmmm….think ’bout it…

I have lived a good life.  I have had my share of ups and downs.  I don’t regret anything in my life, my history is teaching me about my future.  If I had to undo any of it…I don’t think I would be here now.  I had two incredible relationships before my One took my breath away…one made me a mother (oh, shut it…I am sure I am called a “mother-…” from both…) and the other made me strong enough to face who I was.  I wouldn’t be here without them and I don’t begrudge either of them all they deserve.  And that statement; soooooo very different for each of them!!! teehee

I am a very lucky lady…

See…I met my One 28 years ago, only, then….I didn’t know it. 

I met her when I was twelve.  I was awkward and she had a mullet.  To be fair, I did too and I had braces and large plastic glasses that had my zodiac sign screwed in the corner of them.  (SHUT it…it was the style!!!)

We have circled each other throughout our lives, tied together by a mother that was a hairdresser and our love of  “bi-level” haircuts.  As I got older, I saw her on very random occasions….driving down the street, at restaurants….random…and after I would leave her, she would stay on my mind for a bit.  But she was always my mom’s cute friend…never once did she cross my mind as my One.

We lived our lives…separately, but with the exception of the time she was halfway across the world (think Marshall Islands) she lived within 10 minutes of me.  Sometimes, within blocks.  We have only realized in our cohabitation that we shared so much more than we ever thought…we shared a pediatrician as children!  Yes, we sat in the same waiting room, maybe playing together when we were toddlers, sharing snot and blocks.  We went to the same middle school and for 6 weeks the same high school. 

I think our destiny was drawn before we drew breath. 

Now, I have this incredible person in my life.  She doesn’t back down, she doesn’t waver.  She is fiercely protective of me, of the kids, of her friends and her family.  She lives life based in reality, in fact….there isn’t any room to question her motives, her words…she is who and what she says she is.

And she simply expects the same from me. 

This love, this thing we found was not expected, it wasn’t something that was planned…but it was inevitable.  Like I have said before….it was like trying to stop a freight train with our bare hands. 

I find that everyday, I count the moments until I am around her again.  That when I see her number pop up on my phone, my heart skips a beat.  That I smile more and the laughter is non-stop.  She makes me shine. 

My kids, she loves them as if they were her own…yet she is respectful of the Respondent’s role in their lives and encourages respect and integrity with both of them.  She is driven to make things better for both of them, to instill them with faith in themselves and the will to see the good in others.  She is, for lack of any other word, a mother…

This girl, my One, fills my heart.  She touches my soul and brings me comfort and peace. 

It may have taken 28 years to find my One…but it was worth the wait…

Sad and pathetic, yet not suprising…


I don’t know how to feel about this, other than amused.  Other than sad…for them.  They missed their mark….and yet, I choose to share their “joy” with the world.  No sense in hiding it….

My ex-best friend, the one who “dumped” me on Facebook…is now dating  my ex-girlfriend.  Yup….classy, right?

It doesn’t bother me in the sense that I am heart hurt.  It bothers me in the sense that it’s bullshit.  It’s childish. 

I think I am more bothered by the classless best friend than the ex-girlfriend.  Because in that sense, I moved on long ago.  I am happy and my life is blessed and good.  Gets better every day.

But with the “friend”…you know, the one I laughed with, the one I told my secrets to, yeah, her…well, she apparently, wanted to be me. 

I find this cowardly that I had to hear about it from others.  That neither of them had the balls to reach out and at least tell me.  Not the ex-girlfriend, but the friend…yeah…cause she’s all about loyalty and honesty.

I have found in the past few weeks that this “friend” has told so many people so many different stories about so many different things, she should write fiction.  Or date the Beast…oh, wait! she can’t…she’s dating my ex. 

Yeah…it actually amuses me. 

OK, it pisses me off.  Because I let this friend in.  I trusted her and I loved her.  And she hurt me. 

But she is decidedly not me. 

Hope they enjoy leftovers…


I am in a place where I realize that the people that mean the most to me, are right here with me.  Even distance doesn’t matter, because they are in my heart.

In this place, there is joy, there is love, there is respect and honor.  And no room for hurt. 

I have finally, FINALLY, let go of the things and people that drag me down, that make me hurt.  These things have no place in my life, in my joy, in my love.  I don’t honor or respect these people.  And the knowledge of being better off without them, brings me peace.

I am in a place, where my family comes first.  Either my family by chance or by choice, they come first.  I may not talk to my sister or my bestie everyday, but they are in my heart and in my thoughts with every moment.  My kids may frustrate me and drive me to distraction, but I now enjoy the ride with them.  My Girl has my heart, she touches my soul and I firmly believe I spent 28 years finding this….thing….I can’t describe it, only roll in it.

I am in a place where I have learned to love my imperfections, they give me character.  To love that I won’t be what or who I was, my history is my story.  To love that I am loyal and fiercely protective of those who return the favor.  And would walk through fire for those who would do the same…

I am in a most awesome place and I wouldn’t change a single thing about it for anything.

I found my bliss.