Pickles and Peanut Butter

First off where have I been lately? I was watching one of those "I Love The New Millennium" shows the other day when they said something about McDonald's having pancakes with syrup in the middle of them. Gross, but not the point. Apparently these things have been around since 2005. Now, I rarely go to McDonald's, but I managed to miss every one of their commercials for the last three years. It's okay being as my Not-better-half tells me they are highly annoying. Anyway I just thought that was funny.
On to the pickles and the peanut butter. Yesterday we went on a picnic with Mike's parents. Boy was I lucky to be nauseous and save my sandwich for later, for I would have missed out on what I thought was an interesting take on cuisine, and an entertaining conversation. So when I do decide that it is cool enough outside I take a giant bite out of said sandwich. "Oh God, it's miracle whip". I am so lucky that I didn't do that in front of his dad because he did his best. Besides it's not the guys fault he prefers sugary mayonnaise type stuff. This sets us off on a conversation of foods that he ate growing up, that I had never fathomed putting together. He ate things like "finger sandwiches", which are so not what you are thinking right now. They consist of hot dogs cut in half so it looks like you are eating a sandwich of actual fingers. He also likes to mix his tuna and egg salad sandwiches, which aren't complete without a healthy spreading of butter on the bread first. Then he moves on to talk about his school time lunches when prepared by his father. Most of the time it were made of bologna, mustard and butter, ewwww. I tell him about feeling like a jack ass last week when our friend Jenny said she was going home to make macaroni and cheese with tuna in it, and I was dumbfounded by the idea. I say something stupid like I'd never even thought of that. Way to show that college education Lynn. And he says it's southern poor food as he laughs. Oh well it's not like he knows what campechanas or bunuelos are so there. But then he totally grosses me out completely when he says his father likes to eat peanut butter and pickle sandwiches. Ewwwwww! Apparently these things are new to only me, so I must have been under a rock.
P.S. What is lima bean casserole?
*smiles*

Gramps, Daddy, and Phoenix

Yesterday we went on a picnic with Mike's parents. It was an all around strange and uncomfortable day. But there was a funny picture to be gained that I thought I would share. I would just like to say that Mike is not drunk, his dad is not scared, and I am not sure why all of them are leaning to the left on a perfectly level surface. Enjoy!

All Apologies

I came to the shocking realization the other night that I am letting other people's piss poor attitudes change me. I took a look at my last few blogs and thought Geez these are really about negativity. The thing is though, most of the time it is about other people being negative and how it affects me, rather than me just waking up angry. I am a happy person, with a beautiful child, and I even have a Not-better-half, to help me raise him. I have a best friend who deals with all of thiese things with me without a blink, even though she has her fair share and then some of people who do not so kosher things to her too. I daily thank God, that she's there, because a lot of the time it takes her looking from the outside in, to point out the humor in ALL situations. And I have her husband who lends her ear to me daily, and never complains about the hours I keep her on the phone. Even when he doesn't understand how we could start a conversation about fishing poles and end it on the retard we call the president. I have two parents who love me in their own weird way. She the stoic, stayed one, and him, well he's a horse of a different color! I have a lot of people that I love, and who love me. My life is filled with humor and love, and that is what this blog is about. Not hatred. I was a horribly angry child and teenager, and my early twenties were not all sunshine and daisies either. But I have spent a very long time trying to get myself right with God, turn the other cheek, and let things roll of my back. As my mother says "Be the Duck Lynn, be the duck, watch the water roll right off". It took me a long time to be positive and learn how to give the things that I cannot change to God. But as of late, I forgot that along the way. I spent all my time dwelling on the wrongs that have been done to me and not the rights. Not the things that I do have. So I want to apologize for loosing sight of things for a minute. In with the good, out with the bad. I can't promise there won't be the occasional "Are you f*ing kidding me blog", after all I am human. But it will be a lot more positive from here on out.

Are you F-ing Kidding Me

I would like to preface this post with the fact that I tried very hard to like this person, but enough is enough. As everybody knows my family always has a butt load of drama surrounding them. I try my best to stay out of it, but well, you have to get involved when someone starts throwing your name out there. So Mike's dad calls and asks me about going to dinner on Wednesday. I've spent all week trying to avoid seeing them on that day because my parents are coming to visit, and frankly I am not going to allow her to act stupid in front of them. Furthermore, I will not hold my father back when she shoves her foot in her mouth. So the best thing for all parties involved, especially my son, is to avoid the two of them being in the same vicinity right? Well it just so happens that I am trying to deal with said family drama and don't get a chance to run it by Mike yet. So of course within 20 minutes his dad calls back to ask AGAIN about dinner on Wednesday. So I apologize for not talking to Mike yet as I have this junk going on currently. As I am explaining the story I hear in the background : "I AM NOT AN IDIOT! I KNOW WHEN TO KEEP MY MOUTH SHUT!!!". Which is funny in itself, because as A. pointed out, if that were true, then why is she talking? I needed the laugh. Anyway, I ask him what she knows when to keep her mouth shut about and why is she an idiot? He says something like oh no we are talking about something else, I gotta go, and promptly hangs up.
Now in the grand scheme of things this is not a big deal. But for three years I have been at the wrong end of her barbs, and I am over it. For example a month ago I had to sit her and listen as she laughed about how her friends and her like to go out to eat at "Beaneries", other wise known as Mexican Restaurants. How my brother's illness is a sign of his immorality. How it's a good thing he can't infect anybody else now. How I am a bad mother. How I am a hypocrite because I drink Pepsi and don't allow my 22 month old to do so. The list goes on and on. My question is how much is too much. She's talked shit about my parents, she's talked shit about me. She's put me down in front of my child, and yet I am still asked to be silent. She is draining the life from me, and killing my relationship. And I cannot make him see it. I am truly sorry that I feel this way about his mother. But I really tried, and I cannot teach my son to let people put him down and keep mum. There is nothing wrong with him, he is perfect in every way. I refuse to let her break him down like she did her poor children, and like she's trying to do to me. How do I make him understand that I feel abandoned. I told him last night in no uncertain terms that I have decided that her being around me or Phoenix is not condusive to his development. I am sorry, do what you will to me, but you won't ruin my child.

The End.

I thought stupid was bad

Life has been hectic, and Phoenix is adding to his lexicon daily. Unfortunately for me yesterday's words were all bad. I got a nice clear "Damn it" followed quickly by an F bomb. Oh sh*t. And to add to the misfortune, Mike's mother came over and I'd bet dollars to doughnuts she was coaxing it out of him. As when he went to sit over there he found great joy in repeating it to her delight. "Guess what Phoenix just said for me"? Well gee thanks for encouraging it. The rest of the visit turned out to be just as pleasant, what with the arrival right at dinner time, and my child refusing to eat, because he was too busy playing with his new book from his normally absentee grandmother. More on that later. Along with his new curse words he had suddenly developed a fear of the bath tub, but not the swimming pool. And has learned how to throw a complete tantrum. Ugh.

Dude, my kid just said Google

So last week when I happily texted A. with "Dude, my kid just said Google", two things happened. One I realized we say the word Google way to much around here. And two, how many more interesting things were going to come out of his mouth so quickly. The week has been peppered with interesting things like, "What does Daddy say Phoenix"? He replies "No". I thought it was hilarious, Mike did not. Today however, I got my fair share. We woke up this morning and mommy diligently made eggs and accoutremon. Phoenix has started this lovely new trait which involves throwing the food over the side of the high chair to let me know he is finished. Only today he just decided to pick up bits of food one by one, and drop them over the side right from the beginning. I was washing dishes and turned around and said, "Oh really"?. To my surprise, the little darling looked right up at me and said, "Really." Okay this is a little amusing I suppose. We all knew he was going to have a bit of a ornery streak. But then two hours later when he said something that sounded just like "You're stupid", I thought it was just my ears. So I ask him if he just called me stupid. "You are" was the reply. At first I tried to fool myself and make up something stupid that he must have really said. NO. Mike heard the whole dialog and confirmed that my child had in fact just called me stupid.

Just a little foot note, the little monkey also decided to turn around and put his butt out when asked for a kiss not too long ago. Maybe it will be a one time thing. But I doubt it, as every one thought it was hilarious, and he is a little ham.

Enough with the drama already

In the past few days I've fought with the water company, made corsages that where "too much", wrangled a wiggle worm, had a cousin in the hospital, and offered to take in a three year old, if it comes to that. I spent most of yesterday off and on crying about that poor baby, and feeling sick to my stomach that his worthless mother is my cousin. And felt ashamed. I argued with my mother about politics, I got made fun of because I don't want to support big corporations ruling the world. I've been called an extremist, and a wetback. I've managed to piss off a town by singing along with my headphones while in public. My not-better-half sided with someone who I was trying to defend him against. My son seems to be really averse to the idea of potty training. Oh well. I've been fighting the good fight I suppose, but damn it, if I'm not tired. At least I have a kindred spirit, or as she says, "we have to be from the same gene pool". Lately I have dominated the first half hour or so of conversation, and let me tell you, I am not relishing that fact. While I am glad to have her not be the one with the drama of the day, I am still sad because, well, she still hears my drama. But at the same time, she is a master of the subtle art of subject changing. No matter what it is, there is a thread there that can be seamlessly woven into something else. Ah friendship, it is a beautiful thing. Saver of sanity, that one.

Sisyphus and Atlas

If Sisyphus and Atlas had a collision and had their respective plights mixed they would then become my best friend and I. You see Sisyphus was doomed to forever push a boulder up a hill only to have it roll back to the bottom, and Atlas carried the world on his shoulders. Why do I make this comparison you might be asking. And oh boy am I about to tell you. For as long as we've been friends, roughly 20 years, we have been the same two people. We are the friends that everybody else flakes on when they find something better to do. We are the people who give to the pan handlers, knowing they may drive off in a BMW later, because well, they might not. We buy trinkets for people just because they made us think of them. We bring you dinner when your feeling down. We watch your children for free. And we complain to each other when you ditch us for somebody cooler. But you know who else we are. We are the people who loan you our car, only to have you give it back without a thank you, but an accusation. We are the people who you choose to talk shit about when you're bored. Yet you don't have the common courtesy, or balls for that matter, to open your mouth when confronted with your indiscretions. You make promises and then break them. And then we are the assholes for having our feelings hurt. You are completely correct, you have the right to change your mind. I have the right to feel bad about your decision. We have babies now and it's time to clean out the closet, so to speak. Go ahead and call every night for advice. Go ahead and not answer the phone when you know I need help. Because you know what, we have each other, just like junior high. You go ahead with your low self esteem and keep dropping my name. We're still better people for keeping your names out of our mouths anyway. We don't need to use them, you know who you are. And you know what else, we'll keep on helping you out, and venting to each other, rather than the deserving party.. You want to know why, because that's who we are, and nobody is worth changing for. I just thought I'd let you know, that even when you think you're getting one over on us, you're not. We know exactly who you are, we just overlook it. But seriously, don't be surprised if you start receiving fewer phone calls from our end.

Saga in June part I

I can't help but wake up this morning and have the feeling that today HAS to be a good day. After all there were dead bodies on Tuesday, and let's talk about yesterday shall we. Yesterday just as I was wondering why my mother was being a flake and not calling me back, the phone rang. This time it wasn't funny. My cousin Steven fell off a golf cart and it was all bad. This phone call was just to tell me that he was in an ambulance on his way to the hospital. Unfortunately my mom doesn't know when to keep details from me and so proceeds to tell me that the EMT told her they were opting to go to Doctor's Hospital versus Emanuel, (which is closer), because it was the better hospital. I worked for AMR for a long time, and that is never a good sign. So she tells me he's probably fine and whatnot. I tell her it's a head injury and I'm not an idiot. I've had an accident or two myself and you only vomit when you break a bone, and/or have a head injury. And we wait. Oh yeah, little footnote, it's probably not good when the ambulance guy doesn't want to wait for the parents, he says your the aunt can't you give permission to treat and transport. Yeah, not a good sign either. The second phone call comes in about an hour later I guess, He's getting CAT scans and losing coherency, and they think his brain is bleeding, there is talk of relieving the pressure. Is it time to worry now mom? The third call is much the same as the second, except it also includes we are waiting for a specialist to get here. Ok call me back. And we wait some more. The 4th call doesn't even begin with a hello. My mother immediately goes into the plans for where the rest of my uncles army is going to sleep for the night. Ok but why? Turns out, I'm not so stupid after all. Not only is his brain swelling, his head is cracked and he is being air lifted to Children's Hospital in Madera. The helicopter is already in the air. My cousin Steven has epilepsy, and has been off his meds for a while. I talked to my mother just a minute ago. My uncle had made it there and Steven will be in the Intensive Care Unit until at least tomorrow.
It is times like these that my heart hurts for my family, and how far I am from them. In some ways I feel like they are lucky, because at least right now, they are all sharing the hurt with each other. I am sharing mine with a computer.
All I can do is hope that today is a better day. It looks like it might be, the sun is out at least. Once again an apology is in order, for my dear friend A. who again listened to me ramble and not make sense because believe it or not, my cousin's drama was not the only drama of the day, but that's at least 2 more blogs.

They found what?

Last night for some sick and twisted reason I decided to watch the news. BAD IDEA! Top story of the evening: "Body Found In Castle Rock". Castle Rock is about 20 miles up the road from me. That in itself is a little unnerving. But as always it gets worse. Before the end of the story the reporter says, "We've just got word that another body was found, this one just south of Kalama, the sheriff is saying it's been there for a couple weeks at least". Scary! After the news cast Mike says to me no Lynn, they are talking about a body they found here in May. To which I reply I know what I heard she said there was another body found tonight, that has been decomposing for a couple weeks. I freak out, and the only thing I can do is text poor A. in the middle of the night because it's just a horrid feeling in the pit of my stomach. After a sleepless night I begin my morning. Mike gets up and as always checks the news on the internet. Hmmm surprise surprise, he turns around and tells me that I was right, there were indeed two bodies found last night. So that puts the tally at 3 bodies since May 18. Two of which were found outside of Kalama. To put things in perspective, 2 of them were found under 2 miles from my house.
Now I'm left worrying about serial killers, and the fact that I walk everywhere, by myself. I've already scared my friends with the text last night, and for that guys let me apologize. And I am dreading even more telling my parents, who are already on a die hard mission to move us back to California. At this point Mike is even more pallid than usual, and talking about sending us to CA early. I'm all for it. This is not the first string of weird things that have happened here, and let's just say people like me aren't exactly welcomed here. All of this coupled with the fact that I spent Monday night on the phone with A. freaking out because I kept hearing scratching on the window outside, is a recipe for a melt down I just know it. Makes for a decent blog I guess, but definitely not good for peace of mind. Ahhhhh.
So let's recap. Dead bodies, overactive imagination, remote location, and horror movie weather. So not good.

So Which Blog Are You Going To Write?

So yesterday I was on the phone with one of my friends and the conversation turned to blogs. We talk a lot and many of our dialogs are peppered with, "That's a good title for a blog", or "I think I'll write a blog about that". And in the same vein there we were. She said something about 27 blogs floating around in her head at any given time. I reciprocated the sentiment. We both have kids, and hers has a runny nose today. Mine on the other hand is entering terrible twos, and is full of piss and vinegar already. Damn it, my mom always wished for my child to be worse than I was. So needless to say, we get a rare few minutes to post here and there. This is my rare few minutes, between my son being Destructo Baby, and my not-better-half hogging the computer to look at motorcycles, and I can't pick a subject. Isn't that just ducky? So I figure rather than waste this opportunity, I would write about something. Even if that something is the inability to get my brain to slow down long enough for me to pick a subject.
Oh yeah just a foot note, both kidneys are now acting up and I may have to take a little trip to see the doctor. Which anybody who knows me, knows I would normally avoid at all costs. But I need to stick around for my son, so I'll put aside my distaste for physicians for a little while. Wish me luck, these things rarely go well.

A Little Humor Goes A Long Way

When the phone rang at 10:00 p.m. all I could do was wonder why my mother was calling me this late. What could possible be wrong now? Let's start at a point closer to the beginning shall we? Yesterday was an all around shit-tastic day. I'd been trying to pass a kidney stone since the night before. My son is being a heathen. I've spent a lot of the day on the phone fighting with the water company who has been billing me for the apartment next door and vice versa for the better part of a year. So far they want me to take the loss for the six months of paying for a family of 5, (two of which I didn't even live here yet), but they want me to pay the difference for what the new neighbor, (family of one), has paid over on mine. My bill went up $100, plus they want some insane amount on top of that for the last 4 months...by the 20th. We can no longer afford to live, and there is nowhere for us to move. And to ice that cake, the wind blew the back door shut at the precise moment Mike's hand was there. So now there is the possibility that he's broken a finger on his good hand. Great. So when my normally good kidney started acting up, I was not surprised. Now the phone rings and all I can think is, "Whose dead?"
I brace myself and pick up. I am greeted with peals of laughter and tears from my mother. She explains that she had to call me, she was sure I would appreciate this one. Kayellen is the daughter of one of our close family friends, she is also in her terrible twos. The story goes as follows:
Becky was on the phone with her mother when she noticed Kayellen was awfully quiet and she better investigate. There is an "Oh no!" followed by "I'll call you back". Naturally Grandma gets worried and calls back. Apparently little miss monkey climbed to the very top shelf in the bathroom and found her mommy's tan in a can. By the time Becky found her, she was brown from the neck up. Now this is even funnier because she did the same thing with a tube of butt paste 3 days ago. That time my mom was lucky enough to get a picture, which I will share with you, to help you get a visual.
Thanks Mom, I needed that.

Ugh

I am sorry that it is taking me so long to post blogs as my child has turned into a wretched little monster. If you're wondering, he's about to turn two in August. So if you have children then you know that "wretched little monster" is not an exaggeration. Does this really last until he turns three? I sure hope not, I would like to keep what's left of my hair.

6 Things

This one is a writing prompt called memories where you write a small paragraph about each of
6 scenarios...



1. it is elementary school recess...

I am in 4th grade, but my best friend is in fifth. I spend the first five minutes trying to escape Stacy, and the next trying to locate A. Finally I spend the last five minutes trying to explain to her Stacy's latest plot to prove to her why she shouldn't be my friend. We laugh, and the bell rings.


2. it is summer vacation and you are 15...

I spend a lot of time alone. There are many secret meetings between us. Hushed conversations about the future together that will never be. Waiting, watching, praying. A few times I try to get him to go for a ride in my "cool car", you know to get his mind off things. We hatch a plot, that enables me to keep a part of him forever, but the chemo had other plans.

3. it is the high school football homecoming game...

I am stranded in the band section, sweltering in this horrid uniform. Thank God we only have to wear the tampon hats for half time. Josh Bluett walks by and jokes with his buddy about the dog in the band section in heat just waiting for him... he has the audacity to point. Looks like nobody else heard him, but me. I cried all the way home.


4. it is the last summer before college...

I am terrified. I spend my day working for the Police Activities League at the swimming pool, and worrying about the future all by myself. Alicia, (the girl who worked with me) hasn't slept in 3 days. It's a hundred degrees and her body finally gives out. She has overdosed, but I don't know that until the next day when I show up to work. I spend the rest of the summer just me and the lifeguards.


5. it is a night at home with the family...

I get the giggling wriggle worm out of the toy filled tub. Wrap him in his little hoody towel, stop in front of the mirror to make faces and head out of the bathroom. Although I have everything I could possibly need to get him ready for bed, it's still an adventure. He escapes the second his feet touch the ground. My child hates diapers...or at least the putting on of a new one. His daddy tries to gently direct him back to me before giving up and scooping him my way. We spend the next 20 minutes trying to lotion, powder, diaper and get him in pajamas. He runs around like a chicken with it's head cut off, using his father for a jungle gym, and creating more mess than I think 7 of him should be able to produce. I catch him, we read a few bedtime books, and then it's time for prayers and bed.

6. it is a road trip with friends...

The last time I went on a road trip with friends I was 18 years old.

June 6, 2008

The other night I was on the phone with one of my good friends when she said something about being a grain of sand in a barrel of shit. To this I replied I'd rather be a grain of sand in a barrel of other sand. To this she said "You probably haven't been sand in other sand since you were seven". The funny thing is that the statement seemed to hit me like this great realization. Now I have known that I have had more than my fair share of struggle, but I guess while I've always known it, I hadn't really thought about it that much. So of course in my strange brain this triggered a "why haven't you been thinking about it"? I proceed to over think it, a lot. I search my brain for a time in my oldest memories for a time there wasn't fighting of some kind. And then after a few hours of tossing and turning, it actually did hit me like a ton of bricks, I don't have any childhood memories that don't involve fights. Leading me right into questioning who I must have been in a past life, for surely I must have been a heathen. Another friend of mind mused about this the other day and thought I must have been Elizabeth Báthory,(virgin blood bather). Now I don't know that there even is a such thing as a past life, but it would definitely make me feel better sometimes. *smile*

06-04-08

In twenty eight years I have yet to find a way to effectively remove pain from the hearts of others. I am beginning to think that it is my destiny to meet new people with old ailments, and help them on their way. Which in itself is strange to me because I really have nothing but myself to give anymore. I've hawked everything I own save for my C.D. case, and that's only because I threw out their individual cases and you can't really sell loose C.D.s can you? Although at this point I'd sell the whole damn case. I've given everything I have to help anyone I can. Now I have nothing but love, and to my surprise there are many people who need it.
God, how my heart is aching right now, I can't breathe, this time it seems like it's too much. I feel like I can't watch you hurt like this. I know it's going to be okay, and I know I didn't really have a blood vessel burst in my frontal lobe last night. But God help me, just a little part of me would have been okay with that.
At 3:30 a.m. sitting on the bathroom floor, crying and vomiting and clutching a cellular phone. Begging God that I may not be about to bury another. Simultaneously writhing inside over your newly voiced fears. Sick with anticipation over what today's doctors appointment would bring. While desperately willing a teleport to appear in my tiny bathroom. Spinning into a panic attack. And finally the phone rings, and a tired voice says she is okay but going to try to sleep. Nothing to do but wait until the morning and pray.
Hit the start button and go right back to what was making me ill before the phone rang. My son sleeping in the next room. And one tiny wisp of hope, because no matter what happens, he'll be taken care of. And he doesn't know that his mommy and daddy are scared, and that's the way it should be.

12 words

My friend posted this prompt on her blog today. Here's my thoughts on it. You can do it too!

Below is a list of 12 words. Write 1 paragraph about what you think of (in your life) when you hear that word.


1. Home
I wish I had something profound and sentimental to say here but I do not. I am still trying to find "home". The truth is we moved around more than a few times before my parents bought the house in CrowsLanding. I suppose if home were a feeling, then home would be wherever I could run to my mother. If home were an object, it would be the felled telephone poll in the alley behind my parents house. Where Robert bribed me with random things like a box of cereal, or some other thing that 10 year old boys thing is barter worthy, in exchange for me doing his homework. If home is the place where your roots are, then I haven't one yet, because I am definitely not staying here. *smile*. At this time in my life, home is a dream. Home is where I will feel safe raising my son, and growing my vegetables, and hopefully on a big enough patch of dirt that my loved ones can have a house if they'd like.


2. Family
I don't have 3rd, 4th, or whatever removed family. To me all my cousins are my cousins, no matter how far down the line. I have a thousand aunts or uncles that have married into the family and countless "step" relatives. And before you say anything, I have spent Christmas with every single one of them at one time or another. That being said, I love them all the same. The blood in their veins isn't important to me. Sadly, I have a few aunts that don't feel that way. And because I choose to love everyone, they choose not to talk to me. That's fine I guess. But to me it's not so black and white. I don't have any biological sisters, but I have a friend or two that I think are probably just as good, if not better than the real thing.

3. Marriage
The scariest fucking thing on the planet. Will I really love someone until I die? Stupid question. Of course I have the capacity to do that. The one that really gets me, is whether someone could love me that long.

4. Sex
Sex is a trixy little hobit. Does he like this? Do I like this? Is he bored? Why can't he figure out that that bugs the shit out of me? Why are we on totally different libido clocks? No, not all girls dig cuddling! And why are some people so weirded out when others breach the subject? Is there some secret boy rule stating 2 years into the relationship is when it's okay to make "suggestions"? Don't get me wrong I'm not saying I've had a bunch of 2 year relationships gone weird. Just the general consensus among my friends.


5. Friends
When I was a child, my friends father told me that I would eventually count all my friends on one hand. He was half right, at this juncture in my life I can count my closest friends comfortably on one hand. I have many many people in my life that I am here for on all accounts, but I have only a select few that would do the same for me. None the less, friends are better than family because you get to pick them. A friend stays on the phone way to late with you in an endless conversation that started off about pop tarts, veered passed andiron chairs, and finally finished off on how fast a midget runs through the jungle before you part on your insomniac ways. Friends help each other, they listen when you need them, and they come to you when they need listening.


6. God
I read somewhere about a professor who said there was no God based on the fact that there was such evil in the world. One student stood up and replied that there really is no evil, just an absence of God. It makes sense. Think about it, we cannot measure cold, only heat. There is an absolute zero, the complete absence of heat. However it can always get hotter. There is no dark, that is just what we call it when there is an absence of light. Thus there is no evil, just the absence of God in the hearts of men.


7. Color
The scariest word in the English language. The reason I can't sleep at night. And although my skin is not dark by any means. It is dark enough to garner sideways glances when I go to the post office. The reason I want to home school my child. The reason my friends are my friends, because they don't see it. The reason I seem to be unable to produce an adequate sentence here.

8. Frustration
Watching a loved on hurt, and being able to do nothing about it. Wanting to save the world, but not knowing where to start. Feeling like my hands are tied, when they are really pulling out my hair.

9. Happiness
I saw my friend Von today on my way home from the post office. He was getting dropped off by the same medical cab company that I used to use. He was smiling and I asked him how he was. He said it was a little easier to swallow these days. I smiled and said I would make him cupcakes. And I did, but when I went back to his apartment to take them to him there was no answer. It's probably because he was sleeping, it was 6:45. Von has cancer, and everyday he takes a cab to get radiation treatment in his neck. And even though he's done it every day for a month, and won't be done until the 16th, he was offering a smile. He was just satisfied with being here, and he was not bitter. And although I am sad for myself to watch another ail, I am glad to have had him befriend me, I am better for it.

10. Silence
The absence of sound. I am not sure I have experienced it really. I've been where there was no noise, but I find these are the times when my thoughts are the loudest. I hate when it's quiet, gives people reason to question said thoughts. And although they are screaming in my head sometimes, I don't want them voiced. And I want to cram my hand down my throat to keep from doing so because for the most part silence is what follows when somebody in the room does or says something offensive.

11. Noise
For me the word noise is like the word home to other people. This is the first place I've stayed for more than 6 months in a very long time. And although my parents have lived in the same house since I was 10 now, nothing is guaranteed to stay the same. A lot of my family are opting to move around these days, and at first I was sad. I used to think my grandmother's house was "home", my aunt just lost that house. I was sad, but I realized that I had no intention of going in that house again. My grandmother was dead, and my aunt was holed up in one room letting her 6 or so dogs overrun the place. But it wasn't the building that I loved, because there were good memories and bad. What I loved was the sound of my family members together and being joyous. When I go home to visit my parents I love it because the whole time I am there, there is a dull roar. As family members, and friends, and family members' friends, and friends' family members, *smile*, mill in and out. My dad's t.v. is always on WAY too loud, the chihuahua is spinning in circles and yapping like a lunatic. But that is just the way I like it. At the risk of sounding cliche, I love life and hearing it all around me. I'd be sad if I lost my sight, but I'd be devastated if I could never hear my son sing again.

12. End
There isn't one. Just moving on to the next level. When the book gets to heavy end it, but start a new one. When my mortal life ends, I'm sure what I think is my spiritual life now, will only be beginning. When Robert died it was the beginning of my life without him. But when the hardest time of my life ended, (pregnancy), my life as a mother began. Our life is a series of never ending beginnings if you look at it the right way.

Well there it is, my humble attempt at it! Hope you enjoyed.

Blind Sided

After a fulfilling evening of conversation with a good friend last night, I decide to settle down with a puzzle book for a few minutes before I go to sleep. It was a good conversation, one that ended with a chat about the rumors she and I had heard about ourselves and each other over the last ten years. And although some of the things people said were strange/harsh sometimes, by the end we were both laughing and it was way too early to hang up, but we both have babies now and have to rise early. So there I was giggling to myself about how "cool" we really must have been (unbeknown to us), in high school for these people to find time in their day to spread rumors about us ten plus years later. But I digress. As I said I was sitting in my room when my fiancé walks in and wants to talk. I have to say that in the time we have cohabitated we have had exactly one heart to heart, the day I got off the plane.
A little background. Almost five years ago he was the best pressman at his company and they got a new machine. Well the machine was new to them at least. It was actually a 1950's paper press that no one in the company knew how to run, had no safety guards on it, and the company was too cheap to pay somebody to teach them. So what is the best course of action? They put their best guy on it because, "he can figure it out". The machine sucked his dominant hand into it, the only one there to help, turned the lever the wrong way in a panic to get him out, crushing his hand further. They got him out his right hand was degloved on 2 fingers and his thumb was ripped off. As he lay on the floor waiting for the ambulance, his bosses stood over him and asked when they could get this machine up and running again. Thus started what seems like a very long and drawn out, uphill battle. Here we are years and countless surgeries later, and he can hold his now almost 2 year old son for no more than 5 minutes at a time without pain.
Of course we have had trouble getting along cooped up all together all the time, and people don't understand why I don't leave him alone for any extended period of time. And for a while I have been wondering myself. He has been rude, and snappish, and anything else you can do while dealing with the loss of a body part. But he's never acknowledged it. Last night after I hung up, he came in my room and sat and apologized for every single offense in the tenure of our relationship thus far. And followed it with news of what I already knew about his lawyer being less than up to the task. He continued to spill his heart about his fears about what is coming for our family, about school, and money, and being snappy, and how scared he his. And then with a tear in his eye he asked me to open his bottle of water. He finally opened up, even if 3 years of apology is a little hard to swallow at once, he helped me gain a little hope in people last night, and even in myself. Because in a simple 30 minute monologue like apology I was able to forgive without a second thought, and because he let me in. So now I know, I put up with the mean because I knew that someday my prayers would be answered and he would see that maybe, just maybe, I was worth fighting for.