Losing my Luggage!

I did a major assessment of my baggage about 3 months ago.

We all have some and I am not talking about the matchy matchy luggage set in two swank rollaways, with the pull out handle(that never seems to be long enough), one over the shoulder carry all and one mini “what didn’t fit in the other three” type. Well then again, mine was sort of matchy matchy with all the bells and whistles.

I am talking true blue baggage. Quirks, behaviors, must haves, can’t stands, disorders. I call them the self totes. GOT to carry them. GOT to have them. To breath, to live, they are ME so back off! Yeah, they are easy to hide behind too if ya stack em just right.

It often used to puzzle me how I could only carry 4 plastic bags of groceries yet could SURELY handle all my baggage and then some on a daily basis. Jaunting to and fro ALL pieces of baggage fully intact. Double zipped and locked for sure travel anywhere, any time, all day, every day.

My bags were always ready to accompany me anywhere. Many times they would even dictate where I went and where I didn’t go. Who I traveled with and who I didn’t. As though they were filled with items that would allow me to travel ONLY certain places with ONLY certain people. Typically people of similar “baggage” persuasion.

Damn those bags were a pain in the ass! I would go to jet off to the pub to meet my special people, or simply go visiting with family and I would have to check them, secure them, load them in the car, take inventory of them. A tiring process for anyone! SO many times I would skip the event JUST because I didn’t want to deal with assessing my baggage. Yeah, I thought it was pretty, all matchy matchy and certainly NOT worth leaving behind but it was heavy as hell. Draining. Tedious.

Maybe I will just stay home and stack it neatly somewhere where I can keep an eye on it, handles neatly tucked away, lack luster double zippers and rarely touched mini locks that could easily be bitten open by a curious 2 year old.

Soooo many times I stayed in my safe place rather than haul my baggage.

How much did I miss out on?

NEED EM?

One day I was hauling my baggage to my car and a person I knew, not yet on my “friends” list but well enough to call a trustable acquaintance pulled up next to me in the rainy evening drizzle and asked if I needed a ride to my car. There had been a QUITE a festive soiree that evening and I was forced to park far away. I had a moment of panic. If I jump in, out of this weather, I won’t be able to take my baggage. Standing there with snaps of cold rain biting my face I jumped in. I left my matchy matchy baggage stack on the curb right down to the one mini “what didn’t fit in the other three” one. They would be there for me when I came to pick it up, after all it was MY baggage and had MY name encased in the nice plastic business card holder danglies on each individual piece. Yes, it would be there.

Still with some panic, never prior being without my baggage, I jumped in!

The moment the door slammed and I felt the heat trailing through the vents and no more biting rain on my face I didn’t even think about it. My baggage.

He asks, “Where is your car?”.

“Around the corner.” I reply.

He had already jumped out and opened my door while I scampered in with only my chapstick and non baggage matching clutch purse that held little other than smokes, celly and powder.(a needy combination for any night out)

As we travel the long way around the block to where my baggage waiting car was resting, and me a newly baggagless girl, all warm and drying off nicely sitting there, co pilot……I ask.

“Do you want to go have a drink by the Lake?”

Now this is a daring move for me and would not typically be so bold. Maybe it was because I wasn’t being smashed in my seat by my 4 piece baggage set, or maybe it was because I sensed he left his on the curb as well to make room for me in his truck.(yes I said truck - chicks dig trucks)

We silently ride in the chilly drizzly weather and pick up a bevvie and head lake bound. I believe our initial silence was us both realizing we were doing something out of the ordinary, baggage free and it opened us up to whirlwind of conversation. We didn’t stay long lakeside, sipping and chatting. We chatted about important stuff, not so important stuff and had some good belly laughs in-between. Cracking the windows to listen to the waves and shutting them again as not to get pelted by the slanted stinging stuff.

After some time, he drove me back to my car and I thanked him for a very unexpected evening of yappiness. He waited until I had my engine thundering and wipers going, lights on, and tooling away before he then went his way.

What a lovely unforeseen eventuality I thought to myself.

Then, I SLAMMED my breaks!

“MY BAGS!”

“Oh my God, I left my bags on the curb! In the rain!”

After another moment of panic and our conversation trickling in and out of my head, the tiredness of the evening presenting itself, the relaxedness of the moment...I calmly thought to myself, “I will get them tomorrow”.

LEAVE EM!

I never did go back and pick them up. Someone else can haul them around for all I care. I don’t need or even want them anymore. I can’t even remember what’s in them! Why did I ever even lock em with those pathetic “two year old can bite through the locks” that came with them?

I carried these suckers around with me for what had seemed like a lifetime and in one flicker of a moment, went cold turkey and dropped em on a curb.(maybe it was his eyes)

(now for any of you cold turkey baggage droppers - BE CAREFUL - the effects can be overwhelming. Abrupt. Be prepared for an exhilarating feeling of lightness. It is instant reborn sort of event. Sobering.)

I have not even glanced in the direction where I left my bags since that night. I am certain someone picked them up and are hauling them around to this day but hope they decide to leave them on a curb for another’s lesson. They are just too heavy and cumbersome to be a part of anyone’s daily life and certainly don’t need to be part of any decisions. They are just bags.

I since remain bag free. And my night of shining armor, clad in a baggagless truck with a kick ass thumpin stereo remains not only part of my life, but has become an amazing never want to be without part of my life.

I wonder if my “what didn’t fit in the other three” mini matchy bag is still somewhere to found...Naw I won’t look.

BAG FREE!

I will just snuggle in, baggage free and let him wrap his arms around me. We are fairly matchy matchy together and don‘t seem to need the “what didn‘t fit in the other three“ piece.

We are light - almost weightless. I would carry this feeling around for an eternity and not me encumbered.

Check your baggage.

And then...

“Check” your baggage.

You don’t need it. Trust me.

Raindrops . . .

Like raindrops
trickling on my face,
Catch some on my tongue
But I’m not setting the pace

(and this is good)

Didn’t expect it or deserve it
Will never break it
If it ain’t broke, don't fix it
Not setting the pace

It was written on a stall
You had blood on your boots
Brim turned down
This isn’t you

The you that I know...

I saw those boots
Cause I was on my knees
You helped me up
Told me you would breath

For me...

Make everything stop for a moment
Wait! Speed it up
And we can get past the pain
Back it up and
Let’s talk about it for a moment
You talk, while I stand in the rain

For you

So you said you don’t love
And you said you won’t care
I have yet to touch a door
A bill or a chair...while you touch my hair

My busy mind
Finds an unbusy rest
As you sit unrest
With my head on your chest

Watching

Would never try to change you
I come as I am
Never rearrange you
You have become my best friend

This is me

It’s all new and unnerving
I feel very undeserving
To smile a smile, tap my lip
And wonder how?

Just POW!

You woke me up
Thought I was wide awake
But you shook me up
Real good

Make everything stop for a moment
Wait! Speed it up
And we can get past the pain
Back it up and
Let’s talk about it for a moment
You talk, while I stand in the rain

For you

Babies to Boys to Men.

Babies to boys to men and ALL the inbetween!

Some people search.
Some don’t.

Is there a purpose?

I was born to live for SO many things. . .

I want to watch my kids grow up.
I want to watch them love.
I will watch them cry.
I want them to FEEL life.
I will watch them hurt. . . and it will hurt me.

I want to be there when they succeed, see their faces and watch their glow.

I want to be there when they feel they’ve failed and I can assure them they have NOT. (Or suck it up with them and learn whatever can be learned from failing. Share my own failures certainly.)

When they smirk, in that kid kinda smirk they do when they “get it”, when they look at a girl for the first time and she makes them melt, when they confirm they “said their prayers”, when they get their first ticket, when they get dumped and sit in a closet for 2 days strumming the “git fiddle”, when they WIN a talent contest and are too proud to boast about it, rub their back when they drift off to sleep or rub their back when they can't sleep. I will be there when they are up late at night or up early in the morning.

Decisions! (i am listening, encouraging, protecting)
Undecidedness! (i am listening, encouraging, protecting)

I want to watch my kids grow up and keep it with me, take it with me.

They will go forward, forever forward, move on ro the life of their choosing. I will transform like a cameleon from their beacon when they are uncertain to their ghoul when they need to “touch home”. They will go forward, hopefully moving on knowing they are loved, unconditionally, infinitively, forever. (cause they are)Is there a purpose?

Some people search.
Some don’t.

I was born to live for SO many things. . .and am living it today, looking forward to living it tomorrow.

I would never trade it. (and would beat someone to the ground to save it) It’s been my blessing, my honor. Thank you Lord.

Some people search.
I have it.

Thank you.
I will take it with me.

Overabovers. (it's a word trust me)

We all “get” good things whether we deserve them or not. Every day. Some would call them blessings. I call them the “overabovers”. (I had an English teacher tell me, “if you can use it in a sentence and it makes sense IT’S a word. She wasn’t that bright, but this stuck with me.)

Overabovers? You wonder.

Yeah like over and above what I expected, deserved, did not deserve, did not expect. I got back more than I put in. I didn’t put in ANYTHING in and I got a lil something back.

Presents! Gifts! Blessings! Overabovers.

A long long time ago, in a far away village, I would sit and actually make a brain list of all the crap that went on during my day. It was a crummy list, with a crap title(Barbie’s List of Shit) and always after penning this list would be left with a stagnant taste in my mouth. I would go through this list. Over and over. Wow, did I ever deal with the crap today! This is a LONG list! How did I ever make it through! I would go so far as to boast about ALL the crap I was through in a day.(though I didn’t realize I was boasting)

Major stuff, menial stuff. But all crap stuff! I felt like I dealt with my bull, friends bull, family’s bull.

I would fall asleep with a crease in my forehead, angry, frustrated and at the same time kinda felt “tough”. Tough for ALL the crap I had to deal with in a day. I mean WHO else in this world dealt with THIS huge pile of brown dung? Yup that’s right sister! Sit down! I DID! Shwew, full day for me!

SO, rubbing the painful crease imbedded in my forehead, my prayer would be “Lord, please help me deal with all the crummy junk sent my way today...Oh and thank you for helping handle yesterdays trunk of junk”.

YA! Quite a prayer huh!

Did I secretly like this craplist? Some of us do that. I did that. Sorrow before joy kinda living.

The turning point was:
I listened to a friend with a painful story. (and am thankful to this day this person opened up. Eternally thankful)

So painful was this story...life story, I sat and listen like I had restless leg syndrome and would shake my head adamantly screeching, “NO! How could one person deal with all that? WHAT? You went through that?”

It would go on, “Oh stop! It can’t possibly get worse! OMG! It IS worse!”

And on, “Please I can’t take anymore. I am sorry I will listen to more! Where is the Kleenex! Let me hug you!”

This was a story of, betrayal, famine, defeat, death, abandonment, torture, loneliness, disease, lost love, theft and assault. (ya, the worst movie trailer ever X 3) It was like I watched a fast photo slide show in their eye’s as they softly spoke and shared this graphic, bring you to your knees, leave you breathless and sobbing in the fetal position story.

Horrifying to anyone. Especially horrifying to girl that makes a list of menial bullshit she went through in a given day.

Shortly after the last cigarette was put out, and this friend feeling very cleansed, smirked and leaned back with a shrug indicating there was no more to tell, my immediate questioning was, “How you are OK? How can you be ok? Are you OK? Are you?”

The response:
“Of course I am ok.”

HOW ! ! ! ! ! (I know I almost belched this in a VERY soprano squeal)

“Each day, another person’s smile, act of kindness, honesty, show of love, sacrifice kept me sane between AND through all the pain and became my food, my drink and fed my spirit.”

With the enhancer:
“How can I not feel blessed? ! ? !”

I was speechless. Shamed. Humbled. Sad. Inspired yet shamed again.

SO from that day forward, and for all the days after, the girl(me) in the far away village crumpled up and tossed all her long crap lists of what she went through in a day and pulled out a FRESH piece of paper and began feverishly writing a new list.

What was GOOD about my day?

This became SUCH a long list! And she looked forward to sharing pieces and parts of it will all the kingdom forever and ever more.

Oh she changed the title of her daily list too! From “Barbie’s List of Shit” (nope scratch that!) to “Overabovers”. It’s a crazy long list and makes me smile from ear to ear to add to it, read it, reread it and share it.

I will never miss an overabover again. And yes, it has become my food, my drink and feeds my spirit daily.

I no longer fall asleep or wake with a painful crease in my forehead.

How bad was your day? Did you have a lot on your plate?

betrayal
famine
defeat
death
abandonment
torture
loneliness
disease
lost love
theft
assault

Back Patting Bullshitters...

A few places I have worked have been chock full of Back Patting Bullshitters.(aka BPB’s) You ever hear of this species? Yellow bellied BACK PATTING BULLSHITTERS! Yeah - I guessed you would have heard of them.

Most likely have worked with one or a dozen. These are the people that knob around all day and when “the brass” does their check ins all the sudden they turn to busy beavers. Paper flyin. Keyboard clickin and SOME even make snort noises like they are SO into their work they are simply stumped but working through it. (and have the a PILE of papers to prove it - they are working HARD! Just LEAVE o brass people, I am doing amazing things!)

These back patters typically want to eat the flesh off the leg of ANYONE that may make them look bad to “the big guys”, and pretty much day dream at work while YouTubing, planning a trip, sexting, checking pro sport scores, etc about all the ways they can do without everyone in the office cause they are a one man show. They talk the talk. And talk and talk. And brag and talk s’more. And pat their back looking for more.

That’s right. They lay in bed and wonder how to snub YOU! (in this story YOU are the diligent worker that just shows up on time, genuinely likes your coworkers, do your job, and enjoy your work)

Scenario:
Imagine we are on an island with the people we work with. (live with, friends with and love)

Ya ok, not likely to happen, but let’s just play with the idea.

I don’t mean on an island like “Hey Lizzie, Gertrude, Todd, Penelope, Frank and Sherman let’s all take a trip together on an ISLAND! ! !” with your thumbs in the air.

No, no, no. This is not what I mean. What if you were STRANDED, indefinitely, on an island with the people you worked with.(live with, friends with or love)

Let THAT settle in your head.....

Stop reading, let it settle!

Settling............

OK -

Most have read or at least watched “Lord of the Flies”. Possibly watched an episode or all bajillion of the TV series LOST?

We are STRANDED with no outside help in sight and no outside contact other than the people we work with. Our coworkers! (or again, whom we live with, are friends with and love) Colovers. Cofamily. Cofriends.

So we are all together. Scared as hell, but BPB is sure as hell NOT going to admit that.(for the record I would be the screaming girl until someone slapped me senseless, and then would continue to scream and dig a fox hole until my fingers were nubs) We are alone. But we are together.


Transition:
The Back Patting Bullshitter is likely to have all the answers…….at first. You do this, get that, gather this, do that. And over time - say maybe 12 hours you may notice this BPB is concentrating ALL his efforts on HIS protection. Not taking into regard the several other lives with him. At some point the majority of the group will tell him to shut his pie hole and remind him what a knob he was at the office and if he wants anyone gone - he MAY very well be left alone. All alone.

That’s right BPB (back patting bullshitter..did I really need to clarify that) You may be all alone. Fending for yourself(you one man band) on a very large island, in the middle of nowhere. Alone. Indefinately. OK men don’t be all freaky cause I am using HE in this story. HE can be interchanged with SHE. Get a grip!

Once realized, the BPB is likely to stop thinking of 101 ways to slice and dice his coworkers to make him look better, he will no longer strive to be a one man band and will certainly have to drink a HUGE cup of self righteous assdom. Cause he knows he WON’T look better, he will look alone.

Outcome:
At this point he will likely start to look at everyone’s strengths. His own strengths. His own weaknesses. Reason what he can do WITH the team, with all efforts focusing on the big picture. I mean after all if one is saved WE may all be saved RIGHT?!? He will be able help cut wood with his strong back patting arms and carry lots of heavy stuff for sure! He will become SO tired at the end of the day, stranded on the island with all the people he previously wanted to see in mason jars, that he will not even have enough energy to pat his own back, nor will he want to.

Why? Because he was finally fulfilled. The BPB, though seemingly wanted to be the only one to shine had to learn the not so simple lesson of, if you eat everyone at the office, and want to be a one man band with you being the last one standing….he may just be the ONLY one standing.

Snuggled by the fire, with leaves for blankets and sucking his thumb coddled between the bodies of his co-workers he drifts off to dreamland looking forward to ways he can help and be part of the efforts the next day brings. He is scared but no longer back patting. Who has time for that. And if he bullshits, it’s only to himself.

Afterthought:
Appreciate who you live with, work with are friends with and love.
Treat them, like you are stranded on an island.
It’s almost too bad some never get stranded on an island
with those you live with, work with are friends with and love.

Campfires, S'mores and Sex

CAMPING SEX

Let me have your attention: We have all considered, tried or tossed out all the wonderful erotic possibilities of sex. Let’s take moment to walk down the road of negative sensual experiences. NOT for the sexee and sexer, but for all those with-in ear shot…..


Camping sex is a stealthy kind of sex. It’s required you conjure up hunting prowess and maintain peek senses because you can not only ENJOY the sexual experience, but you have to, or should be somewhat considerate of who’s around you. I know, I know…..ME telling YOU that you have to be considerate during love play. You had to guess at some point I would have a smidge of sexual etiquette.(enjoy this, it will be the only shred you get…of the sexual etiquette)

The build up...

My “guy” and I went on a camping trip one time with a rather large and diverse group of people. Hold on, I know you just imagined camp fire songs, wool ponchos and s’mores. This camp trip was more along the lines of keg-o-beer, buried hypodermics (not from our group, but some squatters that latched to the group) and long lusty philosophical talks about WHY Jim Morrison wrote Peace Frog...and least I forget the TURKEY BREAST(see diagram 1...ok no diagram here but if there WAS it would be of man squeezing his own sack so hard it looks like a turkey breast! I did not make this up).

The camp was set up like:
“Hey, back your rig up here! It will fit!” and was rather like one continuous camp site with a tent spliced in here and a lean to propped up there. Heavily wooded and by a lake. Camper, tent, camper, camper, tent-tent-tent. About 50 people easy!

So there we were, camping...sittin’ around, strolling from site to site with our frosty and frothy beers, plastics of wine, trailing back to the “main site”(our site) for refills. We had planned on camper tent sharing with a few people and figured it would really be no big deal, everyone being grown up and all with the added NO swingers allowed. As the night turned into wee hours of the morning we head back to our nylon home to find no one there sleeping yet. BONUS! We strip down and get crackin right away in the “lovins“ department. Considering there were so many people coming to “fill up” at the keg/wine/mixies station propped safely right outside our “door”, we kinda started out with quiet giggly foreplay. (I was doing the giggling-C’mon he‘s a man. And for any of you man gigglers out there - STOP! It weirds us out) So we went from fun play to HEEHAW! We are in the woods, this nature, makes me wanna YIPEE KIYI YAY! ! ! We rocked it pretty good for, what seemed like an hour...and in hind site it was more like um, an hour! We are alone after all. In the woods! Behind trusted Northface, 3M, Eddie Bauer nylon. We’re good, that shit’s like steel.

At some point a few people trickle in and find a sleepy spot. Here and there. I already have my Skeletor jammie pants on and am sound asleep. More people…trickle trickle. Yes, it was like a 13 man tent with a 3 room enclosure. LARGE!

Morning coffee...

We wake up to the smell of coffee, scent of warm dew, tent farts, stale fire smell in the hair and wet mud. Ahhhhhh ya gotta love nature. We proceed to talk about the evening with our kitten breath and get up to enjoy a percolated cup of joe.

Note to self: Nylon is not cement or steel and has NO sound barrier! At all. None. Zero! It’s more of a sound conducting agent. Like copper is to heat…but far worse. Remember this.


SO back to coffee. We meander outside to sit by the morning fire and there around the fire are nothing but eyeballs and smirks. Eyeballs and smirks and a few coyly asked questions like, “How did you two sleep?”, “What time you guys get to sleep?” and of course “I was going to go to bed but fell asleep outside waiting for you guys!”. (so much for stealth mode and I did wonder why there were a few body heaps outside on the cold ground NEAR the tent entrance)

I had no idea there was a sex-o-meter during camping and felt awful! Sorta.

Did I mention the rollie window may have opened too? Yeah, check that. Twice!

So there you have it. Should you decide to camp, be considerate.

Camping list to consider...

1) If you are camping in a large group, TRY to “enjoy the simple pleasures" EARLY in the evening when people are talking and music is playing.

2) Purchase a -60 degree, fully lined Alaskan stamped Columbia sleeping bag for muffling sake. Maybe two to be safe.

3) If you hear the whispers from the campfire while you are INSIDE you can bet those whisperers can heard x3 on the OUTSIDE.

4) Keep drink station approximately 30 feet from main temporary domicile or “watering hole”.

5) Leave no trace! This should apply to sexless camping as well. Take out what you haul in. (I might be selfish but I want to “keep it green” too!)

6) Turkey Breast-prepare for the turkey breast siting! You will never be afraid of Sasquatch again!

Six simple thing to remember and you too can enjoy a fruitful sex filled CONSIDERATE camping trip.(and maintain friends) If not, you should maybe consider going solo.

For the record - I never repeated this trip again. The “turkey breast” nightmares got the best of me and I had to watch Blaire Witch Project NINE times to forget. Look it up if you dare. But you had your warning.

The dangerous world of IF. . .

I started out with a lesson planned in CAMPING SEX!(the stealthiest kind) But went in this direction...

The IF FACTOR I will scientifically dub as a very powerful factor. Some call it the X factor, but think the name has already been taken by a TV Show.

It’s powers can make or break a moment, a day or possibly even a lifetime…IF you allow it.

Using the IF factor can be very dangerous when you’re simply an IF FACTOR talker. You know who you are.

“I would do this IF ____”(enter excuse here - ya right buddy)

“I would go there IF____” (Um ok)

and of course the

“I would talk to him her about this or that IF_____”(Right on Captain Avoid-O)

The IF FACTOR is merely over analyzing a situation to create YOUR OWN negative or positive, response or action to what you will or will not do.(pretty much you already made your decision and it’s your excuse)

Another wards, we use it to “avoid” for the most part. We all become guilty of this and I for one used to be a master at it. To the point I would miss out on many, possibly GREAT things while trying to figure it all out.(and make my excuses) I used the word possibly, cause I “IF’d” myself scared right out of any of the POSSIBLE great things.

I had 1,937 reasons for doing or not doing something. (mostly NOT doing)

Excuses, excuses. Reasoning. MY reasoning.

However, IF you are an IF FACTOR DOER, life can be chock full of experiences, adventure and fulfillments.(believe me on this one-I would not steer you wrong)

“I would do this IF I didn’t have to work til 8”
Screw it! Asked someone to work! DID it.

“I would go IF I didn’t have to let my dog out!“
NOT ME!Called the neighbor! They are totally letting the dog out!

“I would totally sleep with him, but I don’t really know much about him.”
UM YA! Said “game on” and it was the beginning to a wonderful thing!
(ok that was a really bad example of ifdom, and I of course have never experienced THIS…shush, there is a lesson here)

In the BIG moral short version. Don’t you ever get sick of using the IF FACTOR, when it’s just easier to say:

“It’s not my bag.”
“I am scared as hell of that!”
“I don’t want to do it cause it’s out of my element.”
Or simply,
“No”

Don’t IF yourself to death!
It’s a time waste
Or
you want to waste time!

There is life to live and IF I sit here and scratch my head with a pencil tryin to figure ALL 1,937 IF’s out, that IF is gonna turn into a:
MISSED IT
SHOULDA
COULDA
WOULDA

It’s my lifetime. I will exclude the IF MONSTER just for today, IF the Brewers win tomorrow. Yeah. That’s safe.


...

Did I just eat a Shit Sandwhich? ! ?

I am a very non confrontational person. Hate it! Makes my mouth pucker and my eyes squint. (reminds me of my ex mother-in-law, shhhhhhh)

Let’s play “ok”. Why not? It’s safe.

SO this last week was a big shit sandwich.

Have you heard of these shit sandwiches? Tried one? We all have to take a bite at one time or another and hear some people live on them. Dr. Phil has 3 part episodes on such people.(he hasn’t called me back yet, so I don’t know when I will be “on”)

You can get these shit sandwiches anywhere nowadays. I wouldn’t suggest trying one, but you may already be introducing one to your mouth. WAIT! These “sandwiches” make your eyes squint and your lips pucker in a real bad way! I am not joking about this. It is serious business! If someone offers you knitting needles to poke in your eyes or a shit sandwich, GO with the knitting needles. This is your ONLY warning.

These here “shit sandwiches” as I call them are life interferences of sorts. They can be losing a game you KNEW you should have won. Getting fired (AKA a big double decker shit sandwich with a guano spread) Getting all the way to the store, picking your tasty morsels to find you forgot your wallet.(Crapola shit sandwich times two) They come in many wrappers, any kinds of flavors on any breads.

These sandwiches are endless.

Rarely do we order one of these shit sandwiches for ourselves. We somehow just take a bite and GO “What the hell is this? Did I just get a shit sandwich?!?!!?!”

YES YOU DID! (double bird crap mustard, ass tons of pig shit horseradish and enough moldy pickles to make you want to drag your ass across the carpet for DAYS!)

YUP! You took a bite and you ate it!

I hate to be the bearer of more bad news, but sometimes...Rarely but SOMEtimes, our closest loved one’s hand us one of these. I’m not talking about death, however death is certainly the momma jamma of SCAT on moldy bread.(the taste never leaves you, never)

It’s a sandwich from your loved one(s).

What do you do? Eat it of course. Trusting it’s a sammy bursting with goodness, chock full of all the thing you want. They know what you like after all. They know what you don’t like. SO you take the plunge, without even looking, trusting. And sure enough SHIT!

So now what? What is the cure? Is there XXX Shit Sandwich anti venom?

A lot of people toss their shit sandwich! One bite and down goes the window and it’s soon to be road kill. Some people actually try to finish their scatalicious stacked bread. They think the first taste may have made them throw up in their mouth and get warm spit but MAYBE the next bite will offer the goodness they thought they were snarfing. And some, like me...peel back the layers and try to figure out what the hell makes it taste - well, like SHIT! I then go on to try to figure out if I can remove the bad layers and preserve the “cornucopia” part. The part of goodness.(hey back off and eat your own shit sandwich how you like and leave me alone to eat mine how I choose)

I have eaten a LOT of these in my day. (own it, I’m sure you have too) No one dies from ingesting them and word on the street is you can only blog about them and share your ordeal at the water cooler to make the “dragging your ass across the carpet” better. I have found the layers I can do without, the layers that make my eye’s squint and my mouth pucker and remain very cautious about what goes in my mouth. (Oh now stop! I could tell your mind just went to Barbie gutter) I smell, nibble, pick and when I think it’s ok I take that big ass confident bite. And yes, it can still be a shit sandwich.(where’s the FDA when you need their labeling)

So the questions remains. Is there a question here?

You’re gonna get one. Whithout ordering it.

The infamous and all too familiar SHIT SANDWHICH.

What will you do with it?

Eat it? Maybe your body will digest it.

Share it? Maybe your friends body will digest it.

Or hold it up and profess “This is MY shit sandwich! I took a bite!” (And quickly slurp down as many gulps off sweetened coffee your stomach can possibly hold to get rid of the taste) Hold it up again and proclaim, “I took a bite!”

But then what?

While I wait for the answer, I will continue to drag my ass across the carpet....and you know what? I am kinda hungry!

Lies, Light and Lessons.....

Good ole Dad used to share this story with me. I will try to present it so it doesn’t lose it’s “Dad telling integrity”, but can’t make any promises.(he was a hellova teller)

Come to think of it he told me this story A LOT.

I was somewhat a rebel child - rain cloud in a dress of some sorts. But this stuck with me. I understand Dad.

A young boy had a little problem with fibbing. He would fib about little things, he would fib about big things, he would just fib to fib. His Father was getting quite frustrated with his young growing sons inability to tell the truth. And though would call him on the carpet, seemed NOTHING was working to teach his son.

"Did you milk the cows today son?"

"Yes father all of them!"

Father would then go to the barn and find his cows with swollen and painful udders unmilked.

"Your homework finished my son?"

"OH for SURE Dad, I even did the extra credit."

Dad opens the note in the mail from a teacher asking him to stop by the school as his precious son was not completing assignments.

(I know kinda boring, but hang with me)

These were all small lies, fibs, fabrications, but over time they became worse, more unbelievable and began affecting the entire family.

Dad sits down with his son and says:

“Son, you have been lying quite a bit and it’s REALLY affecting everyone around you. And Son, it hurts me when you lie to me and it hurts others.”

The son sits there and blinks in a cover of disbelief.

Dad continues, “From now on, when you lie, I am going to have you pound one of those old railroad ties in the barn door as a reminder you lied. Let‘s pretend the barn door is the person or people you lied to.”

(if you haven’t figured out from the cow milking and barn door thing they were farmers, you aren’t gonna get the moral either- just sayin)

The son readily agreed this was a fine idea to just get out of the hot seat. Ok Dad.

Days pass and railroad ties were pounded. Big or small lie, a railroad tie was pounded. More lies, more pounding.

In a short amount of time the large barn door was peppered with railroad ties.

One day the son was out in the barn milking a cow and look over his shoulder to the barn door and felt sad. “That’s a lot of railroad ties” he thought. This bothered the young buck.

He went to the house to find his Father and said, “Dad, there are a LOT of railroad ties in the barn door. They make me feel bad, they make me feel sad and I GET your point! I will try not to lie anymore. I just can’t stand looking at them. I learned my lesson. I won't lie!”

Being very accepting, the Dad shuffles his sons hair and says, “In the morning I will help you remove EVERY one of those ties!”

Morning comes.

They venture out to the barn and are rather enjoying good Dad and son time spent removing the ties. The son was thoroughly enjoying tossing them in a bucket for disposal. He just wanted to get rid of them.

With all ties removed the son starts to walk to the back of the barn and the Dad lets the barn door shut. Every ugly rusted tie that had once been there now allowed bright morning light to shine through. Piercing through every hole, tunnels of light.

The son gasped!

He turned to his father and cried “DAD! We removed all the railroad ties but there are still holes! We have to fix them, they make me feel awful. There has to be something we can to get rid of them!?!”

Dad looks endearingly at his son and replies,

“Well son, that’s the problem with lies. We can say we are sorry but the holes remain. Let that light peering in be a reminder in your future that when you DO fib you can cover it with a railroad tie or an apology, but the hole remains in the barn door, the people you lied to.”

Oddly enough my Dad never finished the story and always ended it there. What happened to this child I always wondered?

I don’t know about him, the son, the cow milking conniver, but for me, this story stuck and have since gone on to share it with my boys. Funny enough - I too have told it a LOT to my boys. I hope it sticks.

I understand.

(and may WELL have inspired the invention of spackle)

Sand Moments

You ever lay on the beach, and play with the sand?

Hot scalding at the surface, welcoming cool and moist once you dig your toes in. Ever take a handful of that sand and scoop it up, cup it and let it trickle it on you?(like an hour glass)
Your belly.
Your legs.
Your toes.

You ever do that?

You should try it.(she suggests)

It’s like a thousand hot kisses mixes with a thousand cool damp kisses dancing all over you at once.

It can be moving. Overwhelming. Not enough. Enough.

A moment.

My life is full of these small “sand moments“. Some never experienced by other’s, possibly like you.

I am of the “like you” crowd as well.

Like me bungee jumping. I never did it! You may have, and may have loved it. Felt the hot air as you go up, blood pumping through your veins and the cool moist air breezing through your spirit on the way down. It MAY well be your thousand kisses. Not mine. But they are yours. Your “sand moment”.

Moving. Overwhelming. Not enough. Enough.

Your moment.

I should try it.(you suggest)

Maybe I will.

Just let me drizzle this sand on my toes for a bit and think about it.....

The Butt Factor!

Obama is our President. We voted for him. Well maybe YOU didn’t, but I sure did! Maybe if you didn’t root for Obama you forgot to consider the all important, easily missed “butt factor”.

I cast my vote this election solely on the “butt factor” and nothing else.
WHAT? You think this is pathetic you rant? I took my voting privilege seriously with honor and confidence. The best butt won people! Hands down! Call me shallow Nellie if you like, but the butt don’t lie brotha! Not in politics anyway.

Yeah yeah yeah I listened to ole Hillary and the Big O banter back and forth for several debates and then sat through numerous McCain VS Obama ones. Read scores of literature, who done what, who wants to do what and who don’t want no part of what!

Health care
War scare
NATO and trust
Oil
Education
Iraq or bust

I drank it ALL in, soaked it all up, commercials, bashings, debacles and billboards trying to convince me of WHO was best for the job. At some point and I can’t pinpoint WHEN I got my fill! Can a single person possible say the SAME thing 100 different ways in ONE sitting? Or contradict themselves 100 different times in ONE sitting? I couldn’t take it!

CLICK!
I just clicked the volume to mute and looked to the butt.

I must give ole Hillary credit – she pulled off those pant suites with ease bringing a hint of classiness but an overflowing bottomless cup of boredom. She didn’t PRESENT the possible future Presidents butt like she could have and the light blues and golden hues didn’t help her cause. It was like a nice bum gone bad and must compliment where one is due: Hill has a NICE bum.(just couldn’t pull off the presentation) She should have gone with bright red, maybe a pair of hot jeans and possibly even peach pinstripes, but noooo – drab, drab, yawn, plain SLACKS. She was the Senator of NY for the love of god – can anyone say fashion mecca?!?!?! She was entirely over conservative in the butt department as far as I am concerned.

BAMMMMMM look at this butt!!! Look at it! Nope, sorry Hillary.

Then we have McCain. Where shall I start? First of all, you couldn’t even SEE the whole Presidential hopefuls butt cause McCain cloaked it with his oversized Herman Munster sport coats. When we did get a butt glimpse, he had it clenched tight, like something was paining him. I began to grow concern for whatever could be ailing his ass or considered this was possibly something common to Arizonians. Colors? Did he think all the world was colorblind? Grey, blue, medium blue, grayish blue, chargoal grey and charcoal.

If I were his mother, I would surely scream him BACK into the house yelling “John Sidney McCain, get your grey pants wearin, butt tucked ass in this house and change!” Stacy London and Clinton Kelly agree with me on this one: Less cover, better color and no clench.

The 3 C’s of his Presidential demise:
Cover
Color
Clench

Drum roll please! ! !

Our man of the hour, Barack Obama! Excuse me, shall I say, President Barack Obama.

Did he pull it off or what? I mean in the butt department. Perfectly tailored trousers, some with pleats, some with flat front for accentuation, great colors, from eggplant purplish burgundy to green and all the in between! This boy even threw down with plaid shorts that taunted “I can make this butt WORK for you”.(this is what I heard, in my ears) Jacket removed for a full butt peakaboo display, slung over his should draping down his back as if an arrow pointing to “the goods”. He showed, he presented, and he represented that Hawaiian born butt like NO other! He would shake hands with his rivals and spin to one side allowing a quick flash of his money maker, leaving us wanting to see more! Wait for it…wait for it.

WE DO GET TO SEE MORE ALL RIGHT! 4 YEARS MORE!

No ya’ll may call me shallow minded and are free to your opinion. I stand on my vote and challenge anyone to a good butt elect debate. I may even be making MORE of my life affecting decisions based on da butt!

So, if you see me lookin - PRESENT IT! I could be making a very important decision or I could just be lookin at your butt.

Lonely without you - happy you rest at peace

A poetically challenged poem.

He does listen and if I shut my eye‘s....



"Unico senza voi - Lieto a te Riposarsi al pesca"

I never wonder if my words/thoughts will get to you

They will of course

You said so

Remember when you said you would listen
you always listened so good
reserving your comments
when warranted - special times - just us

We still have your
Scent
Caring

I can REWIND<<<<<
>>>>PLAY BACK
moments that are so real
real moments that let me smell you again
Hold your hand and not be the first to let go

We still have your
Hand
Chuckle

You sang one day
"Leaves would bow down
when you heard my name"
The leaves bowed Dad, they touched the ground
the day you sang to us all “I love you”.
You strummed / we cried

We still have your
Words
Gestures

If you wanted to leave us, you coulda just said
But if ya had to go - then go ahead
We can’t follow-not yet
Too much to take care of instead

We still have your
Smirk
Chuckle

You gave us scores of chores
Keeping us busy for years
muddled with tears but
None with fears

Some we can handle
Some shuffled back under the carpet
But do what we can
Doing what you said
answering to the Man
Most
kept for coffee with Bren

Spoil me, like you promised
You haven’t finished
You have works left undone
Bren drove in the dark, I drove in the sun

You’re heart broke one time, remember?
We were all huddled there
You gave us each a piece that day
And kept us near

We still have your
Heart
Love

Our hearts broke one time too
Without you near
And way too soon
Pieces with no peace in a cold lit up room

I just felt your
Ache...

We’ll send ya off good though
Honor your wishes
Even if it breaks us
Breaks us inside and out

Tares us up
Tears us up
But we’d do anything

Just to keep your
Scent
Hand
Voice
Gestures
Smirk
Chuckle
Love
Heart

Years ago today
You waltzed away
My thoughts left on the curb
Wasting or blooming away?

I walked to the “break”
To listen to the waves for you
Held myself back from
Jumping in to you

The March water was ice
Ice with no words
Maybe some whiskey could make that ice talk
Anything
Just to hear what you had to say

When I was here last
You said you would listen
There weren’t any words
I talked until dawn
Through the ice you heard

You answered...
Thank you

No voice, but your
Hand
Gestures
Smirk
Chuckle
Love


I can’t smell your scent but it’s engraved on my heart.

And the body said.....

I am a very good read on body language. Kinesic body language it’s called. This is a language that your BODY portrays somewhat without your knowledge. It JUST does it, cause it’s right.(lay definition) Scientifically speaking it’s an unplanned communication, posture, gesture, movement, utterance that reveals a truth, lie or a close up. Poker players would call them “tells”. As a matter of fact a very small percentage of our communication is done with words - the majority is done with our body language. We don’t talk!(yes yes yes I a am yapper but this is not my point)

EXAMPLES:

I can TELL Cory is bluffing when he touches his nose every time he has a shitty poker hand.
It’s a tell.(HIS motion of deceit)

I can TELL Kevin did not make the phone call he promised cause he is rubbing his legs.
It’s a tell.(HIS motion of close up-or avoidance)

When Ruepert talked about his sick mother he looked upward to the right, however when he talked about Shaniqua, his new girlfriend he looked to the left.
It’s a tell.(HIS motion of truth-candid)

This is not obvious to the tellER really, they don’t realize they are doing it, but to the tellEE you are sharing more information than you could, should or WANT to, or are possibly sharing ALL the information you don‘t know how to verbalize. (I can see you this moment, crossing legs, uncrossing legs, playing with your hair or touching your mouth or even sucking the salvia from your own tongue)

Tell. Tell. Tell. TOLD!


I can hear/see you! I can hear/see you in a crowd without listening to a word! As a matter of fact, I play the game, “what is this person REALLY trying to convey“, in public situations. Admittedly I have a VERY exciting life.

Disclaimer: (I have a lot of these disclaimer thingys) I am not trying to embarrass anyone, rather assist awareness. Hmm an Awareness Assistant - sounds like it should make BIG BUCKS! .(my palm is upward as I say this so shell out the $dough$)


Though you tellERS may think you have the world DUPED,you don’t. My only concern is whether you have yourself duped. Convinced yourself?.?.?

Tsk Tsk SUCH a nonverbal people.

LIFE SAMPLE:

I have a friend that brags about everything and REALLY pumps herself up, or shall I say pumps her LIFE up. You have a dog, SHE has three dogs MUCH better than yours, more well behaved, better blood lines and certainly nothing like your mutt. You went to a Nickelback concert and sure as shit she had dinner with Chad(lead singer) and went on to get a text from Cher.(we all know these people) I put in a garden, and her Great Great SUPER Great Uncle Hank built Rome. And believe it or not did it in a day, contrary to the popular saying. People just made that up cause they were jealous.(wikipedia it)

So I watch her...my friend.

At this point turn my ears off. I can no longer hear.

What is she telling me while her mouth flaps up and down? Arms splayed out on the table, fingers fisted inward, head to one side while she reminisces, while head tilts to the other side when talking about death or getting older. Fears. Slapping the table when she tries to get the point across. Running her hands through her hair when the words, I can not hear, are proclaiming “she did all he could!!!!”. And of course, when making a defeating proclamation, crosses her legs like a fine point to the small exclamation.

You want to know what she told me? With no words?

I bet you would! (have your people call my people for specifics)

Listen!

Open up your eye’s and close your ears.

Become aware of what “your special people” are really telling you.

They may be afraid.
She may be unsure.
He may be lying.
May be SO pure.

It’s all there.

Most of us want to truly share our thoughts and dreams, insecurities, happiness, bad pasts and schemes, wit, romance, intentions and inventions. We just don’t know how to SAY it. We remain non communicators.

Or do we?

If you see it,
a “tell“
call it

And if you are the TellER
Watch yourself
Who are you bullshitting
Likely yourself

If life was a Diner

This blog may contain graphic nature and reader discretion is advised:

I am certain I am aging myself right about now,(or maybe my parents just bought the aftermarket complete season set, well after my birth) but do you remember the TV Show “Mel’s Diner”?

With Flo, the sassy red beehived hair gawky woman with the attitude? Then you had Alice, the single mom that did everything right and held everyone together and of course the one chick I cant think of her name, but was afraid of everything? Remember that one? Oh and of COURSE there was Mel - the Dadish figure that tried to be a hard ass but was nothing less than a sweaty greasy super nice fella that was very protective and always did the right thing in the end. OK, so THAT’S Mel’s Diner in a nut shell.(like today’s diners minus the sex, scandal and decieit)

So IF………

So IF life was like a Diner this is how it would roll.(or rather rolls)

She pulls her pencil from her ear, shifts her hips and cocks her head to one side while looking at the ceiling, “ARE YOU READY TO ORDER?”. Gum snapping and the shine on her forhead tells you she means business.

This is LIFE’S DINER? You kiddin me?!?!?!

I been ready to order from here my WHOLE life.(I rub my hands together and patter my feet under the table in anticipation)

For the children I would like two all you can eat life buffets with your side salad of wisdom - go easy on the embarassment please. It will be all they can ever possibly eat with minimal indigestion.

I will take three soup de jour’s. I understand you are serving that famous one, the “Do Over” soup, only served in politics and Hollywood. Mmmm I can taste the hearty goodness! Warms my confidence.

My youngest son would like a glass of Lotto, with no ice to keep his heart from chilling with his new money. And if it wouldn’t be TOO much to ask could you squeeze a lemon zest in it so he knows how to detect bitterness? Thank you.

My oldest would prefer a very hot steamy cup of jet black “can’t see the whole world” brand coffee. This way he can sip it, a little at a time and sweeten it to his desire. Please offer him a LARGE spoon for sugar so he can add his own world sweetness as he sees fit. It will be a perfect blend.

For myself, I would love a sautéed stuffed love heart. That’s sounds DELISH!!!!! Should I choose to sample some stuffing there is always more room for the “good stuff” and the sautee will certainly keep it tender. Whatever you do, don’t burn it. Just ruins the taste! BLAIK! ICKA!

And for my drink? I would love a room temp glass of whatever “trust red” you have to offer. I am certain you can choose it and will enhance my heart entrée allowing the flavors to dance! Go ahead, you choose it.

And lastly, for dessert, I think we will all agree on ONE plate of Greedless Homemade Pie! You can’t make that in a factory! 3 small spoons please, we want to savour every taste and fill out bellies with peace.

After a glorious meal ,the bill comes.

With the grand total shocking us all that reads:
Pay with Love and Compassion
We Don’t Accept Contempt
Gratuities in the form of THANK YOU only

WHAT A MEAL!

So IF life was like a diner, I would watch Flo’s awkward gait from table to table and listen to Alice’s banter of morals and truth. Mel would protect us and serve ANYTHING our heart desired. And the scared chick, who’s name I can STILL not recall would remain scared and skiddish and likely never ATE at the this diner.

It’s fun to think about.

ANYTHING on the menu.
Bellied up.
Heart on your sleeve and
An empty cup…………

She pulls her pencil from her ear, shifts her hips and cocks her head to one side while looking at the ceiling - “ARE YOU READY TO ORDER?”

The menu is yours!
Order up!
Or would you miss the meal in the famous LIFE’S DINER and exclaim,
“KISS MY GRITS!”


(Oh, I just noticed my disclaimer at the beginning, the "graphic nature" - I meant that for another blog I am working on.......writers marketing ploy)

Anyone know where I could get shitstick?

We all have a “Shitstick” in our lives.

Let me elaborate(and maybe I don’t have to)

MY Shitstick(I have yet to drop the capitalization from the name - but could soon be forth coming) is my ex-husband married for 14 years / divorced 8 who absconded from every tid bit of lives responsibility and fatherdom.

This is my open letter to my, and all the worlds Shitsticks out there.(they could make a small country)

If after reading this you exclaim with a gasp “THAT’S NOT ME!” - um sorry buddy, it IS you. And it’s ok - you STILL have a capital “S” in front of your title - but that’s about all you have.


Dear Shitstick,

Thank you for not being there for our children. Thank you for being in town for days on end and not even so much as calling our darling boys. Thank you for not driving by the house to see our 6 year old sitting on the radiator watching, waiting, hoping and jumping up with every headlight he saw thinking it was you picking him up when you said you would.(mini over nighter case packed, school papers ready to show off, a snack JUST in case you didn’t have any and of course a favorite movie HE didn’t even like, but thought YOU would) Thank you. You have taught him patience in the hardest way possible, but to this day remains the most patient person I know.

Thank you Shitstick for not being there for the shots, doctors and dentists. Your AFTER words of “suck it up” have really taught them to hold tighter to the hands that caress their foreheads. Thank you. They have gained amazing strength and toned arms. What would they do with out you?!

Thank you for showing up for the graduations and tossing some money in their hats. Their cup overflowed but their emotional fund was bankrupt! Thank you for allowing them to learn how to find fulfilling things, great friends and kind words to fill that void. They are better for it.

And most of all thank you for ignoring their needs and wants. Placing yourself before them, making sure they completely understood that a dinner invite was to show them off to your family and friends. It has certainly taught them hands on how politicizing works. They will make GREAT public speakers and the bomb at being meeters and greeters. Or they could put it to good use and become movie star agents, work to make them GLAM regardless of the sham. Oh they would do so well!

Thank you for putting your hobbies before them. We have had some GREAT family dinners while you were out, close to home doing all the things you enjoy. We talked about you. They did wonder about you. And we laughed about you…..but mostly at you. You really taught them how to turn lemons to sugar. A good laugh after feeling pain. Certainly an ability they gained. From you.

The boy’s can thank you on their own. They may host a soiree, parade or hire a band in your honor. You have done more for them than you realize and certainly for ME! While you were making new families, kicking dirt on your path’s, sleeping til 3:00 and taking bath’s - they were talking to ME, sharing their thoughts. Talkin about school and the color of their yachts.

So, thank you Shitstick, thanks for not being there. Maybe if you were, I would not have had the opportunity to come to know two of the greatest young men in my life. Watch them, listen to them and learn from them. They have counseled me and taught me what you taught them. Trust the people that are there for you, learn from the people that are not and believe that true love is unconditional. They still love you Shitstick - you just don’t know it. Cause ya missed it. Again, like the time he played drums for the first time or the time he sang in front of his first crowd….you missed it. But I didn’t.

Again thank you. This is my open letter to YOU. All of you that still have a capital “S” in front of Shitstick. Feel good about that “S”!

It’s truly all you got.

But remember: ONE strike of a “cap lock”, a simple key stroke, even that big ole S can be taken away.

OK so poo poo on all the absconding fatherdom folk, dad ignorers and parental fugitives. I don’t feel bad for you. It’s a choice. And when you feel really shitty about being a Shitstick - DON’T! You are doing the right thing - they are still learning, growing and earning!

Keep telling yourself that.

GASP!

“That’s not me!”

Shitstick Quiz:
What is their favorite color?
Who is their best friend?
What hockey team do they adore?
What veggie makes them turn green?
Who was their last crush?
Their favorite meal would be?
Their favorite band is?
They hate what class?


Yeah - your “S” may have just shrunk.

Relationship Probation

Can you think of the WORST thing your partner, significant other, cherub, can say to you during an argument when they are mad for reasons unknown to you?

OK, lets back up, cause I am SURE a bunch of real KEEN wordage just came to your mind!

I’m not talking about name calling.

We are all familiar with the typical:
Ahole !
Coont!(you KNOW the word I mean and preserve it ONLY for worse circumstances imaginable
Lazy A$$!
Bit&#!
Sl@(!
Li&^!
Shit bag!(I couldn’t find the right “character” keys for that one)

Feel free to add “Effen” in front of ANY of the above.

If you have NEVER called your beloved cherub ANY of those words then stop reading as this. This not a Christian based blog and if you were offended, need to read the self help book called “Let Off Some Steam Pansy” and THEN back to this.

We are all familiar with those nanner nanner nanner playground fighting words.

Following is the worst of the worst - stick with me now well I bring it on!

So we are in the infancy of a relationship and feeling all the day to day pressure of , I live here you live there. A crazy work schedule, kids, sports, pets, Mother’s, more sports, work and Mother again. So you TRY as you may to live carpe diem, but the days become a struggle of exhaustion just trying to keep up and keep things moving relationshiply forward. This particular fella has some serious POST met Barbie trust issues that quickly turned into “blame Barbie for all the things that ever previously pissed me off“ issues.

While taking on the daunting task of working on those issues I did manage to become inspired. I am creating a clothing line called “LadyArmor”. BUY IT! Comes with a complimentary shit shovel that seconds as a handy burying tool.

Not preferring confrontation myself, I standardly retort to the “I understand” and “Is there something I can say or do to make you feel better” jargon. Which he would generally follow with, “You don’t understand” and “I don’t need anyone to make me feel better”. ALRIGHTY, no ground gained and BACK to square MINUS one!

So we are “talk fighting“, he is pissed about an unknown element to me and here is how the conversation goes:

(this is him, if your too dumb to figure it out)
“So I just got back from the woods and did some thinking.”

(and me-now pay attention I’m not doing the HIM and ME crap for the rest of this dialogue)
“Really honey, glad you made it back safe! I am glad you got some think time. I can’t wait to hear about it!”

“I don’t like the lifestyle you’re choosing.” (hear an album screeching?)

“What? What do you mean?” I ask.

“You know what I mean, I don’t have to spell it out.”

“Seriously, what do you mean? I haven’t changed anything. Do you want me to change something? Does this have to do with you sitting in the woods? Did something happen?”

“You’ll live. You’ll be fine and so will I.” he says oh so calmly.

“What are you talking about? I don’t get it. I was just gonna talk to you about shopping weekend plans. How did my lifestyle change?”

“I’ll be ok. I already talked to my family about it.”

Completely confused as to how and where this short conversation turned I revert BACK to an earlier conversation in the day:
“But this morning when I talked to you, you were all excited about the new pair of shoes I got and couldn’t wait to see me! What happened from then to NOW except that you went and sat in the woods to hunt? What happened? Are you mad at me for something? Is that why you wouldn’t send me a text message back?”(he is of the nontexter tribe)

I go on to say, “You told your family WHAT?”(I am clearly getting no sex tonight AND becomming irritated with his game)

“I am fine and you will be too.”

Now I am a little pissy and feeling guilty for something I don’t even know I did or did not do. I am recounting the last several days in my head trying to search for something I may have said, did, changed….nothing comes to mind.

I finally screech after he repeats I will be fine, “I KNOW I will be fine, no one died! What is going on!?!? WHAT is the problem. If you don‘t tell me the problem I can‘t help with a solution or resolution!”

AND HERE IS THE KICKER MY FRIENDS:
"You can figure it out." Let me repeat that, “You can figure it out.” with the added enhancer…”You’re smart enough”

THERE you have it, the worst thing to get thrown at you in a fight!

YOU CAN FIGURE IT OUT! ! ! !

“Figure out what? What are you talking about? What did I do? Say?”

“You’re smart enough. I’ll be fine.”

So there it is. I am left in a bewildered pile, scratching my head, reaching for the wine decorker!What did he mean by that? I was really excited to talk to him. Hmmmm I know I splurged on shoes, but THAT wouldn’t put anyone over the edge. I ask the inevitable, “Are you breaking up with me?” In a nut shell he tells me he SORT of is, but isn’t ready to throw in the towel yet. So we are broken up? And guess what the response was?

“YOU FIGURE IT OUT!”

Now if there are ANY men reading this PLEASE tell us the secret of the woods. When you guys hunt and sit in the woods do fairies come sprinkle you with fairy dust that puts shit in your heads? Is it the rotting leaves mold spores that do mental stuff to your brain like a lead paint eating child? Are you eating these rotting moldy leaves possibly creating an allergic reaction? What? I must know.

So you're wondering where this festive night left me. Well, a glass of wine (more like the bottle - after all ,the bottle is a glass in sorts) later and a phone call back to him, I asked him if he was serious he was breaking up with me. And he told me “time would tell“. I ask him if somehow I ended up on PROBATION in this relationship and he readily agreed that I was in fact WAS on probation. AND would certainly let me know when I was worthy enough to proceed. (nut job)

Relationship Probation? What the hell is THAT? I have never heard of that. Is there such a thing? There MUST be cause I am officially a member, victim, client.

Can’t we just go with the demerit system and be done with it?

Help me out here! All my life I have NEVER been put on relationship probation. But here I am. A living testament. I didn’t know how long I will be on “the list” but hope I am not a lifer. They aren’t telling much here, it’s dark and there is no sex. If there are ANY others on Relationship Probation, please contact my office as soon as possible. Are we just here long enough until we “figure it out”? I must know these answers and will pay a reward for ANY information leading to my release.(barter preferred)

Let this be your only warning ladies. Hunting season FAST approaches and your hubby, significant other, cherub, could get sprinkled with fairy dust and/or eat the mold spores from the fallen foliage! BE WARNED!

Figure it out now! You are smart enough! Or you TOO could end up on Relationship Probation!

(note: I have since kicked this “blame Barbie for everything” guy to the curb! Guess I figured it out)

Riddles and Relationships

You know that song by Don McLean American Pie?

Bye bye miss American Pie, drove my chevy to the levy and the levy was dry, them good ole boys were drinkin whiskey and wine

You know that one! The one we all HATE when someone karaoke’s, cause it’s like 8+ minutes.(WE want OUR turn buddy!)

Bye bye miss American Pie, drove my chevy to the levy and the levy was dry.

You know it.

Well, Don also croons and is ALL about “the day the music dies” and then goes into riddles enticing us figure out WHO and WHAT group he is crooning about. It tortures the person that revels in trivia, and tantalizes the person that MUST find the truth. We just gotta figure it out. Cause once I learn the hidden messages Mr. McLean is sending us, I have the world conquered. My friends will be so jealous! My sister will hold her fist high, in honor of my resolve. I may get a certificate! Is there a prize in this? Or will I hold the KEY to...the key...the golden key...to a song.

Well, we treat relationships similar to the way we react to the American Pie song. Most of us. Ok, maybe just me, but I am not picking on me.

We start out in a relationship and everything is bliss and glory. We LIKE the tune we learn the lyrics. We hum the sweet melody in our head day and night. Over and over. Oh yeah - I know this song. It’s sweet.

Shhhh the chorus! La da da da la da

Ahhhh so lovely.

At some point, and I can’t pin point when the ball drops, we start dissecting the relationship. Pick, pick, picking it apart. There MUST be hidden meaning and we have to get to the bottom of it. All the sudden we think EVERYTHING is symbolic or has a message beneath the surface. We tend to turn it into a negative thing. We are diggers by nature.

EXAMPLE:
What did he mean when he said “That color doesn’t look good on you?”
Does he not like the color or does he just think I am not attractive?
NO! He just thinks the color doesn’t look good on you, idiot. He didn’t say “You make me want to puke in that color take it off I am getting warm spit!”
You should KNOW he would take you out in ANY color and still wants to haul your ashes!

He just pulled up outside and didn’t come in to get me. Am I not worth 20 steps?
YOU ARE! He was OBVIOUSLY listening to the end of a song you guys heard one night and it brought back memories. Maybe he was on the phone with YOUR Mom wishing her a happy day.
And maybe it just meant you should be READY and get your ass outside and stop analyzing.

See where I am going with this?

EXPLANATION:
There is NO hidden meaning like the goddamn song! It’s your “relationship“. And seriously, have half a mind to call ole Don McLean and ask, “Why the hell didn’t you just write the song without the riddles”?

But I already know the answer.

You wanna KNOW why he didn’t write it without the riddles?

He didn’t write the song without the riddles because WE most likely would NOT have been intrigued by it. Loved it so much. Wanted to learn it. Sing it. Play it. It would be black and white with NO rainbow factor. Nothing to WONDER about. Bite your lip about. Raise your eyebrow about.

JUST because we know, and have learned our loved ones “song and lyrics” we shouldn’t look for the negative stuff. Don’t dissect it when you KNOW the chorus. We can all sing the chorus cause it’s familiar to us. We know it! On a bad day, on a good day - it remains the chorus. It makes us turn up the radio and smile. The rest of the riff will be shared over time……….the rainbow factor.

When he is across the room and in a heavy conversation and winks at me, he is thinking about me(and likely my boobs)

When he runs back in the house because he “forgot” something and gives me one more hug, we KNOW he really just wanted the extra hug.

When he hits SNOOZE it’s not because he is tired. He just want 7 more minutes wrapped in my arms.

The moral is...we can search and FIND hidden negative meaning in JUST about anything if we waste our lifeblood picking it all apart. But why waste all that time? The rainbow factor is a pretty cool thing. It’s a song, it’s a rainbow, it’s a person. YOUR person.

And ole Don was wrong anyway. The music NEVER did die ahole! What about the 80‘s hair bands!

hum the tunes,
like the lyrics,
sing the sweet chorus
in my head day and night.

Over and over.
That’s the rainbow factor.
Appreciate it.

(this is my “in case Don McLean reads this” disclaimer: Don, Thank you for sharing your talent with all of us. I personally have enjoyed your song and certainly KNOW the lyrics. I must also add I have been tormented by it and have spent useless time researching the hidden meaning in your songpoem, when I could have been falling in love and picking apart my OWN relationships.)

Hobbydom and Addiction

We are all addicted.

Now don’t go standing up and throw your tip on the table and click your little remote car starters JUST yet! I did not say that to offend anyone.(those that remain, maybe you are addicted to offense?) OK, with every one out of the room I can now tap the mic and speak freely, like I am singing in the shower with the door locked.

Although I initially chose my cherry popping FIRST virgin BLOG to be about sex - I figured I should start with the basics. I mean most like to HEAR about sex, but no one really likes to comment, add to or critique it publicly.(got to be BRAVE for that….I am egging you on) SO, I am going meat and potato’s, or in this generation couscous and home made pesto!

ADDICTION:
Many people confuse addiction with affliction. An addiction can actually be something healthy. ( I noticed a few of you just sat down and got comfortable again) Let’s look at addiction being a hobby.

Entertain that for a moment.

My “hobby” is baseball. All kinds all sorts. The guys at the office call me baseball boy! Curve ball man! I am SO into baseball! I listen to it in my garage, listen to it in my car. Read it about in the sports section. And HELL YEAH wear my teams baseball jersey on GAME day. Have a greased up, broke in glove! Autographed memorabilia. Cal Ripkin bath matt shower curtain combo. Ya, BASEBALL is my NAME, lil white round ball is my game! No batta No batta SWING batta batta!
DO you play baseball?

What are you kidding?!?!?! I just follow it, it’s my hobby man. I just love it! More than life!

ADDICTION:
I am a shoe whore. I love shoes. They come in so many wonderful different shapes and sizes and can represent a mood or an occasion. I love their texture, smell(new only, I am not a freak) and certainly trying them on. They are an accessory to what could be a so-so outfit, to a necessity for a hard day hiking.

I frickin LOVE shoes.

Do I talk about them at the office? Sure! Do I notice them on other people? YUP! Do I NOT take out the garbage or have a family dinner to have a “love affair” with them? No, can’t say I do. Nor do I miss a birthday, a friends conversation(looking over their shoulder, nodding), or a phone call shopping for them or reading about them. Do I not pay my water bill to have the “latest and greatest”? Not yet.


Are these both addictions? YES! Openly admitted by my sources. Could they also be hobby’s? FOR SURE!

Now don’t all you “sportos” jump my ass. I enjoy sports with the rest of em. And if I loved baseball MORE than I loved shoes I would have reversed the scenerio. Simmer. Just simmer. I could have used 100 other possible “subjects” but these just popped to mind.

BOTH scenerios are “addictions”, however BOTH hold a different level of hobbydom.

So what is your addiction? Baseball, shoes, tidying, booze, control, power, the remote(see power), food, scrap booking, photography, cooking, nicotine, window shopping, buying, coupon clipping, reading, make-up, schooling, music, politics, bug catching, alphabetizing, racing, perfecting. . . Feel free to continue the list - it remains endless.

Using addiction interchangeable with hobby certainly seems more comforting. Hobby being more socially acceptable because by saying wehave a hobby, we are professing we are ACTIVE and into something we love and have a passion for.

But PLEASE consider this:

An addiction is ONLY an affliction(cause of pain or distress) if it impedes on, or allows you to hide from _________ <<
I am not seeing any hands up! ! !

An addiction is ONLY an affliction if it impedes on, or allows you to hide from LIFE.

Addiction, check your level.
There’s a lot out there.
Drop it for a day
and live a little.

But check your level.