The Good, The Bad and The Ugly

The beast in question is my quick reactions(see previous post.) I am a very passionate person and tend to go WAY overboard about some things. I like to say it's intuition, but someone else might say it's a hot temper. Heh!

Yes perhaps I am in denial, but honestly I'm one of the most docile people you'll ever meet...until my feathers get ruffled. Lately my feathers have been in a perpetual state of ruffling.

Anyhoo I am going to try to get back to blogging like I like it, i.e. sharing my life, my past experiences and my sometimes twisted life. My blog is titled 'The Good, The Bad and The Ugly'...enough bad and ugly for awhile. Bring on the good :)

Now a question...You're browsing the aisles of your favorite grocery store, you finish shopping and take your place in line. All of the sudden a knee buckling pain hits you right in the back of your foot,obviously you've been hit by the buggy behind, turning around in pain and not really happy you see an elderly couple standing there. The lady says, "Oh honey I'm sorry." Why do we always reply, "Oh that's ok" *insert pain ridden smile here*? Why don't we say something like, "I'm sure that was an accident but it really hurt, please try to pay attention." *insert pain ridden smile here* Something similar has bound to happen to you all, why is it we just brush it off like it's perfectly fine?

...Michael Schiavo allowed Terri's family to come into her hospice room AFTER she died and take any of her personal things they wanted. According to his mouthpiece, George Felos, Michael allowed and encouraged Terri's parents to take any of the stuffed animals that decorated her room with them. What a guy...the miserable sack of sh*t wouldn't allow them to be at her bedside as she died, even resorting to having her brother removed by a police officer, but how generous of him.

For anyone that has defended Michael Schiavo and his rights as her husband, or those who have vehemently defended the 'right to die', I would like to say the means by which she left this world were nothing short of barbaric. The fact that her husband refused to let her parents be at her side as she died is without a doubt one of the meanest gestures I can imagine. Allegedly he wanted Terri to have a peaceful death, one without extreme emotion and grief. WHY WOULD IT MATTER? He and his lawyers have maintained that she is and has been in a complete vegetative state, unaware of her surroundings, why not let her parents mourn this loss?

I'm home today per Dr.'s orders to try and give the old feet a break. I decided to get up and answer my office e-mail and roam around tBLOG for a bit. My daughter left this morning for Memphis to visit a friend and there's not anyone else here. I'm feeling a little lost.

For the last two nights my husband, daughter, her boyfriend and myself have gone out to eat. No sense cooking during Spring Break, huh? Both meals have been utterly horrible. And neither of them came very cheap. I think the 'Food Gods' are trying to tell us we need to stay home. Tonight we are going to do exactly that.

When I was a kid we didn't eat out that often. Fast food wasn't nearly as plentiful as it is now and there was one family-style' resturant in town, it's the one we usually ate at if we went out. It was called 'The Hitching Post'. I don't remember how good or bad the food was. I usually got the 'Coach Burger Platter' which consisted of a big burger, fries and this little paper cup of cole slaw. It must have been pretty good since I ordered it everytime. My sisters and I were always well behaved in the restaurant, other behavior was not tolerated. But by the end of the meal we were usually starting to rattle our parents very last nerve. There was this one trip that my sister had picked up a handful of toothpicks upon entereing the dining room and she kept poking my leg under the table. I never told on her but I should have. My Mother had come from work and met the rest of us there so we had two cars. As we left my Dad said, "If you're going by the grocery I'll just take the girls with me." After a bit of planning he took me and my middle sister while my younger one went with my Mom. Leigh and I had to sit in the back seat because the driver's side door was the only one that opened of the big Ford LTD. A drunken hit and run driver had creamed the passenger side a few months earlier. We crawled in and Leigh proudly fanned out the fistful of toothpicks. I looked at her as she mouthed the words, "Watch this!" I had no clue what she was going to do...

To exit the restaurant we had to pull out onto a busy 4 lane highway. Just as my Dad was about to go she leaned up and poked him right in his bald spot with one of those toothpicks! He yelped and turned quickly around to see her cowering in the corner covering her mouth laughing. I sat stunned in the middle of the seat just as clueless as he was as to what ever possesed her to do that. He then wheeled his body to the right and started trying to 'spank' her. In the process he got his arm caught in the seat belt while slowly inching out into the highway. It was the loud thunderous horn of an oncoming semi-truck that snapped us back into reality. He regained his composure and got us out of the line of fire. To this day we don't know why she thought that would be so funny. My sister likes to say I told her to do it. Puuulllleezzee! She was evil at a young age and needed no encouragement for such antics. Much like the night our Grandmother was sitting for us; she was dozing on the sofa in our den and Leigh gets the bright idea to throw our cat on her head. I knew nothing about that little stunt either, she just told me to come with her as we tip-toed into the room. She crept over to my sleeping Grandmother and tossed the cat on her head and then ran like a thief out of the room. Leigh weighed the equivalent of a dust-mop at that age and could exit a room without a sound. My Grandmother jumped up and saw me standing there in awe thinking I had tossed the cat. It's a little scary that it took me so long to catch on and not to be a part of her troublemaking!

I realize these tales do not paint my sister in a very positive light, that was my intention. She was a leader and I, eventhough older and should have taken that role, was the follower. I guess that's just one of the reasons we can't really get along with one another to this day!

Relationships with our siblings certainly do provide a good laugh every now and then, don't they? Feel free to share some of your funniest moments :)

OK, so I am STILL having residual side effects from the mega doses of Prednisone I took back in Nov. during the pneumonia. Last week was a bear at work and my feet and ankles began to swell much like they did when I was 9 months pregnant.

Yesterday I called my Dr. and told him I was miserable and needed something to move this fluid. His nurse called back late yesterday and said I'd be able to pick up my prescription this morning.

Yes it's a diuretic. I have to take potassium suppliments with it too. The last time I took them they worked very slowly. NOT THIS TIME!! I took two as directed this morning and ever since I've been running a foot race to the bathroom about every 10 minutes!

I'm seriously thinking "Depends" might not be such a bad idea. I'm tired and my bladder's in shock!

It's a glorious day in East Tennessee! The sun is beaming as a few soft, fluffy clouds drift across the sky. Hope you're having a fantastic Spring day where you are :)

Now on to a subject that's been eating away at me for quite awhile. In fact it always bothers me but there are times that are worse than others. The subject at hand is rude people. Rude, unhappy, hateful people. They puzzle me. I know full well when I am rude, hateful, curt, etc. I think everyone does. So why do so many people find it so easy to adopt these behaviors?

For time's sake I'll just classify all the above adjectives used as "rude". Strangers are rude, family members are rude, friends are rude. But why? Are they having a bad day? Do they feel that they are above me and I don't deserve common courtesy? Is it some sort of hobby or entertainment? I realize that some of this behavior is genetic and just simply part of who someone is. But, I take issue with people being rude just for the heck of it. You can be direct without being short. You can be assertive without hurting someone else's feelings.

Nothing particular happened today to prompt this post. I just had a few encounters with some rude people. Then when I came online I read a few message boards and then came to tBLOG. I read rude comments on the message boards, and I read some rude replies to folks here on tBLOG. And then I read some writers who go out of their way to be nice to people so I suppose it all even's out.

Just a word to anyone having a rude kind of day...be mindful to who you're talking to, they have feelings too. If this person hasn't offended you personally, don't take your ill will out on them. If you continue to be rude to people they may eventually wonder to themselves, "why bother?"

Offer a smile and a friendly face to a stranger, it might just make their day :)

Every once and awhile I run across a blog in this very diverse community that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. Tonight was one of those times.

Lately it seems I barely have time to read all my 'regular' blogs, those dear friends that I want to check up on. Just to see what's going on in their lives. Tonight I found one that I will be adding to my list and it's found here: http://lorischuster.tblog.com...

Lori Schuster has a story to tell, a deep, painful, heart-wrenching story to tell. While I am just finding her blog, I see a very talented woman that is putting her heart and soul out there for all of us to read. I respect that and can identify with her story. Lori lost her teenaged daughter to cancer. I have fought cancer in my family as well. I was about Lori's daughter's age when my sister was diagnosed. Once you enter in that 'hosptial realm' for extended treatment you leave the world you are accustomed to and become a part of a new one. Lori has documented this battle and can do it much more justice than my memories of 20+ years ago can.

The nurses become your adopted family. You bond with other patients and their families. Terminially sick children become your closest friends. All of these people become very dear to you very quickly, but along with that bond comes heartache as you watch so many of them leave. We were among the very few who survived the beast. I have countless stories about surgeries, treatments, set-backs, disappointments. I grew up rapidly during those hospital stays, this is slap you in the face reality folks.

I suggest you visit Lori Schuster's blog. After reading a few of her posts I can bet you'll be counting your blessings. A quote from that blog had a profound effect on me; Life is short-- live it well and live it now. How simple and true.

One of my favorite all time movies is on tonight. Lifetime is running 'Steel Magnolia's' right now. This one never fails to make my laugh and cry. I remember the first time I saw it was in a theatre with my first husband. When Julia Roberts collapsed in the kitchen we both looked at each other kind of shocked. Then when they got her to the hosptial and she was on the respirator I think I said, "Oh they can't let her die." The ex agreed. Needless to say by the end of the movie both of us were wiping tears out of our eyes.

One of the few things I don't like about the movie is the forced Southern accents. You can tell the ones that are really having to work at it. Dolly Parton's accent is authentic. Well authentic for East Tennessee. I crack up whenever she's on Jay Leno or some other talk show becasue she doesn't make one effort to change it. I like that she is proud of who she is.

We people who live in the "South" are unique people. You've probably been made aware of many of the southern stereotypes, but let me assure you that we're not all living in mobile homes precariously placed on cinder blocks. Not all of us have 3 or 4 old rusting cars sitting in the front yard along with a refrigerator or two. Not all of us have ever had any kind of romantic involvment with one of our cousins. Not all of us have a still and manufacture moonshine(but most of know someone who do, lol). Not all of us have a gun rack in the back of our trucks. Not all of us enjoy chewing tobacco. Not all of us think 'The Dukes of Hazard' was the greatest television show of all time.

But being Southern there are many things we do that we're proud of; yes we will stop for an oncoming funeral procession, we think it's respectful. We do say y'all, and we say it a a lot. We teach our children to say Yes, M'am and No Sir. Most of us do like sweet tea and alot of us really like fried okra and grits. We wave at you from our cars if you're mowing your yard, raking leaves or just sittin on the front porch. We'll strike up a conversation in the middle of the Piggly Wiggly and think nothing of it. And despite our outwardly impression we're much more intelligent than we ever get credit for. We may not audibly sound like a Rhodes Scholar,but Southern people have an abundance of common sense. And that's a pretty good thing too!

Here's a few of my favorite quotes from "Steel Magnolias"

Annelle: Miss Truvy, I promise that my personal tragedy will not interfere with my ability to do good hair.
Shelby: I would rather have thirty minutes of wonderful than a lifetime of nothing special.
Ouiser: I'm not crazy M'Lynn, I've just been in a very bad mood for the past 40 years!
Ouiser: This is it, I've found it, I'm in hell.
Truvy: In a good shoe, I wear a size six, but a seven feels so good, I buy a size eight.
Clairee: "You know what they say, that which does not kill us makes us stronger."
Ouiser: A dirty mind is a terrible thing to waste!

See being Southern ain't so bad :)

un·con·di·tion·al Pronunciation: "&n-k&n-'dish-n&l, -'di-sh&-n&l
Function: adjective
1 : not conditional or limited

That's Webster's definition. This word or phrase(unconditional love) is something that's been weighing heavily on my mind the last couple of weeks. I think about this phrase everytime I hear anything about Terri Schiavo. I don't broach this topic to spout my political opinions or to condemn anyone else. This is me and how I feel, I don't ask you to support it or agree with it. This, is my own personal feeling...

When my youngest sister was 10 years old she was diagnosed with a brain tumor that grew from within the brainstem. We were immediately sent to Vanderbilt University Hospital in Nashville. The neuro-surgeons were twin brothers that would operate on her together. My parents were told of all the risks and the details of the surgery. The operation would take atleast 8 hours. I was 17 but I remember that nerve-wracking day. After 8 1/2 hours the surgeons met with us and told us they'd removed 95% of the tumor and hoped to get the remaining with radiation. We were jubliant and very thankful. Almost as suddenly as our celebration began, it ended. Minutes after we were given that good news another Dr. appeared and told us there'd been grave complications in recovery. Laurie had stopped breathing because air pockets had formed in her brain cavity during the surgery. He told us her brain had been mashed to half it's normal size, and if she did ever recover the prognosis was grim.

My words cannot describe the agonizing moans and cries that escaped my Mother's body after being given this news. A hospital chaplain had come to the small waiting room she and my Grandmother were in. My middle sister was kneeling in the corner, my Daddy and I stayed just outside the door. I couldn't handle those sobs and the pleading to God to save her. The minister was praying for her and my Grandmother was praying her own prayer, those same nauseating sounds still coming from my Mother. A few minutes later my Grandmother says to my Mother, "I pray God will just take her instead of her being a vegetable hooked up to machines." I happened to be looking in the room as she said that. My Mother looked up with fire in her eyes and said, "You get out of here if that's how you REALLY feel. I'll take her any way I can get her, vegetable or not." I remember that day as vividly as I do yesterday.

I'm sure many people would call my Mother extremely selfish for feeling the way she did. And while I would never want my children to suffer in pain, I too would take them in any condition. That is true unconditional love. I'm sure Terri Schiavo's parents feel the same way. I don't think the Schindler's are anymore evil than my Mother is. I think that Mother and Father love that adult child in a way that only a parent can. I've several times tried to put myself in their position, I've thought about one of my children in the same condition Terri is in. If I ever walked in their hopsital room and saw their eyes light up or heard them try to audibly communicate with me while I spoke with them, I would be damned and determined to fight for every single day they could be alive. Some people say the life Terri Schiavo is living is cruel. Why is that? If you believe the same Doctors that say she is in a vegetative state, does she feel any frustration not being able to communicate or take care of herself? Does she feel some slight pleasure when she sees her family? How can anyone know for sure? And who can say that she wants to die? I know what her husband says, but what if she had ONE conversation with him prior to her injury and said something to the effect of, "Well if there was no hope for me and I was being kept alive by a machine I don't think I'd want to live like that." No one knows what was said and what depth the subject was. This is really irrelevant. My main point is the fact that as a Mother I know the unconditional love I truly think these parents feel. And it has nothing to do with my religious or political convictions. I see valid points on both sides of this argument.

I have a few close friends that have lost children. One in particular lost her 7 year old son to leukemia and later in life her husband to a very painful battle with pancreatic cancer. She has told me as much as she cherished her husband, the pain of losing him was nothing like the pain of losing her son. I ache for Mr. & Mrs. Schindler, the enormous feelings of sorrow and helplesness must be unbearable.

For those that are so quick to judge and point fingers, shame on you. These parents have fought a long and hard battle, trying only to save someone so dear to them. There isn't any personal gain for them. They aren't trying to prove something to God or anyone else. They are two desperate parents grasping at each and every straw to save their daughter. Sure we could say they're selfish, and deep down I'd say they would admit that they are. But it's an honest selfishness folks. I think they truly believe their daughter knows they're beside her. I truly believe they think she may someday get better, not her 'old self' but just a little better.

This whole fight should have ended years ago. And I'll concede all the judicial proceedings should have never gotten to this point. But I won't apologize for loving my children so much that I'd fight to keep them alive if I saw one ounce of life in their eyes. And I don't think the Schindler's would either.

I spent the day shopping for our Chruch Easter egg hunt on Saturday. Should be glorious time as the weather guru's are calling for rain most all day. In the last 4 years that I have been the Children's Director, this will be the first rainy egg hunt. But luckily I have Plan B in full swing. We'll just hide the eggs indoors. Simple enough.

I remember several indoor Easter Egg hunts. They all went the same way, my sister and I walked around with our huge easter baskets looking at the sky for eggs. Were we just in awe of the very fact we WERE searching for candy filled eggs? No we were just pretty much clueless. My Daddy used to joke that we must have thought Jesus was gonna part the clouds and drop the eggs down from heaven into our baskets. Even when we were hunting indoors we walked around looking straight up at the ceiling tiles. It would make my Mom nuts! All the other kids were scrambling around the ground to collect their eggs, but not us. The eggs that did end up in our baskets were 'pity eggs' that some other Mother had stolen from her kids basket that was running over with eggs. Then we'd watch the ceremony to figure out who had the "prize egg". I guess being young and stupid we both felt we had as good a chance as anyone else to have the prize eggs. Speaking of the prize eggs, the ladies used to use thoes big white eggs that the "L'Eggs" panty hose came packaged in. They'd put sequins on them and glitter. I always wanted one of those eggs.

Before every egg hunt our parents would prep us for the great hunt, "Leigh your small and fast you get as close to the ground as you can and dig through that grass and bushes and you'll find plenty of eggs!" "Now Shannon you're tall and heavier you can push your way through the bushes and you're more able to get them out of the high tree limbs." they'd tell us. Like coaches before the big game. When the whistle was blown my sister and I would get that glazed over look in our eyes. And we'd drift around looking up, sometimes looking down. But ya know we always had fun.

As I get ready for this weekend's egg hunt I really remember those days. I remember watching basically the same kid every year get the big prize egg with money in it and then another kid get the big fancy store bought basket. Sure I wanted those, but in the end I was pretty excited with my haul. It was enough for me. Or was it? I sometimes now wish I'd been a little more driven, even at the annual egg hunt. Many of those 'expert' hunters are very productive, successful adults. But so am I. So maybe it's not that big of a deal. Maybe the really big deal is that all of us have some very fond memories :)

Luckily my kids didn't inherit the 'not able to find Easter egg gene' from me, they are scavengers. Sometimes a little too good, last year Jacob racked up about $25 in cash by himself. I didn't feel too bad after coordinating the thing since I didn't hide any eggs!

"Here comes Peter Cottontail hoppin' down the bunny trail, Hippity, Hoppity, Easter's on It's Way!!"

Yesterday wasn't a good day. I think it was one of those emotional diarrhea days. There were no hormones involved, just 'had it up to here' things. There wasn't one specific person I was angry with it was just the perfect combination of things.

After a very stressful day and an equally stressful night it was time to put a fork in me, I was done. Not very often in my life have I been at that point. I got mad, damn mad at the circumstances and I made up my mind it was the last time I was going to feel like that. Of course there's gonna be bad days and bad people but that doesn't mean I have to fall victim to them.

I pride myself in being considerate of others' feelings but not again are they going to come at such a high price personally. That WELCOME mat has been rolled up and put away.

With that said I am happy to report that I am indeed OK. Are you OK? I hope so :)

It's like a well worn shoe, so familiar. This, however, is not the good and comoforting feeling of slipping on an old piece of leather. This is a dull, sharp pain that you feel to your core. Once you've experienced it you pray it will never return. Yet when it does it seems like it's always been there.

I don't like you coming around here my old friend. I don't like the way you make me want to curl into the fetal position and cry helplessly. I am tired of you having control and making me your puppet. While I can never escape some of your distant relatives I do not have to subject myself to your family tree again. Old wounds that you continue to pour salt into are gone.

I have taken control. You are not welcome here anymore.

Yes folks it's finally here, Spring that is. I love Spring. I love how all the naked trees start to sprout their Summer wardrobe. I live in one of the greenest places around. I've visited many other places but few compare to my little corner of the world when everything is blooming. Unfortunately as I've gotten older all that blooming makes my allergies go nuts. But it's a small price to pay for the beauty to come.

I love Spring because it is a new awakening. This Spring I feel like I am having my own awakening. I am filled with hope and excitement regarding my marriage and home-life. That makes me very happy. I didn't write much about our first counseling session because there wasn't too much to say. Ordinarily that wouldn't appear to be a positive statement, but in this case it is. Things went very well. We felt very comfortable with our counselors and look forward to our next session later this week. I want to thank all of my tBLOG family who have been very supportive regarding this, you all have made me feel so much better and I do appreciate it.

If you've been reading my blog long, you probably see that I don't write much about my political views, religion or anything else I feel is very controversial. But I have to break that habit during this time. I am a Christian and I absolutely love the Easter season. Many Christians seem to see Christmas as a more sacred time of year. I believe Easter is. The resurrection of Jesus is the single most amazing event in my Christian life. I am not at all ashamed to admit any of this, I just normally don't venture into the religion tangent because I don't judge and try to treat people the way I want to be treated. I'll never hide my religious convictions but I will never cram them down anyone else's throat.

I also love Easter because we get new clothes. My husband never observed this tradition as a kid, in turn he never had this tradition with his kids. We never had big fancy new Easter dresses but they were usually the only new thing we got for Spring and Summer unless we'd completely outgrown everything else we had. When we were small we wore dresses the colors of sherbet with matching straw hats, white gloves and new white shoes. Normally we got a new white sweater or cape as well. Daddy would usually get a new shirt in a pale yellow or green, while Mother wore pink a lot. I followed suit with my kids. I must admit little girls are much more fun to dress than little boys!

I'm glad to see the return of Spring. I am appreciating it so much more this year than years past. I'm happy about that.

I also don't wear white(white, not bone or ivory) shoes until Easter, and I don't wear them after Labor Day. Fashion staple or out-dated tradition?

I got an anonymous tmail today asking why rinns called me 'Mama Beaver', thought I'd answer it here.

My last name is Beaver. One night me, rinna and I guess other people (obviously me and the bird were in deep conversation and I can't remember who else was around) were chatting in tBLURT. I made the comment that my last name was Beaver, after which much laughter ensued.

I told rinna that me and the man had a running joke; wouldn't it be hilarious if one of his boys went to medical school and became a gynecologist...Dr. Beaver OB/GYN! I laugh as I type this. Can you imagine scheduling your yearly pap smear with good 'ol Dr. Beaver? lmao This is doubly funny to us as we know the boys stand a better chance of being hit by a locomotive than finishing medical school. In fact when we talk about higher education both of us think about that episode of 'Home Improvement' when Tim and Jill are discussing their boys education. They talk of one of the boys(can't remember which one now) who is really excited about college and then they refer to one of the other boys and say, "For Randy we're really hoping for a good Technical School!" That's the way we see it.

Anyhow that's the scoop! What's going on in your world this weekend?

Tonight the husband and I had dinner at our favorite Chinese restaurant after our first counseling session. I'm happy to report that the session went even better than I'd anticipated! I'm thinking of saving that whole report for this weekend. Anyhoo, as we were leaving the restaurant this absolutely beautiful young girl walked in. She looked like she was maybe 15, and had the aire of a young Christie Brinkley with darker hair. Her date was a well dressed and well groomed young man, but physically speaking this guy was not even in her league. As we stood in line to pay our check I whispered for Tim to look at this girl. I'm constantly pointing out good looking women to him. Ha! Funny he never points out a good looking man to me.

As we walked out the door I said something to the effect of, "Hmm he looked like a nice boy, but I'd expect to see that kind of girl with the extremely good looking football Captain. So my husband says to me, "Ya he's probably hung like a horse. Why does that happen?" "Why does what happen?" I say as we get in the van. "Why is it that women go for the 'not so good looking' guy just because of the size of his penis? That's just not fair because not everybody is blessed like that!" *brief silence* "And you know men aren't like that, we're pretty much pigs and will accept just about anything!" he says with a straight face. "Bah ha ha ha!" was my response followed quickly with, "Ya you're right honey, men don't care about the size of things like that. I know this because for most of my adult life I've become accustomed to men talking to my breasts instead of ME!" At this point we both start laughing and he says, "Ya but you do have a great rack!" My, my, my! We laughed all the way home about his less than intelligent observation.

I guess when all is said and done, size does matter for men AND women :)

My son woke up yesterday complaining he didn't feel good. I'll admit I've heard this line for so long I'm pretty much immune to it. These days with 5 kids the law of averages would suggest that somebody is going to be sick all of the time, and if they're not really sick they're saying they are. My youngest step-son has a bully giving him grief at school. While I don't want to see him beaten up, I know him well enough to say he's not a totally innocent victim here. He's had a 'mystery illness' for the last couple of days. My own son develops all these mysterious symptoms this time EVERY school year. I know they all are tired of the routine but hey, once you're a grown up you don't get 3 months vacation in the summer, so I push them on to school. The step son went to school today after staying home yesterday and coming home early the day before, I got no phone calls of a playground brawl so I'll just assume the day went off without incident. My son woke up again this morning with a fever of about 99 degrees. Most folks wouldn't even consider that a fever, but we don't run fever's, ever. During my whole bout of pneumonia I never had one. He complained of a sore throat, which I thought was just due to his allergies and drainage. The blooming of all the Bradford Pear trees are killing me too. I put him back to bed and went on to work. I called him about an hour later and he sounded horrible, I called the peditrician and made him an afternoon appointment. As we drove to the Doctor's office he didn't say a word. Silence and lethargy are a sure sign that this very active boy doesn't feel well. By the time we reached the office I was glad I'd brought him. After the exam and a throat culture we were told he had strep throat! Lovely. Seven people under one roof and one very aggressive infection running rampant can't be good. He was given the option of oral meds or a shot, I spoke up and said, "give him the shot" before he could even respond, lol. He looks at me and says, "Gee your name's Jacob too?" The Dr. agreed that the immunization would be the best treatment and would make him feel better much sooner. In my own defense I would have never spoke up so quickly if this was a kid who freaked out at the mention of a shot, the truth is he has never shed a tear when getting one. And to be honest the quicker he get's better and non-contagious the better for me and all my health issues. So, he got the shot, which "hurt like a mo-fo" in his own words and hopefully we're on our way to feeling better.

Would anyone like to make a guess at how many of the rest of us come down with strep-throat?

HAPPY ST. PATRICK'S DAY
I've added a little green to the blog to make it a wee bit more festive. Hope everyone has a great celebration. We'll be eating the corned beef and cabbage and hanging out at home. Might buy some beer and add some green food color! Too bad it's not Friday, we might actually drag our lazy butt's out to frolic with some of the Irish!













St. Patrick's Day is an enchanted time - a day to begin transforming winter's dreams into summer's magic.
Adrienne Cook

Here's to a long life and a merry one
A quick death and an easy one
A pretty girl and an honest one
A cold beer and another one!
Irish Saying

May your neighbors respect you,
Troubles neglect you,
The angels protect you,
And Heaven accept you.
Irish Blessing

May the Good Lord take a liking to you,
... but not too soon!
Irish Blessing

Here's hoping you all have wonderful St. Patty's Day!

This is a pic of me and my Mother on my first wedding day, 19 years ago. Altricial will be happy to see that it's my Mother sporting the mullet, lol. I'm thinking this scanner isn't such a good thing!

*big pic is in the shop to be resized*

And this is me 19 years later...

*another pic in for a little make-over*

This afternoon I had to drive my Mother to a Doctor's appointment. As we were driving up the highway I looked over at this tiny little woman. She barely weighs 110 lbs. I won't dare try to list all of her medical problems, many that have surfaced only recently. She was 65 in January and her face reads like a well worn atlas. The vast number of lines, each one representing anything from the burden of having two seriously ill children to hours of baking in the hot Summer sun. She's always been small in stature but I've never seen her quite so frail. The tears welled up in my eyes as I looked at her, but the inner strength that up until recently she always displayed took control of me. I choked back the tears and joked that she really didn't look 90 years old like she thought, I giggled and said, "honestly I don't think you look a day over 83." We both laughed that "ya whatever" laugh we do so well.

My Mother has never known anything but worry in her life. Much of which she made worse than it really was. I've said over and over that my Mother lives in the land of 'what if'. I figured out many years ago that kind of attitude would get you nowhere and quick. It's hard to escape the genetic make-up I have, and it's a daily struggle not to become consumed with paranoia like she has. She was born an only child to a 16 year old Mother. Her Father worshipped her, which only strained her already fragile relationship with her Mother. I will be the first to say my Grandmother is mean. She's not mean all the time, but when provoked she's a grade A, first class bitch. This is not disrespect, it's just the truth. I do all my Grandmother's shopping, I clean her apartment and do most all of her errands for her. I love her but much of the time I don't like her. The stories my Mother have told her childhood are very believable to me. I'm sorry my Mother doesn't have happy memories of being a child. She did for the most part give those to me.

My Mother was the epitome of 'over-protective'. And that trait was put to the ultimate test when my youngest sister was diagnosed with a brain tumor at 10. Our entire family was thrust into a life we could not comprehend when this happened. My sister spent 3 solid months at Vanderbilt University after the majority of the tumor was removed followed by radiation treatments. I spent about 75% of that time with my Mother helping her. I never fully appreciated what kind of sacrifices she made until I had children of my own. I'm happy to say my sister is still with us, but with many physical handicaps. My Mother always hovered over her and now as she's aged I see all those years of worry catching up with her. Wondering if Laurie would live used to be her biggest concern, now she worries constantly about who will take care of Laurie if something happens to her.

I can't say my relationship with my Mother has been a good one. It would hurt her deeply if she knew I felt that way. She's never verbally expressed her love for me, yet I know she does. I don't feel like I've ever done anything to suit her. I stopped trying to please her years ago, but the need to is always in the back of my mind. I think I've only seen her cry once. She loved her Father more than anything, but my Grandmother tells of his funeral and how she didn't shed a tear. She is an incredibly strong woman. Yet an incredibly cold one as well. Today she was so vulnerable. I've never thought of my Mother as vulnerable. I've always thought of her as styrofoam, 100 years after it's thrown in a landfill it will still be relatively the same! She's not like styrofoam. She's getting old and fragile. While I don't mind at all having to take care of her, it's extremely hard to see her needing help.

Today I felt the incredible need to tell her I loved her, but I didn't. I don't know why it's so hard. I tell my children I love them 5 or 6 times a day, literally. I tell my husband I love him. Why can't I tell her? I do love her. I know how much I will miss her when she's not here. Deep down inside I'm afraid she'll cry if I tell her I love her and I can't stand the thought of that. For 40 years this woman has been an tremendous, driving force in my life, be it good or bad. Suddenly I'm terrified she's slipping away, and I don't know how to stop it. I'm sad and I'm afraid.

tBLOG's being a pain tonight. I'd posted another pic below but tried to reduce the size and somehow it fell into the blog Black Hole. Oh well, I'll try again tomorrow. But that is my husband and my daughter below :)

My son and daughter went out for a little shopping this afternoon, the boy had $25 that was completely burning a hole in his pocket! I'd asked my daughter to pick up some Easter gift bags for our church egg hunt and he was looking for a CD. To my surprise they came home with...A PUPPY. *rolling eyes* Just what I don't need.

I've never had one ounce of luck training pups. This one is, like all puppies, adorable. He's half chow, half german shepherd. In layman's terms, a dog I'll likely be afraid of. Of course they didn't call and "ask" because they knew what the answer would be!

Considering I've never been able to train a puppy I need some help. I know all about rubbing their nose in their 'business' and putting them outside, but to date it's never worked for me. I have a stock of puppy pads from other attempts that we've strategically placed all over the house. Should I put him outside or on the pads? Or will either work? Also our stray dog, Brownie doesn't like this pup one bit. We had a rat terrier that ran away he got along with famously. But when they brought in the puppy he get very nervous and even growled at it. I don't think we've ever heard him growl before! He's normally not at all aggressive. I tried to comfort him by petting him but he was shaking all over. What's up with that?

Any and all advice will be greatly appreciated :)

If you're a regular reader you already know that I am a TLC freak! If you're new, let me also say I love reality television too. One of my favorite new shows on TLC is called "Moving Up". The show is hosted by Doug Wilson, he's one of the most controversial designers on "Trading Spaces". I've always been a fan of his, he's portrayed as a real asshole at times on TS. The new show chronicles 3 couples, the first is usually buying their first home, the second couple is the former homeowners of the house couple #1 buys. The third couple is usually a retiring couple who are the sellers to couple #2, following? In tonight's episode couple #1 are newlyweds buying their first home. Doug(not the designer) & Lori were High School sweethearts and seem to be in sync. Well maybe not so much in sync, but rather Lori tells Doug how the new house is going to be decorated and he just smiles and nods. They are an adorable couple! But, ahem, Lori has some serious anal-retentive issues concerning decorating. During the interviewing process we're being escorted around Doug & Lori's apartment. In the living room she's talking about her eggplant colored furniture. She then turns to Doug and says, "My glasses have to match my furniture." she turns and picks up a vibrant purple wine glass and says, "See these glasses match the eggplant perfectly." By this time Doug Wilson-smartass extrodinaire raises the left eyebrow for the camera. Lori continues, "We entertain alot and have alot of friends, most of the time I try to make Doug's clothes match the furniture too." I thought I'd piss all over myself! Here's this model thin blonde blue-eyed(had to be a former cheerleader) telling about the fact that all her stemware has to match the furniture in whatever room it's being used in! Her cutie-pie husband just continued to stand around and smile.

The show follows around the two new homeowners as they shop for new furnishings while Doug Wilson tags along giving decorating advice. Lori bought brown leather furniture for her living room, which was nice but you have to keep in mind there will be many glasses to buy to match the brown leather. For their basement they planned a nautical theme with a beach front murial on one wall, a bar on the other and a big fish tank. Well Lori decided that the fish in the tank had to match the pillows and other colors in basement fun room. I cracked up when they put their fish in the tank and she ran to get a pillow hold it up next to the fish tank and then she squealed in delight because the fish went so well with the other decor. I was rollowing the whole time. She was just so sweet you couldn't dislike her, but I know she could have gotten on my last nerve...FAST! While they were trying to pick stemware to be used in the living room, her poor husband carried around the leather ottoman that went with their set all OVER the stores trying to find brown glasses...Whew just wore me out.

The second couple didn't have near that kind of hang ups. They were pretty plain and non traditional. To me their house looked like a furniture showroom! No real punch, pretty plain. They weren't very energetic like the first couple was and they seemed pretty set in their ways, which is ok.

In the end reveal couple #2 goes back to look at their old house after it had been redecorated by the new owners. Needless to say they weren't really happy with their choices. I'f I'm not mistaken they thought one of the bedrooms looked like it belonged in a bordello! I thought that was harsh, expecially since I really like the room. Bottom line is they didn't like anything they did.

All of these couples had hang ups:
Couple #1--we extremely anal-retentive haiving to have stemware that matched furniture. She even had to find wine glasses with grapes and vines on them to match the vines and grapes that were on her ladder back kitchen chairs! WTF?? Anyhow it's her house.
Couple #2 Didn't like one thing in the house they'd bought. The seller had a big hobby of painting faux finishes and tons of stenciling's on every speck of wall she could work on. I really think that the seller thought the new owners would keep them. They couldn't get those things out of there fast enough, lol

I don't consider myself a totally anal-retentive person. In fact there are very few things that I have to have MY way! Here's my list:

1. Folding Bath Towels---I cannot stand if they're not folded the right(my) way. I have jerked them out of the linen closet and refolded them. Grrr that makes me crazy
2. DO NOT READ THE NEWSPAPER I BOUGHT UNTIL I HAVE READ IT!!! I'd rather buy more, just leave mine alone.
3. Folding T-Shirts...I have my own special way. I don't care if the kids wad theirs into a ball, but DON'T even touch mine.
4. I am very anal-retentive about which gas pump I use. I try to pull to the last pump leaving 2 behind me open, that's courtesy. Funny how few people feel the same way and just pull up to a random pump never caring if they've blocked out two other customers, grrrr!
5. I will never, never, never, never wear colored socks with tennis shoes! EVER. I was at a soccer game and two women sitting to my left had on Keds tennis shoes with big thick navy socks on. ACK!!! I would wear dirty white ones before I'd put on colored ones. Call me crazy, lol

Now after watching "Moving Up" and going over a few of my anal-retentive characteristics I wonder if you have any you'd like to share? Or even some AR stories of friends and family?

...yes! He's willing. He seems to be in denial thinking that I need some help to get over certain issues. I didn't argue about that with him last night, I just told him I appreciated him going and hope it makes a difference. I figure I'll just wait until the counseling starts and then lay all the cards on the table. We've gone over and over the things that bother both of us and then he acts like everything is fine?

Oh well, I'll just let the professional handle it, lol

Whew! I am relieved and excited. I hope this is a good thing. And thank you to all of my wonderful readers who have been so sweet and supportive. This is a delicate subject, one I don't really want to share with my family and friends. They'd have nothing but negative responses and I just don't need that right now. I wish I could hug each one of you and really make you know how much I appreciate you :)

I took a step today that I am both proud of and afraid of. I made an appointment with a marriage/family counselor. I realize a blog is a great place to 'vent' and I've done my share of that, but in the last 3 months or so I've been miserably unhappy with my personal life. After 2 1/2 years of battling with my husband over one thing or another, primarily children, I'm just about done. I think I've been living in denial for a long time, convincing myself that the "Matrimonial Fairy" would magically appear and sprinkle some dust on our marriage and all the problems would just disappear. It's time to wipe the fairy dust out of my eyes, leave the Magic Kingdom and face facts. We are very different people with very different ideas on everything. Our major problem is parenting. I tend to be too strict and expect too much, while he has no rules or boundries and expects nothing. It is not a good combination.

I have realized there must be a common ground and we've got to have a good map to find it. We obviously cannot do this alone so I took the leap of enlisting a counselor. My husband has no idea about this. I went to bed angry not speaking to him last night. I don't like being given an ultimatum and don't like the fact that I'm going to give him one: seek some help or quit. The thought of four divorces tucked firmly under my belt makes me sick but I've taken all I can take. I am now sacrificing my own children and that's where I have to say, enough's enough.

I have decided that even if my husband refuses the couseling I'm going to go by myself. I know I can't live in this house divided so preparing myself for what could happen is good insurance. The whole situation is a huge blow to what was already a weak self esteem, but I've reached a point in my life where I AM going to be happy and if that means living single then so be it. I love my husband, he's a good hearted man but he is a very, very bad parent and I am tired of pulling all this emotional baggage around with me.

In this day and time it seems relatively common to seek professional help in matters such as these, I'm curious to know if you've ever done this? If so was it helpful?

In keeping with my last post, which tBLOW only posted half of *rolling eyes*, I have a question...

Have you ever been cow tippin?

I have, once,  and while it's probably not the nicest thing to do, the cow seemed fine once he woke up and got over the scare. I'm not really sure why I even thought about the cow tippin, but now I wonder who else has done it.

*IMPORTANT* I want to thank dear sweet dysfunction who made my new header. Doesn't it look sooo much better than the 'weblog' thing? Her link is at the left, please stop by and read this really talented and funny young woman's blog.

Now back to that cow tippin...

There was a type of prestige that came from getting your house rolled. Actually there were two types; (a) very popular people got their houses rolled a lot and (b) snobbish not so liked people. I will tell you that my house got rolled each and every weekend weather permitting during my Senior of High School. I wasn't a snob but I was a relatively popular kid, I lived in a central location(i.e. easy access from the road, old neighbors, and the perfect trees), and honestly I had them all coming to me as I LOVED to roll people's houses. I took pride in my 'rolling' abilities. I once took 4 rolls of toilet paper and put them on a croquet mallot, then I'd be able to do bushes and porches in one swift swoop! I honestly thought this was good clean fun, and truly as compared to other things we could have been doing, it was. But the mess would be a pain to clean up sometimes. On Saturday morning my Mother would open up my bedroom door and say, "Yes it's there and yes you've got to clean it up. Get to it before it blows all over the neighbors yard." Now here's the bad part, my parents were divorced and while my Dad did pay child support and paid the mortgage things were tight financially. My Mother was working for a little over minimum wage back then, I think she made $3.75/hour. So with 3 kids we had to be creative. Once my Mother was standing on the front porch as me and my sister were cleaning up and she spotted two almost full rolls of toilet paper. Do I need to go on? lol Yes she took them in the house and we did use them. In fact she always would come out and see what tissue we could salvage. My friends would die laughing when they'd come over and go to the bathroom and grab a roll of toilet paper out of the bathroom closet and there'd be leaves or a twig stuck to the bottom of it!

As I drove by that house today I was taken back to a simpler time. A time when destroying someone else's property never entered my mind. I always saw 'rolling' as an art form. It took some finesse to fling a roll of toilet paper 20 feet into the air, loop it around a tree branch and have it fall to the other side, all the while keeping the string of delicate tissue in one piece. There were the occasional run in with the long arm of the law. Some parents weren't as tolerant as mine. We'd have to clean up the mess and get the 'warning' about trespassing blah, blah, blah. It never slowed us down and I think the cops felt it was silly to get so bent out of shape over it. None of my fellow 'rollers' are incarcerated right now, in fact all but maybe 2 of them are college educated, productive members of society. While it may have been a bother to some, most of the houses were where our friends lived so they cleaned up the mess just I had to do. To me and the rest, the thrill of sneaking into someone's yard after dark, unloading a couple dozen rolls of toilet paper into trees, bushes and anything else that was sitting still was a rush!

It was a simpler time. I am glad I grew up in a small town. I'm glad my house got 'rolled' alot. I'm happy to have some simple, wonderful memories. Are you?

I have deliberately not filed my Tax Return yet. The major reason is we're getting money back and my husband and I can't quite agree on what we should do with it. More than likely it will go in the bank but things are really up in the air on a lot of things so I've put it off on purpose. Tonight he threw me yet another curve ball...

We're on our way to the pharmacy to pick my medicine and he says, "Why don't we buy a camper trailer with the income tax money?" I bursted out laughing. We've had discussions about camping over the last 3 summers. Now picture if you will, 5 teenagers in the woods with no phone, no television, no PS2. Yes I know the point of camping is to enjoy the outdoors but I know the time span for really enjoying the wildreness is limited. The whole thing seems like just way more work than a vacation should be.

Living in this area camping was a big pasttime when I was a kid. While we didn't have the luxuries that kids today do, I remember getting plenty bored, plenty fast. I also remember all the bug bites, the rocks under my sleeping bag and how dinner never tasted quite as good as breakfast did. I remember the smell of wet clothing because invaribly when I go camping it rains. My first husband was a camping/boating type person. We used to go with his cousins and their families. We camped with 2 babies! Now there's a fun time, hauling a playpen with you and the poor kids not being able to sleep at night. I remember once it rained all afternoon, all night and all the next morning. I sat in a tent with his cousins wife and 4 kids until I thought I'd pull my hair out. There was not one fun thing about that.

The hubby wants a camper/RV thing. That's a great idea, but I can't see buying one to go sit in the woods with 5 complaining children when there are thousands of perfectly good hotels on the beach! I'm not sure he was entirely sincere suggesting the camper, in fact I hope he wasn't. It seems like lately we disagree more than usual. We could spend the money on a lot of things but there's really not anything that we must have right now, so why not just sock it in the bank and wait until there's something we need and want?

What did you do with your return if you got any back? Got any funny camping stories to share? I'd love to read 'em :)

...ahhhh nothing. That's what I've had to do for the last 30-something hours, nothing. And it's been absolutely divine! Granted I am exhausted because the cough syrup makes me shake like Santa's belly, makes my skin crawl and makes sleeping painfully difficult. But, the beauty of it is, I haven't had one ounce of responsibility. No kids, no cooking, no cleaning, no nothing.

I wish it weren't late and cold I'd make a run to the grocery to pick up the stuff to make a batch of Scotcheroo's! Oh Scotcheroo's! The most fantastic things, ever. Sort of like rice crispy treats but so much better. Maybe that will be a good thing to do tomorrow? Chocolate and peanut butter can only make things even better :)

I hope you've had a great weekend too!

For the first time since last summer, my husband and I will be completely alone tonight. I'm a little surprised that I'm not very excited about that. I'm glad we're going to be in a 'kid free' zone for awhile, but for some reason not as happy as I think I should be. I love him, we have a great time together, but...something's amiss. Is this normal?

Last night I dreamt that I lived alone. I was cleaning my small house, crawling into my bed by myself, just alone in general. I am still shocked at how 'right' that dream felt. I was a single Mother for several years. I used to relish my weekends alone when the kids would go to their Dad's. There were times when I'd go all day on Saturday without even talking. I didn't hate that. I was lonely and I did want to be 'with someone' but I still didn't hate it. Am I subliminally trying to tell myself something?

Could this just a case of needing a little 'me time'? I got up this morning and thought briefly about taking off to the mountains for the night, alone. But I know I'd feel very hurt and left out if my husband did that. I don't want to make him feel like he's done anything wrong, he hasn't.

Have you ever felt like this?

There seems to be a trend on the streets of tBLOG today: animal stories. There are some real tearjerkers posted on various sites. In addition to the posts there's even more tales in the comment sections. This of course started me thinking about my own pets, past and present. When I was growing up we lived on a very busy street and inevitably every pet we owned ended up as a grill decoration for a big Plymouth or a UPS truck. My Daddy used to tell my Mother it was cruel to replace the pets as they would die, leaving us heartbroken again. We had a plethora of pets as a child, outside of the normal cats and dogs we had two turtles that lived in this cute little terrarium with a plastic palm tree. I don't remember their names as they didn't stay too long with us after my Mother got wind of the possibility of them carrying diseases. We got countless chicks on Easter that died very mysterious deaths. I have a feeling my Father disposed of them after endless nights of clucking that lasted until sun-up every day. One Easter my parents decided to get ducks instead of chicks. Now those were some cute pets! We named them Cluck-Cluck and Pinkie. They didn't make as much noise as the chicks but their bowels moved 24/7. They didn't stay too long either, one sunny Saturday my sister and I decided they should 'swim' because ducks liked that sort of thing. We filled up our plastic pool, put the ducks in, and went off to play. My Daddy found one of them floating face down in the water while the other baby duck was so exhausted it was trying to lay it's head down on the side of the pool. It died later that day.

Why do we name our pets the things we do? I have named a slew of them but can't really remember much motivation for the chosen names. Here's just a few examples:

"Pussy Galore"--My sister named a cat this when she was 6 years old. Her favorite book was Puss 'N Boots. She had no idea that the word pussy was used for anything other than reference to a cat. She'd go out in the yard and call for the kitty at the top of her lungs, "Puuuussssssyyyyyyy, Pussy Gaaaaaallllloooorrreee!" My Daddy would lose his mind as our teenaged male neighbors would howl with laughter. I couldn't understand what the big deal was.

"Candi"--A retarded Cocker Spaniel who was hit by a car 4 times before a UPS truck finally took her.

"Dipstick"--My sons dog that was an adorable black lag/blue heeler mix. Dumb as a stump tho. He chewed up my phone lines and I had to crawl under the house to splice them back together.

"Pobo"--My daughters first hamster, the one I froze to death in front of the A/C.

"Tater-Tot"--quite possibly the ugliest feline, EVER. It's Mother and siblings were run over after the mom gave birth in our alley. We rescued the Tot and fed her with a syringe for weeks. Her tail was twice as long as her entire body. She died of feline leukemia.

"Willard"--our first and last attempt raising a guinea pig. He lived for 2 years alone which I now understand was a feat in and of itself.

Just a sample of odd names of pets in my family. Which reminds me, I was asked awhile ago about the name "FinalyFree". Yes I know it's spelled wrong but what happened was I initally used the name 'FinallyFree' in chat many moons ago. When I started playing Acrophobia in '97 the beta version only hosted up to 10 characters for your nick. So I dropped an 'L' and it the name just sort of stuck.

So you knew it was coming, please share some of your strange or unusual pet names!

For the last week I've been craving a Krystal cheeseburger. It's a rare thing but once the urge hits there's no point in trying to fight it. Today after making my monthly installment to Comcast I hit the Krystal. I ordered my 2 cheeseburgers with NO mustard and drove around to the window. I like 'special' orders at a drive-thru because usually it guarantees a semi-fresh burger. The girl told me the total and I said to her, "I wanted those cheeseburgers with no mustard, please." She didn't even respond to me just snapped the little window shut. I'd done this to make sure my order would be correct. I didn't just order the burgers without mustard to try and get a fresh one, I loathe and despise mustard. On anything. To me it's the most vile condiment known to man. The moment a tiny bit of yellow mustard hits my taste buds the entire meal is ruined.

I know that special orders are a pain in the ass, volume is the way fast food makes it's money. But I don't eat it that often so I don't feel too guilty for having a special request. The only place I don't feel guilty about ordering something different is Burger King, because they encourage it. A few moments later my burgers came soaring out the little window at warp speed. I was somewhat perturbed but drove on, thinking all the while they were prepared to order. As if! About 3 miles from the restaurant I grabbed one out of the bag and bit into it. The warm mustard oozed out from both sides. Not only was there mustard on it, there was a lot of it. I tried to nibble around the sides but there was no point, there was atleast 2 tablespoons of mustard on the little burger. Back in the bag it went. I was a little too far from the Krystal to turn around and go back. The $1.57 I'd spent wasn't enough to justify running out that much gas.

I've heard people say that mayonaise is just as repulsive to them as mustard is to me. I really like mayo. Are you a mayo or mustard person?