We Don't Play That Game Here

I've had several jobs in my life along with the role of mommy and wife. Ironically, the last two I've had were because of my husbands' gregarious personality.

The job before the job I have now came to me at a perfect time in my life. I was working in a place where it was obvious I'd hit the 'glass ceiling' and there was no way I was getting past it.

The moon was in the right house or the planets were aligned correctly or something because my husbands' class reunion had gotten moved that year to a local hotel due to massive flooding. He has a very small class and most of them have never moved away, so it was more like a small cocktail party in the hotel lounge.

At one point in the evening, Hubby went to the bar to get a refill and a man standing there started up a conversation. He found out this group was a class reunion and asked if anyone knew their class song. Nope. After a round of laughter, he and Hubby just continued chatting away. Hubby has that gift. He can talk to anyone.

Little did I know this man had recently aquired a new business in town and was here looking for housing and for employees - techno nerds like myself. Hubby offered him some good information on housing prospects and mentioned his wife. Me.

The man's company that he'd co-founded had bought out a small division of an existing company here and another on the East coast. The home office was in California. Because he hired me the way he did I became one of the 'outsiders' to the older employees- and he and I got along so well that rumors ran rampant. He was odd. I was odd. He had a quirky sense of humor. I have a ... you get the idea. He loves his wife and family. I love my husband and family. We were completely platonic friends and work associates.

Could I help it I was a good - no - excellent employee? I anticipated problems and nipped them in the bud. I did my job with speed and accuracy and was never called on to re-process work. I had flexible hours and would usually go in early at 6:30 or 7:00 and work until 3 p.m.so I could get home to my family. I would eat lunch at my desk, and I just don't 'do' breaks. I never have. I find they distract me and I lose my momentum. I had my own cubby, good pay, and a good boss. What more could I want?

A different co-worker for a start. Across the hall from me (the very narrow cubby-hall) was the Queen Bee. I call her this for many reasons. 'Bee' being short for - well, use your imagination. Rhymes with witch. She was the matron of the office - the mother figure to all us young 'uns. She'd been with the original company for twenty-some years and it was her home away from home. Sometimes I got the feeling it was more her home than her home, if you get my drift.

When she came into work each morning (around 8-ish) she would take the time to get her coffee, flit around the office - and maybe get started on her work by 8:30. By 10 o'clock she'd be on coffee break, an hour lunch, and at 2 or 3 o'clock she'd be back on coffee break. After that she would work until 5 or 6 or 7 - until her husband would call from the bar to tell her she could come pick him up. He'd lost his license for drinking and had one of those handy starters in the car you had to breath into that wouldn't start if you had been drinking. So, he'd have her come to the bar, breath into the starter, then follow him home so she could breath into it again when or if it stopped. (They tried to avoid people having others start their vehicle for them by having them randomly quit and needing a re-start in the middle of god-knows-where.)

I felt for her, I really did. But she'd been married to him for a very long time and it was her life and she seemed perfectly content with the situation.

This went on for a couple of years. Gradually the company was switching from mainframe to PC and the QB was more of a mainframe kind of gal. Frequently I had to help her out on projects or bail her out when she was stuck dealing with a PC problem. I didn't mind at first. She'd be all 'sweetness and light' and I chalked it up to 'she's getting used to me - finally'.

Boy, was I dumb.

After several confrontations with his partner about the way the company was being run and the long-going promise that this company was going public any day now (heard over and over weekly), my friend and boss left the company to go start another one in the south. He felt they'd bitten off more than they could chew with the buying up of these other companies, and he'd been proved right in at least one case because they'd sold one of the new aquisitions shortly after they'd purchased it. The final blow was when they hired a CEO that insisted everyone call him Thumper (name as been changed but was equally as ridiculous for a 40-year-old man). Thumper only worked for the company for 6 months, but took it tits up and cornered himself a nice golden parachute in the process.

When my boss left I was numb. The home office sent out a big mucky-muck to assess the situation. He had meetings for several days, finally calling people into his office on Friday one-by-one to have a chat. Can you say, "I don't want to chat?".

Some people were let go. Some promoted. Me? I got a compliment on my work, then an order. I was to start putting in a 'full day'. I was to stay at the office until QB left the office, and I was to help her with her projects when mine were done.

Huh?

I tried to explain how I'd worked just as many hours and how my record stood for itself - without getting all vindictive and brining up QB's husband or why she stayed so late. I'm nothing if not the model of discretion.

It fell on deaf ears.

I don't know what that woman had been feeding him, but there wasn't a grain of truth in it. I'll always remember the smile she gave me as she left his office and passed me in the hall. A shark has more warmth in their grin.

I've said it before, but I have the most wonderful hubby on earth. I called him to meet me for lunch and he came, no questions asked. I sat in his pickup in the parking lot, trembling with such shock and anger - my voice cracking as I tried to keep it under control - re-telling the horror of my morning. He asked me what I wanted to do. Short of getting a gun and taking out some people. I said I wanted to quit. I would find another job, I was sure, because this job had built a lot of confidence in me and in my skills. I knew we needed the money, but I needed my sanity.

Hubby said, "Do it".

Never one to quit a job unfinished, I went back into the office on Saturday and finished my project. I cleaned out my cubby alongside the others who had been 'let go' - all of us wondering 'what next?'. The big boss had gone back to California after doing all the damage he could, so I took the cowards' way and quit with an e-mail. I never felt such a sense of relief and I never heard from them again.

Ironically, here we are 10 years later and my eldest daughter is working in the same office as QB. She doesn't know who my daughter is - she's married and has a different last name - and I've warned my daughter to stay away from her. She knows the whole story and luckily doesn't work in the same department. Daughter says she's observed from afar, however, and QB seems just the same as I've described her...

All I've got to say is, you messed with me once, Bitch - never again. I could have titled this piece, "Why I Don't Like Working With Women". Give me a room full of men any day!

Nature's Show

Waking this morning to loud cracks and crashes of thunder, streaks of lightening flashing across the sky. Torrents of rain as we haven't seen for months falling on the brown summer grass, dormant in the blazing heat. The garden looks happy.

Go See Helen

You have to go check out Helen. She's amazing. Go back to the beginning and see how this woman has battled with her sanity and come out incredibly whole. She's a wonder.

Doin' the Happy Dance!

Youngest son WON again!!! Whoooo hoooo! He started in 12th place and won in the last turn...! Hubby just called. Said he was a crowd pleaser - the fair is still there and they had a big crowd - all cheering for son! I'm so tickled for him. Will have to watch the CD when they get it!

It's going to be a late night of celebrating...

Welcome to My Phobia

Have I mentioned that I hate bugs? I. Hate. Bugs. They hate me - or love me, depending on your perspective. Hubby and I can be outside standing right next to each other and the flies and mosquitos will start eating me alive. I'll say, "Aren't the bugs biting you?"... and I'll get back, "What bugs?".

I love the outdoors, nature, mhy garden yeard and timber. But from the first warm days of spring until the first hard frost I am mostly held captive in my house. Each bite, be it from the littlest 'no-see-um' (yep, there is such a thing) to the biggest horsefly swells to the size of a quarter and brings with it endless nights of tossing and turning, trying not to scratch. This goes on for a few days. Nothing seems to help. All the perscription creams, otc exra-strength-by-god-we-swear-this-is-gonna-work-or-we'll-come-to-your-house-and-cut-off-your-leg creams are all just money down the drain. The "old wives tales" and homemade remedies aren't much better - ice, fingernail polish - do nothing but leave a shell I have to scratch through as well.

Don't even get me started on 'Deep Woods Off' or anything that pretends to repel a bug. Ha! Do you hear me? HA! When I drench myself with any of those products in preparation for a lengthy amount of time outside, I may as well be advertising 'free lunch! bring your friends!' I can be bit before I've even gotten to the other end of the yard! 'Avon Skin-So-Soft' - DOUBLE HA! Not only am I lunch, but I smell like a sexy lunch!

Then there are the bugs I'm afraid of. Spiders. I hate spiders. Especially ones with hair. Fur? Daddy-long-legs don't count. Don't ask me why, but they just look like some E.T. that got left behind on the planet and just want to 'go home'. Any other spider freaks me out.

In the old house we used to have the laundry in the basement. The cold, musty, unfinished, dungeon - I used to call it. At least once a week I'd find a big brown wolf spider in the laundry...and that was with an extermintor coming once a month to take care of bugs and mice!

There were the usual cast of characters throughout the rest of the house, too. The tiny fuzzy spiders that lived in the window screens, the black and yellow garden spiders, the ones that were as big as my thumb, very furry, and would jump long distances if you missed them the first time. Don't forget the ones I would never see, but would bite me in my sleep.

Despite my childhood love of "Charlotte's Web" I cannot get past my dislike of spiders - except Charlotte, of course.

Add to my list the ticks. In our part of the country there is a very small chance you can run into the itty bitty ones called deer ticks that bring Lymes disease, however my mother did get bit and contracted it in Arkansas. Thank goodness they found it early and treated it - knowing what it was. I've known people who it took years to figure out what the trouble was and it left them with permanent neurological damage. My kind is the ones that are a little larger and are just creepy. If you've ever had to take one off your dog or cat and seen how those little bodies can swell with blood - nevermind the thought that if you don't get the head it'll just grow back. Oh, ick. I had one in my hair once and it left me psychologically scarred for life. Just seeing one walking up my leg thinking about a place to attach itself is enough to give me the heebie-jeebies.

Finally in my cast of "bugs I hate" would be the beetles. This covers it all from June bugs to ladybugs. Now before everyone gets all sappy about the harmless, cute little ladybugs, I'm here to tell you they bite. It hurts. Enough said.

I hate the June bugs hard-shelled bodies and how they feel when they fly into your face or land on your bare summer leg and you can feel their little pincer feet walking up you. Ugh. I get a tremor at the thought. They buzz loudly as they fly around you and try and tangle in your hair - practically impossible to get out no matter how many ways you shake your head, wap yourself or shimmy. They are an excellent reason to stay in the house on a warm summer eve.

I know these are necessary to the 'big picture' - but I just wish they'd hang around someone else. So ends our lecture for today.

Dreaming

Remembering when I was invisible brought to mind a reaccuring dream I have. I get it about once a year and there doesn't seem to be a particular incident that brings it on or any special time of year that links to it.

I can breath underwater. Yep. As in a fish. But I'm not a fish, I'm me. I go into this warm, deep aquamarine sea with the sunlight shining through it's clearness and realize that I am having tightness in my lungs and I really should go up top now because I'm not a fish and I need to breathe air and I have no air tank or miraculous sci-fi re-breather, but it's just me and the fishes. I try to get to the sunlight, but I'm too deep, the fire in my lungs is screaming to be put out...so...I...breathe. I expect the pain of the water sucking into my body to be unbearable. I expect to gag, to try and cough. To expell the water I've just taken into an area of my flesh that it isn't supposed to get water. I've had enough experiences of choking on my own spit (yeah, you heard me right - and it's not pretty!) to know what having fluid in a place it's not supposed to be is usually not a good thing.

I don't choke. I don't feel like gagging. I don't feel anything, except the relief that I am no longer trying to hold my breath. The tension is gone and the movement of taking water in and letting water out feels very natural. I look around, figureing I must be dreaming and there is an air hose hooked up where I can't see it - or this water has been super-oxygenated somehow. I am a human breathing water. No way!

I never want to come out.

I've always liked the water, even though I live about as far from a coastline as you can get in this country. I've always felt at ease when I swim. I've never felt like a fish, though, or wanted to try the breathing water trick. I'll leave that for my dreams.

Once I Was Invisible

I remember the time I found out I could be invisible. It was truly a wonder! I was five-years-old and I figured out if I stood on my stepstool next to the bathroom sink, I could look in the mirror and spy on my parents and they couldn't see me! I mean, how cool is that!

Of course, as an adult we know that if I could see them obviously they could see me... but at the time I thought I was pretty darn invisible.

Fair Results

He WON!

These races are a bit different, as you don't go by track points leader (which he is) to decide where you start the main race (he starts in the back since he's the leader). This race they draw straws - and he ended up in the front, so he just had to keep it in the front. Not to minimize what he's doing, mind you, it still takes skill and a good-running car.

The men are happy.

It's Sure Getting Quiet In Here

Oldest son informed me today that he's to graduate from college in a week. He'll be done. Nine hard years of work (nine years of hard work?)... he claims he wanted to get the "full-four-year-college-experience". Have I mentioned all of my children are smart-asses? Yeah. It's like that.

OS also informed me he'll be moving out of the house that weekend. He's moving to another town - not too far away physically, but a long friggin' way in a mother's heart. He's rather an independent spirit. He comes and goes and often times stays overnight at a friends' place (he refuses to drink and drive after some bad decisions in high school). There may be days when I only know he's alive because the leftovers in the refrigerator have vanished or his mail I left on the kitchen counter is gone.

Still, I know he's here in spirit and I see him at least every couple of days.

I fear once he moves, that won't be the case any longer. He's going to full-time hours at his job. He's got a steady girlfriend now that lives a little further away yet, and he's still got a very active social life with lots of close friends he's had since high school. He's a little bit of a loner in some ways, too. He can be a very open and honest communicator - but you've got to open the door. Sometimes that's hard to do when you see someone for 20 minute bursts at a time. It takes more - like a road trip to visit his sister - to open him up and get into some deeper thoughts.

I know that my kids will always keep in touch. If not, I'll reach out to touch them... But it's as my daughter said the other day, you miss out on all the day-to-day stuff. The informal, the casual conversations. You may get together for a holiday or a weekend, but that's when you hit the high-lights, not the everyday living parts. Guess that's one of the reasons I encouraged her to blog - figured we'd get to see those inside parts that we used to see every day.

It's going to be awfully quiet around here... Just knowing he's gone. I don't see me falling apart in tears like I did when she left, as she and I were are closer than most moms and kids, but just having his smile, his quick wit, his cologne wafting through the house as he left... those are things I'll miss.

Hope he stops by. Often.

Knuckle Biting

He's racing again. Tonight it's at the usual track, only it's a special race because it's the county fair. Hope he has a good night. Nothing breaks. Hoping they don't water the track right before his race... I'm just waiting for the phone call.

Wildlife and Other Critters

Remember O.C.? Her name has now been officially changed to "Cleo - Queen of the Raccoon Hunters", but she'll still answer to just "Cleo". The appointment has been made. In a couple of weeks she'll be de-clawed. She's going to be an I.C.! Hubby gave the 'command' this morning to make the appointment. Oh, and just in case, she's to be kept kenneled up until then because he doesn't want her to be hurt. I knew he was a marshmellow inside... it just took awhile this time for it to show itself.

Me: I thought we were at our limit
Hubby: But she's such a nice cat
Me: You told me she was going to be the outside cat
Hubby: You don't want her getting hit on the road or killed by a raccoon, do you?
Me: Noooo... but YOU told me this wasn't going to happen!
Hubby:...
Me: Remember, this is your decision. You wanted this. I didn't ask for it. Okay?
Hubby: She's such a nice cat...she flips and flops and waves her paws at me...
Me:... uh huh. She's got your number, doesn't she?

On a related note, a neighbor had his cattle get out a day or so ago and the DNR have been investigating (DNR = Department of Natural Resources). They think they may have been spooked by a cougar! They're finding evidence of one in our area - roaming the creeks and timbers. We live next to a crick in a timber. The winter we were building our house Hubby and I spotted some very large cat tracks and wondered at the time if there could be one in the area, but really had no evidence. Now it appears we may have been right. It makes sense, I mean we have lots of deer and other wildlife for them to feed on. I'll have to watch myself a little more closely when I'm out in the woods... and make sure the puppies don't get too far away.

Also on a related note, we've had twin fawns in our backyard. They are the cutest! They run and play with each other like a couple of puppies. It's so funny to watch... The other morning they were playing around and something caught their attention in the woods, so they bounded off around the corner of the fence and along the cornfield heading for the thicker timber. A few minutes later we saw what had spooked them... "mom". She came out of the timber and went chasing out after them. It was just like a couple of kids... !

Soul Mate

A milestone went by and I forgot to mention it, or if I mentioned it I didn't give it enough credit. Earlier this month Hubby and I celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary. That's the 'official' anniversary, although we actually consider a year earlier when we got together to be our 'real' anniversary.

It wasn't a storybook romance. It was a strange sort of an affair. I was married, and although we (the ex and I) were sharing an apartment, two children, and a mountain of bills, we were not sharing the marital bed. We'd decided we couldn't afford to live on our own, neither of us wanted to live with our parents, and we still considered ourselves friends, so we'd just share the space and all that was in it and lead our own lives.

The ex worked days. I worked nights. After work I would sometimes go out with single girlfriends. We would go to a college town a little ways from where we lived and hit the local bars. My girlfriends had already spent way more time in these places than I had and knew some people, so that made it easier.

I found out about a year after I'd first started going to this local bar that my now-husband had seen me there with my friends and had asked around about me and found out that I was still married with two kids - so even though I didn't know him, he knew somethings about me.

I've told the story of how we met before, and won't go into all that again... but suffice it to say when I met him it was comfortable. Safe. He made me feel a way I'd never felt before - that it was all going to be okay. He'd wrap his arms around me and give me what I called a 'bear hug' and it would bring tears to my eyes it was so perfect. He was so strong, but could be so gentle with me.

He listened to me - his deep brown eyes totally focused on me. He was shy, but was brave enough to try and bring me out of my shell. He was smart and funny and warm and all the good stuff...

I wasn't looking for another attachment. I'd told myself - and actually told him that I wasn't going to get involved with anyone again. I'd had enough. Men were okay as friends, but marriage was out. Good thing he didn't listen to me!

He made me feel so good about myself... something that was sorely lacking in my life. He didn't just love me for my body or my looks or what I could do for him, he loved me for me. I'd already been through some pretty rough times and my trust was pretty thin. I was cynical, always looking for the downside - waiting for the other shoe to drop. I kept thinking he was too good to be true.

I spent a lot of time with him, as much as I could. Finally we decided I would move to his town and see how it went. I was reluctant to take my children since I had no means of support yet in this place, so I spoke to my ex and we decided the kids would stay with him for a short time while I got a job and got settled. He didn't know about the new man in my life, and I didn't want to hurt his feelings by bringing it up. I just let him believe I was doing this myself.

I moved, and my ex ended up moving back home with his parents, with our children. I got a job, got settled, and tried to see my children. His parents wouldn't let me. They hit me with a lawsuit - they were suing for full custody. I was crushed. They would answer the phone and wouldn't even let me talk to my ex, guessing rightly that he still had feelings for me and wouldn't put me through this - let alone our children.

My guy stuck through it all. The rants and raves and crushing tears. He was there for me. Finally, after several months of back and forth, and finally at least some visitation, we went to court where my ex met me at the door and said he and his lawyer had come up with an idea. Joint custody. This was very, very new at the time and you had to talk the judge into it. You had to convince the judge that you got along well enough with your ex to have joint custody, so you weren't pitting the kids against each other. We did that. I was to have the kids during the week, he was to see them on the weekends.

We rejoiced. My guy now not only had a wife, but two children under 5 - the confirmed bachelor was a family man. He jumped in with both feet. As much as he loved me, he loved my children and treated them like his own. He never treated them differently... if anything he was heartbroken when they had to go to "their dad's" - because he felt like that was him.

Through the years, and a couple more kids, and a lot more critters, we've been through heaven and hell. Several years ago all the bad things that I thought I'd successfully put behind me, hidden in boxes of my mind came tumbling down and out jumped the demons I'd tried to vanquish. They took me by surprise and my husband by bigger surprise. It was a few months of hell on earth - nervous breakdowns aren't fun - but I'm so much better now. I give all the credit to him. He saved me. He loves me. He really does.

To some he may not be the best looking man - He's no Brad Pitt or Ewin McGregor. He's more Tom Hanks and Harrison Ford. Not perfect, but he's so beautiful inside it makes up for any flaws. He's funny. He's smart. He's sexy. He doesn't think so. He has no confidence in himself. He's beautiful to me. He makes terrific babies. He really is my soul mate. 25 years is only a blink... I hope we get a lifetime more. It's been quite the ride. Happy Anniversary, Honey...

Just a Thought...

D'ya suppose if any of my in-laws were to find this blog they'd quit talking to me?

A girl can dream, can't she?

BAD girl, BAD girl. Mwaaaa haaaa haaa.

Dear Co-worker

I'm confused. Isn't that thing sitting on your desk a computer? Isn't it in your office? Isn't it connected to the same internet as my computer? Don't you have the same operating system? The same software? The same monitor?

Then why do you have to use my computer when I'm not here? Dumbass.

(A word from the management: Before all of you ask, I can't put passwords on my stuff because we're an "open" and "cooperative" office here and occasionally others must use my computer. I say "must" in the event that they have work-related things to do, not looking for baseball cards on E-bay. Thank you.)

Make It STOP!

"Oh, I wish I were an Oscar Meyer weiner, that is what I truly want to be e e..."

Get it out, get it out NOW!

You Can't Kill 'Em III

I am an only child. When I was a child, that bothered me some. Now I have to admit I'm grateful. Occasionally I look around at our four children and wonder, "What have I done to you?" I wonder if I've burdened them with guilt trips and heartaches to last a lifetime. I wonder if they'll end up hating each other, or at least a strong dis-like. So far it's been good. They had their normal upsurges when they were young, but now as young adults they actually seem to like each other and get along well. I feel blessed.

Hubby, however, is not an only child. BIL has been discussed a bit. Now I will introduce you to the other sibling...here to be known as the Princess. (MIL is the Queen). The Princess is two years younger than Hubby. She was the one that when he quit college and went into the Navy proceeded to get not one, not two, but three, ladies and gentlemen... three college degrees. She got enough for all three siblings. Her parents were so proud.

Then she proceeded to forget everything she learned and moved to Virginia with her husband to manage a dairy farm. Oh.Woe.Is.Me. Yes, OWIM became the mantra we heard over and over until we wanted to puke our guts up every time MIL said "The Princess called today". GAK.

We decided if we didn't live 3 miles away from MIL, or at least 15 like BIL, then we, too, could claim object poverty and lives with no joy. Perhaps then MIL would take pity on us and we could be treated like visiting royalty every time we decided to bounce into the area. I know, I know, I just got done begruding MY SIL for saying my daughter was spoiled, but I mean, REALLY. I try to be equally spoily with all my kids. (Is spoily a word?)

When our kids were little we scraped and saved to buy them a swingset that was large enough that all four of them could play at once. MIL came over and saw it and the next thing we knew there was money flying across the country so the Princess could have one for her children. Hmmm...

When our youngest was only about 6 months old, we loaded the whole family in the van (not such a thing as a mini-van then, kiddies) and made the Trip From Hell. Because at the time Hubby worked for his dad on the farm, it was highly frowned upon to take a vacation. Therefore, we were sly... we figured they'd approve a vacation if it was going out to see his sister! Yeah...that's the ticket! Boy, did that ever backfire.

First we were trying to keep it on the cheap. With four kids under 7, McDonalds was breakfast, lunch and dinner for 2-1/2 days. The youngest was either carsick, had flu, or was teething and pretty muched cried the whole time. As we were all craming in one motel room at night, I ended up taking him to the van and trying to sleep there while letting him scream his head off and not wake up the other family members and/or motel guests. Did I mention I drove the whole way?

In the August heatwave, we arrived bedraggled, tired, and ready for things to stop moving. Hubby got a little carsick himself going through the Smoky Mountains. This was before they had nice freeways going through, nooooo... it was two-lane-watch-out-here-comes-a-logging-truck-on-our-side-around-the-corner-I-said-WATCH-OUT-AAAAAAAAAIIIIIIEEEEE!

We unloaded the van and the kids that could walk ran around with the Princess' two children. Get that energy out, kids! Then Hubby went to the barn to see his BIL... the Princess' husband (ya following?). He walks in and BIL says, "No time to talk, look around if you want but I can't stop to show you around". No "hi", "how are you", "nice to see you", "how was the trip"...

Hubby walked in the house and wanted to pack up the van and leave. He is basically a very calm, rational man. He had cartoon steam coming out of his ears.

On top of it all, we didn't realize we'd walked in on the first day of the Cattlemans something-or-other. Like a fair/sale/whoop-de-doo all rolled into one. The adults started breezing around and whipping the kids around and "oh, would you mind watching the little preciouses while we go to the thing tonight?".

Hubby went with them. I stayed home with six kids under 7. (I still have a full head of hair!)

The next day I did laundry, cooked food, cleaned, babysat. All in a 100-year old house that had no air conditioning (at all), and whose windows were painted shut. That night they took all the bigger kids. I stayed home with the baby. Ahhh... all I had to do was bake a loaf of bread, do the supper dishes.... you get the picture. I forgot to mention, they didn't believe in TV. Yes, indeedy we're havin' a hot time in the ol' town tonight!

When they walked in the door at 10 o'clock, exhausted, our youngest daughter who at the time was just 2-1/2, came in and sat on the sofa and peed. Yeah, peed. She'd been half-asleep and was potty trained, but accidents DO happen... unless you are in the Princess' house, then it MUST HAVE BEEN ON PURPOSE. Your 2-1/2 year-old daughter has just become the SPAWN of the DEVIL. THIS SOFA WILL NEVER BE THE SAME. Oh for cripes sake! Burn the damn thing if it's that bad!

I cleaned and cleaned until that sofa was cleaner than it was when we came. The Princess hovered around making sure it was clean. Yep, you can eat on it if you want, Lady...

The rest of the trip was spent traveling to neighboring areas, Washington, Arlington and to the beach one day. We left BIL at home with his "Ladies" (the cows). We took all the kids. It was hot. It was hell.

After a week of working harder than I do at my own home, we left for our own home. Now the oldest child was puking. The youngest was still crying, and the middle two were just plain cranky. When we got home and pulled in the garage, Hubby got out and on his knees and kissed the concrete floor. "I don't care what they do to me, I'm NEVER going out East again. Ever."

Oh, and remember the big stink about the sofa? Would you believe 10 years later they were here visiting and their boy ran a four-wheeler into my husbands' relatively new pickup? Yes, there was damage. That was after the year they came out and the boy flipped the four-wheeler on it's side and broke the handlebars. Oh... and that was the year or two after they came out and the kid tried to run over my husband with the combine that the Princess INSIST son must ride in. Why, you ask, didn't you take away the four-wheeler? Because MIL said it was okay. ... and, no, Hubby didn't beat said child within an inch of his life. He treated him better than they treated our kids. Well, I guess he did give him a paddling when he tried to run him over, but of course then HE became MEAN UNCLE (HUBBY) to my Hubby's delight he never asked to go in any equipment again!!

Their kids are grown now.

The Princess still whines.

The BIL hasn't been to Iowa since FIL died several years ago. He must stay home and take care of his ladies... of course, somehow they manage to rent a house on the beach for a couple of weeks a year, and they've been to Australia, Ireland, Norway, a few other places... Just doesn't make sense, somehow.

We've never been back to Virginia.

Can I Get A Little Love Here?

Hubby spent the evening at a Combine Clinic. Yeah. It's every bit as exciting as it sounds. A bunch of guys go to the local "big green machine" farm equipment store and learn how to run their combines. Oh, okay, I don't know. They already know how to run them... I think it's just an excuse to stand around and talk. Like farmers don't do that enough!

Then, of course, you've got the free meal. BBQ beef sandwiches, chips, green beans, potato salad and lemonade. That alone will bring most of them out of their caves long enough to listen to whatever is being presented. Free food. Does it every time.

After the 'official' meeting is over and the 'official' meal has been consumed, then the jawing (visiting to you more refined people) moves down the street to the local bar where they talk about what they just learned in the meeting gossip about everything and anything including Asian Rust in the soybeans to drought effects on the corn to aphids in the soybeans to "what in the heck was ol' Jonesy thinkin' when he did (insert favorite dumb thing here)?" From what I gather - remember I get this second-hand - it pretty much ends up being the same things hashed and re-hashed.

Finally they all drift home.

Hubby climbs into bed and snuggles up against me... 'at least I'm not a mean drunk'....

A Little Anal

Don't get me wrong... I love the guy. He's funny, sweet, basically pretty naive and innocent, and he loves my daughter. Yeah, I'm talking about my new SIL. He's a truly good guy... but he's a little anal. Yeah. Really.

You have to understand, he comes by it naturally. I don't know his family well, but from what I've seen I love his mom, his two younger brothers are sweeties, and his dad is...oh, gee, how can I put this nicely...? He's thrifty. No, that's not it. He's conservative. Nope, that doesn't quite say it either. Okay, no more pussy-footing around... he's cheap. Nice, but a bit obsessive when it comes to money.

This, I'm afraid is one of the traits that has passed down a generation.

I'm glad my daughter has someone who is conservative, as God knows her father and I aren't very good at it, but there comes a point where I draw the line. We aren't rich by any means - we're middle class, but Hubby's theory has always been, "You can't take it with you". The line was drawn this weekend. Daughter and I were doing a bit of sale shopping. You have to understand something - I'm not really a typical woman when it comes to shopping. I only go to the mall about four times a year and I've almost always got a list or an idea of what it is I'm going for.

Having said that, there are a couple of stores I like going to for comfy clothes. Old Navy is one of them. I practically live in sweatshirts and fleece in the wintertime and my wardrobe consists of t-shirts the rest of the year. Because I wear them all the time at home and at work, they get used and abused and it doesn't take long for them to get ratty looking. I mean, after you've let muddy-pawed critters tromp all over you and worked up a good sweaty lather in the garden, it doesn't take a genius to figure out it's going to eventually not look like new. Soooo when I spot one of my favorite places, we often take a lap through the store to see if anything is on sale I can stock up on, like tees or sweats.

While in one of those places this weekend, I did get a few sale items, then she and I both spotted these long, fleece tops at the same time. They looked soooo comfy! Yes, even though it was 100 degrees heat index out at the time, we both have vivid imaginations and can see ourselves curled up with a book in the dead of winter wearing the 'gotta have' shirt. But! I haven't told you the best part! It wasn't just the perfect cozy shirt, but it was on sale for $4! You heard me, $4!

Soooo...I tell daughter I'm going to buy her one. She says... "well, when SIL calls in a few days to ask about it, you'll have to tell him I've had it forever." (The old hide the new stuff in the closet for a month or so, then bring it out and tell Hubby I got it a loooong time ago...she learned it at her mother's knee). Why? I say... I'm the one buying it, not you. Here's where it gets weird.
SIL thinks she shouldn't take things from me, that she's taking advantage of me. WTF? I get it when he's trying to control her spending, but now he's trying to control mine? To make her feel guilty for me buying something for her? I've done this her whole life - she's my kid, for goodness sake! Hmmph. This isn't setting too well.

I love the guy, but he'd better get his shit together pretty darn quick, or we're gonna have words. This reminds me of my beloved grandmother who used to live right next door to us when I was in kindergarten. We were very close. She was, however, my biological mother's mom and my biological mother died when I was three. My father remarried when I was five, and we lived next door to his ex-mother-in-law. Does that make sense? At any rate, she would babysit me every Friday night when they went bowling. Yeah, it's exciting in this here Iowa-y place...

So we moved away after a year or so to another town, and my grandmother moved to California to be with my aunt and her family. About once a year she would try and come back and visit some of her family that still lived in the area, and me. Visiting me meant presents. She traveled a lot and she'd gotten me a charm bracelet. She would send me charms from all over when she visited, and then when she came back we would go find new ones that were just things I liked. One year she bought me an instamatic camera. She'd take me to dinner and we'd talk and laugh and catch up and then shop.

My parents, especially my mother, were furious. They had their minds made up that I was begging my grandmother for things that they couldn't (or wouldn't) buy me. I think she just wanted to make up for times we couldn't be together and to let me have some things to remember her with when she was gone... like the camera that we took lots of pictures with of each other and I have to this day.

I'm sure SIL means well, but this behaviour just reeks of the kind of control that my parents tried on me years ago. It didn't work then and it ain't gonna work now. I hope he understands that someday...

They Got This One Right!

You Know You're From Iowa When...

Vacation means driving through the Amanas or going to Adventureland Down South to you means Missouri You have no problem spelling or pronouncing "Des Moines" You know the answer to the question, :"Is this Heaven?" You know where all the Yoders live (or Andersons, or Van den Bergs) You know what "hawks" and "clones" are All the festivals across the state are named after a fruit or vegetable You can locate Iowa on the map You've ever been on a "Geode Hunt" Your idea of a really great tenderloin is when the meat is twice as big as the bun and is accompanied only by ketchup and a dill pickle slice You say "catty-wampus" instead of "kitty-corner" You've never taken public transportation You have boiled fish in lye for Christmas You know what "uff-da" means and how to use it properly You know what "Amish Country" is The only reason you go to Wisconsin or Missouri is to get fireworks You know exactly where "Field of Dreams" was filmed When someone says they are going out for dinner or supper, you know which meal they are talking about. You listen to "Paul Harvey" every day at noon. You think of the major food groups as deer meat, beer, corn, and soy nuts. You're pulled over and asked by the cop, "Had a little to much to drink, (your first name here)? You own the complete "Dukes of Hazzard" video collection. "Hick" is a style of clothing. You can use the words, 'crik', 'holler', and 'skunk weed' in the same sentence. Your Christmas gift, when you were ten years old was a shotgun (a BB gun if you were a 'townie'). You know someone personally who is involved in meth trade or manufacture. Your idea of a party is throwing cans of WD40 in a campfire while you're drunk. You've been to a rave in a barn. You've had sex in the back of a truck ... amid cows. You know that cows don't sleep standing up. You're concerned about the rates of corn growth in Illinois as compared to that of Iowa's. You listen to Ag Day at 6AM ... two hours after you get up in the morning. You believe that trees in Iowa lean towards Nebraska ... because Nebraska sucks! You know several people who still refer to Japanese cars as "rice-burners." "Styx" plays a concert at the county fair, and people actually show up. You don't get nervous when you walk into a biker bar (unless you're an Iowa City cop). You actually get these jokes and pass them on to other friends from Iowa.

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You Can't Kill 'Em Part II

Once upon a time, there were a BIL and a SIL who had two boy monsters creatures flying monkeys children that were the most horrid evil wild precious children on the face of the planet. Just ask them. They'll tell you. There were days that went from sunup to sundown when voices wouldn't be raised in anger or jealousy or meanness or spite. (Sorry, I just swallowed my tongue. Happens every time I lie.)

BIL is the best flake fake looser leech dad in the world. SIL is the best harp whiner screamer bitch gossip mom in the world. With parents like this, how could THE BOYS lose? (Yes, this must always be said with capital letters.) When they were smaller versions of rat bastards themselves, they would get into something they shouldn't and SIL would scream, "Jim*...! "
He'd ignore her. "Jimmy!"...."Jimmy Bob stop that!".... "James Robert, I said to stop that!"... You get the picture. This happened once when we were standing out by our cornfield and Little Jimmy* was digging up corn plants with his shoe. This is our income, our livelihood. This is not a good thing.

She'd yell, then go on with her conversation and ignore him until she decided to yell again at which time he'd ignore her again, until finally BIL would be called into play... "BIL, Go DO SOMETHING with your son!"... He'd look at her, look at the kid, and take another swig of his beer/pop/whatever. Realizing everyone was looking at him to DO SOMETHING, he'd take the kid to another room of the house or around the corner of the shed, where he was told he'd been naughty and to not do it again. For at least another 5 minutes, okay?

I've got four kids. I'm not into abuse, honest I'm not... but a swat on the butt isn't beyond my realm of possibility when a kid is just plain ignoring you. I'm talking when they are at that young, impressionable stage in life when a swat can do some good. After they reach a certain age, then you can take away the internet cableTV car keys food.Yeah, you can argue with me that they'll end up all damaged and hating life, but believe me these people did these kids no favors.

I'm also totally against punishing or berating a child in front of their parents. I hate it when others did it to my kids (most notibly BIL and SIL before they had children. With the look that says, MY kids won't do that when I have kids!) and I feel if the parents are there it is their responsibility to handle it. Unless we're talking doing something that would cause them death, like running in the street or catching their hair on fire. Then I'll step in. Only then. Even if I have to bite my tongue until it bleeds.

Point in fact: A few years have gone by and now they are pre-teens. (Actually, now they are teens, but this happened a couple of years ago). Still, basically getting away with anything and everything. MIL has a huge house that she offered to let our youngest daughter live in with her for a couple of semesters while going to college. It was nice for her since she was newly widowed, and it was nice for our daughter - living with family. Daughter has to be gone for a month with a school project out-of-state. MIL asks one of THE BOYS (the oldest) to stay overnight for a night or two. Nothing you'd think twice about, right?

Daughter came home. Starting finding things 'not-quite-right' with her things. Let's see... nail polish remover in her toothpaste? Bottles of expensive skin care products dumped out. Perfume dumped out. Underwear rifled. A couple of blank checks missing from her checkbook. Do you get the idea?

First she tells us. We're flabbergasted. (That's an Iowa word for those of you who don't know - it means gobsmacked). We can't imagine what happened. Then we found out Freddy* spent the night downstairs among daughter's things. Hubby mentioned it to MIL. MIL couldn't imagine it could be him! If not him, we asked, then WHO? Who has been at your house? Nobody. It's locked. She lives there alone. No one has been over except Freddy*. Uh huh. Now, Hubby asks if she is going to have the talk with BIL... 'cause he knows if HE brings it up there will be feudin' like you've only seen in the south. Okay, she'll talk to him.

We heard BIL got a talkin' to. Oh, yes. We heard THE BOY got a talkin' to - sort of. We heard he admitted to some of it. WTF? SOME? How could he just do some of it and yet all the other was done, too? Yeah, we be stupid.

That was the end of it. No apologies to daughter. No offers to replace and/or pay her back for all the expensive items ruined. Nothing.

...and they wonder why we don't have them over for 'family events'.

*Names have been changed to protect the innocents little shits.

Do You Want...?

My best friend calls me on the phone this morning on my way to work.

BF: Do you want a cat?
Me: Nooooooooo
BF: I was out walking this morning and it was in the ditch crying.
Me: I've reached my limit
BF: It followed me home
BF: It's a nice kitty. It purrs when you pick it up. It ate, but didn't act starving.
BF: I thought of you.
Me: I have O.C. aka Cleo that Hubby is considering letting in the house. That is my absolute maximum limit. I can't have another one.
BF: But it's a nice cat
Me: ...
BF: How can I take it to the animal shelter?
Me: In a cardboard box

Now I feel like a shit. A big, fat, shit. Wish I could win the lottery so I could open up my "no kill animal shelter". <sigh>

A Bowl of Cereal Would Have Sufficed

At the butt-crack of dawn this morning (my family's colorful description of early morning that came from ???) Hubby sat up in bed, leaned over and flipped on the back porch/deck light sufficiently blinding me in my even-though-I-may-look-like-I'm-awake-and-my-eyes-are-open-a-wee-bit-but-technically-I'm-NOT state, I said, "HEY!" Hubby - (flipping light off) "There are four racoons on the porch!"

He proceeds to start rapping his knuckles on the glass to scare them away. I don't know what they did, but Frieda started barking her fool head off thinking we were being invaded.

How did YOUR morning start?

Stranger Than Fiction

This article is interesting. Obviously they haven't heard of my cat, Jammie. She can hear the wrapper coming off of a Hostess Cupcake from two floors away... I know you aren't supposed to give dogs chocolate, but this cat is a certified chocoholic.

I'm So *sniff* Proud

I'm a new grandmother. Sort of. Kind of. My youngest daughter has a new baby. Sort of. Kind of. It doesn't have fur. It's not a grandcritter. It isn't human. It's not a grandkid. My daugher is the new mother of a blog. I'm so proud.

I'm Baaaack

Didn't even miss me, did ya? I was sneaky... I took my laptop with me and you never knew I was gone. Youngest daughter was in Iowa this week for her work and I snuck out on Saturday and went to see her and stayed overnight. It was nice to see her. I miss her sooooo much. I know, I shouldn't say this because then I just make her feel worse to be gone 'cause I know she misses us soooo much too. If we hated each other this would be much easier!

She had my grandcritter with her, too, so I got to play with the fuzzy one. She just gets cuter all the time.

We had a good time. Ate out, did a bit of shopping, and I scoped out the place she'd been working. All in all we had a brief, but fun time. Some things just can't replace 'in person'... a hug is one of them.

I left to come home early in the morning and went to my parents' on the way home. They are doing well and I was just in time for late-morning biscuits and sausage gravy. Mmmmmm.... Hadn't had that for awhile and it was goooood. Spent a little time there doing the usual computer repairs and visiting. My mother keeps a running list of things she either can't figure out or has messed up on her computer, so every time I go I have to see what I can do to get her back on track. We are currently good.

Home by noon, I found out that Hubby had a good night with the critters. Unlike the last time I went away overnight, this time the pups actually slept all night and didn't wake until 7 am! They wake ME up at 5.... what's with THAT? Of course, then I found out he didn't get home from the races until midnight (bad night for son - came in 6th) and he let them out at that time. I don't usually let them out that late at night, so guess that was why it worked out so well for them. He even said the cats kept him company! Now I'm wondering if they aren't getting TOO used to me being gone?

Didn't do a damn thing after that. Kenna reminded me of that state our family calls "Bored but Lazy". Bored and cranky, but too lazy to do anything about it. That was me. I had a list of things I should have done, but no energy to them. I gave Hubby a big hug, let the pups out, found all the cats to say "hi" to, and went into my favorite spot - my rocker/recliner chair in the bedroom. I curled up with a blanket and a book and before I'd read a couple of pages I was sound asleep. I didn't wake up until 5 o'clock!

Hubby and I cooked burgers and all the fixin's and that was the extent of my day. Would you believe I went back to bed and slept the rest of the night?

Dear Driver

When the sign says your lane is going to merge into my lane and you speed to the head of my lane, then expect someone to let you butt into the head of the line... I'm going to get out of my car and beat you with your own stupidity. Thank you for listening.

Send the Love

...and I thought I was having a rough night. Send Roxie a hug... she needs it.

Missing

Please take a moment and look around your space... I seem to have lost my mind. Have you seen it? If so, please return it. Note: Is oddly shaped.

No, This Isn't the One

This isn't my wonderful middle-of-the-night post. This is my "What Was My Husband Thinking" post. I'm sound asleep. Something, as I've commented on lately, is not easy to come by in my land of the full moon and four-legged critters. Once upon a time, I was a heavy sleeper. I mean, nothing would wake me. Then I had children.

My first child was premature by two months. She weighed 3lbs 5oz. At the time, she was the smallest baby the hospital had. A week later they had their first 1lb something and she was kicked out of her title. At any rate, she was basically healthy and just had to gain weight (thank you God). When she finally got to 5lbs she was able to come home. Then the fun began. Premies are not like other children. Their will to survive just isn't as developed. If you don't wake them up and make them eat, they'll sleep until they die. So, you wake them up every two hours and try to get an ounce of formula down their little gullets while constantly snapping them on the bottom of the feet or rubbing their heads to try and keep them awake. It sounds cruel, I know, but there isn't much of an option. After an hour of this, you might get 1/2 oz to 1 oz in them, then put them back to bed...and yourself...until the next 2-hour feeding. Exhaustion becomes the word of the day.

When my second was born two years later, he was a dream. He took full bottles (I never had any luck breastfeeding any of them), slept all night, and made me realize all babies weren't so much work. Still, the occasionally are sick or cranky or teething, and my sleep patterns were established with mom-radar now. One squeek from either of them and I was alert and listening to see if they were going to be going back to sleep or if further attention was needed.

My third was born three years later and she, too, was a little princess. Good sleeping habits, good eating habits. I had it good.

The last one, two years later, wasn't quite as easy. He became the one who had chronic ear infections and was up most nights for the first four years. Sleep became once again catch-as-catch-can.

Now they are all grown and have been so for awhile. The deep sleeping has never returned. I know when Hubby's awake before he tells me, although unless he starts talking to me I won't wake fully and can drift back to a deeper slumber. Those are the key words... unless he starts talking to me. He has this need when he can't sleep to tell me he's awake. I've never figured that out. The last thing I want to do when I can't sleep is to wake him up to tell him. Last night, I happened to be in one of my unusually sounder sleeps - it could be that was even when I was dreaming of the ever-elusive blog entry. Suddenly, he leans over me in bed.

"I can't sleep".
"Uh huh", I mumble.
"The moon snuck in through the edge of the slider and hit me square in the face and woke me up".
"Okay".
"Damn moon".
"What do you want me to do about it?"
"Nothing. I just wanted you to know."
"Allright".

I swear, three minutes later he was snoring. Me, I'm looking up at the ceiling. Damn moon.

If I Could Only Remember...

I had a really good post. Honest. It was there, in my brain, as I slept. I remembered thinking to myself, "you have to remember this - this is really good!". Do you think I can remember it? No. Damn. Maybe it'll come to me.

I KNEW It!

I just heard that the heat index here yesterday as 115 degrees. I KNEW it was hot!

Zzzzzzz

Sleep... wonderful sleep. We sure take it for granted, don't we? If we get a good night's sleep you don't hear us going on and on the next day about how wonderful it was to go to sleep without trouble, to have a dreamless, deep, satisfying slumber and to awake refreshed and renewed. Don't know about you, but I've never heard it. Yet, if we don't get enough we grumble and grouch and yawn and whine. Yeah, me. I know.

Don't ask me why... the moon was full as could be last night. Frieda was peacefully quiet. All. Night. Long. I didn't wake up until a thunderstorm rolled through at 4 a.m. and woke because of the wind and thunder, not her. Maybe she wore herself out the night before! Who knows. I'm just thankful for the break. Let's hope this is a new trend...

I Better Get Some Sleep Tonight or Else!

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This is my 16-lb cat named Welling.ton. He came with the name, but it suits him. At the moment, he and I are not very happy with a little pup named Frieda. Last night there was a very bright moon, if not full. I didn't look. It was enough to have to close the bedroom blinds and wrap the tinfoil around my head.

Frieda, I thought, was getting better. We had a pretty crazy lightening storm the other night and she didn't bark once! This, I made the mistake of thinking, was progress. I was oh-so-wrong.

Last night I don't believe she slept a wink. Therefore... yes, everyone together now... I didn't sleep a wink. She would quiet down for about an hour, just enough time for me to start dozing off, when she'd start with a low grumbling noise that I could tell was working up to a sharp yip followed by an all-out bark. Ignoring her did no good, because she'd just continue from step 2 (the yip) and keep repeating until I would get up and tell her to be quiet and/or give her a chewy or something to keep her little mouth occupied.

If it were up to me, I'd just ignore her until she got tired of making noise... kind of like training your child to sleep in a crib (Jack's mom). Unfortunately, if I would do that my husband would probably dis-own me. He isn't as good as ignoring as I am. I've also considered putting her in another room in a crate, but then Frank would start barking his fool head off because he doesn't like to be away from her! It's a no-win situation. ...and, yes, I can hear those of you in the background whispering "people training". I, too would think that but for the fact that she only does it when there is a full/bright moon. Not nightly (thank God).

This brings me back to the cat at the top of this post. This is only one of the other members of the household who also have to put up with Frieda's obnoxious behaviour. We have four indoor cats and last night they all got their point across. Pat.ch, my daughter's cat who is a calico female usually doesn't have anything to do with us when were in bed. She made a lap or two through last night as if to say... "what's up?". We have a himalayn (sp?) named Snob.by that rarely comes into our room or gets on the bed unless her food dish is empty. It wasn't. She came through a couple of times, choosing not to lay on my side as she typically does, but to walk over my head and sit on the nightstand staring at me in the not-so-dark.

Welling.ton likes to sleep on me and will come through several times at night to cuddle and sleep for awhile before going off on his nightly rounds. I usually feel him curl up on me - as he is rather a chunk, but he purrs and goes to sleep and I don't notice him more than I would an extra blanket thrown over me. He is the calmest, coolest cat. He has always let the pups play all over him and thinks nothing of laying on the floor and letting them tug on his tail. He puts up with it for awhile, then will saunter off and get up high where they can't reach him. Even he'd had his limit last night. About the time he'd get all snuggled up and start falling asleep, Frieda would start the grumblings and I'd jump out of bed to hush her up - sufficiantly waking up and throwing off Welling.ton. You'd think he would have gotten fed up with that after about the sixth time!

Finally, we have a cat that is barn-cat-turned-house-cat. She's a yellow and white short-haired cat with yellow/green eyes and no tail. Just a nubbin, anyway. My son rescued her from one of our dogs years ago and we don't know if she had a tail at the time, or was born without. At any rate, she's named Jam.mie (short for Jasmine, not Jam.mie days) and I call her my "bunny kitty". She has the softest fur and her little white feet look like bunny feet and her nubbin of a tail looks like a bunny tail. She's the oldest of the bunch and feels the bed is her domain. In the mornings before my husband swears HE even knows he's awake, she knows it and is in his face talking to him. She loves to get into the covers when he gets out of bed and curls up in the residual heat. Most days she spends the whole day curled up on the pillows or flaked out on the bed and woe be any other cat that decides they want to lay on the bed, too. Depending on her mood, she may tolerate it, but more likely than not she'll scram them off. She also has this weird thing she does when anyone raises their voice - whether they are actually yelling, or just raising it to be heard in the next room. She hates that. She'll get right in your face and yack at you until you stop. I do mean IN your face, too. Once I thought she was actually going to put her head in my mouth! At night she will often times sleep in the livingroom on the sofa, but not last night. Last night she curled up on the pillow next to me - ignoring Welling.ton completely (which was strange in itself) and ended up talking to me every time I got up with Frieda. I told my husband I'm just positive she was telling me to "shut that damn dog up so we can get some sleep!"

Needless to say, I'm really really tired today. Leaving work early to go home and take a nap. Oh, and we had a rainstorm this morning as I was getting ready to go to work. The house was dark from the black clouds. The storm was settling in. The puppies were totally silent... not even the usual morning rassling and thrashing. Go figure. Hubby said they were probably tired and were going to sleep all day to make up for last night... and to get ready for tonight. <sigh> He did make the comment this morning as we were leaving the house... "Did you ever stop and think that maybe we were cat people?".

You Can't Kill 'Em

As previously reported, I am an only child. My husband, unfortunately, is not. I realize I do not always play well with others. So begins the tale of the brother-in-law.

I knew my BIL before I knew my husband. He was dating a friend of mine. I was not impressed. He was nice, but not my type. She didn't think he was her type either, but was merely using him. I finally got tired of this and after Hubby and I started dating, my concience kicked in and I had a heart-to-heart with BIL and explained the facts. He was crushed. I felt awful. To this day the woman and I barely speak.

BIL started dating a woman who was Princess Diana's twin sister. I mean, she could have been. She was gorgeous, sweet, the nicest thing. It didn't last long - I don't know why. Not my business.

Then came the Bitch. I'm not going to name names, suffice it to say that one works. She isn't pretty, she's not particularily clever, and she's the woman that everyone does not want to claim as a friend. She's sneaky, spiteful, and controlling. She claims to know everyone in their small town and to be their best friend - but if you talk to them, they really don't want to have anything to do with her. She surely has some kind of a trophy for gossip monger and is one of those who whisper all the time to make everything dramatic. Somehow BIL got hooked up with her.

His life. We stayed out of it.

He is the ultimate husband. They work at the same company - her in the office, he in the warehouse. I don't think he even sees his paycheck, she controls all the money. He doesn't carry any. Ever. She leaves him honey-do lists each and every day and all his time is accounted for. They now have been married several years and have two (brats) boys. Nothing has changed.

We used to try and get along. We tried to be sociable and do family functions together - birthdays, Christmas, etc. We still do Christmas, but gave up the pretense of birthday joy. It just ruined it.

I could go on and on... and probably will from time to time as this is an incredibly sore subject and there are many issues I can expand on. Suffice it to say he is the youngest and MIL seems to baby him just as much as she ever did. He's my age. We're adults here, people.

MIL has been out of town for a couple of weeks. (YIPPEE!) I digress...
She gets back yesterday and calls me up last night all bubbly about her trip. This is fine. This is good. I can handle this. Then she blindsides me.

MIL: You know, BIL and SIL didn't know about family friends' death
Me:...
MIL: It would have been nice if you'd called them
Me: I guess I figured they knew
MIL: How would they know? They don't get the same newspaper!
Me: With SIL's network of informants rivaling the F.B.I. I figured she already knew! (Okay, I didn't actually SAY that, but I was thinking it!!!) I didn't know.
MIL: It would have been the brotherly thing for Hubby to tell them
MIL: One of you should have called them
Me:...
MIL: One of you should have called them

Explain to me why I am getting chewed out for something that I had nothing to do with? <sigh>

O.C.

Those of you who have been following this blog know that I'm an animal nut. Hubby thinks we live in a zoo. To most people, we do. That's okay. It's the way we like it!

Over the years we've had many critters. At the moment we're down to four inside cats, two inside shih-tzus, one outside beagle and O.C..

A few weeks ago I noticed what I thought to be kitten outside on the back porch. It was black and white and I was sure I'd seen it go through the yard in the winter - just passing through- and I was pretty sure this was the cat the crazy lady across the road had called about several weeks ago (before her psychotic episode). She'd left a message on the machine saying it was by her door and wouldn't let her in the house and was it my cat? She'd also called Hubby, and I'm pretty sure she must have called everyone else in the neighborhood.

At any rate, it was so thin you could see it's spine, and it was eating birdseed and suet. You heard me right. I'm not dumb. I knew if I fed it, it would be back. I called Hubby to see what his sage advice might be. I figured if I fed it and he wasn't happy about it, then I'd hear about it forever. He agreed that it must really be starving to resort to eating birdseed and suet. I mean, cats are carnivores.

He agreed to let me feed it, but impressed upon me that this was not our cat. This would never be our cat. This cat would always be a stray. I was more concerned that it was going to starve to death before it got off the porch.

I put some dry cat food out on the porch. The cat took off like a shot the minute it saw me, and I didn't know if it would ever come back. A couple of days later I saw it again skulking around the yard. I thought it had come up to eat, as the bowl was a bit emptier - but I had to take it into the house at night so the racoons wouldn't get into it. Every time I saw it on the deck or in the yard it would go hide in the woods.

About 10 o'clock one night Hubby flipped on the porch light and made a comment about the cat being out there. I went to the sliding glass door and looked out. To my amazement, the cat was sitting on the steps facing the door, staring at me, and right beside it on the step was a raccoon! I held my breath. I figured the cat was dead meat. Raccoons are notoriously mean-spirited and we'd heard a couple of them fighting on the deck over birdseed on other nights. I'd even heard stories of raccoons eating cats just because they'd eaten cat food and smelled like it. I watched with bated breath for one of them to twitch and it to be all over but the blood and guts. The raccoon was about 3x the size of the cat!

You could see the raccoon looking at the cat out of the corner of its' eye. The cat was frozen, looking at me. Slowly, ever so slowly, the raccoon began to come further up the stairs and slunk around the corner post to the porch floor, trying to keep its' eye on the cat. As soon as it came up on the deck I slapped my hand against the glass to scare the raccoon away - and they both took off into the darkness. Crisis averted.

Fast forward a couple of weeks. I'm still feeding the cat. The cat is still running everytime it sees me....almost. It's starting to come closer. I can hear it meowing in the tall grass on the edge of the forest when I'm outside. It starts hanging around on the porch when we're inside, looking in the windows. I go outside one day and sit on the glider and a minute later it is laying beside me. I ignore it so as not to scare it, and it begins rolling around on its' back - her back, I can now see clearly. She rubs against me and lets me scratch her and pet her. She seems amazingly clean for having been in the wild. I don't see any ticks or fleas (wanting to be sure before I carried any of that in to my other animals). She didn't hardly have any burrs on her, for being wild.

Now we are best of friends. What to do? I call my vet. I don't know if she's in heat, or has had kittens or is pregnant. I don't have a clue how old she is, she looks so young, and I don't know if she is healthy or diseased. Hubby doesn't want to spend any money on her, as she could be gone tomorrow and we all know it is NOT COMING IN THE HOUSE EVER.

My vet is the coolest lady ever. She has me bring the cat in so she can check it out - for free. I deliver it with the new name "O.C." given to her by Hubby. Yeah, you guessed it "Outside Cat". (Lest I should ever forget). My vet gives her a feline leukemia test, says she's had kittens at one time but they've been weaned, and offers to spay her and give a rabies shot at an incredibly reasonable rate. She's even going to keep her until she can fit her in for the surgery. What a gal! We do this, and a few days afterwards I'm told I can pick her up but she needs to be contained for a week to make sure her incision doesn't get infected. Now what do I do with her? I can't take her inside! I end up putting her in a dog cage in the garage. I put a small dish full of litter in the cage not knowing if she would even have a clue what it was. Luck would have it, she did.

As the day approached to let her out, I didn't think I'd probably ever see her again. Not too many wild creatures appreciate being caged. I figured I'd let her loose and she would shoot out of there and be long-gone. It wasn't to be. She hangs around, sleeping on the porch right next to the back door curled up on a piece of carpet we keep there for a rug. Every morning I put her food dish out and every night I take it in. She talks to you when you go outside and follows you around the yard as you do things like water the flowers. Amazingly enough, when the puppies go outside they try to play with her sometimes and even though she has claws she doesn't use them and the puppies have yet to realize cats can hurt them. (The inside cats are all de-clawed and the pups like to play with them, too, but the cats just jump up out of reach when it gets too wild for them).

Hubby refused to talk about O.C. for the longest time. Refused to even acknowlege she was there, even when she sat right outside the sliding door next to his chair and "talked" to him. He pretended she didn't exist.

Occasionally he would say "Oh, I can see it now... when winter comes you'll want her inside". I'd reply that I was fine with her being outside as long as she had her claws and some shelter - that animals like that adapt and their coats grow thicker and so forth. That if I really thought it was too bad some night I could put her back in her cage in the garage during the cold spell, or whatever. He would just make grumpy noises in the back of this throat and tell me we needed to change the subject.

You've got to understand, my husband really is the most softhearted guy in the world. This is soooo out of character for him, being cold to an animal. He is the one who said early in our relationship, "I will never have a dog in the house". Not only did our shih-tzu live in the house, but we had two german shepherds who ended up living in our very small house. (We didn't have the shepherds at the same time). Then he said, "I will never have a dog on the bed". Ooookay... our shih tzu spent most of her youth on our bed, until she got to old to get up and down by herself. Then I heard, "I will not have a cat in the house". We all know how that came out. I think he's more nuts about these cats than I am! More than once he's said how happy he is that we don't let them out to get hurt or killed.

O.C. has been patiently biding her time.

Youngest daughter has suggested she needs a new name. Something fitting her personality, like 'Cleo - Queen of the Raccoon Hunters'. I think it's going to stick - at least the 'Cleo' part. Hubby came in last night from starting the grill.

Hubby: That sure is a nice cat
Me: Uh-huh
Hubby: Don't you think we've reached our limit in the house?
Me: It's a big house
Hubby: She sure is nice
Me:...
Hubby: We may have to think about this

Let's just put it this way, I've already decided I'll have to pay the vet her normal fee for all the work she did on Cleo. I hope there aren't any more strays around. I can't afford it. Is nice to see my husbands' true colors coming out, though. I wondered where they'd gone. I'll let you know how it goes...

Life in the Blog Lane

So, maybe I over-reacted a bit when I found out I’d been found out. As my lovely daughter reminded me, she’s got the ESP and it’s not like she wouldn’t KNOW anyway…! Yep. She’s right. Besides, if she can’t handle knowing me after 24 years, then she’ll probably never be able to handle it. So… guess I’m just gonna lay it out there like I have been and let the bones fall where they will…

Doin’ A Happy Dance

It RAINED! Yippee! Whoo haa! Wowwwweeeee! I’d do cartwheels, but it wouldn’t be pretty…

...and the Winner Is...

Youngest son won the race tonight! Whooo Hoo!!!!!

Cat's Out of the Bag

Uh oh. I did it. I opened my big mouth and made a comment to my daughter the other day that yes, I was not only reading blogs... I had one. Silly me. I didn't tell her the name. I gave her no clue. This is the ESP girl. Yeah. She found it. Immediately. She's spookey.

Now the big question becomes, will I start censoring myself knowing that she is reading it? Knowing that she may share it with other members of the family? Do I start worrying that I will be giving away tooo many insights into my mind and in doing so may lose more of it than I currently have?

I guess only time will tell. I figure she's a big girl now. She can handle it. Besides, she knows me so well that probably nothing I say will be a revelation anyway! Yeah, it's like that. Love ya, sweetie...

It's Not the Humidity... It's the HEAT!

Here in the midwest we get hot. We don't just get hot, though, we get sweaty, steamy, stinky, sweltering, drippy, droopy, tired, and cranky. It's not the heat, it's the humidity. We spend part of the summer in sweltering rain-forest-like humidity, without the shade of the rain-forest. It's only 93, with a heat index of 102. That doesn't sound like much to those folks in the southwest, but TRUST ME... it's hot. Time to go lay down in the air conditioner...

Coincidence?

Follow along, children...

My father-in-law (who is now deceased) had a best friend he went to elementary school, junior high and high school with. The best friend went on to college, but in the same town, so they were able to continue their friendship. They both farmed. They both married and had children - he, four daughters and FIL had two sons and a daughter. They had much in common and stayed close friends their whole life. He's often referred to my husband as his "surrogate son".

My birthday is his wedding anniversary and his birthday is my wedding anniversary.

Weird, huh?

Do you have any odd coincidences like that?

Illusion

I had an interesting conversation with my youngest daughter the other day. She's 24. We're very close, and have been called 'twins' for years. Not just that we look alike, but we have the same mannerisms and voice, too. Of course, we're not obviously twins - it's easy to tell I'm the mom, but it's jokingly an accurate description.

I have four children, two boys and two girls. Though, at this point in their lives I should be saying two men and two women. Guess they'll always be boys and girls to me, tho'. Over the years we've been through good things and bad things, as do most parent-child relationships. For the past several years, however, we've been on great terms. I consider myself extremely lucky.

When thinking and discussing my kids with my daughter I told her how I'd come to this odd conclusion that my kids were all different parts of my personality. I've been married twice, and although I can see parts of my children's fathers in them, it still seems to be my personality that is dominant. My eldest (girl) is married, has a child, and although works outside the home, is a very nurturing mom and wife. She is very much a family-oriented person and is the one who takes it upon herself to call her biological father or her grandmother and tries to keep the ties going with that side of the family, even though their father pretty much drifted out of her and her brothers' lives years ago. She is the homemaker in every sense of the word.

My next oldest (boy) who shares the same biological father as the eldest, is a very creative type. He originally wanted to go to New York and be an actor and still has some of that travel lust in his blood. He is graduating in a couple of weeks from college where he has spent nine years trying to get a four-year degree in MIS. I love him for that. His stamina, his persistance. He's had job offers to quit school and go to work for big money, but he decided to stick it out and finish. I'm so proud of him for that. He's my travel-guy-computer-geek side. Very smart. (Yes, I'm a mom, I can brag.)

The next one down is the daughter that I'm so much alike. She is smart as a whip and questions everything in the universe. She's married, now, but went through the phase where she didn't think she ever would, and right now doesn't think she'll probably have children. That's okay with me. I'm not a woman who HAS to have grandchildren. I have one, and if none of my children ever have another that's just fine. As long as my kids are happy, that's all I want. She's the animal nut in the family, too. For years we thought she'd be the veterinarian, but she went to college and got a degree in anthropology. She, however, now works in a pet store and is quickly moving up the chain into management and much to her new husbands' dismay she's begun her critter collection. Hubby keeps telling him he's just along for the ride... if she's like her mother (which she is) he'd better get used to it. She was the one who changed her major several times while in college because she has waaaaay too many interests. She started off in an art field, which is an area she excels in, also. I love to paint, take photos, write, draw, work with rubber stamps, do cross-stitching, sewing and crocheting, and generally be creative and she mimics all those things - only does them better. She and my eldest both love nature and are avid gardeners as well as loving houseplants.

My youngest (boy) is probably the most like Hubby. He's the one into stock car racing and fabricating and engine building. However, he's also an animal nut and is close to his family. He has a soft heart and finds the time for hurting friends. He's shy until he knows you, then can be as gregarious as his father. He is honest as the day is long and doesn't mind putting in a full day's work - if not longer. He loved the farm when he was a child and has a knack for all of it... but ran away from it in his teens to find his own way. He worked for a couple of different businesses who built race car motors and found it to be very rewarding and he learned a lot. Then he learned there is a down-side. The business doesn't stay very busy year-round. He did a lot of soul-searching and in his twenties came home to help Hubby farm. The years apart gave them both time to grow and mature. They now can talk about the work as equals instead of father-son and he has found a love of the work once more. It's been a blessing.

I spoke to my daughter about all of this and she began laughing. Maybe... she said...it was all a dream and you'll wake up and find out you never did get married (twice) or have kids or anything! You never imagined in your life that you could go from growing up in a fairly large midwest city to being married to a farmer for 25+ years and living in the country. Maybe it never happened. Maybe you'll find yourself in that padded room you always figured you'd end up in. Maybe.

Wow.

Remind Me

When I win the lottery I want a swimming pool. It is friggin' HOT today!

Lest I Forget

This post reminded me when going to the funeral yesterday, which was in a town I'd never heard of, next to another town I had heard of, we used my daughter's (okay, and SIL's) GPS unit. We were discussing how cool it was and we decided it must have been created by men so they wouldn't have to stop and ask for directions... and could be totally cool doing it. Just a thought.

Unexpectedly Beautiful

Not that I'm trying to be particularily gloomy - I usually save that for my other blog. I will try to get off this subject soon. The subject: death.

I went to the funeral yesterday of my daughter's friends' mother. (Those of you who are English majors probably cringe at my punctuation. Sorry.) At any rate, it was rather unusual compared to the funerals I have attended in the past.

Until now the funerals I have attended have been held in a church or funeral home. The casket is usually open and there is a guest book to sign as you file by the deceased and try to figure out if they made him/her look as life-like as they did the last time you saw him/her. You sit in a chair where for fifteen minutes you try and figure out which flowers were sent by whom and who is that person sitting with the family that you are just sure you should know. You are always early - it just wouldn't do to come late to such an event. Ever.

A person begins the service. It normally is a pastor / minister / priest / whatever religious affiliation the deceased belongs with. Sometimes there are family members who read a little something they've written or simply recite scripture. There is a bit about the persons' life. Depending on how well the speaker has known the person or has been prepped by the family, it can come out very well - or very stilted. Sometimes you know the person better than the one speaking and it becomes difficult to say who this person was that they are talking about, 'cause it sure isn't the one you knew! Finally, they normally try to impart some of their own beliefs onto the crowd in one form or another, then you are adjorned to either follow the casket to a cemetary for a graveside service, or to skip that and go straight to the luncheon in the church basement.

This one was different. For one thing, there was no church or funeral home service. They only had a graveside service. The casket wasn't open, and a picture of the woman taken when she was young a beautiful was placed on the top. The mourners showed up in shorts and jeans and tank tops and flip-flops. That was how she wanted it. Casual. She loved her garden and a lovely poem had been written by her sister that reflected how the garden and the wild creatures would miss "the caretaker" of the garden. Her husband of 50-some years brought her pet bird to the service and to the church afterwards where they served cookies and juice and everyone talked about her life. It was unexpectedly beautiful.

I hope when I go it will be with casual grace and kind words from people who really knew me.

I Thought This Wasn't Suppose to Happen Until I Was Older?

Isn't one of the signs of aging that all your friends and aquantances start dying? That you read the obituaries before you read the rest of the news to see who died today? I'm starting to feel that way and I'm not even that old!

My friend and 'roomate' at work - (Hubby hates when I call him that, but we are the only ones who share an actual room, so I call him that to specify him instead of the other guys who have rooms all to themselves) - his mother passed last weekend. A couple of weeks ago, a family friend and business associate passed in his sleep unexpectedly. Then, I found out yesterday that a family friend passed as well as a good friend of my daughter's mother. The funeral for her is today, out of town, and daughter is coming up for that. I'm going to go with her. The other one I'm expecting will be in a day or so.

All but one of these people were all in ill health and had long-term illnesses. Their deaths were not totally unexpected. However, no matter how much we prepare for a loved one to leave, it seems there is always a momentary shock. That they are truly gone from our lives. The man who passed in his sleep was the most peaceful... he passed as my FIL did ten years ago. No sign that there was trouble. They'd both recently had physicals and stress tests and passed with flying colors. Then went to bed and died sometime during the night without a hint of trouble to wake the spouses lying next to them. That is a wonderful way to pass for the passee... but is a horrible shock for the family and all who knew them.

I find I'm starting to read the obituaries. It's really rather disturbing to see in as small of a community that I live in, how many people I know - or know of. I guess it's just a sign I'm getting older.

Tagged. I'm It.

Lifetime Meme: Miss Sizzle tagged me...

10 years ago: I quit my job because the bitch in the office next to me complained because I wouldn’t stay until she left at 6 p.m. I had to face some hard realities in my past, then had a nervous breakdown. I was suicidal, then decided it wasn’t worth the effort. I got closer to my kids. I got a crushed vertebrae and had back surgery. My father-in-law passed away and I began a closer relationship with my husband and the farm operation (in that order). Decided life was a good thing.

5 years ago: I started a new part-time job just to “keep my fingers in” the computing game. After six weeks the person I was working with as support staff decided to leave and I became the full-time person for the entire company.

1 year ago: We moved into our new house. This is the first house we’ve owned. This the first time my husband has moved since he was 7-years-old. This is my sixth move, but the last one was over 25 years ago. This is my dream house. I designed it, made all the decisions on it, and furnished it. I love it – no, you can’t love something that doesn’t love you back – I like it a LOT.

Yesterday: I finished crocheting a baby blanket for a friend's new baby. I finished reading my 4th book of the weekend. A family friend passed away.

Today: I am working part of the day, then taking my 15 borrowed books back to the library to pick up another week’s worth. I am buying my husband new “funeral shoes”. I had a good talk with a co-worker whose mother passed away last weekend after a long fight with cancer.

Tomorrow: I really don’t know. I’ll play it by ear…

5 snacks I enjoy: Cheese and crackers. Beef sticks. Sour cream and onion chips. Olives. Cream cheese with salsa and corn chips.

5 bands/singers that I know the lyrics of MOST of their songs: October Project. Sara McLachlan. Dan Fogelberg. Counting Crows. Barenaked Ladies.

5 things I would do with $100,000,000: Pay off our farm debt. Pay off our house. Pay off our kids’ college loans. Build or support a no-kill animal shelter. Hire a gardner and a housecleaner. Help our kids buy houses. Give boss ultimatum – work from home or I quit. (So I can't count - sue me.)

5 locations I’d like to run away to: California. (Did that). Ireland. Cancun. Maine. Seattle.

5 bad habits I have: Biting my nails. Saying "like" way too much. Eating too much sugar. Not flossing (but lying about it to my dentist). (Wow! Didn’t know Sizzle and I were so much alike!). Being anti-social.

5 things I like doing: Writing. Playing with my pets/kids/husband – not necessarily in that order. Cooking/eating (they DO go together, you realize!). Reading.

5 things I would never wear: Heels over 1” (I have terrible balance). A thong. Fake bake. Short-shorts. A mu-mu.

5 TV shows I like: Law and Order (All of them – that would make four right there, so I’m cheating and lumping them all together). Carnival (cancelled – Bastards!). Dead Like Me (cancelled – Bastards!). Farscape (cancelled – you get the idea). The L Word.

5 movies I like: When Harry Met Sally. The Way We Were. Casablanca. Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Tron.

5 famous people I’d like to meet: Stephen King. Barbra Streisand. Steven Spielburg. Patricia Cornwell. George Michael.

5 biggest joys at the moment: My critters(and grandcritters). My kids (and grandkid). Hubby. My gardens and house. My new blog friends.

5 favorite toys: My laptop. My ipod. My mower tractor with attachments. My digital camera. The VCR.

5 people to tag: brad. GB. Deb. C. Kenna.

One Step at a Time

I think I've mentioned before that my youngest son races cars. He started with Hobby Stocks, and has moved up in classes to Stock cars. He's raced cars since he was 14. He's 22. He's a natural. This isn't just a mom bragging, but it's been observed and talked about by people who know these things. He doesn't just race them, either - he builds them. He can take a motor apart and put it back together in less time than it takes normal human beings to get their oil changed. He's that good.

I usually don't go to his races. I've got too good of an imagination. I've told him, he could go flying off the track and be just fine and I'd be crying and moaning and saying "my baby!" and would embarrass the hell out of him. It's better I'm not there. Hubby goes every time and calls me the minute he's raced to let me know how he did and that the car is on the trailer and I can relax now. I've watched tapes of the races, and that's okay - even when he rolled four times - because he was sitting three feet from me watching the same thing. It's the fear of the unknown.

A couple of years ago I went to Supernationals. It's a big deal around these parts. They get cars from all over the country - and even Australia! You have to be there at least two hours early to get a decent seat, and it goes for several days what with try-outs and all. I went to the final night. My son had already qualified and was going to start in the front of the pack. That 's usually a good place for him. Of course, his class didn't race until almost the end of the evening. I'd been watching race after race for hours. It seemed every single race I watched had an accident or two. Everyone walked away - nobody got hurt. That doesn't matter. It does, but not in my head. By the time my son raced I was fighting a migraine, trying not to vomit on the extra-large man in front of me and holding my daughter's hands (they'd gone to support me).
Son came in third - after a doozy of a race. I was very proud. I was very sick. I haven't gone to a race since.

Until last night.

Yeah, I went. It was fine. He didn't wreck. No motor parts flew off. He won his heat race and came in fourth in the main. He's leading in track points right now and has won several times at this track over the years. He has little kids and old men come up to him after the race and ask for autographs and advice. He jokes and trades tips with other drivers and crews. He has the admiration and respect of people twice or three-times his age and experience. I'm very proud of him.

He thanked me for going to the race. I thanked him for not wrecking. We hugged. I love this guy!

I'll probably go again... in a year or so...

Scary, Huh?

One of my favorite bloggers, Jules, brought up a subject a few days ago about movies that scare you. I agreed with her list and her reasons and added a couple of my own. Today she was writing a review of the "War of the Worlds" movie. The subject came up again about being scared.

In thinking back over the years and the movies that have scared me for one reason or another, I remembered a small movie called "Testament" made back in 1983. It starred Jane Alexander as a normal mother dealing with normal children and family life when it is rudely interrupted by a nuclear attack.

This movie scared the shit out of me.

I have always lived in Iowa (that's NOT the potato state to you). The closest thing I've got that could probably risk this happening in my back yard is Omaha, Nebraska. Yes, folks, that's where President Bush went on 9/11. The more likely thing to happen in my area is to have a tornado or two or three or four... you get the picture. However, when I was a child, we had those drills. The warning would sound and you were told to get under your desk and put your arms over your head. Now, of course, we know that isn't very effective.

Still, I am the child of an era. When the rado or television station start having their "emergency alert" drills I flash onto the scene in the Testament movie where the alert is sounding - but it isn't a drill. More than likely, it will be as the new movie portrayed it - there will be the tone and the recording, but there will be no information and we'll all be left to our own devices.

Scary? Very.

It Can't Happen Here

9/11 was a horrid horrible thing. It was done by evil, horrible people with their own agenda and no value for human life. It was done, however, from a distance. A cold, calculated plan was drawn up and executed and beautiful, innocent people died. My heart went out that day to their families and friends and I wished, like everyone else to understand "why?".

As ugly and awful as that day was, I remember years earlier in 1966 when I heard of a man named Richard Speck who murdered eight student nurses in Chicago. My friends and I would talk about what happened and try and figure out if someone came in our house if we would be brave enough to hide under our beds as the only survivor did. For many years I would worry that I wouldn't be able to get under my bed - or where I would hide if that wasn't an option. It became an obsession. My mother tried to make me feel better, saying "It can't happen here".
That worked for a few years...

In September 1982 my world turned upside down when a boy named Johnny Gosch disappeared from my hometown while delivering newspapers in his local neighborhood. A few months later, Eugene Martin vanished - assumed abducted also. He, too, was a paperboy and the similarities between the cases were shocking.

Here we are 20-some years later and I am stunned by the recent abductions, murders, and child abuses that seem to be so frequent in my state. (I won't even get into the nation as a whole!) A little five-year-old girl's body was found today after a week-long search. Murder, then dumped in the river, appear to be the result.

A sexual predator, released after doing 10 years time, abducts and abuses two children after killing their mother, older sibling and their mother's boyfriend. Suddenly the abductor and the older child, a girl, appear together... arrests are made... terrible tales are told. Still there is a small boy unaccounted for.

A mother from out East is coming to the state to try and find her two childrens' bodies that her estranged husband allegedly dumped along Interstate 80 somewhere.

A sex offender, released, abused and tortured and murdered an 11-year-old girl. He has no remorse.

A family who were supposed to be sheltering and nurturing foster children tortured them, starving them and finally beating one to death and burying him - only to found out a couple of years down the road.

A teenage girl set fire to her parents' house, killing her two younger siblings. She was trying to kill the stepfather who had been sexually abusing her for many years.

This is the tip of the iceberg. I'm a mother of four, a grandmother of one. I am appalled that human beings can do this to their young. It's bad enough that we choose to maim and murder each other as adults, but to prey on the young ones - the ones that look to us for guidance and shelter and security. That is just evil beyond words.

Johnny Gosch and Eugene Martin are still lost... but not forgotten. To this day Noreen Gosch carries the search for her son. Divorced... her life forever changed by that morning, she still believes he's out there somewhere.

The first blow to innocence is never ever wiped from our memories. It isn't something I dwell on every day, but with each day that brings new horrors for our children it sparks that memory of a little boy going out to deliver newspapers on a September mornings' dark dawning and never to be seen again. What do we tell our children? Don't talk to strangers. You'll be safe with me. Then they are getting taken out of front yards and even their own beds.

Sorry, Mom... but it can happen here.