That time again? Tuesdays are for Random Thoughts. Perfect for the way my scatterbrain spins.
Seems that guy on the job site got over his fear of my brother. As we were packing up Friday, he casually asked me if I wanted to get a beer. I told him I have a boyfriend. A little white lie to avoid any hurt feelings. I'm now twice as happy to be done with that job.
I only had one day off this week. It just so happens, I was busy battling my teenager that day. My house is a wreck 'cuz I was too exhausted to do any chores when it was all said and done. I'm expecting a "surprise" visit from Child Protective Services. Did I mention my house is a wreck?
I can't catch up on the CBS shows I didn't sit on my ass and watch when they aired. Because CBS has jumped on the greed wagon and decided to only offer on demand services to members of their paid subscription scam. AND even after you pay your monthly fee to watch their shows on demand, you still have sit through commercials. I think that's called double dipping. I've decided to go out of my way not to pick up anymore CBS shows. Cuz, Hell no!
HotRod kept going back and forth on whether he wanted to even be my friend. So I decided for him. I deleted him from facebook, and have stopped answering his text. He was trying to play a game without telling me the rules. Seriously, when a "man" likes drama more than your average teenage girl... Bye Felicia!
Tuesday, June 30, 2015
Monday, June 29, 2015
Into the numb
This morning my house was unusually quiet. I stood in the shower, trying to remember the steps to washing my hair. When I was done I stood naked in my bedroom and wondered if my oldest daughter is in as much pain as I am.
Oh, I'm sure she is sore and bruised, just like me. As for her heart, I highly doubt it feels anything but triumph.
She started an all out brawl with me. We volleyed control back and forth, physically, for more than 10 minutes before I restrained her. Even after I let her up, she came at me again.
When the police came, they took our statements in private. I still don't know what she said to them. I thought it would be another case of me filing battery charges, and them telling her to go to her room and stay there.
Instead, they came and asked me was there someone who could care for my kids. I was going to be arrested. She tried to destroy my property and throw me around my house, but I was going to jail? Why? Because she cried harder?
I called my brother to come get Itty Bit. I called my best friend to come take possession of my side arm. I explained to Itty Bit what was going on. Told her not to worry. If the police asked her questions, to tell the truth. Don't tell any lies because she thinks it will protect mommy. And then I waited.
The officer came back and asked me some more questions. When it was all said and done, they transported DQ to a short term group home.
I guess no one told her I wasn't getting arrested. It was with satisfaction and glee that she informed me I was being arrested for assault. The smile on her face was pure evil. I didn't have the heart to tell her the police changed their minds, and decided she was the crazy one. I let her go on thinking I was going to jail.
I'm certain DQ is feeling quite content with herself. In the little home for girls where she can watch TV, go on outings and eat junk food. Content but no sorrow.
I'll bare that weight for her.
Oh, I'm sure she is sore and bruised, just like me. As for her heart, I highly doubt it feels anything but triumph.
She started an all out brawl with me. We volleyed control back and forth, physically, for more than 10 minutes before I restrained her. Even after I let her up, she came at me again.
When the police came, they took our statements in private. I still don't know what she said to them. I thought it would be another case of me filing battery charges, and them telling her to go to her room and stay there.
Instead, they came and asked me was there someone who could care for my kids. I was going to be arrested. She tried to destroy my property and throw me around my house, but I was going to jail? Why? Because she cried harder?
I called my brother to come get Itty Bit. I called my best friend to come take possession of my side arm. I explained to Itty Bit what was going on. Told her not to worry. If the police asked her questions, to tell the truth. Don't tell any lies because she thinks it will protect mommy. And then I waited.
The officer came back and asked me some more questions. When it was all said and done, they transported DQ to a short term group home.
I guess no one told her I wasn't getting arrested. It was with satisfaction and glee that she informed me I was being arrested for assault. The smile on her face was pure evil. I didn't have the heart to tell her the police changed their minds, and decided she was the crazy one. I let her go on thinking I was going to jail.
I'm certain DQ is feeling quite content with herself. In the little home for girls where she can watch TV, go on outings and eat junk food. Content but no sorrow.
I'll bare that weight for her.
Sunday, June 28, 2015
The Precipice
I'm standing at the bottom of the hill. I can see straight up the mountain. All the winters snow balanced precariously on top of itself.
I can feel the tiniest rumble. Almost unnoticeable unless you're standing there waiting for it to happen. I know this tiny shift is going to change the landscape permanently.
The question is, do I take off running now? Or do I wait for the first crack?
The avalanche is coming. The only thing I can control is my reaction to it. It's almost certain I can't out run it. And if I take off too soon, I'll miss important clues.
It's enough to make one just give up. The worrying about it is as bad as the avalanche itself.
This is not a dream. Or nightmare, as it were. It's my years of observation helping me predict the future.
Even under the threat of being placed in residential treatment for 2 years, DQ still doesn't care. Even after I told her, once she goes to residential, she won't be welcomed back into my home. We (her therapist and I) gave her a now or never ultimatum. DQ has chosen never.
Silly me, always with the hope. Two months ago, I made up a chore contract for both of my girls. Explaining that if they do 85% of their chores, they could earn back TV. That didn't affect DQ. She just waited until I went to work to watch her TV. Never even attempting to do her basic, simple, every-teenager-has-them, chores. Clean the kitchen after dinner and make sure your personal things aren't all over the common living areas. She couldn't do it.
I've spent years trying behavior modifications like this. Mostly positive based. If you do your chores, you can watch TV. I'll give you a dollar for every pound you lose, and once you lose 50 I'll take you shopping for new clothes. Always the optimistic.
Finally I came to the realization that she is never going to change. She very much displays the signs of early sociopathy. Cruelty to animals, no regard for rules or social order, not affected by consequence, no empathy, remorse or guilt. That was all apparent by the age of 13. In the last three years she's clearly displayed, delusions of grandeur, an increased intensity of violent outbursts, highly defensive and an extreme talent for manipulation.
FINALLY, my last straw. I've just had it. So I came up with a document, (Everything has to be written in black and white for her) that lays down every exception for her until she is removed from my house. It is extreme. The language is harsh. There is no pleasantry, kindness or love in the text.
I won't post the whole thing here, but I will highlight a few, for context.
I can feel the tiniest rumble. Almost unnoticeable unless you're standing there waiting for it to happen. I know this tiny shift is going to change the landscape permanently.
The question is, do I take off running now? Or do I wait for the first crack?
The avalanche is coming. The only thing I can control is my reaction to it. It's almost certain I can't out run it. And if I take off too soon, I'll miss important clues.
It's enough to make one just give up. The worrying about it is as bad as the avalanche itself.
This is not a dream. Or nightmare, as it were. It's my years of observation helping me predict the future.
Even under the threat of being placed in residential treatment for 2 years, DQ still doesn't care. Even after I told her, once she goes to residential, she won't be welcomed back into my home. We (her therapist and I) gave her a now or never ultimatum. DQ has chosen never.
Silly me, always with the hope. Two months ago, I made up a chore contract for both of my girls. Explaining that if they do 85% of their chores, they could earn back TV. That didn't affect DQ. She just waited until I went to work to watch her TV. Never even attempting to do her basic, simple, every-teenager-has-them, chores. Clean the kitchen after dinner and make sure your personal things aren't all over the common living areas. She couldn't do it.
I've spent years trying behavior modifications like this. Mostly positive based. If you do your chores, you can watch TV. I'll give you a dollar for every pound you lose, and once you lose 50 I'll take you shopping for new clothes. Always the optimistic.
Finally I came to the realization that she is never going to change. She very much displays the signs of early sociopathy. Cruelty to animals, no regard for rules or social order, not affected by consequence, no empathy, remorse or guilt. That was all apparent by the age of 13. In the last three years she's clearly displayed, delusions of grandeur, an increased intensity of violent outbursts, highly defensive and an extreme talent for manipulation.
FINALLY, my last straw. I've just had it. So I came up with a document, (Everything has to be written in black and white for her) that lays down every exception for her until she is removed from my house. It is extreme. The language is harsh. There is no pleasantry, kindness or love in the text.
I won't post the whole thing here, but I will highlight a few, for context.
*You will not put your hands on
anyone for any reason. Failure to follow this rule may lead to
corporal punishment, of my choosing. For example being restrained,
hit back, push-up position, kneeling or forcibly moved. I don't care
if your sister touched you first. You are 16 years old and outweigh
her by 100+ lbs. The responsible thing is to walk away and inform an
adult. If you put your hands on me again, I WILL defend myself and
it will not be pleasant.
*You will not destroy anyones
property. To do so will result in the destruction of something that
belongs to you, and, depending on the item, be made to pay
restitution.
*You will not raise your voice, use
profanity, argue or otherwise be disrespectful to anyone for any
reason. If you have a grievance you may write a letter. Which I will
read at my convenience. I may or may not give a response.
*You will not use or touch anything
that does not belong to you. You may not barter with anyone for any
item.
This is extreme right? She's left me with no choice. Because she will slap her sister across the face without warning. She will push me, and spit in my face. She will take a permanent marker and mark "X's" across photos that are irreplaceable. She will try to break my TV. She will scream at me, call me a whore, tell me I'm being a pissy bitch, explain the ways she hopes I die and tell me to chill the fuck out. She will take whatever she wants, without regard to the person it belongs to. She may even lose it or break it and then shrug her shoulders and say oh well.
I did not demand that she agree to the terms of the contract. I simply asked that she sign it to acknowledge she's read it and understands it. In front of her therapist. Who I also gave a copy to.
That was a week ago. Has anything changed? No. Did I expect it to? No. Do I still feel sorry for her when she can't watch TV? Do I feel guilty for ignoring her completely? Not any more.
Wednesday I found out she stole money out of jeans pocket.
Friday she broke into my bedroom while I was at work. (Keyed entry) Went through everything I have. Private papers in my filing box, my s e x toy box, my jewelry box, my purses... everything. Even my bedside table drawer where my loaded Glock stays while I'm at work. And was she trying to be sneaky? Nope. She left stuff out of place and in plain site. Because she doesn't care if she gets caught. I also found out that she had a guy over to the house while I was at work.
Is it any wonder I'm ready to rip my hair out?
Tuesday I have another meeting with the people who WILL put her in residential. It's not a matter of can or could. I won't take no for an answer. It's only a matter of when. And that is where the avalanche comes in. They asked that I bring her with me.
The moment DQ realizes this is a reality and not a threat, all hell is going to break lose. I mean it's going to be an all out war. As much as she thinks the rules don't apply to her now... I can only imagine how bad it's going to get when she knows there is no turning back. She'll have nothing to lose.
She goes off on me when I make something she doesn't like for dinner. She'll put her hands on me when I take MY iPod away from her. Sometimes it's so bad I hide the knives before I go to bed. What ever she is truly capable of will show itself when she knows she is being removed from my house.
Right now I'm hanging out in a cloud of uncertainty. I don't have a time line. I can't make plans for it. Such as making sure Itty Bit isn't around when the shit hits the fan. I don't know how much energy or strength it's going to take.
Most days I'm treading water, barely keeping my head up. I'm terrified that this avalanche is going to bury me alive, if I can't keep one step ahead of it.
Friday, June 26, 2015
The Great Debate
Yesterday morning I posted my stance on the Confederate Flag on Facebook. A couple snarky defensive comments were posted soon after and then the post went dead. I simmered and stewed over the response, but as I was working I didn't have time to properly respond.
And then I got home. So did everyone else. By 8pm there were some 30 comments, many of which had long strings of replies.
It was, for the most part, civil, well rounded and relevant. There was a point where my friend from Norway used the word 'cunt'. That sent everyone into an uproar again. Until I explained to the people taking part in the debate that she wasn't calling them cunts, and that the word cunt, where she's from, is more of an every day word.
The people who responded, My bestie, our very good friend, Joe and HotRod, were not the people the original post was aimed at. These three guys are smart, and are highly unlikely to do something to intentionally hurt someone. And they would never do it because of someone's skin color.
The people who didn't respond? All the morons posting memes about their right to fly that flag. Of those, only a handful can actually claim a southern heritage. I said southern, not confederate. I've never heard any of them speak about their family's personal history on the subject. Hell, a couple of these people aren't even from this fucking country!
The people who didn't respond? Those are the ones who posted a photo of the Clinton/Gore rebel flag button. Made up, by the way. Same ones who posted the story about the PBJ being a racist symbol. False! And other stories, which, just at first glance, I felt were either lies or at best a stretch. A long, long stretch.
None of those people had anything intelligent to say on my post. Probably wise of them to stay over on their side of the internets. They would have been shredded. And not just by me. But the other people I was debating with. Who didn't agree with my original post.
Instead I got the boys who couldn't give two shits about the flag. They were more worried about the government overstepping it's bounds, and restricting rights all willy nilly. I've never heard any of these guys use the N word or say anything out of line in that context.
Thanks, boys, for a great debate. And my girlfriend for making it colorful and lively with the word cunt.
And then I got home. So did everyone else. By 8pm there were some 30 comments, many of which had long strings of replies.
It was, for the most part, civil, well rounded and relevant. There was a point where my friend from Norway used the word 'cunt'. That sent everyone into an uproar again. Until I explained to the people taking part in the debate that she wasn't calling them cunts, and that the word cunt, where she's from, is more of an every day word.
The people who responded, My bestie, our very good friend, Joe and HotRod, were not the people the original post was aimed at. These three guys are smart, and are highly unlikely to do something to intentionally hurt someone. And they would never do it because of someone's skin color.
The people who didn't respond? All the morons posting memes about their right to fly that flag. Of those, only a handful can actually claim a southern heritage. I said southern, not confederate. I've never heard any of them speak about their family's personal history on the subject. Hell, a couple of these people aren't even from this fucking country!
The people who didn't respond? Those are the ones who posted a photo of the Clinton/Gore rebel flag button. Made up, by the way. Same ones who posted the story about the PBJ being a racist symbol. False! And other stories, which, just at first glance, I felt were either lies or at best a stretch. A long, long stretch.
None of those people had anything intelligent to say on my post. Probably wise of them to stay over on their side of the internets. They would have been shredded. And not just by me. But the other people I was debating with. Who didn't agree with my original post.
Instead I got the boys who couldn't give two shits about the flag. They were more worried about the government overstepping it's bounds, and restricting rights all willy nilly. I've never heard any of these guys use the N word or say anything out of line in that context.
Thanks, boys, for a great debate. And my girlfriend for making it colorful and lively with the word cunt.
Thursday, June 25, 2015
Throwback VW
It's time once again, for Writers Workshop, hosted by the hot mama Kat over at Mama's Losin' It.
This week I choose throwback Thursday for no particular reason other than that's the one that jumped out at me. The prompt was actually, Post a picture from a previous June, but I can't be bothered to follow rules, and we all know I hate to be told what to do.
Pictured here, is the best littlewhorehouse car I ever had. It was my absolute favorite. Excuse the pencil marks. I scanned the only photograph I have.
I present to you, the 1971 Volkswagen Super Beetle. All original, with the exception of the stereo system. That was a Clarion receiver, Alpine speakers and a bass tube in the trunk, which of course is in the front.
I had this car when I was 20 years old, back in 1995. Back when gas was .99 cents a gallon.
This girl and I took good care of each other. She never failed me, ever. She had the signature Bug rumble. You could hear me coming baby. And if that didn't get your attention... If I hit the clutch and gas, juuuust right, I could make her backfire on command. It was a quick sort of exchange, and I did it so often I can almost feel my feet doing it now.
I was seriously broke back then. But being independent by nature, meant I had to have my own place. A crappy little apartment just this side of the ghetto. I recall driving down the street one day, and seeing a pair of hoodlums, crossing with a baseball bat. I figured on my current course and their trajectory, and it would have put them in the perfect position to whack my baby with said bat. So I did my backfire trick and watch them jump out of their skin. It sounded like a 12 gauge being fired, and it made them think twice about whatever was on their mind.
This week I choose throwback Thursday for no particular reason other than that's the one that jumped out at me. The prompt was actually, Post a picture from a previous June, but I can't be bothered to follow rules, and we all know I hate to be told what to do.
Pictured here, is the best little
I present to you, the 1971 Volkswagen Super Beetle. All original, with the exception of the stereo system. That was a Clarion receiver, Alpine speakers and a bass tube in the trunk, which of course is in the front.
I had this car when I was 20 years old, back in 1995. Back when gas was .99 cents a gallon.
This girl and I took good care of each other. She never failed me, ever. She had the signature Bug rumble. You could hear me coming baby. And if that didn't get your attention... If I hit the clutch and gas, juuuust right, I could make her backfire on command. It was a quick sort of exchange, and I did it so often I can almost feel my feet doing it now.
I was seriously broke back then. But being independent by nature, meant I had to have my own place. A crappy little apartment just this side of the ghetto. I recall driving down the street one day, and seeing a pair of hoodlums, crossing with a baseball bat. I figured on my current course and their trajectory, and it would have put them in the perfect position to whack my baby with said bat. So I did my backfire trick and watch them jump out of their skin. It sounded like a 12 gauge being fired, and it made them think twice about whatever was on their mind.
Wednesday, June 24, 2015
Words of Wisdom
When I'm depressed, lonely, angry or otherwise not feeling emotionally 100%, I try to do things to distract myself. I've learned this lesson over a number of years. If I don't do something to distract myself, I'll do something stupid. Let's not get into all the stupid things I've done in the past. Just trust me, some have been monumental.
As any good human should do, I learned from my mistakes. Now I can recognize when the "you're going to do something really stupid, to make yourself feel better?" signs start to show. Now I can choose to do something completely harmless. And often very rewarding.
I bought some books for my Kindle last night. Isn't the electronic world wonderful? I didn't even have to put on clothes. Mind distracting entertainment was delivered right to my fingertips.
Out of morbid curiosity, I got the 50 Shades of Grey, as told by Christian. Let me save you the trouble. I love to read. So much that I can usually tolerate a poor story line. I even liked the original 50 Shades books, for a time. This newest installment, pure shit. I didn't make it past the third chapter. Don't waste your time.
Eh-hem, moving on. I bought another book, too. It cost me 9 bucks. I read it in about 2 hours. (I'm a very fast reader.) And instead of having Ah-ha moments, I had a bunch of, 'See, I knew it' moments of affirmation.
About 15 years ago, I read "The Gift of Fear." If you've never read this, I HIGHLY recommend it for all humans with vaginas!!! I can't stress this enough. What I learned from that book has served me well in the time since then.
Trust Your Instincts
Should I say that again? Nah, I think you heard me the first time. And what does that have to do with the book that I bought last night, you ask? Everything. The newest book confirms I am not crazy. Even better, I'm right 99% of the time.
When Bobby stopped wanting to have sex, 2 months after we started dating, I knew in my gut something was wrong. I analyzed his behavior and decided that he was still in the closet and having a hot girlfriend helped him keep that secret. I didn't pine over love lost. It was never meant to be, cuz last time I checked, I don't have a penis.
When Arlie got drunk and yelled at me on the phone, I knew in my gut that it wasn't going to work in the long run. Because you don't yell at people you care about. I told him he was out of his mind if he thought I would stand for that. The next morning I gathered all remnants of Arlie and dropped them off at his house. Never to be seen again.
When HotRod let communications dwindle, and didn't pursue time with me, I felt it in my gut. Something was off. I followed my instinct, and broke up with him.
What was different about this scenario is, he told me I was wrong and I believed him. That silly girl brain crammed in the center of my chest, made me second guess myself. I actually apologized to him and left the ball in his court. And you know what happened? Abso-fucking-lutely NOTHING! Aside from a shit ton of back and forth texts about how bad I fucked up. Why did I put any more energy into a relationship that I knew was going no where? Again, I blame the silly girl brain crammed in the center of my chest.
The book reminded me of things I already knew.
#1, that 99% of the people you "date" are not the one for you. Because, the one for me is but a single soul in a sea of dead weight. Not to say these guys aren't going to be great for someone. They just aren't my someone.
#2, I am worthy of someones time and affection. I should be a priority, not an option. And any relationship worth staying in, doesn't make you cry more than smile. That's not the way this shit works.
#3, Trust my instincts!!! When the energy is bad, turn off the switch.
Don't get your panties in a twist. I am not even remotely looking forward to dating. I'm content with therapy appointments and books, and work, and my newly cleaned airbrush. It's just that curiosity, (Why does it feel like I'm always being fucked over?) lead me to find an answer. Which I did. (Because you are!) And a reason for it. (Because you let it happen.) But the solution, I've had all along. Trust my instincts, and don't put up with bullshit!
As any good human should do, I learned from my mistakes. Now I can recognize when the "you're going to do something really stupid, to make yourself feel better?" signs start to show. Now I can choose to do something completely harmless. And often very rewarding.
I bought some books for my Kindle last night. Isn't the electronic world wonderful? I didn't even have to put on clothes. Mind distracting entertainment was delivered right to my fingertips.
Out of morbid curiosity, I got the 50 Shades of Grey, as told by Christian. Let me save you the trouble. I love to read. So much that I can usually tolerate a poor story line. I even liked the original 50 Shades books, for a time. This newest installment, pure shit. I didn't make it past the third chapter. Don't waste your time.
Eh-hem, moving on. I bought another book, too. It cost me 9 bucks. I read it in about 2 hours. (I'm a very fast reader.) And instead of having Ah-ha moments, I had a bunch of, 'See, I knew it' moments of affirmation.
About 15 years ago, I read "The Gift of Fear." If you've never read this, I HIGHLY recommend it for all humans with vaginas!!! I can't stress this enough. What I learned from that book has served me well in the time since then.
Trust Your Instincts
Should I say that again? Nah, I think you heard me the first time. And what does that have to do with the book that I bought last night, you ask? Everything. The newest book confirms I am not crazy. Even better, I'm right 99% of the time.
When Bobby stopped wanting to have sex, 2 months after we started dating, I knew in my gut something was wrong. I analyzed his behavior and decided that he was still in the closet and having a hot girlfriend helped him keep that secret. I didn't pine over love lost. It was never meant to be, cuz last time I checked, I don't have a penis.
When Arlie got drunk and yelled at me on the phone, I knew in my gut that it wasn't going to work in the long run. Because you don't yell at people you care about. I told him he was out of his mind if he thought I would stand for that. The next morning I gathered all remnants of Arlie and dropped them off at his house. Never to be seen again.
When HotRod let communications dwindle, and didn't pursue time with me, I felt it in my gut. Something was off. I followed my instinct, and broke up with him.
What was different about this scenario is, he told me I was wrong and I believed him. That silly girl brain crammed in the center of my chest, made me second guess myself. I actually apologized to him and left the ball in his court. And you know what happened? Abso-fucking-lutely NOTHING! Aside from a shit ton of back and forth texts about how bad I fucked up. Why did I put any more energy into a relationship that I knew was going no where? Again, I blame the silly girl brain crammed in the center of my chest.
The book reminded me of things I already knew.
#1, that 99% of the people you "date" are not the one for you. Because, the one for me is but a single soul in a sea of dead weight. Not to say these guys aren't going to be great for someone. They just aren't my someone.
#2, I am worthy of someones time and affection. I should be a priority, not an option. And any relationship worth staying in, doesn't make you cry more than smile. That's not the way this shit works.
#3, Trust my instincts!!! When the energy is bad, turn off the switch.
Don't get your panties in a twist. I am not even remotely looking forward to dating. I'm content with therapy appointments and books, and work, and my newly cleaned airbrush. It's just that curiosity, (Why does it feel like I'm always being fucked over?) lead me to find an answer. Which I did. (Because you are!) And a reason for it. (Because you let it happen.) But the solution, I've had all along. Trust my instincts, and don't put up with bullshit!
Try being kind
I've already had my fill of the political propaganda on Facebook, and the candidates haven't even finished throwing their hats in yet. I don't really care what your political standing is. You look like a moron when you trash the other side with blow job memes. It's to the point that I am considering deleting friends.
What if instead, people posted about why their candidate is the best choice? What if, and I know this is ground breaking, but what if the claims people post were based in facts? Because news flash, most of the garbage political post are not 100% accurate. And here's the important thing: Smearing a candidate is not solving any problem. It only serves to breed contempt. And make you look stupid in the process.
Before you honk your horn at the guy in front of you because he didn't floor it when the light turned green, pause. Count to three and ask yourself if there isn't a reason their reaction time is slower than yours. Maybe they are super stressed and trying to remember where they are supposed to be next. Maybe they have something in their eye, and can't move forward. Maybe they are lost in their sadness at the moment, and it's making everything foggy. Try a little compassion, and give them a little time. I promise, they are not just sitting there to piss you off.
That person at work, you know who I'm talking about... He annoys the crap out of everyone. For no particular reason other than he's just a goober. Stop talking about him behind his back. He already knows he's a goober. In fact, he's socially awkward and he can't help it. And when he overheard you and the other co-worker talking about him, you ruined his day. Instead, make cookies for the "office" and offer him one first. Something as simple as that will tell him, he matters.
Stop flying your confederate flag. I hear your argument of heritage and history, and frankly I don't give a fuck. It offends a rather large populous of American Citizens. They have every right to be here and live as free as you, AND not be wondering if their neighbor secretly wants to string them up. Surely there must be other ways you can honor your heritage, aside from this stupid flag.
This goes for any other symbol that further decays race relations. Black, White, Japanese, I don't give a crap. Work your shit out!!!
Don't be so quick to judge, fly off the handle, or seek revenge. Remember the person you have a grievance with is just as human as you. Have you never been on the receiving end of someones ire? I know you have. Why would you intentionally put someone else through it?
Back to Facebook...
Wouldn't it be an interesting change of pace if we stopped posting, memes, funnies and other peoples inspirational quotes? Just for one day? "But then what will I post?" you ask. Try something real. Tell your friends you're happy to be awake, by saying good morning. Post on the wall of someone you haven't talked to in a while... something nice to make their day. Post a feeler to see if anyone else is interested in getting together this weekend. And if you're sad, tell your friends, because that's what they are for. Someone will reach out a hand to you, I promise.
The next time there is a moment of peace, grab your lovers face in both your hands, look in their eyes, and tell them you love them. You really, really love them. And... Mean it!
You're welcome. Now go have a nice fucking day!!!!
What if instead, people posted about why their candidate is the best choice? What if, and I know this is ground breaking, but what if the claims people post were based in facts? Because news flash, most of the garbage political post are not 100% accurate. And here's the important thing: Smearing a candidate is not solving any problem. It only serves to breed contempt. And make you look stupid in the process.
Before you honk your horn at the guy in front of you because he didn't floor it when the light turned green, pause. Count to three and ask yourself if there isn't a reason their reaction time is slower than yours. Maybe they are super stressed and trying to remember where they are supposed to be next. Maybe they have something in their eye, and can't move forward. Maybe they are lost in their sadness at the moment, and it's making everything foggy. Try a little compassion, and give them a little time. I promise, they are not just sitting there to piss you off.
That person at work, you know who I'm talking about... He annoys the crap out of everyone. For no particular reason other than he's just a goober. Stop talking about him behind his back. He already knows he's a goober. In fact, he's socially awkward and he can't help it. And when he overheard you and the other co-worker talking about him, you ruined his day. Instead, make cookies for the "office" and offer him one first. Something as simple as that will tell him, he matters.
Stop flying your confederate flag. I hear your argument of heritage and history, and frankly I don't give a fuck. It offends a rather large populous of American Citizens. They have every right to be here and live as free as you, AND not be wondering if their neighbor secretly wants to string them up. Surely there must be other ways you can honor your heritage, aside from this stupid flag.
This goes for any other symbol that further decays race relations. Black, White, Japanese, I don't give a crap. Work your shit out!!!
Don't be so quick to judge, fly off the handle, or seek revenge. Remember the person you have a grievance with is just as human as you. Have you never been on the receiving end of someones ire? I know you have. Why would you intentionally put someone else through it?
Back to Facebook...
Wouldn't it be an interesting change of pace if we stopped posting, memes, funnies and other peoples inspirational quotes? Just for one day? "But then what will I post?" you ask. Try something real. Tell your friends you're happy to be awake, by saying good morning. Post on the wall of someone you haven't talked to in a while... something nice to make their day. Post a feeler to see if anyone else is interested in getting together this weekend. And if you're sad, tell your friends, because that's what they are for. Someone will reach out a hand to you, I promise.
The next time there is a moment of peace, grab your lovers face in both your hands, look in their eyes, and tell them you love them. You really, really love them. And... Mean it!
You're welcome. Now go have a nice fucking day!!!!
Tuesday, June 23, 2015
Time to Make the Donuts
Or is it doughnuts? I suppose that's neither here nor there.
Jungle Golf is a mini golf course that's been around as long as I can remember. So when the local family business burned to the point of total loss, it made me really sad. I had the overwhelming desire to reach out to them and offer my help.
About a year ago I met with the manager, and saw first hand what had happened to the place. The putt-putt course was still mostly fine, but the game room and snack bar building had to be completely rebuilt. I learned that insurance wasn't going to cover everything they had invested. For instance, it would pay for the wall to be rebuilt, but not the murals that decorated it.
I offered my services, of painting them a new mural, for the cost or materials. Finally a year later, they are at the point where they are ready for details like that.
I met with the manager again last week. Together we came up with a cool concept for a half wall. So this morning I will be playing around with some samples to figure out the easiest way to paint grass. Enough to cover a wall 4 X 47 feet.
I'm thinking airbrush. Is 5am too early to start the compressor?
Jungle Golf is a mini golf course that's been around as long as I can remember. So when the local family business burned to the point of total loss, it made me really sad. I had the overwhelming desire to reach out to them and offer my help.
About a year ago I met with the manager, and saw first hand what had happened to the place. The putt-putt course was still mostly fine, but the game room and snack bar building had to be completely rebuilt. I learned that insurance wasn't going to cover everything they had invested. For instance, it would pay for the wall to be rebuilt, but not the murals that decorated it.
I offered my services, of painting them a new mural, for the cost or materials. Finally a year later, they are at the point where they are ready for details like that.
I met with the manager again last week. Together we came up with a cool concept for a half wall. So this morning I will be playing around with some samples to figure out the easiest way to paint grass. Enough to cover a wall 4 X 47 feet.
I'm thinking airbrush. Is 5am too early to start the compressor?
Monday, June 22, 2015
This Kid
Itty Bit, bless her little heart, likes to do nice things and make people feel special. She always usually has the best intention. So she set out to make her Dad a card on Friday night that she could take with her to go see him.
She put a lot of thought into the design. Drew a very nice picture. Put a dollar bill in there, and one of her school pictures. She even decorated the envelope.
She came to me a little while later with a problem. She wanted to make an acronym out of the word dad, using each letter to describe something nice about him. The problem was she kept coming up empty.
I've always held my tongue and made an effort not to bad mouth him in front of her. I knew she would have to decide on her own what kind of man he is. The "worlds greatest father" ship sailed long ago. She's not stupid. On the contrary, she's very observant. She knows he's no angel.
I tried to think of some nice generic things one could say about a dad to help her out. The first D was pretty easy. I suggested "devoted". What's the harm in a little fib to make my daughters life easier? Nothing.
The A... I thought for a moment, giggled, thought some more and giggled again. I looked at her and said, "Attractive?" She cocked her head to the side and ticked her teeth as if to say, 'Is that the best you can do?' I said, "It wasn't the first thing that came to mind, but it's nice."
Her response was to fall on the floor in fit of laughter that left her holding her middle. When she recovered she looked at me and said, "Mom, I'm not putting a curse word in his card." and then walked away laughing some more.
Yeah, this kid gets it.
She's got a firm grip on the fact that life isn't fair. But she understands, at least for now, that doesn't have to affect her level of kindness.
She understands that she'll catch more flies with honey than vinegar.
And... She understands my twisted sense of humor and doesn't look down on me for it.
She put a lot of thought into the design. Drew a very nice picture. Put a dollar bill in there, and one of her school pictures. She even decorated the envelope.
She came to me a little while later with a problem. She wanted to make an acronym out of the word dad, using each letter to describe something nice about him. The problem was she kept coming up empty.
I've always held my tongue and made an effort not to bad mouth him in front of her. I knew she would have to decide on her own what kind of man he is. The "worlds greatest father" ship sailed long ago. She's not stupid. On the contrary, she's very observant. She knows he's no angel.
I tried to think of some nice generic things one could say about a dad to help her out. The first D was pretty easy. I suggested "devoted". What's the harm in a little fib to make my daughters life easier? Nothing.
The A... I thought for a moment, giggled, thought some more and giggled again. I looked at her and said, "Attractive?" She cocked her head to the side and ticked her teeth as if to say, 'Is that the best you can do?' I said, "It wasn't the first thing that came to mind, but it's nice."
Her response was to fall on the floor in fit of laughter that left her holding her middle. When she recovered she looked at me and said, "Mom, I'm not putting a curse word in his card." and then walked away laughing some more.
Yeah, this kid gets it.
She's got a firm grip on the fact that life isn't fair. But she understands, at least for now, that doesn't have to affect her level of kindness.
She understands that she'll catch more flies with honey than vinegar.
And... She understands my twisted sense of humor and doesn't look down on me for it.
Sunday, June 21, 2015
Untitled Jibberish
There is a bitter taste in my mouth
My jaw hurts, my teeth ache
My heart thunders
Then it breaks
I am tired of people pissing me off
I am tired of investing with no return
I am tired of trying to keep the peace
Watching wars rage and churn
I sacrifice until it hurts
You take til you've had your fill
Tell me it's not good enough
When I've nothing left to give
You go an break my will
I've had it with the chaos
With the drama, with the stress
I've had it with the fighting
I'm done cleaning up your mess
I am about to snap
No one will like the outcome
I suggest you heed my warning
Go out and get your own
I've had it
I'm tired
My jaw hurts
This bitter taste in my mouth
I hope the vodka washes it all away.
My jaw hurts, my teeth ache
My heart thunders
Then it breaks
I am tired of people pissing me off
I am tired of investing with no return
I am tired of trying to keep the peace
Watching wars rage and churn
I sacrifice until it hurts
You take til you've had your fill
Tell me it's not good enough
When I've nothing left to give
You go an break my will
I've had it with the chaos
With the drama, with the stress
I've had it with the fighting
I'm done cleaning up your mess
I am about to snap
No one will like the outcome
I suggest you heed my warning
Go out and get your own
I've had it
I'm tired
My jaw hurts
This bitter taste in my mouth
I hope the vodka washes it all away.
Saturday, June 20, 2015
Job Site Funnies
It's been an interesting week on this job site. There is usually a lot of cutting up and joking on job sites where there are multiple crews running. This is some of the funny stuff that happened this week.
I roll in to the site at about 9am. Go walking up and there is a group of guys standing outside smoking. One of the carpenters taps his watch and looks at me. I just smiled real big and said, "I keep bankers hours, boys. Don't hate."
I also heard that I am a beast and a bad ass. Keeping in mind there aren't a lot of females on construction sites, someone said they've never seen a girl do what I can do. Boss man said I was butch for moving a 12 foot A frame, open, by myself.
We brought on a couple of short term helpers for this job. It's huge, and was bid so high because we didn't actually want it, but got it anyway, so we have the money. One of these guys is so wet behind the ears he might as well be a child. So I see him standing on a 10 foot ladder, with one foot on top of an upper cabinet. "Not a good idea to stand on cabinets." I say. "Don't ever assume someone else did their job properly."
Most of you probably don't know my boss is also my brother. Neither do any of the guys on site. The funniest thing that happened this week was when another painter asked my boss about me. And then said something about my boobs. To which my boss said, "Oh, you mean my sister." The guy didn't believe him at first. When reality slowly settled in he became sheepish. So my brother/boss had to aggravate his discomfort by saying, "She's got a really nice tattoo on her tit. Maybe she'll show you." Don't get all excited. I'm not dating anytime soon. But especially not a damn 25 year old. My boss did his brotherly duties and sufficiently scared the crap out of him. I'm actually grateful.
And the best thing that happened... Since we did get the job on an outrageously high bid, I was notified I'll be getting a big fat bonus when it's paid out.
I roll in to the site at about 9am. Go walking up and there is a group of guys standing outside smoking. One of the carpenters taps his watch and looks at me. I just smiled real big and said, "I keep bankers hours, boys. Don't hate."
I also heard that I am a beast and a bad ass. Keeping in mind there aren't a lot of females on construction sites, someone said they've never seen a girl do what I can do. Boss man said I was butch for moving a 12 foot A frame, open, by myself.
We brought on a couple of short term helpers for this job. It's huge, and was bid so high because we didn't actually want it, but got it anyway, so we have the money. One of these guys is so wet behind the ears he might as well be a child. So I see him standing on a 10 foot ladder, with one foot on top of an upper cabinet. "Not a good idea to stand on cabinets." I say. "Don't ever assume someone else did their job properly."
Most of you probably don't know my boss is also my brother. Neither do any of the guys on site. The funniest thing that happened this week was when another painter asked my boss about me. And then said something about my boobs. To which my boss said, "Oh, you mean my sister." The guy didn't believe him at first. When reality slowly settled in he became sheepish. So my brother/boss had to aggravate his discomfort by saying, "She's got a really nice tattoo on her tit. Maybe she'll show you." Don't get all excited. I'm not dating anytime soon. But especially not a damn 25 year old. My boss did his brotherly duties and sufficiently scared the crap out of him. I'm actually grateful.
And the best thing that happened... Since we did get the job on an outrageously high bid, I was notified I'll be getting a big fat bonus when it's paid out.
Friday, June 19, 2015
So Be It
Well It would appear I'm single again. I gave HotRod some time. I've not gotten more than a handful words from him. I suspect this is actually what he wanted. Why he said he wanted something different eludes me. I can't afford to put any more energy toward thinking about it. The truth is, I'll probably never know.
What I do know, is lying insults my intelligence. And his too, for that matter. He knew I wasn't stupid. It just reaffirms all the other times I thought he was lying, but couldn't be sure, so I let it go.
We chatted for a few minutes on facebook the other day. You know when you send someone a message, it tells you when it was "Seen". When I did that three times in a 15 minute span, saw that he'd read them as they came in, and didn't respond, I got a little miffed. 24 hours later I asked if I'd offended him in some way, because I hadn't heard a peep from him. He said he'd fallen asleep. Really? And you couldn't be bothered to contact me all day? After you implied that you wanted to start over?
That pretty much sums up why I broke up with him in the first place. Being blown off and lied too about it.
I'm ok. It was a two month blip. I wanted more than he can give. Better I know now than 6 months or a year down the road. Like I told him, if I'm going to feel lonely, I might as well be alone. I don't chase boys. Especially ones who don't want to be caught.
What pisses me off is myself. That I was gullable enough to think HotRod would be any different from the masses. Don't get me wrong, he was an all around nice guy. But I'm feeling a little used at the moment. And monumentally stupid.
I'll go back to what I was doing before this happened. Painting. Working. Living. Yeah, I still believe in fairytales. But maybe not every story has a prince charming. Mine might be a different kind of Happily Ever After.
She spent her days filling canvas with color, in her flowing hippie dresses, surrounded by cats who adored her. And she lived happily ever after.
Truth be told, I've got my work cut out for me with DQ. Until I get her straightened out, I'm going to fly under the radar and avoid all men like the plague. Because one can only handle so much drama at a time.
Thursday, June 18, 2015
Food Instillation
I finally got around to finishing the other 3 pieces to my "food" art instillation.
And now my collection is complete... and hung up.
Other good news? I got a call today about another mural. Cross your fingers y'all.
And now my collection is complete... and hung up.
Other good news? I got a call today about another mural. Cross your fingers y'all.
Tuesday, June 16, 2015
Oh Holy Hell
Well, looks like last week was my bit of balance for the week I've got going on right now. Last week was fantastic. This week... Eh, not so much.
We'll skip right past the HotRod heartache I've got going on, which I can't stomach getting into.
This week, we started a big ceiling job. I know, it sounds odd. We don't do regular painting, so what could we do to a ceiling. When a designer has 1100 sq ft of tongue and groove wood put on the ceilings, a lot actually.
We have to sand in between all the grooves. With sandpaper. By hand. Did I mention they are vaulted ceilings? Some of them reaching 16 feet high. And then we have to sand the flats with orbitals. Looking straight up, all day long. My neck and shoulders already hurt. Then, when it's all sanded, we have to clear coat it. Again, by hand. By the time we're done with this job, I'm going to have the upper body of a boxer.
Lets see if we can add to this agony. Lets try ripping the sole off the toe of your work boot trying to disengage the wheel lock on the scaffolding. And lets also be really stupid and reach down to undo it with your hands. Do you know what happens when you fight with a steel high tension spring lever? You lose. A chunk of your thumb, to be precise. And you also bleed. A lot. Now, try to do some more sanding with only a band-aid covering the raw meat on your thumb. Go on, I dare ya! Yeah, today sucked.
Tomorrow DQ and I have court. This ought to be interesting. Bet you didn't know I own a pant suit? Ha, well I fooled you, because I do.
After court, I have to run across town for Itty Bit's graduation ceremony. She'll be a middle schooler. No clue how that happened so fast.
After the ceremony, I get to haul ass in the other direction and meet with an intake person who will start the ball rolling on DQ's residential treatment.
Tomorrow is gonna suck, too. But hey, at least I don't have to sand ceilings. No worries, I'm sure there will be plenty left for me on Thursday and Friday. Blah!
This is the weekend Itty Bit is supposed to start one week on, one week off at her dads. I'm not driving anywhere Friday night. He can kiss my ass. I'm opting to take her out there Sat. at my convenience.
I've been invited to go out with some friends Sat. night. Not sure if I should do that or just come home and sleep until Monday morning.
We'll skip right past the HotRod heartache I've got going on, which I can't stomach getting into.
This week, we started a big ceiling job. I know, it sounds odd. We don't do regular painting, so what could we do to a ceiling. When a designer has 1100 sq ft of tongue and groove wood put on the ceilings, a lot actually.
We have to sand in between all the grooves. With sandpaper. By hand. Did I mention they are vaulted ceilings? Some of them reaching 16 feet high. And then we have to sand the flats with orbitals. Looking straight up, all day long. My neck and shoulders already hurt. Then, when it's all sanded, we have to clear coat it. Again, by hand. By the time we're done with this job, I'm going to have the upper body of a boxer.
Lets see if we can add to this agony. Lets try ripping the sole off the toe of your work boot trying to disengage the wheel lock on the scaffolding. And lets also be really stupid and reach down to undo it with your hands. Do you know what happens when you fight with a steel high tension spring lever? You lose. A chunk of your thumb, to be precise. And you also bleed. A lot. Now, try to do some more sanding with only a band-aid covering the raw meat on your thumb. Go on, I dare ya! Yeah, today sucked.
Tomorrow DQ and I have court. This ought to be interesting. Bet you didn't know I own a pant suit? Ha, well I fooled you, because I do.
After court, I have to run across town for Itty Bit's graduation ceremony. She'll be a middle schooler. No clue how that happened so fast.
After the ceremony, I get to haul ass in the other direction and meet with an intake person who will start the ball rolling on DQ's residential treatment.
Tomorrow is gonna suck, too. But hey, at least I don't have to sand ceilings. No worries, I'm sure there will be plenty left for me on Thursday and Friday. Blah!
This is the weekend Itty Bit is supposed to start one week on, one week off at her dads. I'm not driving anywhere Friday night. He can kiss my ass. I'm opting to take her out there Sat. at my convenience.
I've been invited to go out with some friends Sat. night. Not sure if I should do that or just come home and sleep until Monday morning.
Monday, June 15, 2015
Abbey Road
(Previously written post)
In case you've not been paying attention, I had a huge mural job. A total refurbish. I'm estimating about a 900 sq ft canvas. I know for sure the building is 14 feet tall. This took way longer than I anticipated.
Allow me to remind you what it looked like when I first started.
This is just one half of the mural. The other half I forgot to take before pictures of because... I'm a dork. I did film a bunch of the work in progress, which I made into a high speed time lapse video. You can check that out at www.facebook.com/popartmurals
And this is what it looks like now...
Even better? I told him I'd love to do black and white, true to life, airbrushed paintings of the boys on another part of the building that's 2 stories high. He asked that I work up a price for him. Which tells me he loves what I did. I mean, yeah he said I did a great job, but if he's thinking about hiring me to do some more, I know he meant it. I suggested we wait until the fall, when all the tourist go home, and I can build scaffolding around the area.
In case you've not been paying attention, I had a huge mural job. A total refurbish. I'm estimating about a 900 sq ft canvas. I know for sure the building is 14 feet tall. This took way longer than I anticipated.
Allow me to remind you what it looked like when I first started.
And this is what it looks like now...
Sunday, June 14, 2015
Clever Title Here
I don't cry. I generally think it's a waste of energy. I especially don't cry over boys. I didn't even cry over my husband. Usually when a relationship ends, I sigh in relief.
No I didn't cry. He said he has a weakness for girls who cry. I didn't want him to think I was trying to manipulate him. So I held it back. Until the very end, when I hugged him goodbye, and he couldn't see it.
Instead of doing that I sat in my car, and tried to remember how to breathe. Then, I cried. And wondered where all this had gone so wrong.
When he stopped talking so much, I figured he was done. I figured he didn't want to deal with cutting us loose, so he was just letting it fade away.
I thought I was doing us a favor, by putting on my big girl pants, and ending things. I wasn't nasty about it. I wasn't angry with him. I tried to be as pleasant as one can be in that sort of situation. I did what I thought had to be done. Then I made plans to go out and get sideways. It worked the night before. I was well on my way to round two.
I assumed he would wish me well and that would be that. I didn't know he would have so much to say on the subject. We went back and forth through text for hours. The whole exchanged confused the hell out of me.
All of the sudden I was getting a whole lot of talk time. More than I'd had in the two weeks prior. I offered to come and talk it over, face to face, he said to leave him alone.
I tried. I sat in my room contemplating some unfinished paintings.
And my head spun.
Was all the back and forth because he wasn't trying to blow me off? Was he more invested than I gave him credit for?
Or was it simply throwing a fit for show? Because historically when people break up, someone has to be the bad guy. And if he expressed how hurt he was and that he never wanted that, he wouldn't feel like the bad guy?
I've said before, I rarely regret anything I do in life. I could have sat there for hours with my head spinning. I could have stayed away. But if he never spoke to me again, I would have wondered, what if. What if I'd been brave, and gone and taken my lumps? What if I'd had the courage to go and try to deal with things like an adult? Thinking about what might have been different is harder than being told to fuck off to my face. So I went.
No one is the bad guy here. Not him. Not me. We didn't resolve anything last night. I'm giving him some space to think about whether it's worth trying to meet me half way. And if he decides he can't, I'll just have to live with that. I won't be happy. We will be friends, in time. We get along to well not to be. And it's not like there was a major crisis or transgression.
If you need me, I'll be holed up in my room. Working it out with a paint brush and trying to be the bad-ass who doesn't cry.
Awkward
You know what a really stupid thing to do is? Tell anyone in your real life that you write a blog. Why? Well, I don't tell my family, because I don't want to censor myself. I've never told anyone about it, ever. Until I did. And now I feel stupid. Because I've no where to vent that is private.
I am humbly requesting, that until such time as we come to an understanding, you not read this blog. Because this is where I put my burdens. On invisible shoulders who don't feel responsible for helping me carry the load. I don't cry in front of people I know. It solves nothing. But when I do it here, no one judges me. And if they do, I don't have to look at these people every day.
I am humbly requesting, that until such time as we come to an understanding, you not read this blog. Because this is where I put my burdens. On invisible shoulders who don't feel responsible for helping me carry the load. I don't cry in front of people I know. It solves nothing. But when I do it here, no one judges me. And if they do, I don't have to look at these people every day.
Friday, June 12, 2015
Feeling Accomplished
Friday at last. It's been a long but very productive week. Got to spend some time with HotRod. We talked about having that drunken weekend I am desperate need of. So I've been hustling.
Monday I finished one of the rentals and the mural. Tuesday and Wednesday I busted my butt at a big law firm job. I took an hour out of the day to get paid for the mural job. YAY for money. Wed. evening I delivered the crowns to the designer, and picked up a check. YAY more money.
Thursday I took DQ to a doctor appointment. Since I'd already blown half the day on that, I decided to take the rest off and straighten out my car.
My inspection was 4 months out of date. I don't know how I managed to escape being pulled over and ticketed. At one point I was looking at it like a game. How long can I avoid the cops and run with this bad sticker. Yesterday I gave up. Getting the new sticker meant that I would need 2 tires. Boo for spending money. And since I was getting the inspection anyway, I figured I might as well get my oil changed. It's been about 3 years. I know HotRod wanted to smack me when I told him that. I could tell by how hard he rolled his eyes.
Today, I will bust my ass double time in the lawyers office to make up for time that I missed yesterday. Totally worth it to be legal and not running 3 year old oil anymore.
Yes, it's been a good week. Now if I get to spend some time with HotRod this weekend, it will be just about perfect. I've earned some drunk and naked!
Monday I finished one of the rentals and the mural. Tuesday and Wednesday I busted my butt at a big law firm job. I took an hour out of the day to get paid for the mural job. YAY for money. Wed. evening I delivered the crowns to the designer, and picked up a check. YAY more money.
Thursday I took DQ to a doctor appointment. Since I'd already blown half the day on that, I decided to take the rest off and straighten out my car.
My inspection was 4 months out of date. I don't know how I managed to escape being pulled over and ticketed. At one point I was looking at it like a game. How long can I avoid the cops and run with this bad sticker. Yesterday I gave up. Getting the new sticker meant that I would need 2 tires. Boo for spending money. And since I was getting the inspection anyway, I figured I might as well get my oil changed. It's been about 3 years. I know HotRod wanted to smack me when I told him that. I could tell by how hard he rolled his eyes.
Today, I will bust my ass double time in the lawyers office to make up for time that I missed yesterday. Totally worth it to be legal and not running 3 year old oil anymore.
Yes, it's been a good week. Now if I get to spend some time with HotRod this weekend, it will be just about perfect. I've earned some drunk and naked!
Thursday, June 11, 2015
On Top of the World
Today I'm participating in Mama Kat's Writers
Workshop. I'd like to every week, but life gets in the way, and I
usually forget. The fabulous Kat sends out a list of topics to choose
from every week. To help us get our sluggish writer wired brains going.
This week I picked "A 10th Grade Memory"
I'm pretty sure this was 10th grade, but as that was more than 20 years ago I can't be held liable for any idiot making bets on it. That would have put me age 16-17. I was on top of the world. I was living with my foster mom, who I now just call Mom. I had a stable home, a job, loyal best friend, and a close knit group of other friends. I was the leader in my group. Not that I set out to be, but my friends always diverted to me. My Mom often commented on how the other teenagers came to me for help.
My house was the place to be. The rules were pretty relaxed. My Mom thought it was best not to put too much restriction on me. Figuring it was better if I were up to no good at home than out running the streets. Of course I didn't know that at the time. I just thought she was a cool mom. She let us set up musical equipment to rock out. So long as the amps were turned down by 10. She let me paint my room however I wanted. I enlisted my friends to add their art to my walls, too. All the kids hung out at my house.
There was this one girl. We used to be friends. You know how that goes. We were buds. We walked to school together. Raised hell together. Had sleepovers. Blah Blah Blah. She wasn't my bestie but she was close. That was until she slept with my boyfriend. I don't recall the specifics. I found out. I dumped him, called her a whore and moved on with my life. She did not. I remember one afternoon hearing a bang in the school hallway, and turning to see her and another girl coming at me. Well I took off running.
After school, I told my Mom what had happened. Then I called her, with my mom in the room and told her if she wanted to fight, she was gonna have to do it fair. She was more than welcome to come to my front yard and we could throw down. But it would be one on one. Well, as it turns out, she knew she couldn't take me by herself. So she told her mother a different story, along the lines of I had threatened her.
Long story short, her mom called my Mom, to "tell on" me. When my Mom told her our side, this girls mom didn't believe her, of course. So she threw another barb, asking my Mom, "And do you know your daughter smokes?" My Mom's answer, "Yes, I buy them for her.", and then she hung up. Gotta love Mom, when she sticks up for you.
Smokin' in the boys room? Not this time, but usually. Most of my friends were guys.
This week I picked "A 10th Grade Memory"
I'm pretty sure this was 10th grade, but as that was more than 20 years ago I can't be held liable for any idiot making bets on it. That would have put me age 16-17. I was on top of the world. I was living with my foster mom, who I now just call Mom. I had a stable home, a job, loyal best friend, and a close knit group of other friends. I was the leader in my group. Not that I set out to be, but my friends always diverted to me. My Mom often commented on how the other teenagers came to me for help.
My house was the place to be. The rules were pretty relaxed. My Mom thought it was best not to put too much restriction on me. Figuring it was better if I were up to no good at home than out running the streets. Of course I didn't know that at the time. I just thought she was a cool mom. She let us set up musical equipment to rock out. So long as the amps were turned down by 10. She let me paint my room however I wanted. I enlisted my friends to add their art to my walls, too. All the kids hung out at my house.
My friend drawing on my wall.
There was this one girl. We used to be friends. You know how that goes. We were buds. We walked to school together. Raised hell together. Had sleepovers. Blah Blah Blah. She wasn't my bestie but she was close. That was until she slept with my boyfriend. I don't recall the specifics. I found out. I dumped him, called her a whore and moved on with my life. She did not. I remember one afternoon hearing a bang in the school hallway, and turning to see her and another girl coming at me. Well I took off running.
After school, I told my Mom what had happened. Then I called her, with my mom in the room and told her if she wanted to fight, she was gonna have to do it fair. She was more than welcome to come to my front yard and we could throw down. But it would be one on one. Well, as it turns out, she knew she couldn't take me by herself. So she told her mother a different story, along the lines of I had threatened her.
Long story short, her mom called my Mom, to "tell on" me. When my Mom told her our side, this girls mom didn't believe her, of course. So she threw another barb, asking my Mom, "And do you know your daughter smokes?" My Mom's answer, "Yes, I buy them for her.", and then she hung up. Gotta love Mom, when she sticks up for you.
Tuesday, June 9, 2015
Don't Judge Me RTT
Random Tuesday Thoughts... because, my brain.
Told DQ about her court date for assault. She proceeded to go off on a rant about how it's my fault she has to go to court. I may have said something to the affect of, I can't wait til the judge gets an ear full from you. To which she replied, "I'm going to be respectful and polite." Of course my next question was, "Why can't you be respectful and polite here if you can do it for a judge?" Her answer? "Because he has more power than you." Well obviously.
Entry deleted at the request of reader.
I was sitting at a stop light last week. When the light turned green I started to go. Out of no where a bicyclist appeared in front of me. I almost hit her. I slammed on my breaks and watched as she plowed into the side of the van which had been next to me, but had already started to go. She rolled/fell down the entire length of the van and came damn close to having her leg run over. Fucking tourists... or stoner. One of the two.
Best news of the week? My next door neighbors are moving!!! Keeping in mind I live in an apartment, I share a wall with these mo-fo's. We're talking, screaming at each other all hours of the night. Loud drunkin parties til 3 in the morning. Extra people living there, one of which is a baby. Who cries. A lot. But relief is in sight. I saw them packing up and moving their stuff out. Yay!
Told DQ about her court date for assault. She proceeded to go off on a rant about how it's my fault she has to go to court. I may have said something to the affect of, I can't wait til the judge gets an ear full from you. To which she replied, "I'm going to be respectful and polite." Of course my next question was, "Why can't you be respectful and polite here if you can do it for a judge?" Her answer? "Because he has more power than you." Well obviously.
Entry deleted at the request of reader.
I was sitting at a stop light last week. When the light turned green I started to go. Out of no where a bicyclist appeared in front of me. I almost hit her. I slammed on my breaks and watched as she plowed into the side of the van which had been next to me, but had already started to go. She rolled/fell down the entire length of the van and came damn close to having her leg run over. Fucking tourists... or stoner. One of the two.
Best news of the week? My next door neighbors are moving!!! Keeping in mind I live in an apartment, I share a wall with these mo-fo's. We're talking, screaming at each other all hours of the night. Loud drunkin parties til 3 in the morning. Extra people living there, one of which is a baby. Who cries. A lot. But relief is in sight. I saw them packing up and moving their stuff out. Yay!
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Monday, June 8, 2015
Define Corporal Punishment
About a month ago, after the police had a chat with my teenager, and witnessed her attitude, an officer said to me, "You know, corporal punishment is legal in Virginia." To which I answered, "Yeah, until I leave a mark on her." He nodded his head, yes.
About two weeks later, another pair of officers visited us. When I explained that I was about to loose my cool and beat the snot out of her, one of them said, "You should. Why don't you?"
I've always held strong to my belief that hitting a child solves nothing. And when psychologists point out that "hitting a child teaches them to solve their problems with violence." it makes perfect sense to me.
I didn't respect my birth mother. I feared that she would go off and beat the fuck out of me and my brother. I didn't want that for my children. I wanted them to respect me, for the person I am, the love I show, the morals I teach, and the strength I muster when faced with lifes challenges.
But in the spirit of teaching a child about real world consequences, wouldn't it also be true that if a child physically attacks someone, there will be immediate and painful reactions?
Lets replace the word "child" with "teenager". If a teenager, who was not raised in a home where physical punishment was administered, displays his/her anger by becoming physically aggressive, what would be the real world, grown-up consequence?
Recently, out of curiosity, I searched for a definition of corporal punishment. And then refined it further as it applies to parenting children. Terms such as "due moderation" and "reasonable" came up a lot.
One legal sight defined it as:
While the law has traditionally given broad discretion to parents in exercising the parental right to discipline their children, the parental privilege is limited, and exceeding those limits leaves the parent open to criminal liability. The limits of the parental privilege cannot be easily defined but rather are adjudicated on a case-by-case basis and stated in terms such as "reasonable under the circumstances."
That invisible legal line is a tricky thing. No state, that I'm aware of, has provided guidelines for what is and is not battery as it applies to physically disciplining a child.
All of this legal speak scares me to death. I can feel myself about to loose control when DQ puts her hands on me. To this point, I've managed to do only as much as it takes to stop the physical altercation. But when things get heated, I stop looking at her as a child, and only see her as a threat. She out weighs me by 50 lbs and looks over the top of my head. And when Itty Bit is the target, I loose all sense of reality and only see red! I think that is a normal reaction when a mother wants to protect her child. Even if it is from her other child.
DQ has been charged with assault. We have a court date in about two weeks. I'm hoping I can get some kind of definition on when enough is enough.
About two weeks later, another pair of officers visited us. When I explained that I was about to loose my cool and beat the snot out of her, one of them said, "You should. Why don't you?"
I've always held strong to my belief that hitting a child solves nothing. And when psychologists point out that "hitting a child teaches them to solve their problems with violence." it makes perfect sense to me.
I didn't respect my birth mother. I feared that she would go off and beat the fuck out of me and my brother. I didn't want that for my children. I wanted them to respect me, for the person I am, the love I show, the morals I teach, and the strength I muster when faced with lifes challenges.
But in the spirit of teaching a child about real world consequences, wouldn't it also be true that if a child physically attacks someone, there will be immediate and painful reactions?
Lets replace the word "child" with "teenager". If a teenager, who was not raised in a home where physical punishment was administered, displays his/her anger by becoming physically aggressive, what would be the real world, grown-up consequence?
Recently, out of curiosity, I searched for a definition of corporal punishment. And then refined it further as it applies to parenting children. Terms such as "due moderation" and "reasonable" came up a lot.
One legal sight defined it as:
While the law has traditionally given broad discretion to parents in exercising the parental right to discipline their children, the parental privilege is limited, and exceeding those limits leaves the parent open to criminal liability. The limits of the parental privilege cannot be easily defined but rather are adjudicated on a case-by-case basis and stated in terms such as "reasonable under the circumstances."
That invisible legal line is a tricky thing. No state, that I'm aware of, has provided guidelines for what is and is not battery as it applies to physically disciplining a child.
All of this legal speak scares me to death. I can feel myself about to loose control when DQ puts her hands on me. To this point, I've managed to do only as much as it takes to stop the physical altercation. But when things get heated, I stop looking at her as a child, and only see her as a threat. She out weighs me by 50 lbs and looks over the top of my head. And when Itty Bit is the target, I loose all sense of reality and only see red! I think that is a normal reaction when a mother wants to protect her child. Even if it is from her other child.
DQ has been charged with assault. We have a court date in about two weeks. I'm hoping I can get some kind of definition on when enough is enough.
Saturday, June 6, 2015
Whiskey Hangover
I'm due. So freakin' due... for a whiskey hangover.
I'm about to have another one of those weekends where there isn't enough hours in the day to get it all done.
The mural should be done today. Cross your fingers that I'll get a check, too.
Theasshole contractor FINALLY left me a key for one of the rental properties I'm working on. So of course the owners want it done RIGHT NOW. Well sorry. I made time to take care of that work a month ago, only to find that the locks had been changed. It's taken this long to pin the asshole contractor down and get a copy of the new key. At this point, you'll have to wait on me.
So off to the mural job, before God himself is even awake. Take a "heat of the day" break. Pick up Itty Bit. Run and get the stuff for her birthday/pool party. Drop her off. Go back and finish mural. Go home and pass the fuck out.
Tomorrow, I have to prepare for and host said birthday/pool party. For Itty Bit and 7 of her closest friends. All by myself. Mom can't come help me, because she's waiting on my brother to come caulk a tub...???
And she informed me that she's going out of town. So I'll have to do her little side job of cleaning for a disabled friend of hers while she's gone.
Fuck my life. Seriously? When did I get tagged as super woman? You people know I need to sleep right?
I'll push the rental job to Monday, because... Only human here. And as much as I would like to be everything for everyone, I haven't had a day off in more than 3 weeks. I haven't seen my boyfriend in almost as long. And even then it was only a couple hours.
I see a night of drunken debauchery and a full day of whiskey hangover in my VERY near future.
I'm about to have another one of those weekends where there isn't enough hours in the day to get it all done.
The mural should be done today. Cross your fingers that I'll get a check, too.
The
So off to the mural job, before God himself is even awake. Take a "heat of the day" break. Pick up Itty Bit. Run and get the stuff for her birthday/pool party. Drop her off. Go back and finish mural. Go home and pass the fuck out.
Tomorrow, I have to prepare for and host said birthday/pool party. For Itty Bit and 7 of her closest friends. All by myself. Mom can't come help me, because she's waiting on my brother to come caulk a tub...???
And she informed me that she's going out of town. So I'll have to do her little side job of cleaning for a disabled friend of hers while she's gone.
Fuck my life. Seriously? When did I get tagged as super woman? You people know I need to sleep right?
I'll push the rental job to Monday, because... Only human here. And as much as I would like to be everything for everyone, I haven't had a day off in more than 3 weeks. I haven't seen my boyfriend in almost as long. And even then it was only a couple hours.
I see a night of drunken debauchery and a full day of whiskey hangover in my VERY near future.
Friday, June 5, 2015
Better with a Razor Blade
Yeees, it turns out I'm better with a razor blade than a paint brush. At least when faced with the challenge of polka dots. Lots and lots of them.
I don't much care for Designers. Most of them walk around with their noses in the air. I think it's because they've been given carte blanche when it comes to their clients money. But... there is one Designer I do like. (Most of the time.) She thinks outside the box. She does fun, big and bold. And she likes color.
She came up with an idea for sheer curtains that hang over little girls beds. So she had these "boxes" built. Inside the boxes are rods that the curtains will hang from and flow down to the floor on either side of a bed.
Then, she gave them to me to paint. 4 of these things along with a schematic and 9 color chips. Sounded easy enough. I should really know better.
Cute, right? Yeah, these were a major pain in the ass. And then... And then, she came back with, "I'd like the polka dots smaller, at least on 2 of them." THAT is when I want to strangle a Designer. But I did it anyway, because of all the Designers, this is the one who likes murals and is likely to get me work in that area.
I don't much care for Designers. Most of them walk around with their noses in the air. I think it's because they've been given carte blanche when it comes to their clients money. But... there is one Designer I do like. (Most of the time.) She thinks outside the box. She does fun, big and bold. And she likes color.
She came up with an idea for sheer curtains that hang over little girls beds. So she had these "boxes" built. Inside the boxes are rods that the curtains will hang from and flow down to the floor on either side of a bed.
Then, she gave them to me to paint. 4 of these things along with a schematic and 9 color chips. Sounded easy enough. I should really know better.
For this project I used tons of tape, a razor blade and a sponge. A paint brush never touched these.
Cute, right? Yeah, these were a major pain in the ass. And then... And then, she came back with, "I'd like the polka dots smaller, at least on 2 of them." THAT is when I want to strangle a Designer. But I did it anyway, because of all the Designers, this is the one who likes murals and is likely to get me work in that area.
Tuesday, June 2, 2015
Black and White
Excuse me while I work some things out in my head. Sometimes it helps to get all the pieces out and look at them in black and white. He has assured me he doesn't intend to be a regular reader of this blog, so I'm pretty comfortable telling you guys about it.
When something doesn't follow a pattern of norm, I tend to over-think it and try to figure it out. And right now, HotRod is not following the pattern of "normal" new boyfriend.
Could be that I've never actually had a normal boyfriend. I've been on a few dates with "normal" but when they get a load of my crazy, they run for the hills. Fine by me, as I tend to think they were probably boring as hell.
I feel like there is something he's not telling me. And not in the "Oh, didn't I mention I'm a convicted felon?" sort of way. I can't put my finger on it, but he's holding something back. I can't even figure out if the something is a good thing or a bad thing.
I also feel like, maybe I scare the shit out of him. Not that I'm big and tough. But that he's big and tough, and maybe I make him feel a little softer. I suspect that feeling something for someone has lead to him getting badly hurt in the past. But here's the thing, everyone, in our shoes, at our age, had been hurt. Badly enough not to be brave and take another chance. But the way I see it, I've already been through hell and back. I'm due for a win.
Things are slow going. We don't see much of each other. Mostly I think, I hope, it's because we both work so much. But I just can't be sure. Where we used to text or facebook for hours, we don't so much anymore. Sometimes I won't get 3 texts all day. I'm not big on chit-chat while I'm working, and I assume he is the same. But when it's all said and done, I'd like to talk to my boyfriend.
I'm a follow your heart kind of girl. This has lead to me getting badly hurt. So now I follow my heart with my eyes wide open. HotRod is no exception. But I seemed to have jumped in the deep end, and since I have my eyes open, everything is murky and watery. I can't figure him out, and it's weird.
Right now, he seems to be bouncing between two ends of a spectrum. One where he is head over heels and the other where he could take it or leave it. He once confessed that he almost told me he loved me, a couple times. Scary stuff. And then sometime later, he advised me against loving him. And then a couple days after that, he texts 'I love your face'.
When he said it wouldn't be a good idea to fall for him, I pulled back. Hard. First, because he hasn't been in a relationship in years. So I figured, maybe I was scaring the crap out of him. He just needs time to decide whether he's jumping in with both feet. And second, if he's having his doubts, I don't want to face plant if he changes his mind. That shit hurts.
I tend to think in terms of, what's the worst that could happen. I really don't like to be blind sided.
When he doesn't text much, I think, maybe my "shiny newness" has worn off. Or maybe he's crazy busy.
When I offer to go hang out at his place, and he says he's exhausted, I think, maybe he thinks he has to entertain me. Or, maybe he's not as excited about this whole thing as I am.
I wonder if all the DQ drama in my life looks like extra, unneeded stress to him. It certainly does to me. I've told him it's not his burden to bare. I wonder if he believes me? I know a lot of females act like damsels in distress. I'm not one of them.
What if he's waiting for my crazy to show? I can understand that. I know people usually change. Their true colors start to show after the first couple months. I've done the best I can to put all my cards on the table. My biggest skeleton is DQ. And he knows all about her.
He once said something to the effect of, 'People come into my life, and they are all about me. Then they change their mind, and walk away.' What if he's waiting to see if I'm going to be one of those people? I think I have a pretty good understanding of the man, aside from what's going on in his head about us. I like what I see. He's me with a penis and really long beard.
As for me, I'll wait. For a time when things are flowing better. For a time when work slows down and we can see each other regularly. For a time when he's sure I'm not going to stomp all over him and eat his soul. Why?
When something doesn't follow a pattern of norm, I tend to over-think it and try to figure it out. And right now, HotRod is not following the pattern of "normal" new boyfriend.
Could be that I've never actually had a normal boyfriend. I've been on a few dates with "normal" but when they get a load of my crazy, they run for the hills. Fine by me, as I tend to think they were probably boring as hell.
I feel like there is something he's not telling me. And not in the "Oh, didn't I mention I'm a convicted felon?" sort of way. I can't put my finger on it, but he's holding something back. I can't even figure out if the something is a good thing or a bad thing.
I also feel like, maybe I scare the shit out of him. Not that I'm big and tough. But that he's big and tough, and maybe I make him feel a little softer. I suspect that feeling something for someone has lead to him getting badly hurt in the past. But here's the thing, everyone, in our shoes, at our age, had been hurt. Badly enough not to be brave and take another chance. But the way I see it, I've already been through hell and back. I'm due for a win.
Things are slow going. We don't see much of each other. Mostly I think, I hope, it's because we both work so much. But I just can't be sure. Where we used to text or facebook for hours, we don't so much anymore. Sometimes I won't get 3 texts all day. I'm not big on chit-chat while I'm working, and I assume he is the same. But when it's all said and done, I'd like to talk to my boyfriend.
I'm a follow your heart kind of girl. This has lead to me getting badly hurt. So now I follow my heart with my eyes wide open. HotRod is no exception. But I seemed to have jumped in the deep end, and since I have my eyes open, everything is murky and watery. I can't figure him out, and it's weird.
Right now, he seems to be bouncing between two ends of a spectrum. One where he is head over heels and the other where he could take it or leave it. He once confessed that he almost told me he loved me, a couple times. Scary stuff. And then sometime later, he advised me against loving him. And then a couple days after that, he texts 'I love your face'.
When he said it wouldn't be a good idea to fall for him, I pulled back. Hard. First, because he hasn't been in a relationship in years. So I figured, maybe I was scaring the crap out of him. He just needs time to decide whether he's jumping in with both feet. And second, if he's having his doubts, I don't want to face plant if he changes his mind. That shit hurts.
I tend to think in terms of, what's the worst that could happen. I really don't like to be blind sided.
When he doesn't text much, I think, maybe my "shiny newness" has worn off. Or maybe he's crazy busy.
When I offer to go hang out at his place, and he says he's exhausted, I think, maybe he thinks he has to entertain me. Or, maybe he's not as excited about this whole thing as I am.
I wonder if all the DQ drama in my life looks like extra, unneeded stress to him. It certainly does to me. I've told him it's not his burden to bare. I wonder if he believes me? I know a lot of females act like damsels in distress. I'm not one of them.
What if he's waiting for my crazy to show? I can understand that. I know people usually change. Their true colors start to show after the first couple months. I've done the best I can to put all my cards on the table. My biggest skeleton is DQ. And he knows all about her.
He once said something to the effect of, 'People come into my life, and they are all about me. Then they change their mind, and walk away.' What if he's waiting to see if I'm going to be one of those people? I think I have a pretty good understanding of the man, aside from what's going on in his head about us. I like what I see. He's me with a penis and really long beard.
As for me, I'll wait. For a time when things are flowing better. For a time when work slows down and we can see each other regularly. For a time when he's sure I'm not going to stomp all over him and eat his soul. Why?
(Picture removed in the interest of privacy)
Because from where I'm standing, this looks perfect to me.
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