Trying to get past the past

Before I unload, I would like to say a couple of things.  

The first being that I am considering taking a hiatus from blogging.  I feel like the things I am writing about are no longer funny, no longer substantial to anything, and no longer meaningful.  Over the course of a day, I think of over a hundred things (easily) that I could blog about.  I rarely blog about any of those things though because when I try to draw it out in my mind, it fizzles. 

Maybe it's just writer's block.  Or maybe it's because I bore myself.  Or maybe it's because nothing is going on with me these days.  For whatever reason, I may take a break.  It could be long or it could be short.  And I may not even take a break.  Heck, I may stop altogether!  As we all know, nobody knows what my next move is going to be.  Sometimes not even me.

Secondly, I would like to say that what I am writing about tonight is very sensitive to me.  I am going to offend some people but I will not use names. I could though because this is my space to do whatever the hell I want to do.  But I'm not.  I don't feel the need to.  I don't think that I need to put the spotlight on anybody here.  I just feel the need to get something off my chest.  I expect my Facebook to get a little lighter after this and if it doesn't, I will make it lighter myself.

Here goes.

I have told many stories of my life growing up.  Well, me or Princess Amelia have told the stories.  Maybe she needs to come back and blog for a while so I can have a break.  (What do you think?)  I have to say that I had the most fantastic and amazing childhood anybody could have.  I do not have ANY regrets about how I was raised or where I was raised and definitely not by who raised me.  

I am so blessed to have had the most amazing parents on the face of the planet.  And if you can say the same thing, I am happy for you.  My parents didn't always approve of my choices.  Matter of fact, the older I got, the more disapproval I got.  My parents didn't always like my friends or my husbands, or my grades or the way I handled money; but they always loved me.  

They may have gotten angry with me, but they never......for one second......didn't love me.  And they loved my brothers and sisters the same way.  They didn't always approve of whatever they had gotten themselves into but they always....ALWAYS...loved them. 

On May 23, 2012, I wrote a blog about my sister Marla.  I wrote about how guilty I always feel that I don't have a memory of her.  About how her death occurred.  About how my parents each had their own set of situations about their guilt of her death and how they carried it with them.  (My tears are already falling steadily and I haven't even gotten to MY point yet!) If you haven't read that blog yet, go read it.  It is titled "Marla."  

Moving on to the future a little bit, something that maybe people don't think about unless you have lived in a situation like it.  If I had a dollar for every time someone has said to me "I remember your dad.  He put me in jail for (insert whatever crime here)."  or someone casually saying "Your dad was a good man but he gave me a ticket for (insert whatever offense here) and I didn't really deserve it because it wasn't even my fault."  Well.....if I had a dollar for every one of those times, I would have a heck of a lot of dollars.  And I mean a lot.  

I suppose that just comes with the "territory" of being a child of a cop, huh? My dad retired from law enforcement in 1987.  That was 27 years ago. TWENTY SEVEN YEARS AGO.  
Now...my dad has been gone since 1996.  That is 18 years ago.  EIGHTEEN.
If you had a problem with how my dad handled something while he was in office, maybe you should have told him when he was in office.  Or even after he was out.  Hell, he would have listened to your side before telling you what you are about to hear here.

I almost feel bad for even bringing this stuff up.  Almost.

When my dad was the Sheriff, the world was a different place.  Things were handled differently.  And here's a news flash:  I was a child.  I was a child the whole entire time my dad was in law enforcement.  He didn't let me make one damn decision about what he did, who he did it with, or why he did it.  He didn't ask my opinion and he didn't really care.  And I'm okay with that because like I said, I WAS A CHILD!

Moving on to current day events.  I have had some people "approach" me about how my dad handled his prisoners, his friends, and his business.  And now I am sick and tired of it.  A person can only take so much.  I have talked with my trusty sisters about this and they both know how people can be sometimes when it comes to this situation.  

So.....one day I was at Cindy's house and I was telling her a story about a recent conversation I had had in regards to what I have been talking about and she went to her closet and pulled out a box.  It was full of different things.  Keepsakes from years gone by, that our parents wanted to keep.  Papers regarding all sorts of things.  Marriage papers, divorce papers, death notices, funeral bills, pins of different natures.  I mean this box was one of the neatest things I have seen in my life.  So many stories were in this box.  A lot we know and for every one we do know, there are at least five we don't know.  

I have a point here, I promise.

Among these treasures, there was a little notebook.  And inside that notebook my dad had wrote down every man, woman, and child that helped, day after day, fix and remodel our home after it caught on fire.  After our sister died in that fire.    After all of us had to be "farmed out" to other people's homes to live because ours was no longer livable.  

Inside that book were those names.  And each day my dad noted who was there and how many hours they worked.  And let me tell you that there were many, many people that gave up most everything they had, to help us.  And I know, in my heart....just because I know how I am.....that my parents knew there would never be a way to pay those people back.  There would never be enough money; never enough thank you's; never enough dinners or baked goods; never enough days in the year; to say how thankful and blessed we truly were.  

So for those of you that want to throw in my face how "terrible" of a Sheriff my dad was....well you can take a long walk off a short plank.  I know what kind of a man my dad was and you don't deserve to even have a thought of him in your mind.  You do not deserve the memory of him.

I had a person let loose on me recently because my dad let a family member of theirs, eat at our dining room table when he was in jail (probably 30 years ago!!!).  I know why this person was in jail but I don't even care. You know why?  

Because that family member's name is listed in that little notebook; amost EVERY DAY until the house was completed.  Not livable.  Completed.  See, that person could have just stopped by once in a while and picked up a hammer for a few minutes and left.  But that isn't what happened.  That person came over every single day.  Days off, after work, holidays.  It didn't matter.  They came everyday and helped our family so that we could grieve and we could cope.  They didn't stop working until the sun went down.  

So the next time you want to beat me down because my dad let prisoners come to our diningroom table to eat, you just might want to take into consideration that even if your name isn't in that book...or a family member's name isn't in that book...maybe, just maybe, he was trying to show some compassion.  Because that is what we got by the bucket fulls after one of the most horrific times in our lives.  

You can like this or you can hate but I am sick and tired of carrying this around with me.  I honor my mother and father every day of my life and I try to live my life according to what my parents taught me.  If you don't like it, step off.  I refuse to be your little punching bag because your life wasn't how you wanted it to be.  That. Is. Not. My. Fault.  Bitch.

Don't make eye contact

Is it crazy that when I am the only one sitting in front of the tv on my late night shifts, I prefer to watch cartoons.  Right now, my cartoon-of-choice is these guys.  I never get tired of it.  Magic and surprises around every corner.   I don't even feel bad that a child is not around NOR does a child live in my house.  Well...not counting my husband.  Sometimes I watch this guy.  I love him and can relate to him a lot.  I mean.....who can't?  He's a sponge and he's lives at the bottom of the sea!

Anyway, today's cartoon makes me chuckle because it reminds me of my status of being a fairy godmother.  My friend, partner-in-crime, and cohort, Beth and myself took it upon ourselves to kind of "adopt" a couple of girls in the local community and be their fairy godmother's.  They have never met us and I don't have plans for them to meet us anytime soon either.  One of their parents is a friend of ours that we think the world of and it really kind of started when one of the girls got very sick and spent a lot of time in the hospital.  

All better now and both girls are healthy and doing great!  Anyway, we like to make things for them when they are sick or for holidays and now their birthdays are going to start rolling around.  I am so excited!!!  I can't tell you what I am having made for them because I want to keep it a secret.  At least for now.  -_-

Yesterday, Beth and I spent the morning together in Des Moines.  And did we have a blast!!!  I"m telling you, this girl cracks me up in ways I can't even imagine.  From her upfront bluntness to complete strangers, to her freaking out in public places, to her aggressive parking garage driving, and all the way to her dropping food in her own bra.  Oh man, I crack up just thinking about it. Not sure how I didn't choke when she did that but I made it. 

We went to the Farmer's Market for the very first time.  Parking was a nightmare and you had to bring your own can opener to get in and out.  Someone should have told us that.  What a place that was!  100% outside and we got about the same amount of air you would get inside a wrestling room after a big practice.  Stifling.  But the experience was neat.  I got me some tomato plants and ghost pepper plants (along with a lecture from the lady selling them, about safety) and a cupcake that was so good but so hard to eat, I ended up throwing half of it away.  Lesson learned.

Samples of granola, beef sticks, cheeses, you name it.  It was cool but it was insane.  There was one lady in particular that I educated about how cool it was for her to be rude.  Balloon people making life-sized characters from Frozen (a movie I haven't even seen yet and I knew what it was) completely out of balloons.  It was spectacular.  

Belly dancers.  Okay, again I can't lie to you.  That was nothing short of a train wreck.  The women just were not appealing in any sense of the word!!  At one point, I started pushing Beth down the street screaming, "Don't make eye contact!!  Just keep going!!"  I"m not sure how we made it out alive.  Or un-arrested.   The laughing we did was worth millions and I know I was doubled over for more reasons than my stomach hurting!

And about that.  You all know I hate going to the doctor.  But I did.  And it was very much against my own wishes because my doctor was not going to be available to see for at least five days.  I had been dealing with this stomach pain for a week and a half and I just wanted it to go away. So, I had to see the new doctor.  Great.  A new doctor.  And to make things worse, Kathy tells me that she's pretty sure I'm not going to like her.  

Talk about setting the stage for me!!! 

Well.........it's still here.  The pain, that is.  I'm on antibiotics and it's still here.  It's constant.  Sometimes it's double-me-over in pain hurtful and sometimes it's just lurking-in-the-back-of-my-mind hurtful.  What I didn't realize was that the pain is really all coming from my left side of my stomach.  She had me lay down on the bed thingy and she started pushing around on different areas of my stomach.

Have you ever seen those baby dolls that you put water in and when you squeeze it, water comes out?  Well, let me tell you!!!  She pushed on a couple areas of my stomach and tears just fell out of my eyes.  Okay, okay, I cried.  It was intense and it hurt.  I'm not going to lie about it.  I had blood tests done and an x-ray.  On Tuesday I go for a CT Scan to hopefully put an end to this stuff.  Cross your fingers for me. 

So, for now they are treating me for diverticulitis but I will tell you right now, I don't have that.  I'm pretty sure.  Almost ninetyyyyyyyyyyyy ni......five percent sure.  Yeah, I'm sure I don't have it.  And if I do, it's going to get a lot worse before it gets a lot better.  Have you seen how well I do at eating a low-carb diet???

So, I am on this medicine that.....guess what???  Makes your stomach hurt!!!  Seriously, that was what I wanted them to make go away!!!  And now I have it constantly no matter what, WITH medicine.    And because I forgot to mention it above.....my sister was wrong.  I really did like that new doctor.  Not enough to switch from mine but hey, she will do when I can't see my own.

I was sitting there and this doctor says to me, "I am going to need x-rays, blood work and a CT scan."  I wonder if my head did a complete 360 when she said CT scan.  First things out of my mouth, without a single breath in between, "I have to work at 4:00, (looking for a clock on every wall) if I'm going to be late, I need to call, oh I don't really want to miss any work, I guess I can, Friday is actually really good for me to do this next week."  

Thinking back at that, all that comes to mind is Beetlejuice.  I'm sure I looked...or at least acted, like the guy with the shrunken head and it just starts spinning on it's axis.  Makes me giggle.  

She did say we would do the CT scan on Tuesday instead because she could see that I have a good "work ethic."  That was kinda nice to hear.  I do like to work.  I just don't like to work at it.  Hehehe

So I get to be there at 09:00 on Tuesday to spend 2 hours drinking some crap that is probably going to taste like ass-tar.  I would rather have another colonoscopy.  *sigh*  Oh well.  At least that was recent enough that they can go by that reading.  Which says there was no diverticuli.  Go figure.  

Oh well.  Live and let live, right?  We do what we have to do.  Like it or not.  I think I will cut this off here.  I am putting myself to sleep.  I feel sorry for you.  Until next time....thanks for reading and keep cool and dry!

This post gives me goosebumps

The other day I overheard a conversation that made me giggle.  I wasn't eavesdropping as I could have been a part of the conversation if I had known anything about what was being discussed.  I didn't so I just sat there and listened.  

This particular part of the conversation was about one person's family and where their "rank" is, in the order of siblings.  One of the sisters in this family had passed away at some point and this other person was trying to establish her "place," so to speak.  

MS:  So what about the sister that passed away?
HC:  She died

And that folks, was the END of that conversation.  

I held in my laughter.  I seriously did.  I just thank God that my back was to her.  I mean, I held it in physically...for so long...I thought snot would force it's way out my eyes somehow.  It was painful to say the least.  When someone is sitting behind you and you feel the need to giggle without them knowing, it's hard to do it without your shoulders moving.  Again...I did it.  Without explosion.  

The person that asked that question was hoping I wouldn't make eye contact with her but I did.  I couldn't help it.  But it was only for a split second and then I looked away and closed my eyes.  I'm not sure how she didn't laugh.

I love the quirky things that people say and do.  I also love the responses I get when I comment about those people and those quirky things.  

Yesterday Kathy was driving up Interstate 35 and Jackie and I were with her.  We were about a hundred feet from the exit we wanted to take when this silver SUV comes around us and cuts us off.  I automatically say, "Really?  Was that necessary you impatient prick?"  As if they were right inside the front seat with me.  And did Jackie laugh!!!  I love it when I can really make her giggle without trying.  

The SUV races up the off ramp to the stop sign, so they can turn left, as we come up the ramp, taking the right hand lane to turn right.  As I said, they had a stop sign.  We only had a yield sign. Nobody coming so we go on our way.  There was a car coming over the bridge that got in behind us and then guess who?  Yep, that impatient prick that had went the wrong way and had to wait for traffic!  Ha, serves you right you goober!!!

Here's a good one.  It's about my husband and his driving.  I could probably write a book just about my experiences with him driving but I'm scared to ride with him that much!!

We were in Creston the other night.  He took me out for a nice dinner and we were bored and didn't want to go home.  We took a ride out to 12 mile lake and looked around.  Sad how that it has been so torn up over the years.  It's one of my favorite places to be, actually.  After that nice little drive, we come back into town and this little black car, I referred it to a rice burner,  with blue headlights and some kind of green light underneath..that I don't see how it could be legal...but anyway,  they get behind us and ride our ass for about 4 blocks.  I wasn't really paying a whole lot of attention at this time.  I think I was checking my Facebook ;-) but I noticed that they would get right on our ass and then rev the engine.  As if to say "Speed up or get the hell out of my way."  

The next thing I know, Q has stomped on the brake and I nearly got my head cut off from the seat belt.  I'm sure there's a collar bone injury lurking just beneath the surface.  My first reaction is to see who had just walked out in front of us, because I knew there were no vehicles.  So I guess I was paying more attention than I thought.  At the same time I am worried about running over a small child or animal, I hear SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEECH!  And then we were back on our merry way.  

At the stop light, the car pulls up beside us.  On my side.  And of course my window was down and I really wanted to tell whoever was driving, what I thought.  So as they pull up, the passenger...a snotty little male looks at me and says, "Ain't nobody that cares."  Out of reflex, my finger shot up.  I wanted him to see my pretty purple fingernail polish.  He says to the driver, "She's flipping us off."  The driver then turns and looks at me because I guess he had never seen a pretty purple fingernail either.  And just as I am getting ready to say, "How come you had to slam on your brakes back there?" my husband does his usual idiot thing.

Around the corner we go.  I'm not sure how fast he took that turn but I do remember having to grab his headlamp off the dash before it flew out my window.  Oh.....WHILE I was holding onto the oh-shit handle...trying not to fly out of the vehicle myself.  The black car is also squeeling his tires as he goes on his merry way.  I don't know who I was more impressed with (I am dripping in sarcasm right now.....DRIPPING), my husband or those children behind the wheel of a car that they apparently don't have to pay for the tires on.

After I gained my composure...you know, fixed my hair, got set back up in the seat properly, and oh yeah....checking my drawers for any wetness or stank.....I proceeded to tell my husband...loudly so that he got every word...what a childish thing that was to do.  Not that my giving the finger was any more mature BUT, at least I wouldn't have gotten a ticket for what I did. It was Creston.  Sure I could have gotten a ticket there.  They have a city cop that hates my husband.  Whom I was with.  I regress.

By the time we had gotten across town to Walmart, I was laughing and poking fun at my husband for taking his hat off and letting people see that he bears a resemblance to Sonic the Hedgehog.  He is in bad need of a haircut.  -_-  Which he now has had.

And speaking of my husband, he came home Friday and told me he traded off his pickup.  For another pickup.  Another pickup that is 19 years older than the one he traded.  Seriously.  And I like this truck.  It kinda has an old man thing about it.  It's good on gas though.  Better than the one he traded off  And the thing that Q loves about it, is that he can work on it.  It has parts he is familiar with.  Sounds like a huge plus to me.

Now.....I have to be honest with you here folks.  This particular blog was started well over a week ago.  I had every intention to hit publish and boom.....FAIL.  Sorry about that.  While we're already here.....

Sometimes I wonder if I was meant to be a preacher's wife.  Yes.....you read that right.  I said preacher's wife.  I grew up knowing that as a preacher's wife, you had to be ready at an instant, to entertain.  They never knew who or when someone would just show up at the door and in need of a talk.  So, as a good hostess.....and preacher's wife.....you always have something on hand for them to snack on or a meal ready to put together so they can join you.  

I love to entertain.  The first 3 years that Q and I lived together, I was always inviting someone over for a meal and/or game night.  My sisters and their friends have both been up; my friend Linda and her family used to come up almost like clock work; our friends Galen & Alisha and family used to come over; we had a stay-cation at our house with many visitors (one of my funnest times), and Q's little brother was a regular visitor as well.  

But sadly, that has come to a stop.  For more reasons than one and more reasons that I am going to put on display here.  I'm probably lucky if you are still reading THIS far.  What I will tell you is the one BIG reason that I haven't had anybody over, for even a visit, in the past year and a half.  My house.  It is nothing but filth.  Everywhere I look, we have a pile of crap.  Not literal crap people.  Just crap/stuff.  

One of my biggest mistakes is that I agreed to let Q put a big metal desk back in the corner of our livingroom.  It's use was primarily for re-loading shells for our guns.  It's a huge room so I knew the space wasn't an issue.  What I wasn't agreeing to was the 9 sheets of rock (sheet rock) that he is "storing" up against the wall, next to the desk, until we get the laundry room torn off and replaced.  That could easily be another year.  I am not happy about this.  I was going to share a photo of the desk but I am thoroughly embarrassed by it. 

I haven't even invited my sisters to my house because I am so embarrassed by what has become of our home.  I used to be the "pillar" of home cleanliness; and now I am comparable to a hoarder; simply because I allowed it.  Several times I have thought to myself "Just ask about 5 people to come help you for a complete day; have them help you organize it all so you can get started again and back on the right track."  But the thought of ANYONE outside of me and Q seeing the house, literally puts me into a panic attack.  It took me a while to figure out what was going on with me but that's it.  They are panic attacks.  And I hate them.  Even talking to you about it here has me feeling panicky and "hurty," so I think I will close.  

I hope I can get my home back.  I think I am going to forgo anymore girls' weekend for the rest of this year, and possibly next year, so I can get my house back and get me back.  I hate feeling like this.  I'm sure my mom has rolled in her grave more than once at how my home looks.  I am so ashamed.

I am open to any suggestions you might have.  Unless it medicine.  I refuse to take medicine for something I have complete control over.  Otherwise, let 'er rip tater chip!!!  Until next time.....thanks for reading!!!

It's a smorgasbord

The other day, I was with my sister and niece and we were driving down the interstate.  There was a lot of construction that was going on.  I believe they are putting in whole new roads.  So as we are driving along, you can see where the new road is going to be and it eventually meets up with an overpass.  Except in this case, it doesn't go under it and the existing road that crosses the interstate is so high, it definitely isn't going to go over it.  Well, I don't think it is anyway.  I could be wrong.  I have been twice in my life.  

So anyway, we are driving along and my sister seems very preoccupied with how this turn off/roadway is going to be when it is finished.  All I could say is that it would be fine and that we would find out when the time comes.  She still seemed to worry about it.  And she was driving, to make matters worse.  Who cares, just drive and not think about it.  Nope...she thought about it and she talked about it and I didn't have an answer for her.  Poor Kathy.

To distract her, I asked her about these black things we saw on the landscaping alongside the roadway.  Every once in a while, there would be what you would call a black plastic fence.  Or at least that's what it looked like from where we were sitting.  And they weren't just in a line.  They were this way.  They were that way.  They were turned away from each other.  Facing each other.  There was really no rhyme or reason.  Now I wish I had taken a picture.  Or a video.  

So I kept asking her what she thought those were for.  Her first answer was that they were to mark where they pulled trees out.  I didn't buy it.  We saw plenty of trees in the same lines and where these things were set up, there was nothing pulled out of the ground.  The dirt and the grass were all intact.  Kathy pulls an answer out for me though.  It's better than I could for her and the exit/overpass situation.  Her answer was this, "I don't have an answer for you today."  

Are you shitting me?  Hahaha!  I told her I would ask her again the next day but I forgot.  So I ask you now...today...sister, what are those things and what purpose do they serve???

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Every time you smile at someone, it is an action of love, a gift to that person, a beautiful thing.

I am trying to raise bathroom supplies for the mission again.  I will do clothes again in the fall but this time, just bathroom supplies.  Toilet paper being the main thing.  Tampons, shampoos, soaps, you name it but definitely the toilet paper.  I am going to be putting up flyers in some communities so we can get a big load of stuff to donate again.  My house will be the drop-off location for the Fontanelle areas.  Kathy's house will be the drop-off location for the Corning areas and Chris's house will be the drop-off for the Bedford areas.  

I am asking you to look within yourself and think of others.  It's not just a Christmas thing and it's not just a winter thing.  People need help all year round.  And we all know that toilet paper is one of those things that one can never have too much of.  

If you feel like giving, they also could use any type of cleaners; Lysol wipes, and/or Bleach.  Bedding is a huge issue for the mission also.  If you have any old sheets/blankets that you just don't need or don't use, please feel free to give those.  And the last thing I will mention on this subject is laundry soap.  The people that actually live AT the mission need clean clothes too.  And the bills roll in for this type of stuff.  

It's people like you and me that make a difference in other people's lives.  I thank you in advance and if you need someone to pick stuff up, let me know or one of the girls mentioned and I will make arrangements for you.

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About a year to a year and a half ago, I had written about our FNG at work.  Well he is no longer the FNG and is part of our little law enforcement family.  He still has his ways about him that drives each one of us crazy but who don't???  For all the problems he and I had at first, I have grown to respect him for the way he does things, the way he handles people in different situations, and for the ex-Marine that he is.  (I only said ex-Marine because he hates it haha).  According to him, once a Marine, always a Marine.  Sorry to tell him but that's not just a Marine thing.  

Anyway, his wife just gave birth to their first child not too long ago.  They had a beautiful little girl and of course, he is totally in love with her.  The whole time...since I have known they were going to have a baby, I have been kinda "razzing" him and teasing him but when he said they are going to have a girl, I really went to town on him.  

He kinda blew it off at first, saying things like "since it's a girl, she'll really be my wife's kid" as he laughed.  I couldn't even begin to stress to him how he could screw that up if he kept that attitude up.  I explained to him how little girls LOVE their daddies.  Well most of them.  I told him how little girls will grow up to be young ladies who will, in the end, compare the love of their life...to their daddies.  

Daddies play such an important part of kids' lives and most of the girls I know have a little light in the corner of their eyes that shine bright when they think of or speak of their daddy.  I could not get this guy to understand it.  He just wasn't having it.  He couldn't see how "a manly man" could get all tangled up in the web of a daughter.  

As the day got closer to him being a daddy, he was in Scheel's and saw a man with his daughter.  The little gal was about 2 years old and she was standing next to her daddy, holding his hand and my Deputy thought, "cute."  You know...cute, like who cares cute.  But then as he got closer, he noticed that not only did this guy have his little girl next to him, holding his hand...but this little girl had on a pink camo outfit and some little boots.  That's when it hit him.  "Oh that is cute.  I could do that!!"

So now he has a baby girl and he is totally in love with her.  It is so nice to hear him respond to "How is that baby of yours?" with "She is perfect."  I am so happy for him and his wife.  I think they are in for a world of things they never expected and it will be so fun to hear the stories.  

Thinking about it makes my heart hurt for my daddy.  Sometimes I wish I could go back to that little girl in the park and her daddy pushing the merry-go-round for her.  Or relive that trip to Omaha, just me and dad, doing some school shopping and visiting family.  I wish I could climb back up on my dad's lap and take the pipe from his mouth and put it in mine.  Like I did as an infant.  I wish I could hug him one more time.  Tell him how much I love him and value every minute I had with him.  I wish I could reach out and touch him just one more time.  

But then, I know that one more time will never be enough.  I would always want more.  More time.  More hugs.  More I love you's.  More.  If you are reading this and you have a daddy, hug him.  If he isn't physically there, call him or text him or Facebook him or email him.  Tell him you love him.  Tell him you always will.  Because someday you won't be able to.  And it's a pain that never goes away.  You will just have to learn to live with it.  

I shall now be in search of my Kleenex box.  Until next time...thanks for reading and I hope your day is FANTASTIC!!!

A few of my favorite...and not so favorite

I have been seeing a lot of posts on Facebook that go something like this:

I SPEAK MY MIND.  I AM A BITCH.  IF YOU DON'T LIKE THE THINGS I LIKE THEN FEEL FREE TO WALK AWAY.

Those are not the exact words but I have a feeling you're picking up what I'm putting down, right?  In the spirit of telling you about me, let me tell you some of my "likes" and "dislikes."  

LIKES:

RESPECT - GIVING IT AND GETTING IT
It took me many years to understand that if I wanted people to take me seriously and treat me like a responsible adult, not only do I need to BE one, but I need to treat others the same way.  It's more than "do unto others as you would want done to you."  I don't even know if I can put it into words.  Even as a young lady, it took me years to really...and I mean REALLY...get it.  And I'm human.  I'm not perfect.  I am still learning as I go.  I have burned a lot of bridges in my time and some of those bridges I will never get back.  No matter what I do.  I have apologized to many people in the past two years, for wrongs that I don't know how to right any other way than that.  Sadly, some of those people will never again give me the time of day to say anything in my own defense.  And that was a cold, hard wall in my face.  A good way to learn respect but also a hard way.  A way I would never recommend.  On the good side, many people have accepted my apology and my life...and hopefully theirs...is better for it.  Our relationships have more meaning and we are A LOT more prone to talk to each other now, rather than let attitudes ruin it for us again.

ACCOUNTABILITY - FOR MYSELF AND OTHERS
"Dodging" accountability is what has made me yearn for it, if that makes any sense.  Growing up as the baby of the family, I was spoiled.  Ask any of my family and they will never deny it.  And I think part of that made me not take responsibility for some of the things I have done.  Now, I'm not blaming my parents or my family for anything.  I made each and every bad choice on my own.  I take full responsibility for my actions.  But honestly, it took not being responsible for so many years...and being judged by it...to make me want to be accountable for me.  And I think it is why I try so hard to do so much for other people.  Maybe I'm trying to validate what I feel, in my heart, I didn't do right so long ago.  Maybe I'm trying to fix the past with the present.  I don't know.  All I know is that if I did wrong, I am the first to admit it.  It isn't easy but it's a necessity in my life.  I hope that made sense.

MANNERS - FOR ME, FOR YOU, FOR EVERYONE AROUND US
Now...this one is almost an important one for me.  And I will have to add this to my dislikes as well.  You will see why.  Anyway, I am huge about thanking people.  Even on the radio at work, when I have sent a Deputy out to check on something and he does, I say 10-4 thank you.  It was funny for them when I first started and everyone teased me about it but it's such a natural thing for me that now they don't even notice that I do it.  I also love to send thank you'd to people.  I just love it!  Please is a favorite of mine also.  You can't say it enough in my opinion.  Please read my blogs.  Please make comments.  Please like me.  See how that works?  And I thank you for that and I like you too!!!  

ORGANIZATION - ALL AROUND ME
If you would take a step into my home, you would think I meant to put this on my dislike list but I really do like organization.  I think that every single thing should have a place and to be in that place when not in use. Unfortunately, I have a husband that not only disagrees with my concept of organization, he goes out of his way to mess with me.  I like to plan.  I like to write things out.  I like there to be order among the world.  And I used to get this type of planning confused with OCD.  I don't believe that just because I like my magazines to be in a perfect stack, in a certain area, that I have OCD.  I believed I had that for years.  What I really believe I have is such a stubborn nature that I just want it MY way.  I know you're shocked.  I can see it on your face.  The last girls weekend that we went on, almost drove me to complete and utter frustration simply because we didn't PLAN where we were going, what we wanted to do, who we wanted to see, and when we would return home.  We didn't plan ONE thing for that weekend and guess what.  It may have been the best one so far.  Unbelievably true but I don't know if I can go through that again anytime soon.  I must know what I'm walking into before I walk into it. 

Okay, enough of that.  I like a whole lot more than that but I have a feeling I would lose you if I just kept going.  So moving on...let's take a look at my....

DISLIKES:

MANNERS - OR LACK THEREOF
I don't have a problem with being goofy out and about; in front of the world.  Matter of fact, I rather get a kick out of watching someone be amused with life and celebrating it.  What I don't get too much of a kick out of is hearing people swear in public.  I don't care who you are or what your reason is, I think it's awful and I think it's embarrassing.  There's a time and a place for certain words and out in public is not the place.  I get uncomfortable when "my people" swear out loud in a restaurant.  I get uncomfortable when "my people" belittle someone for something they don't understand.  I even get uncomfortable...and embarrassed for...someone who is not acting their age in a public forum.  Here's an example.  I was at Walmart one day with a friend who had brought along another friend.  The "other" friend talked loud while walking around the store; this person didn't care if they were standing or walking in someone's line of traffic; this person apparently thought it was "cool" to say the F word multiple times, loudly.  I finally just separated myself from them until time to leave and those two people have never went with me together again.  Actually, the "other" friend hasn't ever been anywhere with me again.  BUT, about a week after this Walmart thing went down, I was in our local grocery store and this "other" person came in and I was about halfway down the last aisle, so they saw me when they entered the store and this person yells LOUDLY, "Shellie!!!!"  And comes running (literally) at me.  I just smiled and said hi.  Of course everyone was looking at me and I wanted to crawl under a rock.  I had literally met this person one time before this day and that was when we all went to Walmart that day.  If I could have gotten ahold of this person outside of the store that day, I probably would have said some things that weren't very nice.  But I didn't and words have never been uttered.  And I haven't put myself in a position to be in a place with this person again, either.  And I can be a real potty-mouth, don't get me wrong.  I can cuss it like with the best of them.  But not where it isn't supposed to be said.  I can name one time when I completely went berserk in the world of swearing in public.  It went something like this:
(Phone call from) Quintin:  I took your car to Creston last night and ended up having to put an alternator in it.  And I had to take a breath test in the Kum N Go parking lot while I was doing it.  
Me:  Had you been drinking?
Q:  I had a couple sips of some moonshine about 3 hours earlier but that was all.
Me:  Hmmm I wonder why they wanted a breath test then?
Q:  Probably because I called that cop a bitch.
Me:  YOU WHAT?  WHAT THE **** WERE YOU THINKING?  WHY THE **** WOULD YOU DO THAT?  ARE YOU ****ING SERIOUS??
Oh, I forgot to mention that I was in an IHOP waiting for a table and there were people all around me.  And yes, I was in the wrong.  On more than one account.  Not only should I have apologized to everyone around me but my husband was in the right.  At least in my opinion.  That cop was being a bitch.  Lesson learned:  next time wait for the WHOLE story!!!!

JUDGING SOMEONE - ESPECIALLY BASED ON THEIR PAST
I truly believe that it is human nature for people to judge and that no matter what we do, we always will judge in one form or another.  What I absolutely can't stand is when someone makes an assumption or a judgement call about another person based on their past decisions, rumors they have heard about someone, or simply because they don't like what that person's style is.  
"Too many tattoos.  Can't be trusted." 
"How many colors do they need in their hair?  I hope they don't get a job here."
"I heard they kill neighborhood pets.  Don't be friends with them."
"I heard she is a lesbian.  I don't want to be seen around her or people will think I'm the same way."
Seriously people.  This happens.  I made everyone of these examples up so don't think I am picking on anyone.  But it's an easy thing to do.  Like I said, it's human nature.  I try my best not to do that though.  Not to base any decision on any person, on any fact other than those that I have seen with my own eyes and heard with my own ears.  It's way too easy for a rumor to take shape because of what we "hear."

BEING ALONE IN A RELATIONSHIP - ANY RELATIONSHIP
I have talked about this before so I will keep it short and sweet.  I have never been in a worse relationship than I have by being alone.  This goes for any kind of relationship.  Intimate, familial, or friendship.  You can be in ANY kind of relationship and be alone and it sucks.  It takes more than one to make a relationship work but how long should one person try to keep it going?  I agree we shouldn't keep score with people because in the end, it's not about how many times you came to my house versus how many times I came to yours, and it's not about how many times you said you loved me compared to how many times I did.  It's not about that.  It's about what measures each person is willing to take to just KEEP the relationship.  I don't like being the only one that does this and it makes me walk away from people.  It makes me not want to look back and not want to care.  It makes me shut those people out and then I forget that they should even be a part of my world.  

OWING MONEY TO SOMEONE - FOR ANYTHING
I absolutely hate owing someone money.  I don't know why; maybe because for so many years, I made so many poor choices and spent more money than I made, that I felt ashamed if I owed someone money.  I don't know if it's just me or what but where we live, if I can't pay my utility bill on time, or if we get behind...I can't look the city clerk in the eye.  It has nothing to do with her though.  My husband has a charge account at a business here in town and I just keep out of the store altogether because I hate that he just makes payments and truly never gets paid off because as soon as he pays for his charges, he has more stuff he has charged.  And they allow him to do it, I realize this.  But I can't look those people in the eye.  I don't know why.  I just can't.  I hate going to the doctor's office because I make payments to the billing office.  Why do I do this?  Am I the only one that does this?  It. Is. Thoroughly. Embarrassing. For. Me.

So there you have it.  In a nut shell.  These are a few of my favorite...and not so favorite...things.  So going back to the top where I mentioned some of these Facebook posts stating such things like, "If you don't like the way I am, feel free to walk away," I would like to remind you that while you may not care what people think of you, I have a feeling you want people to think you are kind; you are loving; you are sensitive to others' needs; and that you have a heart.  

I have pushed my fair share of people from my life in many different ways and have found out that sometimes, no matter what you say or what you do, you may never get those people back.  And you just may need them someday.  I believe it's true that while people come in and out of your life for a reason, just because they aren't in your life today, doesn't mean they aren't meant to be in it a year from now.  Or ten years from now.  Just like everything else...there's a time and a place and a reason for each and every thing and every one of us.

I hope you enjoyed today's blog.  Until next time...thanks for reading and have a great week!!!

What are you smoking?

I am starting to “wonder” about my readers. Yes, you. The last blog I wrote was F-U-N!!! I even laughed a time or two while typing it. The thing that makes me wonder about “you” is the fact that by the time each one of you got done reading it, you had forgotten the question from the first paragraph!!! It's true! Not one of you has mentioned anything about it.

Soooooo.................cat's out of the bag now. The very first question read:

“I don't even know if I can tell you this whole story and get all the details in! I will give it the old school try though. Fasten your seat belt...this one just may knock you down!! TRUE OR FALSE???”

It's there folks. It was there the first time you read it and it is still there now. Oh how I love giving you a hard time! But don't worry...I have no doubt that if I was in your seat, I would have done the exact same thing you did! Get so involved in the story that you completely forgot.

My husband likes to say that “the story was so good they didn't care about the true or false.” Maybe he's right but I'm not putting any money down on it. After all, he DID marry, right?? How right can he possibly be??? Soooo..............true or false?

Of course it isn't true! Do you really think that would happen to me??? Ha, you know me well! It definitely did not happen that way. Matter of fact, the story was only correct up until the “I took the cleaning bucket out to the car...........” I, in fact, did not take the cleaning bucket out to the car. Quintin did! So from there, the story took it's own turn and I rolled with the punches. BUT, the story did play out in my head while I did the dishes, if it counts for anything.

Seems like I need to throw a good, old-fashioned tall tale in, once in a while, huh??? Ok, I promise!  Now.....that being said.....you are going to possibly think this next story is made up as well. I assure you it happened and here are all the details......BUT FIRST, a little history in case you didn't know. Our home has been victim of two fires in it's history. Not while we lived here, of course. Of course.

As I was doing dishes.....again.....I sure do a lot of dishes, don't I??? Anyway, as I was doing dishes, I came across a cast iron pot. It was very dirty and rusty from sitting in Grandma and Grandpa B's basement for many, many years. I know that when you get NEW cast iron, you have to season it. But this wasn't new as far as I knew. And I'm sure it had been used many, many times. Just not for a whole lot of years!!

I say to my husband, “how am I suppose to clean this up so I don't ruin it?” Well, right or wrong, this is what he told me: Wash it like you normally would but use steel wool on it instead of your dishcloth. So I did. I scrubbed 'er up pretty darn good and dried it off good. What you are about to read next, are the chain of events that followed:

I put some “lard” in the bottom of the pan. Enough to cover the bottom. I then told Quintin that since he was going to be standing there (waiting for his ride to pick him up), he could just do it and I would finish the dishes. He assured me that it was going to stink before it was done but I knew I could handle it.

As he is trying to “burn” the grease in the pan, he decides to put a lid on the pot. Not any lid that may have come with it (none did), but the glass lids that go on our everyday pots and pans. Well, let me tell you this.....putting that lid on it pissed it off in many ways.

I got done with the dishes and cleaning up the counter and start to walk out of the room when I look over to the stove as he lifts the lid off of the pot. What happens when you put a lid on something like that??? Yep, water forms from the steam. So...........as soon as he lifted that lid up, water dripped into the pot and a small fire ensued in the pot.

All I could do for several seconds was just stand there and imagine my white curtains.....directly behind the stove.....going up in flames. I mean, I literally stood there and envisioned it. My very next thought was the glass from the lid was going to explode and I didn't want to be in there when that happened. THEN, I saw our homeowner's insurance start rising with each flicker. “YOU'RE GOING TO CATCH MY CURTAINS ON FIRE!!! MOVE THEM!!!” Yes, I said it in bold AND in red!  At this point, I am trusting my husband and believing he knew what the hell he was doing. He moved the curtains out of the way and continued to play around with that lid. On and off. On and off.

And then the smoke gathered above us. It was black and it was heavy and it was ugly. I opened up the back door and the dogs started to come in and took a big whiff of that smell and high-tailed it right back out to the pen. I turned on the kitchen ceiling fan and then ran to the livingroom to turn that ceiling fan on, as well. I start opening all the windows in the livingroom because the smoke is getting heavy in EVERY room now. Across the house, open the bathroom window.

At this point, all I could think about is work. AND the fact that I had just posted a link on my Facebook THAT DAY telling people NOT. TO. BURN!!! Grrrrrrr!!! Dry conditions and high winds. I had visions of black smoke rolling from my home and fire departments in my yard. Trampling my lilac bush and ruining my burning bushes.

I am running around with my shirt over my nose and breathing through my mouth because the smell is horrific. All of a sudden, my mouth was completely filled with smoke. I couldn't breath at all. I told Quintin to get out of the house NOW and headed for the front door. The dogs kept trying to come in but they didn't ever get past the threshold before turning around and going back to the end of the pen.

I am amazed I made it outside and wished my inhaler was in my pocket then. But no...it was in the house. With everything else. I ran around the house one way, Q the other way, making sure no smoke was rolling out. All I needed was someone calling the fire department on me. Oh I would never live that down!!!

I did, however, have my phone in my pocket this time. Just in case work called to ask if I had decided to burn my property up that day. “Oh my god I bet the upstairs is filled!” I run back in and up the stairs...shirt over my nose....into our bedroom, and the smoke was thicker than ever. You would think there really WAS a fire in there, for all the smoke. I got the window open and a fan in the window to help suck the air out and then went to the bathroom and opened that window up.

Did my husband warn me about all of this??? I think #1: someone didn't know what the hell they were doing and #2: someone didn't do something right. Someone meaning him, not me. Unless you want to count the whole “why don't you just do it” comment that I made to him at the beginning. No, me either.

While I am upstairs with my head in the fan, so I can make it back downstairs, I see Q come outside with the hot pot in his hands (yes, he had potholders). Again...the vision...him just pouring it out and it catches fire and here comes the fire department. I am going to be pissed if something happens to my plants, bushes, and/or flowers!!! “DON'T POUR THAT OUT!” He turns and looks at me and pours it out. Right in front of his truck. Then says, “Why?”

I never said he was the brightest crayon in the box folks. I just said I love him. And, if it catches fire now...it's his truck that burns up. Luckily that didn't happen. I'm surprised it didn't, but it didn't. And there wasn't much for him to pour out. Because the rest of it had magically turned to black smoke that I was inhaling like coalminer's dust.

So, Q got the pot clean. Matter of fact, it looks brand spanking new. It's beautiful. And it probably will never get used for anything. Just because! It has been 24 hours and my house still smells putrid. Just a different putrid than the day before.

Maybe I should be a volunteer firefighter. I now have a lot of respect for those guys and gals that risk their life, going into burning buildings, not knowing what they are facing. Hell, I knew what I was facing and still about fell over from lack of oxygen. I know, I know...I should have crawled. Smoke rises. But I also realize why people don't do that.....crawl around during a fire...because you are so involved in the thought of saving yourself, your family, your pets, your belongings...that you don't think about it.

I don't know if I will ever forget that feeling of “Oh no, I can't breathe,” ever. It's scary. I wondered where I was going to get the oxygen to tell Q to get out. I don't know where it came from. All I know is I found it.

I laugh about it now and tell people that my husband tried to kill me. It's funny now. Of course, in hindsight I should have just hit him over the head with the cast iron pot and continued on with my house cleaning and not done anything. Of course I should have.

Until next time...I hope you enjoyed this tale. It really happened. Just like that. Thanks for reading!

What A Day

I don't even know if I can tell you this whole story and get all the details in!  I will give it the old school try though.  Fasten your seat belt...this one just may knock you down!!  TRUE OR FALSE???

After working the midnight-8am shift, I came home and got to bed a little before 9am.  I slept great.  Right up until 01:00pm.  I woke up and my body was saying "let's go!" while my head was thinking "what?  huh?"

I tried my best to listen to that voice in my head.  Willing my body to just calm down and take another little siesta.  4 hours was not going to get me through the night, I knew that right away!  After an hour of tossing, turning, checking and re-checking my phone...to see what time it was or if anyone had sent me a text message (that I normally would scream about if they had), I finally just got out of bed.

Downstairs we go.  We, as in me and Buddy.  Of course he doesn't let me get too far out of his sight when I'm home and he hates it when I leave.  

As I walk into the kitchen, I am SMACKED IN THE FACE with the most horrid and putrid smell I have ever smelled.  And it had to have been pretty bad because since I had a cold a couple of weeks ago, I haven't gotten my sense of smell or taste completely back yet.  So yeah....it has to be bad to make me think it's horrid, and I trust that it was.

I started out by putting all dirty dishes on top of the counter, nice and neat.  Stacking biggest to littlest and lightest amount of "grime" to heaviest.  I got my dish water ready and as I drop all the silverware/utensils in the water to soak, I decide to get the Mean Green out and so I can douse the stovetop and counters and let it soak into the grease and grime that my dear husband left for me the previous night before we both scooted off to work.

Ugh!  I took the cleaning bucket out to the car to take to the farm the other day and it is STILL in the car.  L-A-Z-Y!!!  I then remember that I have a bottle in the upstairs bathroom.  But I don't want to go upstairs.  Quintin is asleep and well.....I'll be honest...I didn't want to walk the steps.  So outside it is!

Flip flops on and out the door I go...going to great lengths so Buddy doesn't see me head to the door or he will try to go out with me.  I get out to the car and the door won't open.  Duh Shellie it's locked.  Of course it is.  And the keys are in the house.  Of course they are!

As I turn the knob to go in the house.....it won't turn.  It is locked.  Oh dear.  Oh man.  Oh crap!!!  The door is locked and my keys are in the house and Quintin is upstairs asleep and my phone is.....CRAP!!! The phone is also in the house.  And Buddy isn't tall enough to unlock the door!  

Me and my big ideas.

I walk around to the back side of the house; let myself into the dog fence...making Annie think I was coming to play...to get to the back door only to find it locked as well.  WHY do I always lock the doors behind me?  WHY???

So I pull up a chair...at least we have one of those on the back porch...and knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock (you get my drift, right?) constantly.  At one point I got to playing with Annie while listening to Buddy cry inside the house because I was outside and he wasn't...and my knocking, although consistent...had turned to minor pecking.  

I hear something and just as I look up, I see Quintin had come downstairs to see me sitting there, playing with Annie, and he says, "It was you?" as he walked away.  Yes...he walked away.  I stand up and say, "Hey, let me in!  I locked myself out!"  But to no avail.  He was already the stairs and back in bed!  What. The. Hell!

You can imagine just how infuriated I was at that point.  I let myself out of the dog pen and went to the bathroom window.  I remembered that Quintin had told me once that he let himself in that way.  The screen is already off (I wonder why that is???) so I try to push the window up.  It isn't going anywhere.  Maybe it was locked.

Nope.  I distinctly remember making sure it was unlocked because I thought we could get the screen put back on and I could open that window up in the next day or two.  Ok so I know it is unlocked for sure at this point.  

My noodle arms worked and worked and worked and FINALLY got the window to start budging.  I tell you what, I felt like a champion when I got that thing to finally open.  Now I know how those athletes feel when they win at the Olympics!!!

Okay the window is open and the only problem I am foreseeing is getting my not-so-small stature hoisted far enough up to actually throw myself through the window.  Buddy is standing there happy to see me.  And I think he was considering jumping out just to join me!.  

You might be thinking, "Just pull yourself up to the window," right?  That is what a normal person would be thinking I suppose but I'm not normal and like I mentioned above...I have a not-so-small stature.  I knew, with the siding stuff (yes, that's what I'm going to call it) around the windows, I would surely crack it upon hoist and there was no way I was going to test my husband with that today!

I looked around for something to step up on and find nothing.  Any other day of the year I could find any piece of junk laying around that my husband so conveniently left for future use but NOOOOOOO!!! NOT today!!!  

We have some rocks.  Bigger type rocks that line our flower gardens.  I will just grab some of those...pile them up...get up on top of them and climb in the window.  Easy peasy!!!

Easy peasy, yeah!

I took three big rocks and stacked them and then got up on them just for them to tumble.  Rats!  So I take the same rocks and stack them back up and go get some other rocks and put around them so that the rocks I need to stand on, can't move.  That took me a little bit...to get all the rocks I needed.  
By the time I was done, I had a mini stage.  Why didn't I just do that in the first place???  So up on my stage I go.  Very steady!  Good job Shellie!  I lean into the window and of course, Buddy thinks I'm playing with him.  My head and upper body are hanging inside and he runs and gets his toy skunk and lays in (literally) on top of my head. 

So now...anytime I move my head...he thinks I'm going to take it from him and he tries to grab it.  And I get to laughing.  And my bottom half is still hanging out the window.  Now I need to pee.  This isn't going so well.  Why do I have to lock all the doors???

Inch-by-inch I am crawling my body inside my own home...while my dog is pulling my hair...along with a stinky, squeaky skunk...and there seems to be a nail.  Not a huge nail but one just big enough to catch the top of my thigh...and then grabs my shorts.  I tried to get myself unhooked but at this point, I just wanted to get inside before someone saw me.  

For all I know, the whole town was outside taking pictures.  I should have just peed!!

Inch by miserable inch, the nail rips through my shorts.  I am far enough in the house now so I start squirming out of the shorts.  I figured I would try to save them if possible.  I fall to the bathroom floor only to get this wet, stinky skunk dropped on my face.  I am in my t-shirt and underwear.  At some point, those flip's done flopped off my feet.  My shorts are hanging inside the window...by a nail...ripped almost the whole way down and I feel like if I move any part of my body...I will pee in my underwear.

Hey, at least I am inside the house, right???  And then the thought hits me..."I could have just walked up to the store and called Quintin from the very beginning!"  Oh man!!!

Carefully, I make it over to the toilet and what, before my wandering eyes, appeared???  My wonderful husband in the mirror...coming downstairs.  

"Good morning sweetie.  How has your day been?"

I think I need a do-over!!!

Until next time...thanks for reading!!! (P.S. the kitchen is clean now)