This friend is NOT welcome!

She's baaaaack... I really thought I'd found a way to get rid of her for good this time. It was hard getting her to leave in the first place, we've been such good friends for so many years. Back in the day we were virtually inseparable. Together we managed to get into more trouble!!

We'd sneak off together to the antique shops spending hours just milling around looking for that one thing that would not let us walk out of the store without it. We'd go to the movies and split a huge bag of popcorn and a coke. Some days we'd just pile up on the couch watchng old movies, eating ice cream and potatoe chips. It was she who, during one particularly slow, boring movie, introduced me to the wonder of pickle and potatoe chip "sandwiches". Chip-pickle-chip-MUNCH! MMMMM taaaastyyyy - especially when washed down with a big old, ice cold glass of coke. Fun times.

But then something in our relationship changed. I started realizing that with us having so much fun there were very few adult-type responsibility things getting done. The laundry piled up. So did the dust. And the dishes. Hubby and I'd go out to eat most every night because she and I'd been goofing all day and I just wasn't up to cooking. I did notice that I'd gained a few pounds. But, HEY, my makeup and hair looked great so it couldn't be all THAT much, right?

It wasn't until Christmas about a year ago that I really started seeing the havoc the friendship was reeking in my life. Yes, I knew I'd gained a BUNCH of weight, but I truly didn't see myself as that out of control. At least not until I dressed up in a pretty new blouse and stood in the front yard for pictures with my nephew's family... O. M. G.! Where did all of that ME come from? After sulking around for a while I sat my buddy down and had a discussion about how life was going to have to be from then on:

No more goofing off ALL day long. I had to get at least ONE positive thing accomplished every day. She didn't like it one bit at all, but I managed to separate myself from her long enough most days to make it. Some days all I could manage was dragging my over-large self to the gym for an hour of exercise. Then she and I'd sit around and whine about how harrrrd it was and get nothing else accomplished all day long.

Finally, I decided enough was enough. She had to go. There are some friendships that are just not healthy to maintain. So my long-time buddy was banished from my life. I won't say that I haven't thought about her a lot over the last several months, but I have been more productive and that has kept me from inviting her back. However, this morning when I woke up she was at the door. I tried to have coffee and then shew her on her way, but she just would NOT leave! I finally got up a few minutes ago and started working in my office, AKA the file cabinet barf center of the universe, that she got frustrated and stalked off. And all I can think is WAAA!! Cry baby! LOL! Today has proven to me that she's a drag! Seriously! So now I think I'm finally ready to say a fond but long overdue BUH-BYE!! to my old friend.

IDA WANNA

It was fun while it lasted, but it lasted too long!

OH, I almost forgot to tell you that I've found a new friend who I think's really going to be a blast. Her name?

IMA GONNA

OK, I'm outta here. Me and my new friend are gonna find the top of this desk if it kills us! If you haven't heard from me by this time tomorrow SEND IN A SEARCH PARTY!

Have a great day, y'all!

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

The last decade brought changes of unimaginable magnitude into my life. We adopted MG. Twig went to prison, Bug married Lady N, Lady T moved out of the country - twice. ... and those are just a few of the major changes that happened.

This year is starting off with more bangs - but good stuff is on the horizon this time. MG is going back into the National Guard Youth Challenge Program later this month. In February Twig will be released to the halfway house and then home by the end of June. And I plan on losing more than 100 lbs. Yep, that's right. 1.0.0.

It's going to be another challenging year. How it'll turn out is anybody's guess, but I invite you to stick around. There'll be daily updates (yes, I said daily) full of rants and raves, laughter and tears. At the very least, it should be an interesting ride.

I just have one favor to ask. PLEASE leave comments. I need your support. I'm a junkie, you know. If I can't get my fix here I'll just revert to my old addiction and go eat something. (yes, that's blackmail. heh heh heh).

So for now, I'm outta here. It's been a long day of dismantling Hubby's annual Christmas Extravaganza. I'm going to be early.

Peace, Blessings, and Y'all come back now, y'hear!!

Personal disasters for which I am abundantly thankful - Part II

Being abandoned by my biological mother - Aside from the obvious gratitude of having been adopted by my amazing mother, there is another important reason. The members of the biological family from which I came have a long history of miscreant behavior. Alcohol and drug addiction are accepted norms. Had I stayed in that world I may never have developed the aversion to that out of control feeling I get when I drink. I would probably have just accepted that behavior as a part of “having a good time. By now I would have most certainly been a raging alcoholic. Or worse.



That I wrecked my mother’s car a week after I got my driver’s license - A mere six blocks from home a woman backed out of her driveway right into the front end of my mother’s car. There was nothing I could have done to prevent the accident because it happened so fast that there was no way around her. (She had a history of peeling out of her driveway without looking.) When my parents arrived on the scene Mother immediately snatched me into her arms and comforted me. My father inspected the car and pronounced it drivable -- and told me to get in and drive home. I pleaded with him to let me ride home with Mom. He very firmly ordered me to "get back in that damn car and drive it home." I did, crying the whole way. When we got in the house Dad made me sit down and let him explain why I had to do it. He knew that if I allowed my fear to take over I’d never be sure of myself behind the wheel again. The lesson of facing my fears stuck and has been carried forward throughout my life.



Being divorced twice before I was 23 - My first two marital failures laid the foundation for the success of my third. The first taught me the importance of maintaining your friendship with your spouse. The second taught me to listen to my instincts. By the time I met Hubby I’d finally figured out what I wanted and what I would and would not accept in a mate. We celebrated 28 years of marriage this past April.



That Twig went to prison - By the time he turned 20 Twig had had two serious near-miss direct threats on his life and had been involved in more dangerous behavior than this mother‘s heart can stand to think about. In both instances God changed circumstances and put up roadblocks to keep his potential assassins from completing their tasks. During those dark days of his life there were weeks, sometime months, that I would not hear from him. I became very well acquainted with the staffs of three local county coroners offices Every time I’d hear on the news that a young man had been found dead I’d call. Towards the end they started recognizing my voice and would have the answer before I asked the question. “No, ma’am. This one doesn’t have that identifying mark.” I truly, in my heart of hearts, believe that being sentenced to prison saved his life. I’m thinking God’s got something in store for that boy that is going to seriously rock somebody's socks off.



That someone once reported us to CPS (Children‘s Protective Services) - During the worst of My Girl’s emotional/mental/behavioral nightmare days we were in the process of trying to figure out how to get her the help she needed. The insurance had run out and we’d already gone through our available cash. The only course left for us was to go back to CPS and ask for assistance. We knew that it might mean they’d take her back but we were willing to let her go if that’s what it took to get her the help she needed. As it turned out, in Texas there is a Joint Managing Conservatorship available for struggling parents of adopted children with emotional disorders. The process of getting it pushed through, though, was going to take several months -- longer than the hospital would let us keep her there without going on a prepaid plan. One afternoon I hung up with yet another discussion with the hospital administrator just the doorbell rang. A man from CPS informed me that we had been accused of child abuse and he was here to investigate. As it turned out, abuse investigations glean the same information required by the JMC review committee only they have to get it a whole lot faster. Because someone turned us in as abusive parents (which was so totally unfounded that every doctor, counselor, law enforcement agency, and CPS worker we’d dealt with wrote letters of support for us) the JMC was pushed through in record time. In less than a month MG belonged 51% to the State of Texas and 49% to us and I was named as her case manager giving me unprecedented total control over her treatment while the state paid all bills that our insurance wouldn’t. It also confused the dickens out of the staff at the hospitals where she resided for the next 16 months. They weren’t use to having CPS AND the child’s parents involved all at the same time… but that’s a story for another day.



That I almost died of chemical poisoning - In early 1980 we’d gone to my parent’s lake house to help them work on the fiberglass porch roof. The chemical solvent used to ‘glue’ the fiberglass panels together is call MEKP. It is supposed to be stored cold. When it’s cold it has no odor and is clear. And looks like water in an unmarked jar in the fridge. When 15-month-old Bug wanted a drink of water I poured him a glass out of the jar Mom always kept in the fridge. Thank GOD I took a swig of it before handing it to him. I knew immediately that something was seriously wrong. Soon-to-be Hubby drove 90 mph to get me to the nearest ER. I spent 2 days in ICU and I think 5 more in the hospital. If I’d given the glass to Bug he would have died before we could get to the hospital.



When we look back over our lives we see a landscape pock-marked by disastrous, life-altering explosions. We can choose to allow the shrapnel to cripple us or we can choose to melt it down and use it as building blocks to a stronger, safer, more fulfilling future. I am personally grateful for the challenges that made me the strong, self-assured woman I am today.

During this season of Thanksgiving, what life-alering disasters are you grateful for? What has strengthen you? Take a look back. You might be surprised...

Personal disasters for which I am abundantly thankful

• Being abandoned by my biological mother

• That I wrecked my mother’s car a week after I got my driver’s license

• Being divorced twice before I was 23

• That Twig went to prison

• That someone once reported us to CPS

• That I almost died of chemical poisoning

Tomorrow, I’ll tell you why.

My hairy problem

A story in pictures. Well, mostly...

Never in my life did I think I'd have to wax (ok, so it's duct tape) my COUCH!  Anybody have any suggestions on an easier way to get the hair out of the cracks... outside of keeping the dogs off the couch cuz, well, they pretty much own the house.

Proof... And a winner, too!

... that on Saturday, November 21, 2009, MY REFRIGERATOR WAS CLEAN!

And if you look VEEEEERY closely you will see that

THERE IS NO KETCHUP IN IT!!

Now for the results of The Great Ketchup Debate:

75% of the twelves of ones of people who responded are of the misguided opinion that it belongs in the fridge. I will pray for your poor abused sauces...

And the winner of the contest amongst the commenters is Brandi. Congratulations, girl. And I won't even hold it against you if you put it in the fridge. ;o)

Peace, Blessings, and PANTRY!!!

Just feel like sharin' the love... grrrrr

Three guesses what kind of mood I'm in right now.... First two don't count!

The day started of like

About half way back from Fort Worth, I realized that something needed to be done about the S.T.U.P.I.D. drivers on the road so

Once home, a trip to the store resulted in

Maybe I'm a little tired and need some

But in the end, it all boils down to

Peace, Blessings and, Oh, what the hell....

Goodbye NV. You will be missed.

I met NV in October of 2008. We quickly became fast friends --most always joined at the hip. NV was the smartest little thing that I'd ever seen. I was totally amazed at how quickly she could retrieve a world of information from the recesses of her busy mind. Her ability to identify any song by not only its name but also the artist and album from which it came was astounding. I tend to get lost because of an horrendous lack of any sense of direction. NV, however, had this built-in navigational sense that kept us from ending up in south BFE more times that I can remember.

Late this afternoon, in a misguided attempt to become an Olympic swimmer, NV dove head-first into the shallow end of our pool. Sadly, despite my heroic efforts to fish her out as quickly as possible, she drowned. Mostly because there was no friggin way I was jumping into 60 degree water to save a suicidal CELL PHONE!






RIP Sweet NV. Your replacement comes tomorrow. With any luck the insurance company won't have any more of your siblings and they'll have to send me your nephew, Envy 3. At least then your death won't have been in vain.

Peace, Blessings, and Where the heck is that dang UPS delivery truck???????

My not so rad RADS.

OK! OK! For those of you who keep emailing me wanting to know where the heck I've been since the end of August, here's the skinny...

The first Saturday in September I got a little bit of a sore throat. On Sunday it moved into my chest and I sounded like a bullfrog with a mouthful of cotton balls. When I finally went to the doctor on Wednesday I joked that I'd thought about holding off for another day or so. She laughed and said that would have been OK because then she could have charged me more for visiting me in the hospital. Funny lady.

Whatever hit me has been going around big time but stuff like that effects me more because of my wonderfully sensitive lungs. You see, back in the late 70s I worked in a chemical plant that manufactured stuff using liquid chlorine. If that stuff happened to escape somehow it would form a cloud containing chlorine gas. Deadly if you get caught in it for a long period of time. Lung damaging if you happen to drive through it on your way back from lunch with the windows down. At the time I just had a slight cough and it appeared to be no big deal. And I never thought to attribute the yearly bouts of bronchitis to that exposure until a couple of years ago when a very smart respiratory doc started asking questions trying to figure out why my lungs are so dang finicky. After hearing where I had worked he realized that the stuff I was exposed to has long-term damaging effects in some people. Yay me.

In my case it has caused Reactive Airways Dysfunction Syndrome or RADS. Breathing certain chemicals, including those in lots of colognes, will send my lungs into asthma-like spasms. Over the years the problem has gotten worse until now I have to carry a rescue inhaler with me at all times just like regular asthma patients. But it's not asthma. Weird, huh.

I've spent nearly two months trying to get my feet back under me. Only within the last week have I been able to stay vertical for more than an hour or two at a time, but I'm getting stronger every day. I still have to watch being out in public too much because my immune system isn't back to full strength yet.

So, thank you all for your prayers and concern and requests to get my butt back in the blogging game. But remember to be careful what you wish for... cuz I'M BAAACK!

OK, that's all for tonight. Until tomorrow,

Peace, Blessings, and Easy breathing to all

Nablopomo Intro: 26 things

Guess what! I've decided to do the November post challenge on NaBloPoMo. That's right... go ahead and laugh. And scoff. And doubt. I know: you think I've been body snatched. Nope. I'm just tired of not doing what I love doing: writing. But I'm MORE tired of not talking to all the wonderful people I've met online through this blog. I miss hearing (OK, reading) about your life and times. So, to kick things off I saw this done by Roger (aka MylHiBug on Twitter - and HELLO ROGER! TWEET SOMETHING, WILL YA!) over at A Screed in Time who boosted it from Michelle of My Two Army Brats fame. I liked it so I boosted it, too! OK, so yes, it was several months ago (April!) that they posted theirs and I'm (a) behind. But anywhom, here goes:

A - Age: 53 this month. Unless, like most people, I get to count the day I first met my parents as my birthday, in which case I'm only 43. Either way, I'm good. And old. LOL!

B - Bed size: Queen

C - Chore you hate: Unloading the dishwasher, putting away laundry, filing paper work. I'm happy to load it, wash it, or pay it - just PLEASE don't make me do the rest! Isn't that why I had kids???

D - Dad's Name: Don

E- Essential start to your day item: COOOOOFFFFFEEEEEEE

F - Favorite actor(s): Male: Sam Elliott, Mike Rowe - both are rugged and sexy. Female: Doris Day because in her hayday she was amazingly beautiful, witty, and extremely talented. Plus, she's aged beautiful and gracefully -- something I so dearly aspire to personally achieve.

G - Gold or Silver: Gold

H - Height: 5ft 4in (At least for a few more years.)

I - Instruments you play(ed): Clarinet starting in 6th grade but only so I could get in the band to be a twirler.

J- Occupation: SAHMFCEFTN (stay at home mom/former corporate educator/full-time nut!)

K- Kid(s): Legally mine: Bug 30, Twig 27, MG 18 Should have been mine: Tori, DD, Angel

L - Living arrangements: Wonderfully blessed with a beautiful home that share with my husband of almost 30 years, MG, and DD (MG's best friend who needed a safe place to be for a while.)

M - Mom's name: Jo

N- Nicknames: B**** (At least that's what I get called by MG most of the time unless she wants something.) Sweetie (by Hubby)

O - Overnight hospital stay other than giving birth: Accidental MEKP poisoning in 1980. Almost died. Hysterectomy/Wisdom teeth extraction resulting in an anaerobic bacterial infection in my face in 1986. Almost died. If I was a cat I'd be down to only 8 lives left!

P - Pet Peeve: Tripping over MG's friggin clodhoppers in the middle of whatever floor she happens to be walking across when she decides to go barefoot!

Q - Quotes you like: We go through what we go through so we can help others go through what we went through. ~from my wonderful friend over at Family Life In the Desert

R - Right or left handed: Right

S - Siblings: None

T - Time you wake up: Use to be as late as possible but in the last few years I can't sleep past 8:30 or 9:00 most of the time.

U- Underwear: Granny panties... I CANNOT do buttfloss!

V - Vegetable you dislike: peas! I total agree with Michelle who said, "Seriously food should not explode in my mouth when I bite into it IYKWIM!!" Especially when the explosion is malodorous green slime! YUUUUCK!

W - Ways you run late: Just need to do one more quick thing...

X - X-rays you've had: So many I could be my own light source!

Y - Yummy food you make: Meatloaf. Seriously. It is one of my kids' favorites 'cuz it's all meat. None of those nasty fillers like carrots, corn, peas, etc. Just good old lean ground beef seasoned and cooked to perfection!

Z - Zodiac: Scorpio

OK, so that's it. Feel free to do your own 26 and then come let me know so I can see what all we have in common. I was amazed at how alike Michelle and I are.

For now, Peace Blessings and A B, C D, E F G....

Evil in a box.

Seems like everywhere I turn these days I'm being attacked by The Evil One. No! Not that Evil One. His meaner, eviler twin brother, Bebellyzebub. What? You really thought all that bad stuff could be created by just one of 'em?? NO WAY!! Anyhow...

I really began noticing it about a month ago when I started being accosted by his cute little green-vested and brown-sashed minions as I tried to exit the grocery store with my bags full of less expensive junk food healthy, nutritious snacks. I know they were evil because I was immediately overcome with the irresistibly lustful NEED, yes I say NEEEED!, to purchase at least two boxes of their sinful delights on every shopping trip. Then, while looking for a periodic table to include in Bug's new company website (to be announced later!!), I found this. (Click it to make it bigger. Really. Click it!)

Imsebeus, I dell ooo. Viabowicly imsebeus! Oh, sorry. I was talking with a couple of dunked Trefoils food in my mouth. Now that I've washed the sin down with some cold milk, what I said was:

Insidious, I tell you. Diabolically insidious!

Bebellyzebub has even found ways to infiltrate the best sources of healthful holiness. I recently learned about something called the Joy Fit Club for "...determined people who have lost and kept off 100 pounds or more...." WOW! My heart 'bout exploded right outta my chest, I got so excited. See, I don't know anyone else in the real world who has 100+ pounds they need to lose, so seeing all these people succeed at it really got me motivated. I eagerly jumped onto the Today Show website to watch this video:

Visit msnbc.com for Breaking News, World News, and News about the Economy

You don't see them in this embedded version, but when you watch it on the site they play commercials between video segments and place advertisers' (AKA Bebellyzebub's silk-suited hawkers) bugs or teasers below the video screen. Here's the advertisement I saw when I was watching:

Hmmm... Dove. Just for you. And if you click on the picture you'll see that at the very bottom of the copy they added in the faintest of print, "My moment. My Dove" AACK! But, I'm a strong woman on a mission, I thought. I can ignore that commercial. Bebellyzebub's demons weren't quite done with me yet, though!

What do you see on this screen: Salmon salad or DOOOOVE CHOOOCOLAAAATE?? I got up to get a drink of water and clear my head before continuing.

The next great food suggestion was

But all I could see was CHOOOCOLAAAATE. Even as I sit here typing this my head is starting to swim and my mouth is beginning to water. This is EVIL, I TELL YOU!! I couldn't even listen to what they were saying much less read the screen titles because ...

CHOOOCOLAAAATE... Take it off today, my butt! The only thing I wanted to take off was the wrapper!

I finally just gave up and headed to the bank. That should be safe, right! NOT! Now, we all know that bankers are notorious for finding clever ways to extract as much money from our pockets as possible. However, I never thought they would stoop THIS low!

They actually had the audacity to put stacks and baskets of these on every available flat surface in the building. And then they dressed a couple of the shorter demons in little league baseball uniforms and had 'em stand there all big-eyed and cute making it totally IMPOSSIBLE to leave without buying a box. Or 3.

Needless to say, I won't be joining the Joy Fit club anytime soon. Now if you'll excuse me, the neighbor's high school band kid is at my door wanting me to look over their fund raiser catalogue. Do you think if I hung a cross and some garlic on the front porch it'd discourage the rest of the neighborhood demons from trying, too? Probably not. They'd just dip it in chocolate and try to sell me that, too! And I'd probably buy one. Or 3.

Peace and Joy Fit blessings to all.

Brains for Sale!

The other day I was driving down the road in a state of complete and utter puzzlement trying to remember why it was that I'd chosen to come this way instead of going the back road I usually prefer. That way has soooo many lights and the traffic is always horrendous. Now, there I was, sitting at one of those much despised stop lights, behind an 18-wheeler, trying to remember just what it was that I was supposed to do. The thought crossed my mind that what I really needed was a new brain. Especially since this old, hormonally-deficient piece of gray matter is obviously wearing out or I'd be able to remember why I was sitting there instead of cruising down the no-light road. UGH! About then the light changed and ever. so. slooowly. the 18-wheeler lumbered forward revealing this:





A New Brain in a Box!! Finally!! A store I can actually get excited about checking out!! Remember that I hate shopping unless it is absolutely necessary? Well, with the way my mind seems to be faltering lately, I do believe that a trip to this store may very quickly become an absolute necessity.

Being the creative genius forward thinking desperately aging weirdo person I am, my next thought was that, hey! if they can put a new brain in a box why not a new butt in a bottle? I mean, come on... how hard could that be? And lookie what I found at my very next stop!



Ok, so I'll give you the fact that it's really for rash relief, but think about it: How cool would it be to have something that you could sprinkle on your butt to turn it into the perfect posterior everyone dreams of? And since monkey butts are pretty ugly, that'd be a great name for it!

All right, enough of this fantasy fixers stuff. Guess I'd better get my monkey butt out of the chair, turn off the computer, and go finish planting my new flowers. Maybe the fresh Spring air and sunshine will clear out the cobwebs. And, now that I think about it, when it comes right down to it, I hate shopping so much that I'll even go exercise if it means staying out of a store.

Peace, Blessings, and Sunshine to all!

ADvrD or What was that again?

My sons are mad at me. Well, not really mad. More like annoyedly amused. For all the years they were growing up I flatly refused to pay for cable. Why should I? We had 6 perfectly good free channels including our local PBS broadcast. They didn't need to be spending any more time rotting their brains and eyeballs in front of a television anyway; they already spent enough time on video games. Besides, there really wasn't that much more good stuff on cable!

Excuse me -- Errrr... Waitress? May I please have some ketchup to go with this large serving of crow? Thank you. OK, where was I? Oh... Never mind. Moving on.

Back in June I was so fed up with Comcrap's excuses for why my Internet connection was down all the time that if I hadn't feared giving myself a black eye ala Groovin Granny I'd have jumped for joy when I learned about AT&T's new U-Verse service! I got even more excited when I realized that for the same price I was paying for Internet for two computers I could get three computers AND cable TV. My Scroogy heart nearly burst. Then I also learned that one of the receivers would come with a DVR. I really had no idea what a DVR was. Oh, I'd heard people talking about it but, again, what was the need? We had a perfectly good VCR. DUH, PEOPLE! Just how much electronic gadgetry does one household need?

Excuse me again -- Umm, Waitress!! Where is that ketchup? I cannot eat THIS MUCH CROW dry! GAH!!!! Anyway...

So they came and installed everything and I fiddled around with the new box long enough to figure out how to record a couple of things. Cool. Then I found more things that looked interesting and scheduled them to record. And.. oooo.. series! I can record whole a series with just a couple of flicks of my thumb?? And I can watch stuff later without rewinding. And I can fast-forward through commercials and hit play as soon as I see the show back on and the DVR automatically jumps it back about 5 seconds so I don't have to sit there doing the forward/backward tango to keep from missing the first two sentences after the break? OH. MY. FREAKIN. STARS. IN. HEAVEN!!! Closest I've ever come to to the BIG O with all my clothes on.

I was extolling the wonders of the DVR to a friend when she said, "you know you can pause live TV, too, right?" I laughed because I'd been caught up in one too many of her warped little mind games. Turns out she wasn't messing with my mind! YOU REALLY CAN PAUSE LIVE FEEDS!

Phone rings? PAUSE
Dog needs out? PAUSE!
Gotta tinkle? PAUSE!!!

And then it got better when I realized that not only could I pause, I COULD REWIND! Live shows. Feeding in right now!! I CAN REWIND IF I MISS SOMETHING!!

And that's when my real problem began... I developed

ADvrD

Almost over night I totally lost the ability to concentrate on any one show for more than 5 minutes at a time. Why should I? I can rewind to catch what I missed. Right? WRONG! The problem is that it has spilled over into my live life! And not everything has pause and rewind capabilities. Like the radio. Nope. Not there. I've given up on even trying to listen.

And people? Did you know that most people have tolerance for a maximum of three requests to repeat what they just said before they finally give up and quit talking to you? I do. I've proven it several times now. I think at this point it could actually be considered scientific fact.

So, if we are in the middle of a conversation and I don't appear to be paying attention it isn't my fault. And if I fade out or change subjects in mid-thought, I can't help it. I have a disorder. And I'm sure that somewhere at this very moment some medical lab is working on a pill to help me control it. Until then, I'll just have to......

Make me over. PLEASE!

Do you ever watch Lifetime? You know, the cable TV channel? I don't usually spend much time watching TV unless it is something I've recorded so I don't have to sit through commercials. The other day I was watching a movie I'd DVR'd and had to pause my fast-forward to answer the phone. When I was ready to get back to my movie, I was intrigued by the commercial it had stopped on. Seems that if you go to Lifetime's website you can make yourself over with their Total Beauty Makeover tool. You can either play with their models or, fun of all funs, upload your own photo and futz around with yourself! It is so much fun to play with that I got sucked in for almost 3 hours. New hair, new makeup, new me! Well, old me with new do.



For quite a while now I've been toying with the idea of coloring my hair. FOR THE FIRST TIME IN MY LIFE! Believe it or not, the most I've ever done is add some highlights from time to time. Right now, it is totally natural -- gray and all. My naturally blond hair was a very solid YES answer to a prayer I sent up when I was a teenager. After watching so many of my blond friends' hair turn brown mousy or dishwater dirty I asked God to please let me have my Auntie's hair.

Like me, Auntie had blond hair all her life. As she got older, instead of going all dark, it stayed that beautiful childhood blond only changing with the growth of lovely silver highlights, slowly morphing into a beautiful, classic silver-white. My hair is doing the same thing. How do I know that it's a gift from God and not just genetics? I'm adopted, remember? So there's no blood connection to carry the trait. There's only a God connection to prove that even the smallest things are possible if we just ask. (Sorry, didn't mean to get all preachy, but this is one of those things that I feel pretty sure about and love for people to know so they can try it in their own lives. It is soooo cool when you realize that you just got blessed in a very tangible way. OK, back to the hair thing.)



So now you may be wondering why, if I have loved my hair all my life, am I thinking about changing the color. The simple answer is... I don't know. I just think it'd be fun to look a little different for a while. Not to mention that within the last two weeks I've had two people on different ends of the age spectrum comment on my lovely gray hair. IT'S NOT GRAY! IT'S BLOND WITH BEAUTIFUL SILVER HIGHLIGHTS. Of course, in my mind I'm still a 130 lb. hot model with smooth skin and an upper lip. Obviously my self image needs a makeover, too!



So here's the deal. I'm dropping in four photos. The first one is of me in October of this year, so it really is what I look like (dang it). I am so fair complected that I think I look all washed out and even older than my 52 years. The other three are the makeover shots. I want you to vote on which hair color you like best. With your help, at the end of the month I will decide how I want to start the new year. Leave me a comment and I'll tally them up in a post during the first week in January.



OK - Here goes ... (Note - the hideous eyeliner and fake lashes thing is NOT me! It was added by the program. I couldn't figure out how to get rid of it without screwing up the rest of the stuff!)

1. Just plain old me.

2. Strawberry Blond

3. Auburn Brown

4. Dark Brown

OK - now go vote. And send your friends over to vote, too. Believe me, I need all the input I can get.

(Edited to fix the size of those pictures! Much better! In the process, though, I noticed that the program removed my double chin! YAY! Why can't ALL photo editing programs do that. They have a button for red eye, why not add one for peach pudge?)

Peace, Blessings, and Lady Clairol calling!

Twittering my life away - Confessions of a texting junkie.

Hello. My name is Damama T. And I am an addict. My drug of choice is Twitter. HUH? you ask? Is that some new Colombian Cartel import? I guess it could be. It is certainly as addictive as cocaine. But no, Twitter isn't actually a physical drug. It's more like a psychological drug. In case you have been living in the same dark hole in which I resided until a couple of months ago, according to their "About Us" page, Twitter is "a real-time short messaging service that works over multiple networks and devices". In short, it is text messaging on steroids.

I have had a cell phone since the 1995 ice storm that hit Houston so suddenly the city was frozen within a matter of hours. Hubby couldn't find me anywhere and was scared spitless that I'd frozen to death somewhere on the road between Houston and Needville. As soon as we thawed out, he bought me a cell phone and I have never since been without one. Until recently, however, they were merely communication devices. Now my phone has become a social and emotional lifeline. And recently I've realized that I have become one of the hated abusers.

We have all been subjected to rude people who talk during movies, yell to be heard because they cannot hear in restaurants and stores, and interrupt personal conversations to answer calls. I have reprimanded more than one of my employees for talking on his or her cell phone during work hours because it was impeding productivity. I have walked out of more than one store because the clerk was on a call instead of attending to my purchasing needs. I have fussed at my daughter for texting at the table and talking too loudly in the car. Never in all my born days did I think that I would join the ranks of those uncouth louts. But indeed, I have devolved into a thumb-flapping, socially inept nitwit.

I started Twittering during Hurricane Ike back in September as a way of maintaining communication through the storm. During the ensuing weeks of power outages, long gas lines, and no land-line telephone communications, the ability to quickly and easily get insider information on supply shipments and short gas lines was a Godsend. I kept telling myself that once the storm was over I'd go back to actually talking to people. Like all addicts, though, the more I got the more I wanted until today I find myself unable to resist the need to immediately read and respond to each one of the 50 or so tweets and/or texts I get each day.

It has gotten so bad that my husband has threatened to quit taking me out to dinner, my daughter hates riding in the car with me (oh yes - I even text while driving), and my exercise buddy has banned my cell phone from the racquetball court! I even asked my auto mechanic, who was trying to tell me what repairs were needed, to hold on a minute while I texted a quick tweet reply. AND I WAS PAYING HIM BY THE HOUR!

All of this leads me to wonder: If I, a 52-year-old, relatively sane and stable woman, can become so addicted in such a short period of time, how can we expect our children who have grown up with all this electronic gadgetry not to be reliant upon it? How do we put that genie back in the bottle? There are lots of easy cognitive answers but absolutely no easy curative actions. I don't know of anybody who is willing to go cold-turkey, do you?

I wonder how long it will be before some mental health hospital develops a gadget-withdrawal unit? When they finally do, I have a feeling that I will be one of their first patients. Now excuse me; gotta go get my tweet on!

Peace, Blessings, and GO GO GADGET!

This post was written in participation of Brad Shore’s Cell Phone Users and Abusers blog contest.

7 Things Meme or You can recycle, too.

Brandi over at O.W. IN G.S. tagged me for a 7 Things Meme. Since I did one about my life's trivialities HERE and another eight HERE with its follow-up HERE, I thought I'd do something a little different. Then I saw Debbie Yost's post about FINALLY signing up for recycling services over at the Three Weddings headquarters, and had the bright idea of presenting:

7 THINGS FOR WHICH I FIND USEFUL REPURPOSES

1. Dry Cleaner Bags - These things are much stronger than one might assume. I tie a knot in the end the coat hanger sticks through, pull bag inside out with the knot on the inside, and use them for all sorts of things such as:

-- kitchen trash bags
-- sort dirty clothes - each bag holds exactly one load of laundy as long as I don't stuff them so full I can't easily grab a handful of wadded up bag with which to drag it to the laundry room (OK, so now you know that I wait until nobody in the house has anything left to wear before I do laundry. Sheesh! I always tell on myself!)
-- bag recyclables so the nice men can tell easily which bin to toss stuff into
-- wet clothes bags for the kids that come swim in the summer (I let some of the neighborhood kids use the pool sometimes. It is fun having some laughter in the yard again, plus they are less likely to mess with my Halloween and Christmas decorations if they like me!)
-- rebag potting soil
-- bag grass clippings and other green yard stuff so the nice men can tell which bag to grab when they roll by in the Green pickup truck
-- emergency rain jackets - Just widen the coat hanger hole and pulling it over your head. They squish down so small that you can keep 2 or 3 in a gallon zipper bag under the seat!
-- throw pillow stuffing - If you have enough of them in the casing they don't flatten out and they regain their shape almost immediately so no plumping! Plus, little kids love the soft crinkly sound they make. (Plastic shopping bags work, too, especially if you mix some in with the dry cleaning bags. Cut off the seams, though, or they make sticky lumps.)

2. Frozen Dinner trays, and plastic or Styrofoam take-out containers

-- drawer dividers - These come in so many sizes and shapes that I had fun puzzling them together to make drawer dividers throughout the house. Now I can open almost any drawer and find exactly what I'm looking for. (Just DO NOT open any closet in my house without shielding your head in case of an avalanche!)
-- plant trays - put your plant in one and it not only keeps all the water from running all over your tables, but it also helps keep the plant hydrated because it can soak back up excess water runoff caused by letting the soil dry out too much between waterings. (WHO? ME?? Noooo not meee. I would NEVER be so cruel to poor defenseless plants! Umm, excuse me while I go find a saw to cut off this horrible nose growth thing that just sprouted from my face!)

3. Pantyhose and/or Knee-highs

-- stretch easily around water faucet handles to clean the junk out from under and between them that my big fat fingers can't reach
-- stretch wonderfully between the bolts holding the toilet seat in place (Those of you with little boys know what a nasty job that can turn out to be!)
-- fill with potpourri and/or leftover melted candle wax (you know how good that stuff still smells sometimes!) and stick in the back of a drawer or closet, or under the seat of your car (In the summer either put it in one of the Styrofoam containers or just forget the wax for the car fresheners. Believe me, it makes a mess if you don't!)

4. Old pillows make great reinforcement for saggy couch cushions. Just unzip the cover, slide them in and smooth them out on top of the existing foam and re-zip 'em. (There are some other things I use these for, but it'd take too long to explain it here. I'll do a post on some of my other interesting uses of old pillows later.)

5. Medicine bottles - We have sooooooooooooo many of these things laying around that I have actually run out of stuff to use them for! In them, I've stored:

-- nails
-- straight pins
-- push pins
-- paper clips
-- change
-- extra Rolaids in each purse and every car (danged reflux!)
-- buttons
-- baby powder (Empty spice bottles also work great for this because they have the little plastic holy thing in the top. See how deftly I slid another thing in here. heh heh heh!)
-- mints & gum
-- toothpicks
-- eye drops (you know, the single use kind in plastic tubes with tops that come off if you sneeze in their direction, so they end up empty when you actually need one to put a contact back in!)
-- other stuff that I'm too brain dead right now to remember

NOTE: If you want some pill bottles to use for anything, please email me. PLEASE! I'm drowning in the dang things because they are not recyclable and nobody wants them. Hubby says to throw them away, but I JUST CAN'T! AACK! It's become my obsession to find new uses for them.

6. Coffee filters make great water retention wads in potted plants. If you have roses, you can even sometimes leave the grounds in them to give their buds a little boost. Just rinse them out, wad them up, and stuff them down in the dirt or save up some to use the next time you have to re-pot something.

7. Styrofoam sheets - I save a few of the ones that come as packing material so I will have them to:

-- easily display my jewelry - I glued ribbon around the edges and then used the extra to make a hanger. Now I can see all my earrings and necklaces at a glance.
-- make cheap and easy treatments for small windows. Fabric, straight pins, and a couple of nails sticking out of the wall are all you need to dress up a small window without having to spend a fortune. This is the valance in my laundry room. I wanted to dress it up, but had no desire to spend money to do it. I had this left over from another house but no rod, so I used a sheet of Styrofoam instead.

-- add height to items displayed on top of my kitchen cabinets because roaches LOVE 'em some cardboard but not Styrofoam. There are lips on top of all my cabinets that everything disappeared behind. A few blocks of Styrofoam saved the day!

-- decorate and use in my curio cabinet to raise the items in the back for easier viewing. (You can cover them or brush on paint, but I wouldn't use spray paint because it tends to melt them! And that stinks. Horribly!)

OK. That's it for now. I love to hear what creative things you do to recycle stuff around the house.

Peace, blessings and HAPPY RECYCLING!

THE OLD LADY WEARING MY CLOTHES

I hate shopping. So much so that when my mother died in 1984, my aunt was actually worried about my boys having proper clothes to wear. She would even to call me and remind me to make sure their stuff still fit right and wasn’t wearing out. (Thank God she did because without her badgering me there’s no telling what they’d have gone to school wearing.) I still dislike shopping in general, but shopping for myself? Pure misery. Especially if it requires entering a mall.

This aversion to all things Mall has made me the window shopping queen of Texas. The only way I typically buy anything for myself is if I see it in the window and they have my size on a rack close enough to the door that I don’t have go on a scavenger hunt to find it. My penchant for buying the displayed outfits has led me to the very unscientific conclusion that I’m not alone in my totally non-traditional-female-person world because occasionally I run into someone else wearing the same outfit. It doesn’t happen often, but it does occur frequently enough for me to be comforted by the recognition of kindred spirits. Ever since I realized this, whenever I see a woman sporting the same outfit I’m wearing (or any part thereof), I endeavor to make a point of trying to catch the woman’s attention and grin like an idiot when she realizes that we have on the same clothes. It’s a fun game for me because I think most women act ridiculously stupid when faced with another woman wearing the same thing. So the ornery little sadist in me takes great pleasure in seeing if she’s going to grin or grimace. Yes, I know that I am WAY too easily amused!

Shortly before The Dream came to a crashing end, I was lucky enough to happen on an outfit that I really liked. Since it was in a strip center, thus requiring no mall anxiety, I took the opportunity, to actually go in and try on the outfit before purchasing it. (My other shopping-related aversion is to clothing store dressing rooms. I have nightmares about having one porcine appendage stuck in a pair of pants when a fire alarm goes off requiring me to either waddle out nearly naked or risk dying a slow, burning death while I try in vain to either get the one leg out of, or the other leg into, pants that are almost inevitably the wrong size. This has led to me having donated a massive number of brand new, price-tag still attached, clothing items because they hung in my closet or languished in the trunk of the car in the shopping bag awaiting my next trip to the mall for so long that the act of returning the item became, in and of itself, simply too humiliating. Sorry – that wasn’t where this story was supposed to go. So anyway...) I was pleasantly surprised to find that the first permutation of size combinations fit. (Remember, I haven’t easily seen my feet since I was about 13 so I always have to buy coordinated outfits. Suits with the same size tops and bottoms will NOT work.) I loved the way it camouflaged some of the more unsavory aspects of my physique so, of course, I bought it. In 2 different colors. YAY!

Until our blissfully normal shopping spree last week, I haven’t had much occasion to dress up to leave the house. I was thrilled to get to wear my new duds on our outing. We’d had a lunch and were laughing as we headed into the store. The last thing I expected to see as I was walking up to the doors was a woman wearing the same outfit already inside. “What fun!” giggled my inner sadist.

Once inside My Girl headed one direction and I took off in the direction it looked like the lady was going. She must have been in a real hurry because the next time I caught sight of her was at the dressing rooms. As we were walking in for MG to try on some shorts, I caught quick glimpse of her heading into another stall. I didn’t want to bother her while she was trying on clothes (I know I always hate having strangers try to talk to me while I’m half naked!) so I just stood there outside of MG’s stall waiting for either one of them to emerge. MG took forever because she had several things to try on, but none of it worked. She had pretty much scoured the racks the first time, so we decided to leave that store because there was nothing else that MG was interested in looking at. I was sad that I hadn’t been able to talk to the lady with my clothes on, though. When I saw her that second time I noticed that she was really too “shapely” to be wearing that type of outfit. It really wasn’t very flattering on her at all. I was hoping to be able to do my mothering thing and gently suggest that maybe she should think about finding clothing more befitting her age. But that lady must have had a load of stuff to try on because she never did show back up before we headed on to the next store.

We all know that great minds think alike, right? Well, that lady and I were seriously on the same wavelength because a little while after entering the second store I spotted her again. This time she was across the aisle looking at the jewelry. I only needed to see the side of her head and part of one shoulder out of the corner of my eye to instantly know it was definitely her because I recognized that hair. I made a mental note to also mention that she might like to try my wonderful $14 stylist if I ever caught up with her. Sadly, MG called me to come look at something, and by the time I looked back up she’d disappeared.

A little later, while MG was looking at shoes, I spotted the poor old dear again. She was over by the hats and handbags looking right at me. Seeing her pale, wrinkled face confirmed what I’d originally thought about her being much too old and out of shape to be wearing the layered tank top look. Now I also knew that I should recommend my wonderful Merle Norman dealer’s makeup makeovers. However, by the time I got across the aisle and around the mirror she was standing behind she was GONE AGAIN!

For the rest of the day I caught sporadic glimpses of her. Once I saw her reflection in a plate glass window as she stood behind me staring at my back. Another time, I caught her peeking around a corner through the glass door of the shop I was entering. The last time I saw her was in a furniture store looking at bedroom suits. I caught a peek of her reflection in the mirror on the dresser. By then, though, we were leaving and I had given up hope of having any kind of meaningful conversation with her. I’d concluded that she was, after all, a grown-up, and if she could remain in denial about her looks after spending so much of the day seeing herself in mirrors, nothing I could say would have helped.

So, the next time you bow your head in prayer, please send one up for that, out of shape, wrinkled and pasty faced, new-hairdo-needin’ old fat woman wearing my clothes. I KNOW she will appreciate all the help I she can get.

Wishing you Peace, Blessings and appropriate purchases for all the days you live to shop.

These tools are NOT for sharing!

My bloggy friend, Angela, posted a really good reason to password-protect your phone. After I quit laughing at the fact that she's now looking for a good therapist for one of her kids, I knew I had to tell about one particularly... mmmm... interesting Damama's World experience.

Over the years, Hubby and I have been open to monkeying around with (within limits) some different "things" in the intimacy department. I use the word "things" because the exploration has been definitely limited to the employment of a few different... mmmm... tools of a very shaky nature, and some very ... uummmm... interesting videos. Now, why it embarrasses me to tell you guys this, especially after what happened years ago, is baffling to me. Nonetheless, I find myself blushing over here! OK, moving on...

When Bug was a teenager he was looking for something in our nightstand and -- you guessed it -- found one of our toys. We'd been.. mmm.. playing a couple of nights before and had gone to sleep without putting it up in its proper, safe place. Hubby had been awake enough, though, to think about the possibility of one of the boys coming in before we woke up, and so had stuck it in a drawer. You know that old saying - Out of sight, out of mind. And so it was forgotten. Until Bug needed something that he thought he remembered seeing. In the nightstand. (Note; If you are wondering how I know when he saw it, it had to be this time because this was the only time we EVER failed to put it back! When we remembered it was there we laughed and congratulated each other on getting away with it! HA!)

Now I must tell you that Bug is an EXTREMELY intelligent guy. He was talking in full sentences by the time he was 18 months old. He was reading by the time he was 3. He started kindergarten at a 6th grade reading level. Being so intelligent, he knew enough to know right away he'd seen something he shouldn't have. So, unbeknownst to me, he just closed the drawer and moved on, storing the information in his cunning little brain for potential later use.

Fast-forward to 1999.

While working on a huge project for a large client, I found myself in need of someone who could not only think outside the box, but also worked cheap. 20-year-old Bug had done some work for me at clients' offices before, so as an employer I knew he was good at problem solving. As his mother I knew he needed a job. And as his chief financial aid officer I figured hiring him would actually end up saving me money in the long run. I was so proud of myself for coming up with such a win-win-win scenario that I forgot to remember that wicked, off-the-wall sense of humor that makes him so loveable.

Our team consisted of me, my wonderful right arm assistant DeeAnn, my quality control guru Bug, and 10 other very dedicated employees of the facility whose departments had volunteered them to become part of the group. The work was tedious, repetitive, and challenging all at the same time. We spent hours reviewing accounts for errors trying to tie mistakes that were being encountered together so the IT department could come up with solutions. With 13 people housed in a 12 x 16 room, tempers flared fairly regularly. But by and large you could not have asked for a better group of individuals to work with.

On one particularly difficult day in which people were complaining about their lack of personal space (primarily due to the fact that somebody had eaten Mexican food for lunch and you know the end result of bean consumpation!), a discussion broke out about most embarrassing moments. We all laughed as people talked about having ripped their pants, or spilled something on someone else, or having made a fool of themselves at various times. Then somebody mentioned how horrified she was to have walked in on her parents in the act. She said she never told anybody about it until just then. And that, my friends, is when Bug decided it was time to share his own little secret.

There, in a room, in front of 11 people who were supposed to look up to me as their project leader, my son grinned and said, "That's almost as good at the time I found the dildo in Mom's nightstand when I was a teenager." The room dropped into dead silence as everyone stopped, stared, and waited for me to react, and then errupted in loud raucous laughter when I said, "Well, you shouldn't have been snooping around in my drawers." And since I was not about to let him have the last word, I couldn't resist adding, "And which one did you find, anyway?"

At least I was nice enough not to tell them about his delight at having discovered his penis when he was only 2 years old. After all, a mom has to save some ammo for emergencies, right?!?

The moral of the story is:

If you are going to monkey around,

be sure to re-hide your bananas when you are done!

BUGGY CHEESECAKE

I was tired. It had been a long week that involved leaving home at 5:00 each morning to drive 65 miles from our rural home to my client’s training facility where I was being paid to shove the all new and all powerful Microsoft Office Suite into the brains of people who didn’t want to learn this particular new thing. The company was migrating from WordPerfect and Lotus. The employees, however, did not understand why it was necessary to fix what wasn’t broke. They knew and were proficient in WP and Lotus, and had no desire to change. This final day of beating my head against the brick walls that doubled as their brains had started off worse than usual.

I mentioned the rural home thing. Well, this rural home had a rural driveway consisting of crushed shale and limestone that shifted under foot. I had ruined so many pairs of high heels trying to get from the car to the house and vise-a-versa that I’d given up and started wearing my fuzzy slippers to and from. This morning I’d gotten a late start and didn’t notice until I saw my reflection in the mirrored entry doors on my client’s building that -- you guessed it – I was still wearing said fuzzy slippers!

I went back to the car and discovered that I’D FORGOTTEN MY SHOES ENTIRELY! Thank God there was a brand new, 24-hour Wal-Mart store about a mile away. I sped over, ran in, grabbed the first pair of cheap black, passably professional shoes I could find and dashed back to the facility just in time to greet the first students at the door. THOSE WERE ABSOLUTELY THE MOST UNCOMFORTABLE SHOES I’VE EVER BEEN FORCED TO WEAR IN MY LIFE! Around 3:00 p.m. I gave up and told the ladies that I really didn’t care if it was unprofessional or not, I was going barefoot. However, I’d waited too long and already had blisters the size of the polar ice caps sprouting all over my feet.

So there I was, in pain literally from top to bottom. Because of having to endure the daily 130 mile round trip drives, plus the stress of pushing and prodding the unyielding masses, plus the facility’s rigid break scheduling rules that prohibited untimely recesses, in addition to the blisters, I was also nursing a mammoth migraine and a Colorado River sized log-jam of constipation. (I know – that’s a visual you could have done without, right!) The only saving grace of the whole week was the eager anticipation of having dinner that night with one of my best friends – none other than my very own wonderful Bug.

He got to Carrabba’s early and had a table waiting. I’d stopped at the drugstore for some stuff, as my granny would have said, to fix all what ailed me, so I was about 20 minutes behind him. He knew something was wrong when he saw me weave toward him and then just sort of slither down into the booth, but I assured him that I’d be fine if I could just get something to drink and down some pain pills to dull the headache. I dug around in the bag and pulled out a box from which I extracted the much needed analgesic. When I glanced up at Bug, he had the strangest look on his face. I didn’t care, though. I was too focused on getting the wrapper off to give a rip what he was thinking at that moment. I just kept wrangling with the blasted thing thinking when did they start putting foil wrappers on Tylenol and why were the capsules so large?? I looked Bug again and could tell he was obviously dying to tell me something, but I had more pressing business at hand, so he’d just have to wait a minute. I finally got one unwrapped and only when I felt the greasy, slick, bullet in my hand did I realize it was a suppository!!! I’d almost downed a cotton pickin’ suppository!!

GOD HELP BUG! I thought he was going to fall off his chair laughing. And apparently I wasn’t the only one who was worried about him falling over, because the ladies at the table next to us were openly gawking at his antics. So he felt the overwhelming need to explain to them why he was laughing so hard. Then I had to worry that THEY were going to fall out of THEIR chairs laughing! Before it was over with they’d told everybody within a 4 table radius plus the waiter who proceeded to have to go tell the manager who knew me because we ate there so often! After regaining his composure, the waiter decided that it’d be a good idea to rush our order a little so I could get home to bed. That, alone, got him a huge tip that night!

I think I remember reading somewhere that is very unhealthy to consume rich, heavy, Italian food without including dessert. (Something about balanced nutrition???) So any time Bug and I go out to dinner we share some sinfully rich and decadent delight to complete our meal. And with the week I’d just had there was NO WAY I was leaving there without my sweet treat. We quickly decided on cheesecake. With both strawberry and chocolate sauce on the side. We’d almost finished the whole thing when Bug sweetly offered me the last bite. I thanked him kindly as I reached my fork over to get it. But I was so tired that I actually missed the food and drew back an empty fork.

Bug looked very concerned and asked, “Mom, are you sure you’ll be OK to drive home?”

“I’m sure,” I lied and motioned to the waiter to come refill my coffee thinking that if I could just get enough caffeine in on top of the Tylenol I’d be quite OK. Then I once again reached for the piece of cheesecake taunting me from the plate – AND MISSED AGAIN! I thought, DANG! Maybe I shouldn’t try to drive that last 30 miles home.

I shook my head to clear my vision, and when I missed a third time I actually picked up the fork and looked at the end of it to make sure that it wasn’t bent or something. I was beginning to feel like I’d stepped into the Twilight Zone! Thank goodness Bug had kept up an endless stream of chatter during the whole ordeal, so I was pretty sure that he had been engrossed enough in conversation that he hadn’t noticed my last two failed attempts.

Being one to never refuse a challenge, I was determined that I was going to have that last blasted bite of cheesecake if it took all night long! As I made the fourth stab at it I caught just the tiniest glimpse of a hand as Bug rotated the plate ever so slightly just before my fork made contact. And even then, it didn’t really register why I couldn’t get that dang cheesecake onto my fork! As I sat there looking puzzled, suddenly he could no longer contain himself and burst out laughing again so that our whole half of the room was craning their necks to see what the ruckus was. Only THEN did it finally dawn on me that he’d gotten me but good.

Now, every time he wants to remind me that he can get me whenever he wants to, he simply acts like he's turning a plate and grins like a cocky billy goat.

And the moral of the story? No matter how cute he is, never ever share your cheesecake with a Bug!!

Peace, Blessings, and un-wrapped analgesics all 'round!

Happy Anniversary and Thank You, Cheryl.

Edited 2-12-08 to replace Life is a Highway video.

In 1994, 10 years after my mother's death, I had what I call my functional nervous breakdown – I could still do my job, but that was about it. My marriage was in trouble. Twig was in the beginning of his drug addiction, but I had no idea what was so wrong with him that he would act the way he did. Bug had withdrawn into his world of books and RPGs. I was unable to handle even the smallest of tasks without melting down or blowing up.

The day I sat in the car for over an hour, screaming, crying and banging on the wheel I knew I needed to get some help… or end the pain once and for all. I chose to try getting help first… operative word here being “first”. I had no expectation that there was anything that could be done to help me. Lots of counselors had tried before with only temporary success.

Being the stubborn individual that I am, I continued to try and do it on my own for several weeks. When Hubby told me that he wanted to leave I knew I couldn’t wait any longer. I begged him to stay and give me another chance. Because he is who he is, he didn't give up on me. I started looking for a new counselor by calling those on a list provided by the insurance company. Cheryl was the first who had an appointment available. I took it fully expecting to go there, hear the same things I’d heard a dozen times before, leave and then… I didn’t know what “then”. But God knew.

A few nights before my appointment I’d had a dream about a woman who seemed to be an angel, but I knew she wasn’t. I saw her face clearly and it lingered in my mind long after I awoke. When Cheryl opened the door, I was staring at the woman from my dream. I knew then that I’d finally found someone who could help me make my world work again.

Four years, one month, and fifteen days later, on December 9, 1998, I graduated from what was typically a 2-year trauma resolution therapy group. It was not easy work. It involved a lot of painful self examination and the re-evaluation of most of my beliefs. It involved the use of medications to help me cope with everything. It involved learning to give and accept forgiveness for myself as well as others.

There were many times when I wanted to just give up. But Cheryl and I had an agreement that if I truly wanted to quit I could – after coming to 2 more sessions. If I still wanted to quit then, we would close things up and part as friends. I wanted to quit at least a dozen times, but when I came back for my “final” session, things never seemed as bad as they were the week before, so I stayed. And stayed. And stayed. And, thank God, stayed.

Today is my 9th year of Cheryl-assisted sanity. The woman you see reflected in these pages is only here because of that kind, loving, caring, and very wonderful professional. All together I spent 6 years with Cheryl trying to overcome a horribly traumatic childhood. She, literally and figuratively saved my life. This post is my very public display of extreme gratitude and love.

Throughout our time together, Cheryl was often “treated” to my life analogies as portrayed in songs. For me, music speaks more than mere words can ever convey. When it comes to explaining my time with Cheryl, this first song says it all, telling the story of our journey together in a way that I could never hope to express so beautifully. She truly gave me wings and made me fly. I will be forever in her debt for standing by me until I could stand tall on my own.

Because You Loved Me by Celine Dion



Cheryl, if you ever read this, know that this next song is where I am today. Because you loved me, I am now able to ride life’s highway with all its bumps, twists, and turns, and I know that I will reach my destination safe, sane, and secure. Your Littlest Angel is riding high on the highway of life and loving every minute of the life you helped save.

Life is a Highway – Rascal Flatts



For anyone else reading this, if you are hurting there IS help out there. Please don’t give up on yourself – keep looking and you, too, will find a Cheryl. From the bottom of my heart, I promise, it will be worth it because YOU are worth it. So please, just STAND!

• Stand by Rascal Flatts

More Rascal Flatts music on iLike

Peace, Blessings, Gratitude and Much, Much Love.