Wow - in a couple weeks I'll be 45.
45? 45. 45!
It's really hitting me like a brick to the face. Why? I'm not sure, but it feels really strange, and depressing. For some reason, I have the old Baptist funeral song, "Shall We Gather at the River", running through my head.
45 years ago, my mother was very pregnant with me. I was due at Christmas, but didn't come out until after New Years. Being late at birth is ironic, I'm a very punctual person. I abhor lateness.
There was a blizzard the day I was born - a good reason for not wanting to come out. I get to hear the story every year - January 1968 was cold and snowy, blizzard conditions, when my mother went into labor. My father took her to the hospital, and the schools sent the kids home early due to the bad weather. My two older brothers stayed at the neighbor's house. This was on January 14th. I was born January 15th at 4:12am. I'm sure the Doctor had to pull me out - I'm not a morning person.
So there you have it. I came kicking and screaming into the world, all 8 pounds of me, coal black hair, dark eyes - a beautiful Italian baby. What the heck happened??? LIFE!
I'm having a bad case of the, "I've never's". Such as - I've never met Russell Crowe or Dewayne Johnson (The Rock), I've never been kissed by my love (or the previously mentioned men) under a tree during a spring rain, I've never ran naked through the tall grass on a warm summer afternoon, I've never smacked a politician............the list goes on and on.
What have I done in the almost 45 years I've been alive? Well, I've traveled all across the country, I've met a few celebrities, I've been to a few concerts, I've eaten some incredible food, I've been to the Caribbean (twice), I've thrown up in the street, whizzed off a bridge (which is no small feat for a female), farted in an elevator, and have given my share of wedgies. I've lived, loved, and laughed, and I'm still going strong. I've been so very blessed with incredible friends, and a very tolerant family.
Alright, overall I'd say I've had a pretty great life. Sure there have been the down times, and I'm sure there will be more to come, but the great times are outstanding. The older I get, the better the memories, the better the laughter, the better life is.
Friday, December 28, 2012
Friday, November 16, 2012
Giving Beyond the Holidays
Why do many us only think about helping others around the Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays? I'm not talking about what you give in a church offering, I'm talking about beyond that. Yes, the church helps people with part of your tithes, but why do many of us think that's enough?
In "The State of Poverty in America", Peter Edelman wrote that there are, ..." 20.5 million people—6.7 percent of the population—who are in deep poverty, with an income less than half the poverty line (below $9,000 for a family of three). Some 6 million people out of those 20.5 million have no income at all other than food stamps." In Lorain County, Ohio, where I'm from, 14.4% of the county was at the poverty level in 2010, according to the Ohio Department of Job and Family Services. Look around you. Included in these statistics might be your neighbor, friend, maybe even a family member.
What I found interesting with both statistics is that there were no asterisk's explaining that these numbers only applied around Thanksgiving and Christmas. No, unfortunately, this is a problem that extends the entire year.
Here is where I pause and let a few of you say what I typically hear from many people when I discuss this issue, "Why can't they get a job?", "They're all on welfare, I'm supporting them with my taxes.", "There are places they can go for help.", "Add your comment here!"
I don't think it's possible for any family to survive on minimum wage. Around here, the available jobs generally pay minimum wage. I spoke with people trying to live with a minimum wage income. They can't, not without assistance. I spoke with people that were making a decent wage, but the company shut down, moved out, or downsized, leaving them out in the cold. These are hard working people with families, trying to survive. Government assistance isn't enough to fill in the gaps either.
Here is where we come in.
If we all gave something all year, imagine the difference we can make. I'm not talking about just sending a check - although if you can, please do - I'm talking about giving food to your local food pantry, giving clothes to your local clothing drive, giving of your time to an agency that helps the homeless , seniors, children, or anyone in need. Doing this beyond the holidays - once a month, twice a month or however often you can - will make a difference. Get on your phone, start calling around, ask what you can do - how you can help. The need is much more than only giving at the holidays will cover.
There will still be empty stomach's, cold children, and poverty after Thanksgiving and Christmas. Giving beyond the holidays will help.
sites.google.com/site/catscreate1968
In "The State of Poverty in America", Peter Edelman wrote that there are, ..." 20.5 million people—6.7 percent of the population—who are in deep poverty, with an income less than half the poverty line (below $9,000 for a family of three). Some 6 million people out of those 20.5 million have no income at all other than food stamps." In Lorain County, Ohio, where I'm from, 14.4% of the county was at the poverty level in 2010, according to the Ohio Department of Job and Family Services. Look around you. Included in these statistics might be your neighbor, friend, maybe even a family member.
What I found interesting with both statistics is that there were no asterisk's explaining that these numbers only applied around Thanksgiving and Christmas. No, unfortunately, this is a problem that extends the entire year.
Here is where I pause and let a few of you say what I typically hear from many people when I discuss this issue, "Why can't they get a job?", "They're all on welfare, I'm supporting them with my taxes.", "There are places they can go for help.", "Add your comment here!"
I don't think it's possible for any family to survive on minimum wage. Around here, the available jobs generally pay minimum wage. I spoke with people trying to live with a minimum wage income. They can't, not without assistance. I spoke with people that were making a decent wage, but the company shut down, moved out, or downsized, leaving them out in the cold. These are hard working people with families, trying to survive. Government assistance isn't enough to fill in the gaps either.
Here is where we come in.
If we all gave something all year, imagine the difference we can make. I'm not talking about just sending a check - although if you can, please do - I'm talking about giving food to your local food pantry, giving clothes to your local clothing drive, giving of your time to an agency that helps the homeless , seniors, children, or anyone in need. Doing this beyond the holidays - once a month, twice a month or however often you can - will make a difference. Get on your phone, start calling around, ask what you can do - how you can help. The need is much more than only giving at the holidays will cover.
There will still be empty stomach's, cold children, and poverty after Thanksgiving and Christmas. Giving beyond the holidays will help.
sites.google.com/site/catscreate1968
Sunday, October 28, 2012
Live and Let Live???
Why do people change so much during election season, or, is this what they're really like and just fake it the rest of the time?
I have no problem having an intelligent discussion with anyone on just about any topic. My understanding of an intelligent discussion is when two or more people talk about a specific subject, and they all bring up different points, opinions, and share these with each other. You don't have to agree with all of it, but that's where the "intelligent" part comes to play. It's alright to disagree with someone, and when that happens you usually say something like, "Hmmm, that's very interesting. I don't agree but we can agree to disagree", or, "I've never heard that before, interesting." No one is offended, no harm done, life goes on. If a topic becomes offensive or uncomfortable for me to talk about, I'll probably excuse myself from the discussion by saying, "I'm really not comfortable talking about this", and just leave.
With my family, I'll usually just tell one of them to, "Shut it" or yell other things, have a tantrum and go into the other room. That's how my brother's and I converse. Generally, no one is offended, and it's all hugs and laughing in an hour or two.
Now that it's almost Election Day, more and more people are spewing hate like a good old fashioned "spit-take". You remember, the old TV shows where Ricky takes a sip of coffee just as Lucy comes in the room doing her Lucy thing. Ricky spits out the coffee all over the room. People I've known for years, people I considered (notice the past tense) friends, people from church - they're all talking garbage about different candidates. Some of my favorites:
*How can you vote for (fill in blank) and call yourself a Christian?
*(fill in candidate's name) wants to kill babies.
*Your so stupid for following (candidate) so blindly.
*She's a horrible person. I heard it on the news.
*I'm sorry you plan to vote for (candidate). I'm unfriending you from my Facebook.
Most of what people are posting on Facebook, and writing to the local papers about is just bits and pieces of words they've been able to pull together from the media and other people they've spoken with. Add a picture and there ya' go - it now becomes a fact. No, it's still bullcrap.
If Governor Romney is a Mormon, who cares? How is that going to affect me or his policies should he become President? If anything, I appreciate the fact that he believes in a Higher Power to help him in his daily life. If President Obama is a Muslim, (and I don't believe he is) who cares? Same questions as before. How's it going to affect me or his policies?
My point is, we don't know any of these candidates personally. We know what the media says we know. There are a few of us that try to read about it all from a few unbiased sources, but that is really hard to find. I don't mind having a discussion about either one, or the issues, but don't threaten to kick my butt or pray for me because I have a different belief or opinion than you do.
Recently, I had a woman tell me the Democratic Party is just evil and God will get all of them for who they are and what they stand for. On the subject of Homosexuality, though, she believes it's something that happens to someone and they can't help it. "Live and let live." So in politics, if you don't believe a certain way, you're going to hell. In issues of morality, though, it's ok, you can't help it. What am I missing here?
I'll never understand the hate. Some of the Facebook posts out there are just horrible. From both sides, not just one party or from one specific group.
Once the election is over, after everything's been counted and the winners declared, I'll still feel the same way I do about who I voted for, and what issues were important to me. I'll also remember the people with the hate and those relationships will end. I don't need the negative energy in my life. Oh I'm sure they'll be all, "happy happy joy joy" but they can do it without me. I've seen their true selves and that's type of person is one I'll vote against every time.
I have no problem having an intelligent discussion with anyone on just about any topic. My understanding of an intelligent discussion is when two or more people talk about a specific subject, and they all bring up different points, opinions, and share these with each other. You don't have to agree with all of it, but that's where the "intelligent" part comes to play. It's alright to disagree with someone, and when that happens you usually say something like, "Hmmm, that's very interesting. I don't agree but we can agree to disagree", or, "I've never heard that before, interesting." No one is offended, no harm done, life goes on. If a topic becomes offensive or uncomfortable for me to talk about, I'll probably excuse myself from the discussion by saying, "I'm really not comfortable talking about this", and just leave.
With my family, I'll usually just tell one of them to, "Shut it" or yell other things, have a tantrum and go into the other room. That's how my brother's and I converse. Generally, no one is offended, and it's all hugs and laughing in an hour or two.
Now that it's almost Election Day, more and more people are spewing hate like a good old fashioned "spit-take". You remember, the old TV shows where Ricky takes a sip of coffee just as Lucy comes in the room doing her Lucy thing. Ricky spits out the coffee all over the room. People I've known for years, people I considered (notice the past tense) friends, people from church - they're all talking garbage about different candidates. Some of my favorites:
*How can you vote for (fill in blank) and call yourself a Christian?
*(fill in candidate's name) wants to kill babies.
*Your so stupid for following (candidate) so blindly.
*She's a horrible person. I heard it on the news.
*I'm sorry you plan to vote for (candidate). I'm unfriending you from my Facebook.
Most of what people are posting on Facebook, and writing to the local papers about is just bits and pieces of words they've been able to pull together from the media and other people they've spoken with. Add a picture and there ya' go - it now becomes a fact. No, it's still bullcrap.
If Governor Romney is a Mormon, who cares? How is that going to affect me or his policies should he become President? If anything, I appreciate the fact that he believes in a Higher Power to help him in his daily life. If President Obama is a Muslim, (and I don't believe he is) who cares? Same questions as before. How's it going to affect me or his policies?
My point is, we don't know any of these candidates personally. We know what the media says we know. There are a few of us that try to read about it all from a few unbiased sources, but that is really hard to find. I don't mind having a discussion about either one, or the issues, but don't threaten to kick my butt or pray for me because I have a different belief or opinion than you do.
Recently, I had a woman tell me the Democratic Party is just evil and God will get all of them for who they are and what they stand for. On the subject of Homosexuality, though, she believes it's something that happens to someone and they can't help it. "Live and let live." So in politics, if you don't believe a certain way, you're going to hell. In issues of morality, though, it's ok, you can't help it. What am I missing here?
I'll never understand the hate. Some of the Facebook posts out there are just horrible. From both sides, not just one party or from one specific group.
Once the election is over, after everything's been counted and the winners declared, I'll still feel the same way I do about who I voted for, and what issues were important to me. I'll also remember the people with the hate and those relationships will end. I don't need the negative energy in my life. Oh I'm sure they'll be all, "happy happy joy joy" but they can do it without me. I've seen their true selves and that's type of person is one I'll vote against every time.
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
Childhood
A friend asked me today, "Did you have a happy childhood?"
This made me stop and think about it. Did I have a happy childhood?
I was born in the late 60's so I was a child in the 70's and a teen in the 80's.
Didn't we all have a great time back then?
We didn't worry about the environment, it was there then, it's here now, it will still be around for our grand kids. You don't have to be a tree huggin' hippie to know that. Our TV only had 3 channels and a UHF knob. We watched our favorite shows every evening, and cartoons every Saturday morning. It didn't destroy our brains, make us numb, or psychotic. We did play outside, but if we had the cool toys back then that they have today, we would have done the same thing kids do today. Play with them - inside. We all played outside and unsupervised, but there weren't the perverts trolling the playgrounds with tootsie rolls like there are now. If someone asked you for help looking for their puppy, you helped - you didn't have to run the other way. Our holidays were great, lots of decorations and no "Keep Christ in Christmas" signs all over the place. We didn't need them. Everybody knew Christmas was about Jesus birth. There were Nativity scenes in every yard and window. We went to school every day, and every class had a bully. By the end of the school year the bully had been taken care of on the playground by playground rules. No one called the kids parents, no one tattled. What happened on the playground, stayed on the playground. If we were bad in school we were punished when we got home. If we were bad anywhere, we were punished when we got home. I'm talking about real punishment, a spank or worse - grounded, or even worse - no phone - that one would almost kill me. Our parents didn't hover, they let us learn by our own stupidity. "Don't put the butter knife in the outlet." "Ok", we'd yell as we put the butter knife in the outlet, got zapped, and ran outside. We never dropped the "F" bomb. There were some things we just never did. We went to church, ate dinner with the family at the kitchen table, and put the flag out on every holiday.
The more I think about it, I would have to answer yes. I had a good childhood. We laughed a lot, cried a little, and the 4 of us (my brothers and me) fought like the Stooges from time to time. One thing was a constant, we were loved. Our mom hugged us often, tucked us in at night, and always told us she loved us. Yes, I had a good childhood, and hope someday, when he's asked, my son will say the same thing.
This made me stop and think about it. Did I have a happy childhood?
I was born in the late 60's so I was a child in the 70's and a teen in the 80's.
Didn't we all have a great time back then?
We didn't worry about the environment, it was there then, it's here now, it will still be around for our grand kids. You don't have to be a tree huggin' hippie to know that. Our TV only had 3 channels and a UHF knob. We watched our favorite shows every evening, and cartoons every Saturday morning. It didn't destroy our brains, make us numb, or psychotic. We did play outside, but if we had the cool toys back then that they have today, we would have done the same thing kids do today. Play with them - inside. We all played outside and unsupervised, but there weren't the perverts trolling the playgrounds with tootsie rolls like there are now. If someone asked you for help looking for their puppy, you helped - you didn't have to run the other way. Our holidays were great, lots of decorations and no "Keep Christ in Christmas" signs all over the place. We didn't need them. Everybody knew Christmas was about Jesus birth. There were Nativity scenes in every yard and window. We went to school every day, and every class had a bully. By the end of the school year the bully had been taken care of on the playground by playground rules. No one called the kids parents, no one tattled. What happened on the playground, stayed on the playground. If we were bad in school we were punished when we got home. If we were bad anywhere, we were punished when we got home. I'm talking about real punishment, a spank or worse - grounded, or even worse - no phone - that one would almost kill me. Our parents didn't hover, they let us learn by our own stupidity. "Don't put the butter knife in the outlet." "Ok", we'd yell as we put the butter knife in the outlet, got zapped, and ran outside. We never dropped the "F" bomb. There were some things we just never did. We went to church, ate dinner with the family at the kitchen table, and put the flag out on every holiday.
The more I think about it, I would have to answer yes. I had a good childhood. We laughed a lot, cried a little, and the 4 of us (my brothers and me) fought like the Stooges from time to time. One thing was a constant, we were loved. Our mom hugged us often, tucked us in at night, and always told us she loved us. Yes, I had a good childhood, and hope someday, when he's asked, my son will say the same thing.
Monday, September 17, 2012
A Weekend Home......Already??
So, my college boy son wants to come home for a weekend. Already??
As you may remember, right here on this very blog, only about a month ago, I was so sad and depressed at the thought of my only child heading off into life without his mother. A month has passed, my sadness diminished.
Don't get me wrong, I miss him every day, think about him every minute, and pray for him always. However, once a few days passed with him not around, I discovered a new found freedom not previously known. Running the vacuum in my underpants is a habit now, along with not having to shut doors for privacy. Controlling the TV remote in the evenings, reading the newspaper without the sports page missing and pages torn, opening the refrigerator and finding food in it - all things I'm enjoying now, and not ready to give up.
I admit, it will be nice to trip over his size 15 shoes again, and hear him stomping up and down the stairs, but I think I may be enjoying not having an extra person in the house. Does that make me a bad mom?? I hope not. I think it means I'm getting use to the idea of my son having a life of his own. That's a hard concept - let me tell ya' - when it's been him and I for so long. It will be nice to hear "MOM" again, but I know "can I have some money?" will follow right after.
Honestly, he'll probably be with his girlfriend most of the time or on his computer, but I'm glad he wants to come home. So I don't vacuum for a couple days, and give up the remote for a weekend. I'll survive, and when I take him back on Sunday, the separation anxiety will resume for a day or two. I'll vacuum and be over it.
As you may remember, right here on this very blog, only about a month ago, I was so sad and depressed at the thought of my only child heading off into life without his mother. A month has passed, my sadness diminished.
Don't get me wrong, I miss him every day, think about him every minute, and pray for him always. However, once a few days passed with him not around, I discovered a new found freedom not previously known. Running the vacuum in my underpants is a habit now, along with not having to shut doors for privacy. Controlling the TV remote in the evenings, reading the newspaper without the sports page missing and pages torn, opening the refrigerator and finding food in it - all things I'm enjoying now, and not ready to give up.
I admit, it will be nice to trip over his size 15 shoes again, and hear him stomping up and down the stairs, but I think I may be enjoying not having an extra person in the house. Does that make me a bad mom?? I hope not. I think it means I'm getting use to the idea of my son having a life of his own. That's a hard concept - let me tell ya' - when it's been him and I for so long. It will be nice to hear "MOM" again, but I know "can I have some money?" will follow right after.
Honestly, he'll probably be with his girlfriend most of the time or on his computer, but I'm glad he wants to come home. So I don't vacuum for a couple days, and give up the remote for a weekend. I'll survive, and when I take him back on Sunday, the separation anxiety will resume for a day or two. I'll vacuum and be over it.
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
48 Hours From Now
48 hours from now, my son will be ending his first day away at college.
It all started with the words, "Did you know you're pregnant?" I can't stop thinking about that moment. Time stood still. Then, once the initial shock wore off, time resumed and went faster, and faster and here we are, 19 years later.
48 hours from now, I'll be in my room, crying into my pillow.
His first day of kindergarten was so fun. We had a nice breakfast and packed his "Elmo" lunch bag together. I'd put in carrots, he'd put in an extra cupcake. I'd take out the cupcake, he'd put in his favorite "Matchbox" car. The drive to the school was full of laughing and excitement. Holding hands, we walked to the door. I was given a hug, an "I love you mommom", and off he went, taking my heart with him.
48 hours from now, my son will be unpacking his clothes, and organizing his dorm.
When the orthodontist put the braces on, he was not happy. His teeth hurt, the inside of his mouth was sore, but the milkshake he had on the way home really hit the spot. Of course he didn't want to go to school the next day. He went, and was much happier once he saw his buddy just had braces put on too.
48 hours from now, I'll be checking the calender and marking when Thanksgiving break starts.
Sports were such a big deal. Track and field is his passion. He did play basketball and baseball though. When his school started a football team, he was right there. The day he made a home run, the only one of the game, he had a smile on his face for a week. Everyone was cheering and yelling his name. What a great day that was for him.
48 hours from now, my son will be in his dorm, on his computer, telling his girlfriend how great it is to be in college.
The night of graduation, he looked fantastic. So tall in his cap and gown, his many ribbons and awards hanging from his neck. I was so proud I almost burst. One part of his life ended. He walked out of the building through the same doors he had walked in on his first day. As I stood there realizing the irony, he turned around. He gave me a hug, an "I love you mom", and off he went with his friends, still holding onto my heart.
48 hours from now, I'll be missing him so much, but so proud of the man he's become. He'll always have my heart, but I'll always have his smile, his laughter, and his love.
It all started with the words, "Did you know you're pregnant?" I can't stop thinking about that moment. Time stood still. Then, once the initial shock wore off, time resumed and went faster, and faster and here we are, 19 years later.
48 hours from now, I'll be in my room, crying into my pillow.
His first day of kindergarten was so fun. We had a nice breakfast and packed his "Elmo" lunch bag together. I'd put in carrots, he'd put in an extra cupcake. I'd take out the cupcake, he'd put in his favorite "Matchbox" car. The drive to the school was full of laughing and excitement. Holding hands, we walked to the door. I was given a hug, an "I love you mommom", and off he went, taking my heart with him.
48 hours from now, my son will be unpacking his clothes, and organizing his dorm.
When the orthodontist put the braces on, he was not happy. His teeth hurt, the inside of his mouth was sore, but the milkshake he had on the way home really hit the spot. Of course he didn't want to go to school the next day. He went, and was much happier once he saw his buddy just had braces put on too.
48 hours from now, I'll be checking the calender and marking when Thanksgiving break starts.
Sports were such a big deal. Track and field is his passion. He did play basketball and baseball though. When his school started a football team, he was right there. The day he made a home run, the only one of the game, he had a smile on his face for a week. Everyone was cheering and yelling his name. What a great day that was for him.
48 hours from now, my son will be in his dorm, on his computer, telling his girlfriend how great it is to be in college.
The night of graduation, he looked fantastic. So tall in his cap and gown, his many ribbons and awards hanging from his neck. I was so proud I almost burst. One part of his life ended. He walked out of the building through the same doors he had walked in on his first day. As I stood there realizing the irony, he turned around. He gave me a hug, an "I love you mom", and off he went with his friends, still holding onto my heart.
48 hours from now, I'll be missing him so much, but so proud of the man he's become. He'll always have my heart, but I'll always have his smile, his laughter, and his love.
Saturday, August 4, 2012
Appreciate Them Just a Bit More
My husband leaves for work with a quick kiss and a "bye see ya' tonight" from me. It's as routine as getting out of bed in the morning. No big deal. I'll add the occasional "be safe" but not often. I've become used to his leaving and returning home at the same time, 5 days a week, for the past 10 years.
Our phone conversations would end with an "I love you babe, I love you too, see you soon" 10 years ago. Now it's a quick "Love ya bye".
My best friend, my sister at this point in our lives, was on the phone this evening with her truck driver husband. Due to a storm that hit, his truck rolled over - while she was on the phone with him. Talk about panic!
This morning they had a typical "love you, love you" conversation just like we all did. After spending a frantic 3 hours with her tonight, and hearing his voice on the phone saying he was alright, I realized how much I don't appreciate the fact that my husband, son, mother, friend etc. could walk out the door with a "see ya' later" as we all do, and that may very well be the last words we hear.
We need to appreciate them just a bit more.
My husband comes straight home from work. He doesn't come home drunk, smelling of stale cigarettes and the stank from "Patty Pole Pumper" that he's watched put a pole in places it was never made for. He's tired, and a bit crabby, but when you work in hell like he does (a hot stinky overflowing maximum security prison) he's entitled to a little crabby.
It's an absolute miracle my friend's husband made it out of his truck without a scratch. I won't forget this event any time soon.
Appreciate what you have. You may not have it much longer.
Our phone conversations would end with an "I love you babe, I love you too, see you soon" 10 years ago. Now it's a quick "Love ya bye".
My best friend, my sister at this point in our lives, was on the phone this evening with her truck driver husband. Due to a storm that hit, his truck rolled over - while she was on the phone with him. Talk about panic!
This morning they had a typical "love you, love you" conversation just like we all did. After spending a frantic 3 hours with her tonight, and hearing his voice on the phone saying he was alright, I realized how much I don't appreciate the fact that my husband, son, mother, friend etc. could walk out the door with a "see ya' later" as we all do, and that may very well be the last words we hear.
We need to appreciate them just a bit more.
My husband comes straight home from work. He doesn't come home drunk, smelling of stale cigarettes and the stank from "Patty Pole Pumper" that he's watched put a pole in places it was never made for. He's tired, and a bit crabby, but when you work in hell like he does (a hot stinky overflowing maximum security prison) he's entitled to a little crabby.
It's an absolute miracle my friend's husband made it out of his truck without a scratch. I won't forget this event any time soon.
Appreciate what you have. You may not have it much longer.
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
"TLC" What's There to Learn?
What has happened to "TLC'? I'm referring to "The Learning Channel". What's there to learn?
How to exploit your children for your own personal gain. "Toddlers & Tiaras"
How to spoil your child rotten on national TV. "Toddlers & Tiaras"
How to make sure your child learns how to dress like a "HO". "Toddlers & Tiaras"
What is wrong with these parents? They put energy drinks in the kids bottle and wonder why the kid freaks out later. This is insane parenting.
Another show to "learn" from is "I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant". What's there to learn?
If you're sick every morning for a few weeks after being sexually active, you may be pregnant.
If you start gaining weight a few weeks after being sexually active, you may be pregnant.
If you don't remember the last period you had after being sexually active, you may be pregnant.
If you're sexually active, take no precautions, and have no clue about reproduction, you may get pregnant.
I can't believe all these women really didn't know they were pregnant. In denial, yes. They should show "18 Kids and Counting" in the sex ed class.
The final show I'll complain about (there are so many bad ones) is "4 Weddings". What's there to learn?
To talk so nice to someones face but totally b***h slap them behind their back.
A "hippy" theme wedding on the beach will be as bad as it sounds.
Women with more than a few pounds on them really look bad stuffed into a ruffled sleeveless gown.
Most people need help planning a wedding. Bizarre color combinations, and weird centerpieces don't always mean you're creative.
This is all totally my opinion, but someone has to say something. I hear people complain all the time about these shows. Yes, I've watched them - they start out so nice, but turn bad so quickly. Quit complaining and turn off the show!!
How to exploit your children for your own personal gain. "Toddlers & Tiaras"
How to spoil your child rotten on national TV. "Toddlers & Tiaras"
How to make sure your child learns how to dress like a "HO". "Toddlers & Tiaras"
What is wrong with these parents? They put energy drinks in the kids bottle and wonder why the kid freaks out later. This is insane parenting.
Another show to "learn" from is "I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant". What's there to learn?
If you're sick every morning for a few weeks after being sexually active, you may be pregnant.
If you start gaining weight a few weeks after being sexually active, you may be pregnant.
If you don't remember the last period you had after being sexually active, you may be pregnant.
If you're sexually active, take no precautions, and have no clue about reproduction, you may get pregnant.
I can't believe all these women really didn't know they were pregnant. In denial, yes. They should show "18 Kids and Counting" in the sex ed class.
The final show I'll complain about (there are so many bad ones) is "4 Weddings". What's there to learn?
To talk so nice to someones face but totally b***h slap them behind their back.
A "hippy" theme wedding on the beach will be as bad as it sounds.
Women with more than a few pounds on them really look bad stuffed into a ruffled sleeveless gown.
Most people need help planning a wedding. Bizarre color combinations, and weird centerpieces don't always mean you're creative.
This is all totally my opinion, but someone has to say something. I hear people complain all the time about these shows. Yes, I've watched them - they start out so nice, but turn bad so quickly. Quit complaining and turn off the show!!
Monday, July 9, 2012
Attacking Religious Freedom With Building Codes?
"If it looks like a duck, swims like a duck, and quacks like a duck, then it probably is a duck."
--------James Whitcomb Riley
Since when do zoning and building code violations attack religious freedom?
I'm referring to the Phoenix man claiming his Constitutional rights are being violated due to his refusal to stop having Bible studies in his home - apparently against the city's building codes.
After reading the Fox News story by Todd Starnes, I can't believe any true Christian is supporting this guy.
From what I understand, according to the story, Michael Salman was holding Bible studies in his home three times a week. Neighbors complained about the traffic, which is when the city became involved. He was sent a letter that told him, "the Bible studies were not permitted in their living room because it was in violation of the construction code." If this were one of my neighbors, I would appreciate the city protecting my safety. Mr. Salman didn't. His Good Friday backyard "fellowship" resulted in the Phoenix Fire Department threatening, "to call the police - unless their guests left...". The story doesn't say, but I suspect another neighbor complaint. This was all in 2007. In 2008, another "gathering" broken up by the Fire Department, but in 2009, Salman built a "2,000 square foot building in their backyard." The story states, "he applied for and was granted the proper building permits" and passed inspection. Salman then began having his Bible studies there. Mr. Starnes quotes the chief assistant city prosecutor Vicki Hill who said, "...he was given a permit to convert a garage into a game room. Any other occupancy or use - business, commercial, assembly, church, etc, is expressly prohibited pursuant to the city of Phoenix building code and ordinances." It seems, Michael Salman does not understand this. After being charged with "67 code violations", he is claiming this building is not a church. "It has chairs for as many as 40 people, there is a pulpit, there is a sign out front - along with a cross." But it's not a church.
At this time, please refer to the above quote from James Whitcomb Riley, also known as "The Duck Test". If it's not a church, or being used as a church, then just what the heck is it? It certainly isn't being used as a "game room" for which the building permit was issued.
Mr. Salman is using words like, "harassing", and "discrimination" to describe what the city is doing to him. To describe Mr. Salman, I use the word "fraud". He lied on his building permit, and would rather hide behind an apparent misinterpretation of the Constitution of the United States by claiming violations of his religious freedom, than follow scripture. Luke 20:25, "...render unto Caesar which be Caesar's, and unto God which be God's." Just obey the city, pay your fines, and find an appropriate place to hold your Bible studies.
What a great example for the people looking up to you as their spiritual leader.
I feel sorry for how mislead they must be.
--------James Whitcomb Riley
Since when do zoning and building code violations attack religious freedom?
I'm referring to the Phoenix man claiming his Constitutional rights are being violated due to his refusal to stop having Bible studies in his home - apparently against the city's building codes.
After reading the Fox News story by Todd Starnes, I can't believe any true Christian is supporting this guy.
From what I understand, according to the story, Michael Salman was holding Bible studies in his home three times a week. Neighbors complained about the traffic, which is when the city became involved. He was sent a letter that told him, "the Bible studies were not permitted in their living room because it was in violation of the construction code." If this were one of my neighbors, I would appreciate the city protecting my safety. Mr. Salman didn't. His Good Friday backyard "fellowship" resulted in the Phoenix Fire Department threatening, "to call the police - unless their guests left...". The story doesn't say, but I suspect another neighbor complaint. This was all in 2007. In 2008, another "gathering" broken up by the Fire Department, but in 2009, Salman built a "2,000 square foot building in their backyard." The story states, "he applied for and was granted the proper building permits" and passed inspection. Salman then began having his Bible studies there. Mr. Starnes quotes the chief assistant city prosecutor Vicki Hill who said, "...he was given a permit to convert a garage into a game room. Any other occupancy or use - business, commercial, assembly, church, etc, is expressly prohibited pursuant to the city of Phoenix building code and ordinances." It seems, Michael Salman does not understand this. After being charged with "67 code violations", he is claiming this building is not a church. "It has chairs for as many as 40 people, there is a pulpit, there is a sign out front - along with a cross." But it's not a church.
At this time, please refer to the above quote from James Whitcomb Riley, also known as "The Duck Test". If it's not a church, or being used as a church, then just what the heck is it? It certainly isn't being used as a "game room" for which the building permit was issued.
Mr. Salman is using words like, "harassing", and "discrimination" to describe what the city is doing to him. To describe Mr. Salman, I use the word "fraud". He lied on his building permit, and would rather hide behind an apparent misinterpretation of the Constitution of the United States by claiming violations of his religious freedom, than follow scripture. Luke 20:25, "...render unto Caesar which be Caesar's, and unto God which be God's." Just obey the city, pay your fines, and find an appropriate place to hold your Bible studies.
What a great example for the people looking up to you as their spiritual leader.
I feel sorry for how mislead they must be.
Sunday, July 8, 2012
Liar, Liar Pants on Fire
Is it ever ok to lie?
What a difficult question to answer.
We've all done it, we've all regretted it, but is there ever a time when it's acceptable to lie to someone?
I'm not talking about cheating spouses, politicians, or criminals, but the breaking of trust within a circle of friends, acquaintances, people you know, people you work with, family etc.
A "fib" is the "little white lie". When you're on the phone, have to go to the bathroom, and just can't get the person on the other end to hang up so you tell them someone is at the door so you have to go. I think we've all done this.
Some teenagers like to tell a "small" lie about coming in 15 minutes past curfew, or how the dent got in the car bumper. We've all told or heard the great break-up lie, "it's not you, it's me". Have you ever had a date that wasn't so great and as you're parting you say, "I'll call you"? Lie.
There are times when it's smart to lie. A wife will put on a pair of pants/skirt/jeans she wore in high school and ask her husband, "Do these make me look fat?" The man has no choice. Lie or die. I really don't know why we put our husbands through this, but it's in our DNA passed down from our mother's and grandmother's.
It may be that a lie is necessary, under certain circumstances, to spare someones feelings. I can appreciate that. I had a person give me a sweater one Christmas that looked horrible on me. Yes, I told them it was great, and wore it once around them. I'm sure it went in the donation bin soon after.
I have some very close friends. We joke, laugh, have a good time, and see each other through all the crap life deals us. I would do anything for them and I trust them completely. I would never lie to them, and believe they would never lie to me.
Recently, over the past few months, I was led to believe I had a some new friendships develop. Apparently I was wrong. This is a lie that is not acceptable. I don't give friendship freely, and when I do, it's because I genuinely like the person, want to spend time with them, and I trust them. A friend doesn't look you in the eye and blatantly lie to you. I understand being cautious when first meeting someone, but after you feel an actual friendship has started, there is a trust that forms. This is a bad lie. A painful lie. A lie I hope I don't have to deal with ever again in my lifetime. I'm sure I'll get over it, but right now it's raw, it still hurts and I won't forget.
The lesson I've learned here is, there are acceptable lies. A fib, now and then really doesn't seem to hurt anyone, but the lie that breaks the heart? Not acceptable and very hard to forgive. It will be a long time before I offer my friendship again.
What a difficult question to answer.
We've all done it, we've all regretted it, but is there ever a time when it's acceptable to lie to someone?
I'm not talking about cheating spouses, politicians, or criminals, but the breaking of trust within a circle of friends, acquaintances, people you know, people you work with, family etc.
A "fib" is the "little white lie". When you're on the phone, have to go to the bathroom, and just can't get the person on the other end to hang up so you tell them someone is at the door so you have to go. I think we've all done this.
Some teenagers like to tell a "small" lie about coming in 15 minutes past curfew, or how the dent got in the car bumper. We've all told or heard the great break-up lie, "it's not you, it's me". Have you ever had a date that wasn't so great and as you're parting you say, "I'll call you"? Lie.
There are times when it's smart to lie. A wife will put on a pair of pants/skirt/jeans she wore in high school and ask her husband, "Do these make me look fat?" The man has no choice. Lie or die. I really don't know why we put our husbands through this, but it's in our DNA passed down from our mother's and grandmother's.
It may be that a lie is necessary, under certain circumstances, to spare someones feelings. I can appreciate that. I had a person give me a sweater one Christmas that looked horrible on me. Yes, I told them it was great, and wore it once around them. I'm sure it went in the donation bin soon after.
I have some very close friends. We joke, laugh, have a good time, and see each other through all the crap life deals us. I would do anything for them and I trust them completely. I would never lie to them, and believe they would never lie to me.
Recently, over the past few months, I was led to believe I had a some new friendships develop. Apparently I was wrong. This is a lie that is not acceptable. I don't give friendship freely, and when I do, it's because I genuinely like the person, want to spend time with them, and I trust them. A friend doesn't look you in the eye and blatantly lie to you. I understand being cautious when first meeting someone, but after you feel an actual friendship has started, there is a trust that forms. This is a bad lie. A painful lie. A lie I hope I don't have to deal with ever again in my lifetime. I'm sure I'll get over it, but right now it's raw, it still hurts and I won't forget.
The lesson I've learned here is, there are acceptable lies. A fib, now and then really doesn't seem to hurt anyone, but the lie that breaks the heart? Not acceptable and very hard to forgive. It will be a long time before I offer my friendship again.
Friday, June 1, 2012
Make Them Proud
There's something about a special occasion that makes you miss your loved ones even more than you usually do. My son graduates from high school today, and I find myself thinking of my Aunts, Uncles, and Grandparents. Wondering how they would feel if they were still here. My son was able to meet them all except my Italian Grandparents, and two Uncles who died many, many years before he was born.
My mind goes back to the first time they all saw him. He was just a baby. My father's family is Italian, and babies are big with Italians. They passed him around like he was a fine bottle of wine, with each person cooing and making goo goo noises at him, keeping a smile on his face the entire time. Aunt Angelina (Aunt Ange as we called her) just kissed on him and made such a face. She was great with babies, and always great with me when we went to see her. Aunt Mary would say he looked like a DeMaria for sure, and always commented on what a big a guy he would be. Aunt Rosie would tell me to keep the fridge packed, this kid was an eater. (She must have seen the future) Uncle Joe told me he would be a ladies man for sure. Uncle Jimmy lived close by, so he was able to see him quite a few times and would say, "What a little man" or "che un piccolo uomo" which my dad said meant the same.
He was able to meet his Great-Grandmother, my mom's mother, right after he was born. She died a year later, and my mother's dad had died quite a few years before so my son never met him. My mom had a sister that died, Aunt Donna, and she made such a fuss over my son when he was a baby. So cute to watch, and what great memories I have of that.
All these people will come to my mind as I watch Thomas walk across the stage tonight and receive his diploma. They all played some part in who he has become today. I see bits of them in him, and I know they'll be watching, and smiling and be able to see what a fine young man he has become. As his life continues, they'll all be there. Silently standing by, watching, praying, able to see that baby become a man.
I miss them all, so much, but I'll get to see them tonight, in the smile of a young man walking into the rest of his life and I'll be smiling right along with them.
My mind goes back to the first time they all saw him. He was just a baby. My father's family is Italian, and babies are big with Italians. They passed him around like he was a fine bottle of wine, with each person cooing and making goo goo noises at him, keeping a smile on his face the entire time. Aunt Angelina (Aunt Ange as we called her) just kissed on him and made such a face. She was great with babies, and always great with me when we went to see her. Aunt Mary would say he looked like a DeMaria for sure, and always commented on what a big a guy he would be. Aunt Rosie would tell me to keep the fridge packed, this kid was an eater. (She must have seen the future) Uncle Joe told me he would be a ladies man for sure. Uncle Jimmy lived close by, so he was able to see him quite a few times and would say, "What a little man" or "che un piccolo uomo" which my dad said meant the same.
He was able to meet his Great-Grandmother, my mom's mother, right after he was born. She died a year later, and my mother's dad had died quite a few years before so my son never met him. My mom had a sister that died, Aunt Donna, and she made such a fuss over my son when he was a baby. So cute to watch, and what great memories I have of that.
All these people will come to my mind as I watch Thomas walk across the stage tonight and receive his diploma. They all played some part in who he has become today. I see bits of them in him, and I know they'll be watching, and smiling and be able to see what a fine young man he has become. As his life continues, they'll all be there. Silently standing by, watching, praying, able to see that baby become a man.
I miss them all, so much, but I'll get to see them tonight, in the smile of a young man walking into the rest of his life and I'll be smiling right along with them.
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
There Are More of Us Than There Are of Them!!
Why do we continue to patronize companies that discriminate? I'm talking about Southwest Airlines. Once again, they wanted a passenger to purchase two tickets because of their size. What the heck!!!
I saw the picture of the person. There are larger people out there that fly. I've been on flights beside those folks. If they can fit in the seat, more power to them. I just don't understand why Southwest feels they have the right to humiliate and discriminate against large people.
As one who is not the right weight for my height, meaning if I were 7 feet tall I'd be a supermodel, it is disgusting that this is allowed to go on. Large people, live lives like everyone else, we just do it in a larger than life way. I personally have flown a few times in my life without any issues. If it's such an ordeal for the airline, why don't they have a few seats just a bit larger than the others? First class seats are, why not a few more in the back?
When I read this my first thought was, I wonder what Southwest would do if they had a run on us chubs one flight and we all sat on the same side of the plane? That would fix them. Or all of us sit in the back of the plane. They'd be popping a wheelie the whole way down the runway. Why do they have seat belt extenders if they only want a certain size of passenger?
There are more of us chunky butts than there are of those thin folks out there. Bountiful bodies of the world unite. Enough of this discrimination. We need to stand up for our rights. If I want to wear an airline seat for a couple hours, than so be it. I'm paying for the seat, so leave me alone.
Worse things get on those planes. One flight I was on, there was someone who farted the whole time. Rank recycled air for an hour and a half flight. Don't forget about the crying babies. What a joy they are. Then there's the person in front of you that has to recline for the entire trip. That's what I want, some guys head in my lap for 3 hours. Oh, and the person who has to use the bathroom every ten minutes. They're always in the window seat and have to climb over everybody. Why doesn't Southwest start asking if you have bladder issues before you fly? It's just as insane as asking someone to purchase two seats because they're fat.
If we quit flying Southwest, they will have to change, eventually. Until then, lets hold our heads, and our cheesecake, high. Who knows, with all the lawsuits, they just might end up getting what they deserve.
I saw the picture of the person. There are larger people out there that fly. I've been on flights beside those folks. If they can fit in the seat, more power to them. I just don't understand why Southwest feels they have the right to humiliate and discriminate against large people.
As one who is not the right weight for my height, meaning if I were 7 feet tall I'd be a supermodel, it is disgusting that this is allowed to go on. Large people, live lives like everyone else, we just do it in a larger than life way. I personally have flown a few times in my life without any issues. If it's such an ordeal for the airline, why don't they have a few seats just a bit larger than the others? First class seats are, why not a few more in the back?
When I read this my first thought was, I wonder what Southwest would do if they had a run on us chubs one flight and we all sat on the same side of the plane? That would fix them. Or all of us sit in the back of the plane. They'd be popping a wheelie the whole way down the runway. Why do they have seat belt extenders if they only want a certain size of passenger?
There are more of us chunky butts than there are of those thin folks out there. Bountiful bodies of the world unite. Enough of this discrimination. We need to stand up for our rights. If I want to wear an airline seat for a couple hours, than so be it. I'm paying for the seat, so leave me alone.
Worse things get on those planes. One flight I was on, there was someone who farted the whole time. Rank recycled air for an hour and a half flight. Don't forget about the crying babies. What a joy they are. Then there's the person in front of you that has to recline for the entire trip. That's what I want, some guys head in my lap for 3 hours. Oh, and the person who has to use the bathroom every ten minutes. They're always in the window seat and have to climb over everybody. Why doesn't Southwest start asking if you have bladder issues before you fly? It's just as insane as asking someone to purchase two seats because they're fat.
If we quit flying Southwest, they will have to change, eventually. Until then, lets hold our heads, and our cheesecake, high. Who knows, with all the lawsuits, they just might end up getting what they deserve.
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
You Gotta Have Friends
The word Friend is defined in the Merriam-Webster Dictionary as, " one attached to another by affection or esteem, acquaintance." I agree with most of this definition, not the "acquaintance" part. Many people are an "acquaintance" of mine, but not a "friend". There are a close few, however, that I do call "friend".
My closest friends should be given medals, awards, money, whatever they want, for all I've put them through. They wouldn't take anything. That's what makes them true, die hard, forever friends. I have two that are the absolute closest. I tell you about them so you may know what true friendship means, so you have a way to measure others that claim to be your "friend."
Rebecca - The one word I would use to sum her up would be, "fabulous". Beck, as we call her, can do anything. She sews, crafts, scrapbooks, makes cards, paints, decorates, bakes, and more. What she touches becomes shear perfection. You might call her the "Martha Stewart" of the real world. Aside from all her talent, she is a terrific mom to 5 parrots, Ferguson, Sydney, Smoky Joe, Mason, and Rudy, and a wonderful, loving wife to husband Bill. As a Controller, she has so much responsibility at work, I don't know how she does it. (A Controller is NOT a Secretary, as I learned the hard way). Beck's family is down south, and she deals with their interesting trials on a daily basis. I tell you all this about Beck so you know, in spite of her 30 hour days, she always has time for me. If I call her, she's there. When I need her, she's there. This is what a true, real friend is about. You won't find this in the dictionary.
Barbara - There is no single word to describe her. Babs, as I call her, has been my friend since 5th grade Junior Church. (about 30 years) You could describe her as _________________. What ever word you would put there would be correct. This chick is nuts to be sticking with me all this time. We have been on road trips together, double dates, intoxicated, sick, tired, happy, depressed, any and all emotions and situations you could possibly think of, we've been there. I would not have a life without her in it. She is my sister, confidant, judge, jury, there are just not enough words to describe our crazy, wonderful friendship. She is always there, and always will be there. There are enough stories to write a book on. Someday, when I know she's too rich to sue me for libel, I'll write it.
I tell you about these women, so you know what friendship is all about. We eat, laugh, eat, cry, eat, craft, eat, and eat more. The best times in my life have been with these two. I know I put them through it at times, but I know they'll always be there, and I can always count on them. I laugh when I think of all the desserts we've been through, all the men we've talked about, all the tears we've held each other through. There are no other people on this earth that I am so, "...attached to...by affection or esteem..."
Maybe the dictionary has it right after all.
My closest friends should be given medals, awards, money, whatever they want, for all I've put them through. They wouldn't take anything. That's what makes them true, die hard, forever friends. I have two that are the absolute closest. I tell you about them so you may know what true friendship means, so you have a way to measure others that claim to be your "friend."
Rebecca - The one word I would use to sum her up would be, "fabulous". Beck, as we call her, can do anything. She sews, crafts, scrapbooks, makes cards, paints, decorates, bakes, and more. What she touches becomes shear perfection. You might call her the "Martha Stewart" of the real world. Aside from all her talent, she is a terrific mom to 5 parrots, Ferguson, Sydney, Smoky Joe, Mason, and Rudy, and a wonderful, loving wife to husband Bill. As a Controller, she has so much responsibility at work, I don't know how she does it. (A Controller is NOT a Secretary, as I learned the hard way). Beck's family is down south, and she deals with their interesting trials on a daily basis. I tell you all this about Beck so you know, in spite of her 30 hour days, she always has time for me. If I call her, she's there. When I need her, she's there. This is what a true, real friend is about. You won't find this in the dictionary.
Barbara - There is no single word to describe her. Babs, as I call her, has been my friend since 5th grade Junior Church. (about 30 years) You could describe her as _________________. What ever word you would put there would be correct. This chick is nuts to be sticking with me all this time. We have been on road trips together, double dates, intoxicated, sick, tired, happy, depressed, any and all emotions and situations you could possibly think of, we've been there. I would not have a life without her in it. She is my sister, confidant, judge, jury, there are just not enough words to describe our crazy, wonderful friendship. She is always there, and always will be there. There are enough stories to write a book on. Someday, when I know she's too rich to sue me for libel, I'll write it.
I tell you about these women, so you know what friendship is all about. We eat, laugh, eat, cry, eat, craft, eat, and eat more. The best times in my life have been with these two. I know I put them through it at times, but I know they'll always be there, and I can always count on them. I laugh when I think of all the desserts we've been through, all the men we've talked about, all the tears we've held each other through. There are no other people on this earth that I am so, "...attached to...by affection or esteem..."
Maybe the dictionary has it right after all.
Sunday, April 29, 2012
I'm Renting It, Not Buying It!
When did the cost of prom get so insane????
My son is going to his girlfriend's prom in a couple of weeks. She was able to rent her dress, which I think is a great idea. So, the next logical step is the rental of the tux.
Prom is in about 2 weeks, so I told my son we would go today. We went to a store about 20 minutes away since there isn't a local one anymore, and I thought the bonding would do us good. His girlfriend came along so she could match her dress color with whatever he needed to match it with.
Let me go back a few years. When my brothers went to prom, in the 70's, they were able to wear a different tux to school every day for a week, then they got theirs free. They were gross back then. The ruffled shirts with bow ties so wide they didn't need a shirt, and the colors - yuck. I remember my oldest brother with a powder blue tux and a huge white bow tie. There are pictures around somewhere, I don't think his daughters have ever seen them. Even when I went to prom the tux rental was really no big deal. Suspenders and cummerbunds were hip then. Not bad looking at all. So what happened?
Ok, back to the tux store with my son and his girlfriend. The line is a mile long, so we looked around. Nice tuxes everywhere, nice shirts and vests (I'm so glad vests are hip again), shiny shoes, everything you need. His name was called, the sales lady greeted him nicely and took him away to get fitted. My brain is still a few years back in time, so I'm looking at ties thinking how nice they both will look all dressed up. I can feel a tear starting in my eye thinking of my baby boy all dressed up, looking so fine. My son asks me what cuff links I think would look better, black or white. We got through that, and his girlfriend picked the color that comes closest to her dress. Black shirt, tie and vest a very light pink, shiny shoes, good. Everything in order, good.
So now I'm asked to come to a desk and sit. Red flag - they want me to sit. The sales lady is click click clicking on her computer and mumbling numbers that could not have been ours. She must be working on another order because I'm hearing numbers like $100, $125, $130, and they keep going up. Then she gives me a paper to sign while speaking very fast about returns, an extra $7 charge for cleaning, what happens if you don't return it on time, etc. I read the paper, ok, no big deal, sign on the line. Then she asks us to go to the register. Wait a minute - she skipped the part where I'm told the price. My son, and his girlfriend, walk away - very smart thing to do. The sales lady says, "oh it's only $198, but with his $40 discount, and adding tax the total is only $172................" I missed the rest due to the stroke I was having. $172? I didn't hear that right. "Excuse me? What was that price??" She replied, "Only $172, it would have been over $200 if he and gone with the Vera Wang but that is only for weddings." "Oh, well good thing he's not getting married, that makes all the difference." I then asked her, "You do know I'm renting this and not buying it, right??" "Oh it would be much more to purchase it" she says. I then asked the parents filling the store, "I'm I the only here that thinks this is absolutely nuts??" The people cheered, and my son denied knowing me.
What are you going to do? Nothing. I dragged myself, clutching my chest, to the register and laid the money down. My son did pay part of it, a small part, but at least he paid for some of it. It did give me some gratification knowing the other parents felt the same way, but there is nothing we can do. As parents, we want them to have fantastic memories, so we pay. We got in the car, and drove a mile down the road to a restaurant where I drowned my sorrows in a huge blueberry muffin.
The more I thought about it, the more I realized Adam and Eve had the right idea. Fig leaves are a dime a dozen, and they sure didn't have to rent them. Hmmmm, my son is 6'2", wow, that's a gonna take a lota leaves, and where are there fig trees around here? Better just stay with the tux for now.
My son is going to his girlfriend's prom in a couple of weeks. She was able to rent her dress, which I think is a great idea. So, the next logical step is the rental of the tux.
Prom is in about 2 weeks, so I told my son we would go today. We went to a store about 20 minutes away since there isn't a local one anymore, and I thought the bonding would do us good. His girlfriend came along so she could match her dress color with whatever he needed to match it with.
Let me go back a few years. When my brothers went to prom, in the 70's, they were able to wear a different tux to school every day for a week, then they got theirs free. They were gross back then. The ruffled shirts with bow ties so wide they didn't need a shirt, and the colors - yuck. I remember my oldest brother with a powder blue tux and a huge white bow tie. There are pictures around somewhere, I don't think his daughters have ever seen them. Even when I went to prom the tux rental was really no big deal. Suspenders and cummerbunds were hip then. Not bad looking at all. So what happened?
Ok, back to the tux store with my son and his girlfriend. The line is a mile long, so we looked around. Nice tuxes everywhere, nice shirts and vests (I'm so glad vests are hip again), shiny shoes, everything you need. His name was called, the sales lady greeted him nicely and took him away to get fitted. My brain is still a few years back in time, so I'm looking at ties thinking how nice they both will look all dressed up. I can feel a tear starting in my eye thinking of my baby boy all dressed up, looking so fine. My son asks me what cuff links I think would look better, black or white. We got through that, and his girlfriend picked the color that comes closest to her dress. Black shirt, tie and vest a very light pink, shiny shoes, good. Everything in order, good.
So now I'm asked to come to a desk and sit. Red flag - they want me to sit. The sales lady is click click clicking on her computer and mumbling numbers that could not have been ours. She must be working on another order because I'm hearing numbers like $100, $125, $130, and they keep going up. Then she gives me a paper to sign while speaking very fast about returns, an extra $7 charge for cleaning, what happens if you don't return it on time, etc. I read the paper, ok, no big deal, sign on the line. Then she asks us to go to the register. Wait a minute - she skipped the part where I'm told the price. My son, and his girlfriend, walk away - very smart thing to do. The sales lady says, "oh it's only $198, but with his $40 discount, and adding tax the total is only $172................" I missed the rest due to the stroke I was having. $172? I didn't hear that right. "Excuse me? What was that price??" She replied, "Only $172, it would have been over $200 if he and gone with the Vera Wang but that is only for weddings." "Oh, well good thing he's not getting married, that makes all the difference." I then asked her, "You do know I'm renting this and not buying it, right??" "Oh it would be much more to purchase it" she says. I then asked the parents filling the store, "I'm I the only here that thinks this is absolutely nuts??" The people cheered, and my son denied knowing me.
What are you going to do? Nothing. I dragged myself, clutching my chest, to the register and laid the money down. My son did pay part of it, a small part, but at least he paid for some of it. It did give me some gratification knowing the other parents felt the same way, but there is nothing we can do. As parents, we want them to have fantastic memories, so we pay. We got in the car, and drove a mile down the road to a restaurant where I drowned my sorrows in a huge blueberry muffin.
The more I thought about it, the more I realized Adam and Eve had the right idea. Fig leaves are a dime a dozen, and they sure didn't have to rent them. Hmmmm, my son is 6'2", wow, that's a gonna take a lota leaves, and where are there fig trees around here? Better just stay with the tux for now.
Friday, April 13, 2012
My "Sanctuary" is now an "Auditorium"
I was raised in the Protestant church. It was a little Baptist church just outside of town. One of those churches where an attendance of 50 on a Sunday morning was considered a crowd. Everyone knew everyone. The same families had been there since the church began, and it was a great place to grow up. As kids, we learned all the great Sunday School songs, and heard all the great stories of the Bible. There was also Vacation Bible School in the summer which was a week of songs, stories, crafts, and an incredibly competitive game of "Red Rover".
There was something else we were taught. Respect. Respect for where we were, church, the house of God. The area where Sunday School was held was a hallway away from the Sanctuary. We could play, laugh, yell, horse around, whatever. Once you entered the Sanctuary, there was an air of reverence. Time to calm down, and listen to what God wanted us to hear. There were great hymns, great pastors, great clothes, great memories. My Grandfather use to say (he was a retired Baptist minister), "You would wear your best clothes to meet the Queen of England, why not for the King of Kings?" We always wore our best on Sunday morning.
When I was in 5th grade, my parents decided to take the family to another church. This church had a membership of about 1500, was in a huge building, and I was scared to death. They were "non-denominational" which was explained to me as meaning anyone was able to attend. Not just Baptist, Methodist, etc., but anyone. Sunday School was huge, and the Sanctuary was even bigger. I felt like a very small person sitting in a very big pew. Once again, the fun area was away from the Sanctuary, and once we entered those doors, we showed respect. No matter the size, it was the Sanctuary, the house of God. Respect.
That was 1977. January 1, 1978, my mother and I became members of that church. This year was year 34 of that membership. How many people can say they've been at the same church, a member no less, for 34 years? Oh, the changes that have happened.
The pastor that was there then is now 3 pastor's ago. I miss him. A very great man of God. The minister after him almost split the church in two. That's when I learned of church politics. They can be rough. The current minister is a good guy, young, but really making huge changes that I don't care for. The Sanctuary is now called an "Auditorium". Usually, there is no "Cross", although I did hear there was one at Easter. The pastor appears to be standoffish. I've heard people can get in to see him, to talk to him, but I personally don't know anyone that has. The music is so loud it's obscene. It's rock and roll and heavy metal. The way people dance and jump around, I'm waiting for a Sunday morning "Mosh Pit". There is a traditional service at 9am, but they're really pushing it on the music. People wear anything and everything. Torn jeans, flip flops, short shorts, you name it. The minister himself wears jeans.
So you're reading this and thinking, "What a whiner. You don't go to church for all that, you go for the message, and for what God wants you to hear." That may be so, but for me, the whole experience use to be uplifting. It was everything. The people, the music, the message, the building itself. Now, for me, it's a disappointment. There's no reverence, no respect. It's about numbers. How do we get more people in? How do we get more tithes? I'm just completely spiritually drained from it.
I miss my Sanctuary, I miss the reverence and respect. I miss my church. I miss having a minister so close to God you could feel it in his message. I'm not saying the guy doesn't believe he's speaking as a messenger, but I just don't get it. I don't feel it. Right now, I don't care. It feels so fake anymore, I'm done with it. The church, I mean, not God. God and I are ok.
I don't need the church to be cool with God.
There was something else we were taught. Respect. Respect for where we were, church, the house of God. The area where Sunday School was held was a hallway away from the Sanctuary. We could play, laugh, yell, horse around, whatever. Once you entered the Sanctuary, there was an air of reverence. Time to calm down, and listen to what God wanted us to hear. There were great hymns, great pastors, great clothes, great memories. My Grandfather use to say (he was a retired Baptist minister), "You would wear your best clothes to meet the Queen of England, why not for the King of Kings?" We always wore our best on Sunday morning.
When I was in 5th grade, my parents decided to take the family to another church. This church had a membership of about 1500, was in a huge building, and I was scared to death. They were "non-denominational" which was explained to me as meaning anyone was able to attend. Not just Baptist, Methodist, etc., but anyone. Sunday School was huge, and the Sanctuary was even bigger. I felt like a very small person sitting in a very big pew. Once again, the fun area was away from the Sanctuary, and once we entered those doors, we showed respect. No matter the size, it was the Sanctuary, the house of God. Respect.
That was 1977. January 1, 1978, my mother and I became members of that church. This year was year 34 of that membership. How many people can say they've been at the same church, a member no less, for 34 years? Oh, the changes that have happened.
The pastor that was there then is now 3 pastor's ago. I miss him. A very great man of God. The minister after him almost split the church in two. That's when I learned of church politics. They can be rough. The current minister is a good guy, young, but really making huge changes that I don't care for. The Sanctuary is now called an "Auditorium". Usually, there is no "Cross", although I did hear there was one at Easter. The pastor appears to be standoffish. I've heard people can get in to see him, to talk to him, but I personally don't know anyone that has. The music is so loud it's obscene. It's rock and roll and heavy metal. The way people dance and jump around, I'm waiting for a Sunday morning "Mosh Pit". There is a traditional service at 9am, but they're really pushing it on the music. People wear anything and everything. Torn jeans, flip flops, short shorts, you name it. The minister himself wears jeans.
So you're reading this and thinking, "What a whiner. You don't go to church for all that, you go for the message, and for what God wants you to hear." That may be so, but for me, the whole experience use to be uplifting. It was everything. The people, the music, the message, the building itself. Now, for me, it's a disappointment. There's no reverence, no respect. It's about numbers. How do we get more people in? How do we get more tithes? I'm just completely spiritually drained from it.
I miss my Sanctuary, I miss the reverence and respect. I miss my church. I miss having a minister so close to God you could feel it in his message. I'm not saying the guy doesn't believe he's speaking as a messenger, but I just don't get it. I don't feel it. Right now, I don't care. It feels so fake anymore, I'm done with it. The church, I mean, not God. God and I are ok.
I don't need the church to be cool with God.
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
Is It Really All About Race?
I'm not completely sure why Trayvon Martin was shot. There are so many stories out there I'm not really sure what to believe. The only fact I know to be true is that a young man is dead. What I don't understand is, is this a race issue, or has it been made into a race issue by the protesting mobs that are appearing everywhere? Another question on my mind is, do the Revs. Al Sharpton and Jessie Jackson ever show up to defend a white guy?? That question in itself may be construed as racist, but it's not meant to be. Just an honest question.
If you look at the stats, prison's hold more black males than white males. Racist? No, fact.
When does it become racist? What makes an act, statement, word racist? I guess it all depends on who says it or does it. I've heard many a black person use the "N" word while talking to each other. No one is offended. Put a white person in the mix - whoa, now it's racist. Why don't we have a "White History Month"? That would be racist. Why isn't there a television network called "WET" (White Entertainment Television)? That would be racist. Why are there so many black or mixed race children that have no idea who their daddy is? I know there are white kids with only a mom in the home, but it just seems like there are more black or mixed race kids. I don't know the statistics, and I'm sure someone will read that and call me a racist, but I'm not.
Why are there so many black people that think they're owed something by the government, or white people, because their ancestors were slaves? It doesn't matter that some of their own tribal leaders gave them up to be slaves, no, don't mention that, that's racist. What is with all this "African-American" stuff. If you're a citizen of this country, natural or otherwise, you're an American. Racist? No, fact.
I honestly don't believe George Zimmerman shot Trayvon Martin because he was black. I believe he panicked, and during whatever was happening, pulled the trigger. I'm not saying he is innocent, I'm not saying he shouldn't be punished, I'm saying there is more to this than race. There are so many "concealed carry" permits out there, how this doesn't happen more often is beyond me. In my opinion, as my blog always is, this should be a wake up call for all the states that let anyone and everyone carry a gun. Having one in your home is different than having one on your person. I'm not saying we don't have the right to own guns, I'm just saying if you don't need it in your line of work, like a Police Officer or the like, why do you need to carry one around with you? George Zimmerman could very well be anyone out there with a permit. This could happen to anyone who panics while carrying a gun.
This is not a race issue, this is an issue of too many people without too many brains carrying too many guns.
If you look at the stats, prison's hold more black males than white males. Racist? No, fact.
When does it become racist? What makes an act, statement, word racist? I guess it all depends on who says it or does it. I've heard many a black person use the "N" word while talking to each other. No one is offended. Put a white person in the mix - whoa, now it's racist. Why don't we have a "White History Month"? That would be racist. Why isn't there a television network called "WET" (White Entertainment Television)? That would be racist. Why are there so many black or mixed race children that have no idea who their daddy is? I know there are white kids with only a mom in the home, but it just seems like there are more black or mixed race kids. I don't know the statistics, and I'm sure someone will read that and call me a racist, but I'm not.
Why are there so many black people that think they're owed something by the government, or white people, because their ancestors were slaves? It doesn't matter that some of their own tribal leaders gave them up to be slaves, no, don't mention that, that's racist. What is with all this "African-American" stuff. If you're a citizen of this country, natural or otherwise, you're an American. Racist? No, fact.
I honestly don't believe George Zimmerman shot Trayvon Martin because he was black. I believe he panicked, and during whatever was happening, pulled the trigger. I'm not saying he is innocent, I'm not saying he shouldn't be punished, I'm saying there is more to this than race. There are so many "concealed carry" permits out there, how this doesn't happen more often is beyond me. In my opinion, as my blog always is, this should be a wake up call for all the states that let anyone and everyone carry a gun. Having one in your home is different than having one on your person. I'm not saying we don't have the right to own guns, I'm just saying if you don't need it in your line of work, like a Police Officer or the like, why do you need to carry one around with you? George Zimmerman could very well be anyone out there with a permit. This could happen to anyone who panics while carrying a gun.
This is not a race issue, this is an issue of too many people without too many brains carrying too many guns.
Monday, April 9, 2012
Martha Stewart is an Evil Genius!!
Every holiday, I try to do something crafty for my family. Little things to sit on the table, or something for the place settings. Just something cute to add to the day, and something they can take home with them.
This Easter, I decided to color eggs the "Martha Stewart" way and, as a bonus, watch her show all week for some great craft ideas. It's so easy watching her do everything, and all the "Martha Stewart" brand craft products must be the best because she is the guru of all things creative and I'm sure she would never use any product, or promote any product, or put her name on any product that wasn't the best. HAH - this mentality is what led me to learn that "Martha Stewart" is an evil genius.
I watched her show, took notes, spent money, and for what?
Blowing eggs is not easy. You put a hole in one end, and then the other end. Take a small straw, like a coffee stirrer, and place it at one hole. Blowing gently, the egg will come out the other end. Be sure and break the yolk first so it all will come out. So I did all that and gently blowing only made me hyperventilate. Nothing was coming out of the egg. I blew a little harder, still nothing. I gave it a big blow and the egg blew - all over my kitchen. Six eggs later, with egg goo dripping off my kitchen cabinets, I gave up and bought an egg blower I found on a Ukrainian Egg web site. This worked perfectly. I bet Martha never had egg goo all over her kitchen.
Eggs blown, rinsed out, dried over night, time to color. Once again, following the "Martha Stewart" egg app I downloaded on my phone, I mixed the color solutions, and placed the eggs in. Here is where another lesson is learned - eggs blown don't sink, they float. Try coloring floating eggs. My kitchen, just a day before, covered with egg goo, now covered with egg coloring stuff. My hands looked like I had worked in the coal mines all day. I bet Martha never had egg coloring stuff all over her hands.
After everything dried, I wanted to decorate the eggs the Martha way. You think I would have learned at this point - sadly, no. I got my "Martha Stewart" brand glitter, my craft glue, my thin blue painter's tape - all like I saw Martha do, and started in. Didn't look hard at all. Tape off egg, spread glue, sprinkle glitter, dry, remove tape, and presto - an egg that would make Rembrandt jealous. HAH! Tape didn't want to stick to the egg, glue stuck to my fingers, glitter everywhere - why am I subjecting myself to this??? I bet Martha never had glitter stuck to her butt.
Still wanting to make "nest's" I saw Martha make, I drove all over creation looking for the paper she used that "could be found in any craft store" - NOT - the money I spent in gas I could have used to buy my own paper mill. One store even looked online and saw her making the "nest's" - the store employee, who is in charge of crafting at the store, had no idea where to find that paper. I bought some little baskets and improvised. I bet Martha never had to drive around looking for paper.
So, standing in my kitchen, watching egg goo dripping off the cabinets, egg coloring stuff all over the counter, still washing glitter out of my butt crack, and burning from the cuts on my hands and fingers from the little baskets I bought, I had an epiphany. MARTHA STEWART IS AN EVIL GENIUS!!
The woman is rolling in cash because of idiots like me who watch her show and think, "That's not so hard". We buy all her brand name stuff and, after all the egg goo, and all the coloring, and all the paper cuts, realize nothing Martha does is easy, except drive to the bank. It's like a dangling fishing lure. I grabbed hold and she reeled me in. Now, I'm flopping around like a dead fish on the beach, covered in goo, glitter, and paper scraps. It takes an evil genius to come up with a plan like that.
I just wish I would have come up with it first!
This Easter, I decided to color eggs the "Martha Stewart" way and, as a bonus, watch her show all week for some great craft ideas. It's so easy watching her do everything, and all the "Martha Stewart" brand craft products must be the best because she is the guru of all things creative and I'm sure she would never use any product, or promote any product, or put her name on any product that wasn't the best. HAH - this mentality is what led me to learn that "Martha Stewart" is an evil genius.
I watched her show, took notes, spent money, and for what?
Blowing eggs is not easy. You put a hole in one end, and then the other end. Take a small straw, like a coffee stirrer, and place it at one hole. Blowing gently, the egg will come out the other end. Be sure and break the yolk first so it all will come out. So I did all that and gently blowing only made me hyperventilate. Nothing was coming out of the egg. I blew a little harder, still nothing. I gave it a big blow and the egg blew - all over my kitchen. Six eggs later, with egg goo dripping off my kitchen cabinets, I gave up and bought an egg blower I found on a Ukrainian Egg web site. This worked perfectly. I bet Martha never had egg goo all over her kitchen.
Eggs blown, rinsed out, dried over night, time to color. Once again, following the "Martha Stewart" egg app I downloaded on my phone, I mixed the color solutions, and placed the eggs in. Here is where another lesson is learned - eggs blown don't sink, they float. Try coloring floating eggs. My kitchen, just a day before, covered with egg goo, now covered with egg coloring stuff. My hands looked like I had worked in the coal mines all day. I bet Martha never had egg coloring stuff all over her hands.
After everything dried, I wanted to decorate the eggs the Martha way. You think I would have learned at this point - sadly, no. I got my "Martha Stewart" brand glitter, my craft glue, my thin blue painter's tape - all like I saw Martha do, and started in. Didn't look hard at all. Tape off egg, spread glue, sprinkle glitter, dry, remove tape, and presto - an egg that would make Rembrandt jealous. HAH! Tape didn't want to stick to the egg, glue stuck to my fingers, glitter everywhere - why am I subjecting myself to this??? I bet Martha never had glitter stuck to her butt.
Still wanting to make "nest's" I saw Martha make, I drove all over creation looking for the paper she used that "could be found in any craft store" - NOT - the money I spent in gas I could have used to buy my own paper mill. One store even looked online and saw her making the "nest's" - the store employee, who is in charge of crafting at the store, had no idea where to find that paper. I bought some little baskets and improvised. I bet Martha never had to drive around looking for paper.
So, standing in my kitchen, watching egg goo dripping off the cabinets, egg coloring stuff all over the counter, still washing glitter out of my butt crack, and burning from the cuts on my hands and fingers from the little baskets I bought, I had an epiphany. MARTHA STEWART IS AN EVIL GENIUS!!
The woman is rolling in cash because of idiots like me who watch her show and think, "That's not so hard". We buy all her brand name stuff and, after all the egg goo, and all the coloring, and all the paper cuts, realize nothing Martha does is easy, except drive to the bank. It's like a dangling fishing lure. I grabbed hold and she reeled me in. Now, I'm flopping around like a dead fish on the beach, covered in goo, glitter, and paper scraps. It takes an evil genius to come up with a plan like that.
I just wish I would have come up with it first!
Monday, March 26, 2012
Is Dick Cheney Afraid to Die?
Death.
It's an absolute that we all have in common. You will die. I will die. We all will die. What makes it unique is how we face it. Personally, I have no fear of death. That doesn't mean I'm anxious, it just means I fully believe there is life after death and know where I'm going. This doesn't mean death has an invitation to dinner, and I'll fight it as long as I can, but, when it's my time, it's my time.
My idea of fighting death, does not include shortening the life of another so I can live. I won't take an organ transplant that might go to save another. I'm 44, and don't have any small children depending on me for their survival. My only child is going off to college in the fall, and is quite capable of taking care of himself. My husband is also able (most days) to take care of himself. I just couldn't take an organ transplant when there are so many younger people that need it.
The idea of an organ transplant is amazing. My brother, a diabetic for many years, was able to get a pancreas/kidney about 5 years ago. He is the breadwinner of his family, and has people dependent on him for support. I have no problem with him getting these organs. The problem I have - and you knew this was coming - is when a man in his 70's, former Vice President Dick Cheney, takes a heart that someone much younger should have had. It's not like heart's grow on trees. This is something very difficult to get and it totally angers me that this man - this selfish, HEARTLESS, man - obviously afraid of death - gets a new heart.
According to the AP, it's "unlikely" - their word - that he received any special treatment to get this heart. I remember when he was Vice President. Some people said he was Satan himself. Did he make a deal with the devil? You can't convince me that his position, his money, didn't buy him that heart. When he was on the operating table, I wonder how many people died waiting for their heart? How many other, much younger people?
This is a shame. The age of organ transplant receipents should be taken into consideration before it proceeds. Die with some dignity and with the knowledge you lived your life without shortening someone else's.
It's an absolute that we all have in common. You will die. I will die. We all will die. What makes it unique is how we face it. Personally, I have no fear of death. That doesn't mean I'm anxious, it just means I fully believe there is life after death and know where I'm going. This doesn't mean death has an invitation to dinner, and I'll fight it as long as I can, but, when it's my time, it's my time.
My idea of fighting death, does not include shortening the life of another so I can live. I won't take an organ transplant that might go to save another. I'm 44, and don't have any small children depending on me for their survival. My only child is going off to college in the fall, and is quite capable of taking care of himself. My husband is also able (most days) to take care of himself. I just couldn't take an organ transplant when there are so many younger people that need it.
The idea of an organ transplant is amazing. My brother, a diabetic for many years, was able to get a pancreas/kidney about 5 years ago. He is the breadwinner of his family, and has people dependent on him for support. I have no problem with him getting these organs. The problem I have - and you knew this was coming - is when a man in his 70's, former Vice President Dick Cheney, takes a heart that someone much younger should have had. It's not like heart's grow on trees. This is something very difficult to get and it totally angers me that this man - this selfish, HEARTLESS, man - obviously afraid of death - gets a new heart.
According to the AP, it's "unlikely" - their word - that he received any special treatment to get this heart. I remember when he was Vice President. Some people said he was Satan himself. Did he make a deal with the devil? You can't convince me that his position, his money, didn't buy him that heart. When he was on the operating table, I wonder how many people died waiting for their heart? How many other, much younger people?
This is a shame. The age of organ transplant receipents should be taken into consideration before it proceeds. Die with some dignity and with the knowledge you lived your life without shortening someone else's.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
How Do I Let Him Go?
I'm sitting here holding my son's cap and gown. He is graduating from high school on June 1st. I know that's 10 weeks away yet, but I'm having a hard time with it.
Back on July 15, 1993, he came into this world screaming, yelling, letting everyone and anyone know he was here and was hungry. He's been eating ever since. I didn't see him until July 16th. He was a difficult birth that ended in an emergency c-section. I remember it like it was yesterday. I remember everything like it was yesterday. I had absolutely no experience with a baby, so the nurse had to show me how to hold him. He was screaming when she brought him to my room. She said talk to him and he'd stop. My first words to my newborn son, "Hey baby". He stopped crying and looked at me, stared at me, and there was our moment. It wasn't at all like TV where you have sunlight coming in the window, and all the angels in heaven are singing while butterflies and white doves dance all around. Just him in the crook of my arm, looking at me, trying to figure out what I was all about. I was thinking the exact same of him. How do I let him go?
It was at that same time, I gave him back to God. I told God I knew this was His baby, given to me to care for as best as I could, and I begged Him to send angels to guard over him always. As I spoke those words, I knew this child was my life. I would love him forever, protect him always, do anything and everything I could for him including praying for him continuously. How do I let him go?
The next 18 years are a blur. The toddler years were typical. Into everything, constant questions, "Wassat?" he'd whisper while pointing to a bug. I answered to, "Mommom", and lost every game of "Hi Ho Cherry-O" and "Shoots and Ladders" that we played. He would win with a giggle and a "Can we play again?" Usually, it was bedtime so, the games ended with kisses and hugs and "I love you mommom" over and over again. How do I let him go?
Pre-teen years ran quickly into the teen years. Yes, the testosterone runneth over. I got bumped from first place to last the first time he saw a girl run. This was the time of braces, passing notes in school, and the first girl to break his heart. He was so into baseball, basketball, all of it. I was front and center on the bleachers. He would look at me and give me a nod. That was his way of saying, "I'm so glad to see you there, mom, just don't tell anybody you know me." How do I let him go?
I've got 10 weeks, and a few weeks over the summer left with him. He'll belong to the world once he leaves for college in the fall, and I'll be a thing of the past, except when he needs money, or something for his dorm, and I'm ready for that. What I'm not ready for are the moments when I forget he's gone. When I go upstairs during the night to check on him, and see the empty bed. When I hear a noise in the kitchen and think it's him at the fridge, and it's not. When I don't see his clothes in the laundry or trip over his shoes in the kitchen. How do I let him go?
I let him go by letting him go. It's time for him to fly, to leave the nest, to have a life of his own. I'll always be here to help him stand up when life throws him down, but it will never be the same. He has to go, so I'll let him.
Back on July 15, 1993, he came into this world screaming, yelling, letting everyone and anyone know he was here and was hungry. He's been eating ever since. I didn't see him until July 16th. He was a difficult birth that ended in an emergency c-section. I remember it like it was yesterday. I remember everything like it was yesterday. I had absolutely no experience with a baby, so the nurse had to show me how to hold him. He was screaming when she brought him to my room. She said talk to him and he'd stop. My first words to my newborn son, "Hey baby". He stopped crying and looked at me, stared at me, and there was our moment. It wasn't at all like TV where you have sunlight coming in the window, and all the angels in heaven are singing while butterflies and white doves dance all around. Just him in the crook of my arm, looking at me, trying to figure out what I was all about. I was thinking the exact same of him. How do I let him go?
It was at that same time, I gave him back to God. I told God I knew this was His baby, given to me to care for as best as I could, and I begged Him to send angels to guard over him always. As I spoke those words, I knew this child was my life. I would love him forever, protect him always, do anything and everything I could for him including praying for him continuously. How do I let him go?
The next 18 years are a blur. The toddler years were typical. Into everything, constant questions, "Wassat?" he'd whisper while pointing to a bug. I answered to, "Mommom", and lost every game of "Hi Ho Cherry-O" and "Shoots and Ladders" that we played. He would win with a giggle and a "Can we play again?" Usually, it was bedtime so, the games ended with kisses and hugs and "I love you mommom" over and over again. How do I let him go?
Pre-teen years ran quickly into the teen years. Yes, the testosterone runneth over. I got bumped from first place to last the first time he saw a girl run. This was the time of braces, passing notes in school, and the first girl to break his heart. He was so into baseball, basketball, all of it. I was front and center on the bleachers. He would look at me and give me a nod. That was his way of saying, "I'm so glad to see you there, mom, just don't tell anybody you know me." How do I let him go?
I've got 10 weeks, and a few weeks over the summer left with him. He'll belong to the world once he leaves for college in the fall, and I'll be a thing of the past, except when he needs money, or something for his dorm, and I'm ready for that. What I'm not ready for are the moments when I forget he's gone. When I go upstairs during the night to check on him, and see the empty bed. When I hear a noise in the kitchen and think it's him at the fridge, and it's not. When I don't see his clothes in the laundry or trip over his shoes in the kitchen. How do I let him go?
I let him go by letting him go. It's time for him to fly, to leave the nest, to have a life of his own. I'll always be here to help him stand up when life throws him down, but it will never be the same. He has to go, so I'll let him.
Monday, March 19, 2012
Would You Please Just Shut Up!!!!
Have you ever been around someone that just won't shut up?
It may be while you're in line at the store, or someone in your own family. In any case, they start in on something you just don't give a rip about and won't shut their pie hole.
True story:
While waiting in line at a local store, everything was going great. I had a few items, the line was moving, then it happened. I heard her coming - she was on her phone, loud, going on and on about something, and came up behind me in line. At the same time, the cashier turned her blinky light on - you know - the one that means Methusela's mother is in front of you trying to use an expired coupon while searching for two pennies at the bottom of her "pocketbook". My first thought was, "don't make eye contact with the crazy phone lady" at the same time, I made eye contact with the crazy phone lady.
Immediately I was in the crosshairs, and I looked like a deer in headlights. OH CRAP!! "Can you believe that, do you believe that she would pay that much for a pound of ground beef?" - she was talking to me like I knew who she was talking about, and what they were saying. I was looking at the magazines, praying for God to take me, listening to the lady in front of me telling the cashier, "I know that coupon is good, I cut it out myself last year." Are you listening God? Now would be a good time!
So, after reading the front of all the magazines at the register, I've learned my neighbors may be aliens, I definately don't know how to dress fashionably, and someone on some daytime talk show is "coming out" to their significant other. All the while the crazy phone lady is still going on about how someone doesn't know how to raise their children, and she's thinking about getting her hair colored. "What color do you think? I might go for a red kinda brownish something, what do you think?" She's talking to me? Really? I don't know this woman at all, don't want to know her, don't care, but she wants my opinion on hair color. Thankfully, she was already on to another topic before I had to answer, and getting louder all the time.
Finally, Moses's grandmother, standing in front of me, found her two pennies, and the cashier, completely frustrated, gave in and let her use her coupon, and all was right with the world. WRONG!
By this time, there were more people in line, no other cashier available, so everyone could hear the crazy phone lady going on, and on, and on. I was starting the heavy sighs while giving her a strained half smile. The woman behind her was "tsk-ing" loudly. Crazy phone lady had no clue. "Oh, I want one of these candy bars, I just don't know which one. I can't eat nuts, I get all plugged up for a few days, maybe this one with peanut butter, that's butter right, not a nut??" Obviously, the Lord wasn't coming, so at this point I told her I wasn't really interested in her bowels.
My turn at the register. I put my few items on the counter, and crazy phone lady says, "Oh I was just trying to be neighborly, what a snob." A snob? A SNOB? I let the cashier check me out, and as I grabbed my bag I turned and looked right at the crazy phone lady and said, "You call me a snob? This entire line, this entire store has had to tolerate you talking loud about everything and anything on your stupid phone, I refuse to stand hear and listen to you talk about your bowels. Would you please just shut up!!." The line clapped, the cashier clapped, and crazy phone lady left the store.
Maybe if we tell more people to just shut up, the people who feel they have to walk around talking loud on their phones, and those around us who just talk for the sake of hearing themselves talk, may just spread the word that the general public doesn't want to hear them or care what they have to say.
Get a clue people!!
It may be while you're in line at the store, or someone in your own family. In any case, they start in on something you just don't give a rip about and won't shut their pie hole.
True story:
While waiting in line at a local store, everything was going great. I had a few items, the line was moving, then it happened. I heard her coming - she was on her phone, loud, going on and on about something, and came up behind me in line. At the same time, the cashier turned her blinky light on - you know - the one that means Methusela's mother is in front of you trying to use an expired coupon while searching for two pennies at the bottom of her "pocketbook". My first thought was, "don't make eye contact with the crazy phone lady" at the same time, I made eye contact with the crazy phone lady.
Immediately I was in the crosshairs, and I looked like a deer in headlights. OH CRAP!! "Can you believe that, do you believe that she would pay that much for a pound of ground beef?" - she was talking to me like I knew who she was talking about, and what they were saying. I was looking at the magazines, praying for God to take me, listening to the lady in front of me telling the cashier, "I know that coupon is good, I cut it out myself last year." Are you listening God? Now would be a good time!
So, after reading the front of all the magazines at the register, I've learned my neighbors may be aliens, I definately don't know how to dress fashionably, and someone on some daytime talk show is "coming out" to their significant other. All the while the crazy phone lady is still going on about how someone doesn't know how to raise their children, and she's thinking about getting her hair colored. "What color do you think? I might go for a red kinda brownish something, what do you think?" She's talking to me? Really? I don't know this woman at all, don't want to know her, don't care, but she wants my opinion on hair color. Thankfully, she was already on to another topic before I had to answer, and getting louder all the time.
Finally, Moses's grandmother, standing in front of me, found her two pennies, and the cashier, completely frustrated, gave in and let her use her coupon, and all was right with the world. WRONG!
By this time, there were more people in line, no other cashier available, so everyone could hear the crazy phone lady going on, and on, and on. I was starting the heavy sighs while giving her a strained half smile. The woman behind her was "tsk-ing" loudly. Crazy phone lady had no clue. "Oh, I want one of these candy bars, I just don't know which one. I can't eat nuts, I get all plugged up for a few days, maybe this one with peanut butter, that's butter right, not a nut??" Obviously, the Lord wasn't coming, so at this point I told her I wasn't really interested in her bowels.
My turn at the register. I put my few items on the counter, and crazy phone lady says, "Oh I was just trying to be neighborly, what a snob." A snob? A SNOB? I let the cashier check me out, and as I grabbed my bag I turned and looked right at the crazy phone lady and said, "You call me a snob? This entire line, this entire store has had to tolerate you talking loud about everything and anything on your stupid phone, I refuse to stand hear and listen to you talk about your bowels. Would you please just shut up!!." The line clapped, the cashier clapped, and crazy phone lady left the store.
Maybe if we tell more people to just shut up, the people who feel they have to walk around talking loud on their phones, and those around us who just talk for the sake of hearing themselves talk, may just spread the word that the general public doesn't want to hear them or care what they have to say.
Get a clue people!!
Saturday, March 17, 2012
Yes, I'm Talking About Underpants
Today a woman bent over in front of me, at the waist, not at the knees like my momma told me all good girls do, and her big ol' butt was right there - right in my face. After an outburst of, "NASTY" on my part, I couldn't help but notice the thong outline on her backside. It made me ask myself, why do woman wear an article of clothing that rides up their bum? Comfort? Style? Peer Pressure? Are there "underpants bullies" that corner women in their work cubicles and threaten to beat them up in the parking lot after work if they don't wear a specific type of undergarments?
Guys have it easy. They can walk into a store, grab a pack of "tidy whities" and be on their way. A woman, however, has a cornucopia of selections. Satin or cotton? "Granny Panny's" or high thigh? Bikini or thong? It goes on and on, and it's mind boggling!
Then there are the different sizes. Men get small, medium, large, x-large. Women have numbers. The higher the number, the bigger the butt. It should be against the law to purchase a size 10 thong. Just to give you an idea of how big that is, if David has used a size 10 thong as a slingshot when he killed Goliath, he would have not only killed Goliath, but taken the entire Philestine army with him.
In my day, there was nothing wrong with wearing a regular pair of undies. As a kid, I had satin undies with each day of the week sewn on a little lacy patch on one leg. I would never wear the wrong day. Gym class, everyone had the same underpants. The thong wasn't invented yet, and the only time undies went up the crack was when my brother gave me a wedgie.
Clean underpants were always important. We never left the house without the whole, "Make sure you're wearing clean underwear!" speech from my mother. I use to wonder if that was the first thing the hospital checked for if you're in an accident, and if there was a special emergency room for those not clean.
It should also be against the law for your string, waistband, whatever they call it, to be above your pants. NASTY!! Pull your freakin' shirt down. I don't want to see your butt either. What has happened to women? Why are there so many that just don't care? I don't think it's just the "Wal-Mart" set either. I've seen it in Target, at the park, on the sidewalk in front of my house, and not just young girls, which makes it even nastier - if that's possible.
I miss the days when men were gentlemen, woman were ladies, and underpants were underpants, not a thing of torture.
Guys have it easy. They can walk into a store, grab a pack of "tidy whities" and be on their way. A woman, however, has a cornucopia of selections. Satin or cotton? "Granny Panny's" or high thigh? Bikini or thong? It goes on and on, and it's mind boggling!
Then there are the different sizes. Men get small, medium, large, x-large. Women have numbers. The higher the number, the bigger the butt. It should be against the law to purchase a size 10 thong. Just to give you an idea of how big that is, if David has used a size 10 thong as a slingshot when he killed Goliath, he would have not only killed Goliath, but taken the entire Philestine army with him.
In my day, there was nothing wrong with wearing a regular pair of undies. As a kid, I had satin undies with each day of the week sewn on a little lacy patch on one leg. I would never wear the wrong day. Gym class, everyone had the same underpants. The thong wasn't invented yet, and the only time undies went up the crack was when my brother gave me a wedgie.
Clean underpants were always important. We never left the house without the whole, "Make sure you're wearing clean underwear!" speech from my mother. I use to wonder if that was the first thing the hospital checked for if you're in an accident, and if there was a special emergency room for those not clean.
It should also be against the law for your string, waistband, whatever they call it, to be above your pants. NASTY!! Pull your freakin' shirt down. I don't want to see your butt either. What has happened to women? Why are there so many that just don't care? I don't think it's just the "Wal-Mart" set either. I've seen it in Target, at the park, on the sidewalk in front of my house, and not just young girls, which makes it even nastier - if that's possible.
I miss the days when men were gentlemen, woman were ladies, and underpants were underpants, not a thing of torture.
Monday, March 12, 2012
Pot or Pain, Why Do We Have To Choose?
Disclaimer see first post.
The word "chronic" as defined by Webster's Dictionary is:
1.) marked by long duration or frequent recurrence: not acute
2.) suffering from a chronic disease
3.) always present or encountered: constantly vexing, weakening or troubling
Number three is my favorite.
The word "pain" as defined by Webster's Dictionary is:
1.) punishment
2.) localized physical suffering associated with bodily disorder (as a disease or an injury); also: a basic bodily sensation induced by a noxious stimulus, received by naked nerve endings characterized by physical discomfort (as pricking, throbbing, or aching) and typically leading to evasive action
3.) acute mental or emotional distress or suffering: grief
Put these two words together and you have, "chronic pain". Put the definitions together and you now know the HELL of "chronic pain".
When you're in pain, you try to do whatever you can to make it stop. I'm not talking about the occasional headache, or an ache in your knee after walking up three flights of stairs. I'm talking about the severe stabbing pains, the constant burning, throbbing type of pains. Chronic pain.
Severe pain isn't always present, but it's there more often than not. There is some type of pain, somewhere, always. Try living that way. It's difficult, it's depressing, some days you feel it's not worth it and you just stay in bed.
There are medications out there and the doctor's prescribe them. Our government has stepped in, once again, where it doesn't belong, and they're telling the doctor's how and when to prescribe them. I can't take the narcotics too often, my body just doesn't respond to them like it did in the beginning, so, for the most part, I'm in constant pain.
I would love to sit in my living room, crack a window, and take a nice long drag on a joint. Yes, I'm talking about pot, mj, marajuana, mary jane, whatever you call it, I call it relief. I don't know all the chemical blah de blah about pot, but what I do know is, for a few hours afterward, there is very little pain. Once the pain dies down, you feel a great sense of peace.
Why is this illegal? If the "keep it illegal" group could have a day of pain, a whole day, then experience the feeling of no pain, I'm sure the majority would change their mind. Those same people apparently don't understand the money that they would receive from taxing and regulating it. The argument about lowing the prison population is a good one too. I'm not getting into all that
.
My aggravation with it all is that I have to choose between pot and pain, and I have to choose the pain. I can't imagine the look on my husband's face if I had to call him for bail money. How could I explain that to my son??
So, until the moron's change their minds, it will remain an illegal substance, and I'll remain in constant pain. Wake up America, stop letting the government tell us what is right and wrong. We should be telling them. They work for us, remember??
The word "chronic" as defined by Webster's Dictionary is:
1.) marked by long duration or frequent recurrence: not acute
2.) suffering from a chronic disease
3.) always present or encountered: constantly vexing, weakening or troubling
Number three is my favorite.
The word "pain" as defined by Webster's Dictionary is:
1.) punishment
2.) localized physical suffering associated with bodily disorder (as a disease or an injury); also: a basic bodily sensation induced by a noxious stimulus, received by naked nerve endings characterized by physical discomfort (as pricking, throbbing, or aching) and typically leading to evasive action
3.) acute mental or emotional distress or suffering: grief
Put these two words together and you have, "chronic pain". Put the definitions together and you now know the HELL of "chronic pain".
When you're in pain, you try to do whatever you can to make it stop. I'm not talking about the occasional headache, or an ache in your knee after walking up three flights of stairs. I'm talking about the severe stabbing pains, the constant burning, throbbing type of pains. Chronic pain.
Severe pain isn't always present, but it's there more often than not. There is some type of pain, somewhere, always. Try living that way. It's difficult, it's depressing, some days you feel it's not worth it and you just stay in bed.
There are medications out there and the doctor's prescribe them. Our government has stepped in, once again, where it doesn't belong, and they're telling the doctor's how and when to prescribe them. I can't take the narcotics too often, my body just doesn't respond to them like it did in the beginning, so, for the most part, I'm in constant pain.
I would love to sit in my living room, crack a window, and take a nice long drag on a joint. Yes, I'm talking about pot, mj, marajuana, mary jane, whatever you call it, I call it relief. I don't know all the chemical blah de blah about pot, but what I do know is, for a few hours afterward, there is very little pain. Once the pain dies down, you feel a great sense of peace.
Why is this illegal? If the "keep it illegal" group could have a day of pain, a whole day, then experience the feeling of no pain, I'm sure the majority would change their mind. Those same people apparently don't understand the money that they would receive from taxing and regulating it. The argument about lowing the prison population is a good one too. I'm not getting into all that
.
My aggravation with it all is that I have to choose between pot and pain, and I have to choose the pain. I can't imagine the look on my husband's face if I had to call him for bail money. How could I explain that to my son??
So, until the moron's change their minds, it will remain an illegal substance, and I'll remain in constant pain. Wake up America, stop letting the government tell us what is right and wrong. We should be telling them. They work for us, remember??
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Are They Pat Robinson Clones?
Disclaimer, see first post.
The TV show "All American Muslim", will not be back. To much controversy, to many issues with advertisers, etc. I watched the show, and when I heard this I heard myself saying out loud, "What the heck?" Those saying, "good, they're evil, remember 9/11", blah blah blah, have you ever watched the show? I did, and found it quite interesting. I bet you anything if this show was "All American Catholic", or "All American Baptist", or "All American _________", (fill in blank) it would have been renewed without any question.
The problem, as I see it, is that many, many people lump a group of fanatic's and nut jobs in with an entire religion. Not a good thing. Do you realize the loon's out there doing things in the name of Christianity? Abortion clinics bombed, in the name of Christianity. Look at history. Groups of people wiped out, all in the name of Christ.
I had a conversation today with a person that took offense when I called them a "Pat Robinson Clone." They made statements such as, "All Muslim's want to kill all the Jews and anyone that isn't a Muslim." - can you hear Pat Robinson saying that? Another comment was, "they are all raised to hate all non Muslim's, they're taught that in their meetings, and from the time they were born." This is one of my favorite comments, actually made me laugh, "They all have it in them to kill, they just wait for the signal and there they go." Can you believe this??? This person really believes what they were saying to me. These comments were about ALL Muslims.
To me, this thinking is insane. I understand there are Imam's (a Muslim preacher) that go into the prisons to convert inmates to promote hate. I also understand there are Muslims that hate just to hate. I don't believe anyone and everyone that belongs to the Muslim religion is like this. Do this to any other group of people and it's considered racist and hateful. The really bad thing about all this is it's not just a small group of Muslim haters saying this stuff. I hear this garbage from so many people that call themselves Christians. These are the same people that feel because a homosexual pedophile was on the news, this makes all homosexual's pedophiles. How do we stop the hate? How do we get out the correct information?
I'm sorry this show is off the air. It allowed those of us who are not of the Muslim religion a glimpse of what it's about, and who the people are that have these beliefs, and how they live day to day in America, the "land of the free and the home of the brave" - unless you're a Muslim.
The TV show "All American Muslim", will not be back. To much controversy, to many issues with advertisers, etc. I watched the show, and when I heard this I heard myself saying out loud, "What the heck?" Those saying, "good, they're evil, remember 9/11", blah blah blah, have you ever watched the show? I did, and found it quite interesting. I bet you anything if this show was "All American Catholic", or "All American Baptist", or "All American _________", (fill in blank) it would have been renewed without any question.
The problem, as I see it, is that many, many people lump a group of fanatic's and nut jobs in with an entire religion. Not a good thing. Do you realize the loon's out there doing things in the name of Christianity? Abortion clinics bombed, in the name of Christianity. Look at history. Groups of people wiped out, all in the name of Christ.
I had a conversation today with a person that took offense when I called them a "Pat Robinson Clone." They made statements such as, "All Muslim's want to kill all the Jews and anyone that isn't a Muslim." - can you hear Pat Robinson saying that? Another comment was, "they are all raised to hate all non Muslim's, they're taught that in their meetings, and from the time they were born." This is one of my favorite comments, actually made me laugh, "They all have it in them to kill, they just wait for the signal and there they go." Can you believe this??? This person really believes what they were saying to me. These comments were about ALL Muslims.
To me, this thinking is insane. I understand there are Imam's (a Muslim preacher) that go into the prisons to convert inmates to promote hate. I also understand there are Muslims that hate just to hate. I don't believe anyone and everyone that belongs to the Muslim religion is like this. Do this to any other group of people and it's considered racist and hateful. The really bad thing about all this is it's not just a small group of Muslim haters saying this stuff. I hear this garbage from so many people that call themselves Christians. These are the same people that feel because a homosexual pedophile was on the news, this makes all homosexual's pedophiles. How do we stop the hate? How do we get out the correct information?
I'm sorry this show is off the air. It allowed those of us who are not of the Muslim religion a glimpse of what it's about, and who the people are that have these beliefs, and how they live day to day in America, the "land of the free and the home of the brave" - unless you're a Muslim.
Monday, March 5, 2012
It's My Vote, MINE!!
Once again, my opinion. Read disclaimer on first post.
"Super Tuesday" as I've heard it called over and over again, is upon us. Time to get out and vote. I like to consider myself rather Patriotic. I fly my flag on holidays, I stand when the flag passes by, I know all the songs from "America the Beautiful" to "Yankee Doodle", I totally support our military, and I thank God that I was born here, and not in any other place on Earth.
That said, our electoral system is extremely screwed up. The ad's are completely disrespectful and out of control, and the whole "electoral college" is outdated and just plain nuts. If you aren't aware, it's the "electoral college" that puts our president in office, not the popular vote. That's the nuts part. Why can't we just vote for who we want and get rid of the "electoral college"? 200 years ago, when we needed it, it worked. Now, it's just a waste of time.
The vote though, that's what is important. My vote, my one vote, means a whole lot to me. I get goose bumps when I hear the "Star Spangled Banner". Many people died so I can hear it. Those same people died so I can get, and use, my vote. I think sometimes, that people forget all that. Yes, we hear about veterans every day. We all probably know someone who served sometime, somewhere. Do you ever talk to them? The veterans I mean. Have you ever talked to a veteran?
The man who lives behind me is a Korean (Conflict) War veteran. I heard him tossing horseshoes one day, and decided to introduce myself and chat. While talking, I asked him if he ever served. He perked up and told me he was in Korea. "The war everyone forgets about", he said. He then proceeded to tell me about how Korea has to be one of the worst places to have a war. The summers were "hotter than hell will ever be" and the winters were "colder than you can ever imagine". As he spoke, he told me of foxholes and death, rain and death, surviving many a near miss, and death. His eyes glassed over as he spoke of friends lost, his youth lost, and nightmares he has - still. When I hear people say, "I don't vote, it doesn't matter", I think to myself, "It matters to him." It matters to anyone now serving and anyone who has served.
Your vote matters. How you vote matters. Please don't vote for the most recognized name, or the most "religious" guy, or just because someone is already in office. You only have one vote. Get on the internet, read the papers. Learn about those trying to get your one vote. Then, once you've decided, vote.
Vote, it does matter!
"Super Tuesday" as I've heard it called over and over again, is upon us. Time to get out and vote. I like to consider myself rather Patriotic. I fly my flag on holidays, I stand when the flag passes by, I know all the songs from "America the Beautiful" to "Yankee Doodle", I totally support our military, and I thank God that I was born here, and not in any other place on Earth.
That said, our electoral system is extremely screwed up. The ad's are completely disrespectful and out of control, and the whole "electoral college" is outdated and just plain nuts. If you aren't aware, it's the "electoral college" that puts our president in office, not the popular vote. That's the nuts part. Why can't we just vote for who we want and get rid of the "electoral college"? 200 years ago, when we needed it, it worked. Now, it's just a waste of time.
The vote though, that's what is important. My vote, my one vote, means a whole lot to me. I get goose bumps when I hear the "Star Spangled Banner". Many people died so I can hear it. Those same people died so I can get, and use, my vote. I think sometimes, that people forget all that. Yes, we hear about veterans every day. We all probably know someone who served sometime, somewhere. Do you ever talk to them? The veterans I mean. Have you ever talked to a veteran?
The man who lives behind me is a Korean (Conflict) War veteran. I heard him tossing horseshoes one day, and decided to introduce myself and chat. While talking, I asked him if he ever served. He perked up and told me he was in Korea. "The war everyone forgets about", he said. He then proceeded to tell me about how Korea has to be one of the worst places to have a war. The summers were "hotter than hell will ever be" and the winters were "colder than you can ever imagine". As he spoke, he told me of foxholes and death, rain and death, surviving many a near miss, and death. His eyes glassed over as he spoke of friends lost, his youth lost, and nightmares he has - still. When I hear people say, "I don't vote, it doesn't matter", I think to myself, "It matters to him." It matters to anyone now serving and anyone who has served.
Your vote matters. How you vote matters. Please don't vote for the most recognized name, or the most "religious" guy, or just because someone is already in office. You only have one vote. Get on the internet, read the papers. Learn about those trying to get your one vote. Then, once you've decided, vote.
Vote, it does matter!
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Healthcare Blues
Once again, my opion - read disclaimer on previous post.
I have come to the conclusion that we don't need Obamacare, House or Senatecare, or any other "care" that the goverment cares to thrust upon us. What needs done is a complete overview, review, redo, whatever, of the insurance industry.
Dealing with doctors as much as I now do, sometimes on a daily basis, I don't believe they're out to get us, screw us, manipulate us, or whatever they've been accused of. Granted, there's always a bad apple in the barrel, but the whole barrel isn't rotten. I understand some folks have had bad experiences, but I've learned to speak up and tell the medical personel that it's my body and enough can be enough.
That said, I've learned that doctors can no longer do what they think is best for their patients. Just because they want to, the insurance companies don't let them. There is a person or people at the insurance companies that feel they know more about you than the doctor that has been treating you for several years. They look at a few papers and decide what you need. This practice is obscene at best.
Those of us with chronic illness know full well about nausea, vomiting, pain of every kind, and the frustration of hearing the doctor say, "There is nothing more I can do. The most recent _______ (fill in blank) has not been approved by the FDA so just do what you can with what you have." I have seen the "I'm so sorry" look in my doctor's eyes so many times, I'm beginning to feel sorry for them when I have to make an appointment.
Why have we allowed the insurance companies to carry our nuts in a sack, and threaten to squash them whenever we dare question? It's time to wake up, speak up, SHOUT if we have to, but get our rights back. It's our bodies, it's our health. Call your Representatives, Senators, whomever you think will listen. The more we yell, the sooner we'll start being thought of before the insurance companies when it comes to our healthcare.
I have come to the conclusion that we don't need Obamacare, House or Senatecare, or any other "care" that the goverment cares to thrust upon us. What needs done is a complete overview, review, redo, whatever, of the insurance industry.
Dealing with doctors as much as I now do, sometimes on a daily basis, I don't believe they're out to get us, screw us, manipulate us, or whatever they've been accused of. Granted, there's always a bad apple in the barrel, but the whole barrel isn't rotten. I understand some folks have had bad experiences, but I've learned to speak up and tell the medical personel that it's my body and enough can be enough.
That said, I've learned that doctors can no longer do what they think is best for their patients. Just because they want to, the insurance companies don't let them. There is a person or people at the insurance companies that feel they know more about you than the doctor that has been treating you for several years. They look at a few papers and decide what you need. This practice is obscene at best.
Those of us with chronic illness know full well about nausea, vomiting, pain of every kind, and the frustration of hearing the doctor say, "There is nothing more I can do. The most recent _______ (fill in blank) has not been approved by the FDA so just do what you can with what you have." I have seen the "I'm so sorry" look in my doctor's eyes so many times, I'm beginning to feel sorry for them when I have to make an appointment.
Why have we allowed the insurance companies to carry our nuts in a sack, and threaten to squash them whenever we dare question? It's time to wake up, speak up, SHOUT if we have to, but get our rights back. It's our bodies, it's our health. Call your Representatives, Senators, whomever you think will listen. The more we yell, the sooner we'll start being thought of before the insurance companies when it comes to our healthcare.
Monday, February 27, 2012
Made Me Say, "Wow, Really?"
Ok, so I've started a new blog. There seems to be a lot going on in the world and anyone and everyone who knows me at all, knows I have an opinion on everything. This is my place to give it so my friends can have a break. As I said, this is only my opinion, strictly mine. If you're offended, so what. If you get mad, so what. If you unfriend me, a big so what!! I appreciate any and all comments, but I don't care if you're hurt, mad, offended, fat, ugly, etc. This is not to be taken personally by anyone.
First one - prepare yourself, here it comes:
Today has been a horrible day for the city of Chardon. A child went into a school, shot 5 kids. 1 dead, 3 critical (as of this writing). Cleveland news has been covering this all day. It's now on all the major news networks, and all over the internet.
I've been reading comments on Facebook. Here are a few actual quotes, "...glad the shooter is dead", "...he'll get away with it, just spend his life in a psych ward", "...where are his parents...", "...this kid is nothing but a piece of s**t...". There are also many, many comments to the families and friends giving support, and prayers. Everyone is entitled to express their thoughts. I'm totally supportive of our free speech rights.
After reading all this, hearing it all day on the news, and getting phone calls from people who didn't think I knew about it, the comments that totally blew me away - I mean jaw dropping had to sit down a moment kind of shock - were the comments I overheard coming from a group of local high school students. Here are actual quotes (I wrote them down so I wouldn't forget them), "...ha ha ha the kid looks like such a loser...", "...if you missed school in Chardon today, you dodged a bullet", "...he only shot 5? There were more than that standing around...", "...what's the big deal, this happens all the time, it just happened in New Hampshire in the beginning of the month."
The last comment took my breath away. Are our kids becoming so hardened by the horrible moments that happen in life they're incapable of being shocked anymore? Are they becoming so cold to what's "wrong" they're losing what's "right"? Has the world become so evil it's becoming impossible to teach our kids that something like this should never happen?
I know the first thing is to blame the parents. Where were they? What kind of life did they give this kid? blah blah blah blah - we hear it all the time. Well, maybe it's time we start to say, seriously, "Hey, where ARE the parents?" "What kind of life DID they give this kid?" You have to have a license to drive a car, own a dog, sell real estate, even have a garage sale (around here). Anyone can pop out a kid, no questions asked. Well I think it's about freakin' time someone started asking questions. I'm not trying to take complete responsibility away from this apparently disturbed child who more than likely needs serious psychiatric help, however, why didn't he know not to do something like this? Why didn't he know there are lines that you just don't cross?
We need to start bringing the parents in on this immorality. The parents and any adult this child had contact with. What happened? Where did they go wrong? Where did we as a society fail this child and how can we keep from continuing to fail our children? How many kids, teachers, people have to die before someone, anyone, stands up and says - enough? How can we, as a society, sit back and allow the violence, filth, and absolute vulgarity that passes for entertainment, drown our children? We have to set the standards. We have to say NO from time to time. We have to teach them true right from wrong, and we have to start NOW. We have to make sure they know they're loved and supported by us and that they have a place to go, someone to talk to, before life becomes to much to bear and something happens. They have to know, and it's up to us to teach them.
First one - prepare yourself, here it comes:
Today has been a horrible day for the city of Chardon. A child went into a school, shot 5 kids. 1 dead, 3 critical (as of this writing). Cleveland news has been covering this all day. It's now on all the major news networks, and all over the internet.
I've been reading comments on Facebook. Here are a few actual quotes, "...glad the shooter is dead", "...he'll get away with it, just spend his life in a psych ward", "...where are his parents...", "...this kid is nothing but a piece of s**t...". There are also many, many comments to the families and friends giving support, and prayers. Everyone is entitled to express their thoughts. I'm totally supportive of our free speech rights.
After reading all this, hearing it all day on the news, and getting phone calls from people who didn't think I knew about it, the comments that totally blew me away - I mean jaw dropping had to sit down a moment kind of shock - were the comments I overheard coming from a group of local high school students. Here are actual quotes (I wrote them down so I wouldn't forget them), "...ha ha ha the kid looks like such a loser...", "...if you missed school in Chardon today, you dodged a bullet", "...he only shot 5? There were more than that standing around...", "...what's the big deal, this happens all the time, it just happened in New Hampshire in the beginning of the month."
The last comment took my breath away. Are our kids becoming so hardened by the horrible moments that happen in life they're incapable of being shocked anymore? Are they becoming so cold to what's "wrong" they're losing what's "right"? Has the world become so evil it's becoming impossible to teach our kids that something like this should never happen?
I know the first thing is to blame the parents. Where were they? What kind of life did they give this kid? blah blah blah blah - we hear it all the time. Well, maybe it's time we start to say, seriously, "Hey, where ARE the parents?" "What kind of life DID they give this kid?" You have to have a license to drive a car, own a dog, sell real estate, even have a garage sale (around here). Anyone can pop out a kid, no questions asked. Well I think it's about freakin' time someone started asking questions. I'm not trying to take complete responsibility away from this apparently disturbed child who more than likely needs serious psychiatric help, however, why didn't he know not to do something like this? Why didn't he know there are lines that you just don't cross?
We need to start bringing the parents in on this immorality. The parents and any adult this child had contact with. What happened? Where did they go wrong? Where did we as a society fail this child and how can we keep from continuing to fail our children? How many kids, teachers, people have to die before someone, anyone, stands up and says - enough? How can we, as a society, sit back and allow the violence, filth, and absolute vulgarity that passes for entertainment, drown our children? We have to set the standards. We have to say NO from time to time. We have to teach them true right from wrong, and we have to start NOW. We have to make sure they know they're loved and supported by us and that they have a place to go, someone to talk to, before life becomes to much to bear and something happens. They have to know, and it's up to us to teach them.
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