Z

Today is one of three things.  It is the very last day of the A-Z challenge, and I have to say I am glad I did it, but I am also equally glad it's over.  It's my birthday, which makes celebrating the end of this challenge even that more special, and finally it's the day I will write about the most precious gift I ever received, my son Zeb.

20 yrs ago I was in a very dark, sad, place.  I thought for sure there was nothing worth living for, that I was just going to be sad forever and I couldn't deal with it.  I took a bunch of pills and ended up very close to ending my life.  I was lucky, I was lucky because there was a group of people in my life that had to remind me of what kind of future I had in store, and they had to do that over and over.   These people literally saved my life, they kept my dreams alive, and they saw what I could not see, and that was the end to the darkness.  I will be forever grateful, and on my birthday I acknowledge their help, love, and vision.   Thank you so much Sheri, Elizabeth, and Miriam.  Without you, I would not be here righting about the best thing that has ever happened to me, and the answer to all my questions.

When I found out that I was pregnant I secretly wanted a girl.  I had always wanted a girl for as long as I could remember.  What on earth would I do with a boy?  I have nothing in common with a boy, I don't like many sports unless they are in the final playoff of the season, I don't like snakes, frogs, mud pies, etc.  boy things are just not my things.  I knew with a girl I could dress her up, I could watch her dance in her dance class ever week and love it, I could spoil her with nice clothes, fun activities, and lots of Mommy/daughter time.  I wanted a girl, but I never shared that with anyone until I had my second ultrasound.

Until we knew the sex we called the little creature in my stomach Sam.  It was a name I liked, it reminded me of this special child I had looked after and gotten to know well years ago, and it could easily go with a girl or a boy.  There were many nights, while laying in bed talking, that Damie and I would talk to little Sam.  So much excitement, and so many plans were made during those nights taking to our baby in my tummy.

At my second ultrasound we knew we were going to be able to find out the sex.  We had decided before going that we wanted to know, and that way we could plan accordingly. I was secretly wanting a girl, and I think Damie was wanting a boy, but we really never discussed it.  Damie's mom came that day, so it was the three of us waiting patiently while the tech pressed the wand on my belly, gliding over it with the help of the cold, sticky lubricant.   Finally she had discovered the sex and asked us what we wanted.  In unison we all yelled out our desire....I yelled girl, and Damie and her mom yelled boy!!  I was shocked and even a little mad because I really felt outnumbered, like that would matter it was already determined right, but I couldn't help it.  The tech then said, "well two of you are right!!!"  I was so disappointed, I can't tell you.  I really wanted a girl, but what was I going to do?

Over the next few months I got used to the idea of having a boy, we even named him.  Zebulon Samuel!  Of course we kept the Sam thing, as it was what we had been calling him, and it was after that special boy I once knew.  Zebulon, well that was another thing. 

When I was a kid I had a couple of favorite shows.  One was the Walton's.  I loved it, mostly because it was about a wonderful family who loved each other and wanted the very best for each member.  I loved the mom and dad,  I loved the thought of having all those brothers and sisters, and all the fun that it would bring.   Most importantly I love the way the male characters were, very honorable, very kind, and very trustworthy.  I especially loved the Grandfather.  He was very kind, understanding, funny, emotional, and he was someone you could trust.  That is who I named my son after.

When Zeb finally came into the world we had a bit of a hard time getting people to call him Zeb.  There were a couple who wanted to continue calling him Sam, as they didn't like the name Zeb.  How rude is that??  I just didn't understand that, but yet that is the way it was.  I thought from the very first day that his name suited him to a T.  He looks like a Zeb, and he certainly acts like a Zeb. 

This little boy, who isn't exactly really little anymore, has turned my world upside down.  I never realized how much a boy could bring to my life.  I have learned so much from him, but more importantly I have learned so much about myself.  Through him I understand that boys are kind, caring, sensitive, loving, really all of the things that girls are.  He has a way about him that is so easy, without drama.  I like that he can just let things roll off his back, and not let the little things bug him.  I like that he can easily talk to people, like they are just best friends that just haven't met before.  I like how nothing about him comes as a surprise, he is who he is, and you either like it or not.

I have never met anyone like him before.  This little guy brings light into my life in a way I never ever expected.  Most of the day he is either laughing, singing or dancing.  He talks non-stop, and always has so much information he wants to share with us.  He loves his mommies, and is proud of who he is and where he comes from.  He loves Adele, and the sound track from Momma Mia, and Justin Beiber.   His favorite colour is purple, and has made that the only colour in his room.  He wears only short sleeve shirts, I don't know why but I think it's because that's what Shaggy wears in Scooby Doo.  He laughs with his whole body, and smiles in a way that his whole face is involved.  He is a math whiz, and loves to read.  Learning new things for him is a passion, not like me at that age at all, I hated school and he loves it.

Above all else, I am so grateful that I made it to see him in this world.  I know that my purpose was that, to bring such a wonderful child into the world, and to raise him into an honorable man.  He is why I was born, and why I lived through all the dark days, so that I could make it here, with him!

Yodeling

I like to yodel, as I am sure you do to, I just don't do it enough.

I can't tell you when I started to yodel, back then it was more of a secret thing I did, and for a very long time it was something I did alone.  You know, when no one was home, or when I was trying to fall asleep on a warm night.  Yodeling always seemed to make me drift off, fast asleep.

When Damie and I were first together, we yodeled together all the time.  Sometimes two or three times a week you would catch us yodeling.  It was pretty normal for us.  Then the years past, and the frequency of our yodeling sessions became fewer and further apart.  You know how that is.  Yodeling became a hard thing to fit into our daily lives.  Then we had a baby and yodeling went out the door.  I didn't have time to yodel, are you kidding me, I barely had time to have a shower let alone yodel.  Yes you're right, I could have yodeled in the shower, but that just seemed like too much work.


Every single time I actually make time to yodel I ask myself, why don't I do that more often, I really enjoy it.  I guess yodeling, like everything else, takes a back seat in our busy lives.  I have heard that men think about yodeling twice as often as women, I don't know how much truth is in that, but I bet they miss the regular sessions as much as the women do.

I think it would be so much easier to actually get to yodel if I could multi-task while doing it, but it is just not something you can do while doing something else.  I know I could never take the dishes out of the dishwasher if I were yodeling, I think I would likely end up breaking more than I put away due to the fact that I put my whole body into doing it right.  I know I couldn't iron while I was yodeling, I would probably end up burning myself, or someone else, or the clothes.  Nope, when you yodel you really need to keep your focus on the yodeling and nothing else, otherwise you can't do it as well as you know you can.

Yodeling is a very popular activity.  I have heard of a bunch of people who like the challenge of being in a group called "the mile high" yodelers, and there was once a story about some famous singer who got caught late at night in a public washroom in a park yodeling.  As a matter of fact alot of people are getting famous these days making yodeling tapes and posting them on youtube, in fact from what I hear Kim Kardashian is famous for her yodeling expertise.  There are stores that sell items that make the yodeling experience more interesting and movies you can order late night that teach many new techniques.  It seems to be a world wide phenomenon.  I know I am not alone in my love for a good yodel from time to time!!


I think yodeling is a very enjoyable way to pass the time, I know I have always enjoyed my time doing it, perfecting my skill at it.  I don't really think that this is a subject that we should openly talk about really, even though we all know we all do it, but still, I think it's something for the most part that should be kept to yourself.  Oh, and anyone you may be yodeling with!  Now I am off to go get some toys and yodel my head off!!

;)

X x X = 100

This, is my 100th blog. I can't believe it.

I didn't know what was appropriate on this auspicious occasion, so I think I will make this milestone with what I have learned over the past 100 blogs.

I will begin by saying that it has been a great deal of fun, and very cathartic is some ways to write my memories, thoughts and feelings down for all to see.  In many ways it has freed me from all of it bouncing around in my head, getting muddled up and confused.  It has allowed me a way to express myself, in a little safe place where only I live and all others are simply just observers.   It has allowed me the voice I frequently felt I didn't have growing up, and a way to deal with all that crap in a productive manner, rather than the ways I had been dealing with it.

I have learned that there are a great deal more people out there than I would have ever thought that read blogs.  My blog has been visited by so many people from parts of the world that I can't even pronounce.  I can't imagine someone in a tiny little country in Europe would be interested in anything I would have to say, but it happens more than you would think.  This makes me happy in so many ways, it brings us together where there was very little chance that could happen any other way.  It also makes me feel good about what I am saying, because there are so many people I don't even know reading daily.

I have learned that I am not a bad writer.  I am a simple person and write that way.  I don't have the expanse of vocabulary I would like, and that shows in the way I write, but I don't feel I need it.  I like how I put things down, it flows from my head in a easy way.  I usually don't put alot of thought into how I am writing things, I just let the fingers go, and am sometimes surprised by what comes out on the screen.

I have found that it is so easy writing from your heart, when you don't have any real idea who is reading it.  I have often written for my own eyes, usually writing my days events in a journal, but this has a bit more realness to it.  In some way if feels like it goes further, and accomplishes more, for me and for the reader.

I can't tell you how much comments mean to me.  I feel sort of validated by them, and they really make me feel encouraged.  I like when someone gets something out of what I have said and want to share that with me.  I need that, in some strange way, to feel like I am connected to the reader in more ways than just with the words.  I enjoy that for a few minutes of the day someone is connecting to me, and I don't even know it.  Isn't that a wonderful feeling.  It brings so many nice things back to me, and I love that it has that effect.

Now, on this 100th post, would like to thank all of you who have tuned into each post, who have left comments, and who have felt what I have written.  Each and every one of you is important to this journey I am on, and I would like to encourage you to introduce yourself, let me have the opportunity to know where you are from, what brought you here.  I love that we are connecting, and I look forward to the next 100 posts.  I wonder what they will be??

Weird events

After my friend passed away, I moved into a new apartment.  It was the upstairs of a duplex. 

Soon after moving in and getting everything put in it's place, weird things started to happen.  I would come home from work and the pictures I had on a tv stand were turned around facing the wall.  Every evening I would turn them back facing the front and the next day the same thing would happen. 

One very hot evening I was standing at the sink in my kitchen doing dishes.  I was very hot,  and doing the dishes was not helping with that at all.  All of a sudden I felt this very cold hand in the middle of my back.  At first it scared me, but then it felt good.  I didn't want to move, because I didn't want it to go away so I stood there for the longest time, just letting the hand stay where it was.  At some point it occurred to me that this just might be my friend who had recently passed away.  I said "if this is you, thank you for the cold hand, it felt good, but I think it's time you go.  I will be okay, everyone will be okay, you need to go where you can find peace.  I will love you forever, and I miss you so much, but you need to go now". 

After that night I never felt the hand again, and the pictures were never turned around when I came home from work.  I guess she listened to me, and when to find her peace.

V is for Vancouver

It was 1981, I had just finished the seventh grade and was excited about being almost finished grade school.  The summer was a nice, but cool one so far, and I was going to be going on my first ever plane ride.

My parents had planned a trip to Vancouver British Columbia for the three of us.  I had never been to the west coast of Canada, although my father had worked there several times in his career.  They had the trip planned and we were going to be heading west in July.

The plane trip was like no other I have ever taken since.  It was back when going on a plane was almost a formal outing.  People wore their good clothes, the flight attendants wore skirts and were very proper, and the plane was huge.  There were smoking sections on the plane, can you imagine that, and there were stairs leading up to where the pilots were.  I loved ever single minute of the three hour flight. 

My parents had planned a few thing to do while we were there, and I had a short list of my own as well.  Terry Fox had just recently died, and I wanted to go pay my respects at his grave site.  I had been granted the opportunity to meet him the summer before and felt the need to take some flowers and thank him for what he did for our country and for the fight against cancer.  Also, I knew that the "Love Boat" docked somewhere in the greater Vancouver area and I wanted to see it.  I had watched the show religiously for several years and would get a real kick out of seeing the real boat.  My parents had planned smaller trips to Whistler, and to Victoria, and a few little spots in between.  All in all it was going to be a busy 2 weeks.

The landscape was so different than anything I had ever seen before.  The tree didn't look normal to me, they seemed bigger, and they were.  We drove through area's where you could drive right threw the middle of trees, they were that big.  The mountains were beautiful, and I loved that no matter where you were you could see them off in the distance.  It was a beautiful place, breath taking.

While we were there Princess Diana and Prince Charles were married.  We had to be up by 4 am to watch the ceremony.  What an amazing sight that was, you knew you were watching history in the making.  I will never forget that day, or they day she died in that terrible accident.

I did see the love boat while I was there, and I was also able to find Terry Fox's grave, even thought there was no marker there yet.  I was happy that I got to complete both of my wishes during the trip.

Out of the whole trip I loved Victoria the most.  I love the sea, and being beside it was amazing for me.  We ate all our meals at the shore, and walked many walkways along the ocean.  You could look down into the rocks below and see star fish and other colourful sea creatures, it was so beautiful.  I love the British feel of the whole place, and since it was the summer of the royal wedding they had it decorated up for the event.

That was the last family vacation I ever went on, and it has stayed with me all of these years.  If you ever get a chance to get to Vancouver, go, you will not be disappointed, and there is no other place like it!

Ugly

I am on the home stretch of the A-Z challenge.  So far so good, but now we are hitting the letters that seem to be challenging me a bit more.  Today's word is ugly, and my intent here is to list off things I find ugly.  I am not at all talking about the way one looks, but rather the ugliness of the intent, and yes sometimes the way they look.

Snakes!  I don't care what kind, I don't care where they are, they are all ugly.  I hate them, and quite frankly could go the rest of my life never seeing another one and I would be a happy girl.   The house we lived in last had snakes in the basement the first two summers we lived there.  I can tell you, you learn to sleep with one eye open when there are snakes living one floor beneath you.

Mothers who feel the need to change their child's looks, especially their daughters.  I think this is the most outrageous thing any parent can do, and certainly never a mother.  Women know all too well how much emphasis is put on looks, and to even imagine that a mother would take their child to get a hair colour, or eye brow waxing job done just blows me away.  I'm not talking about girls days out, like when they are teens and they start to discover things like makeup and hair styles, I am talking about little girls, ones who shouldn't even be noticing what the hell they look like because they are too busy playing hind and go seek.   Love your child as they are, don't put feelings of inadequacies on them before they can even tie their shoes.  You know who you are!

People who think that jealousy is a part of love.  It is not in anyway love, and if someone is jealous of something you are doing, especially if that something you are doing makes you really happy, they are not loving you they are controlling you and this is really ugly.  Something else that goes along with this is those women who make their husbands being jealous as one of their endearing traits.  It is not endearing, it is not kind, it is not sweet, it's control and it's ugly to see a perfectly intelligent women having someone in their life that is like this and they don't even see it.

Woman who give up every single thing about them that makes them them, for a man. This drives me crazy.  This is the ugliest thing a woman can ever do.  Watching a strong independent women change to be a wishy washy sap before your eyes is the ugliest thing one can witness.  If you can't be who you are with the one you're with, than get a new one to be with.

People who feel like they own the road, and they are going to prove that by cutting you off and then giving you the finger when you sound the horn.  I think this ownership attitude is very ugly.  Driving is a privilege last time I looked, so treat others with dignity and respect.  The world would be a better place and you wouldn't look so ugly.

People who think, just because they have six letters behind their name or make 1000x more a year than you, that they rule the world.  I just can't stand people who feel that letters or money make them better than others.  All it makes you is richer and have spent more money and time in school.  I especially like those that go to school for 17 yrs, come out finally and then think that just because they have all this education they should be able to start at the top, they are entitled aren't they.  Or the ones who do all this just to buy buy buy and never feel that maybe they should be giving back back back, that makes the world go round.  I think those that feel the most entitled usually are the one who never do anything or give anything to others.  Why should they, they are entitled.    You are not smarter than me, you just have more formal education.  You might have more money than me but you aren't richer, I have all you will ever need to be happy in this life.  And the real ugly thing about these types of people, they don't even see it!

Men who think it's okay to go around on a hot day without a shirt on.  Unless you have rock hard abs and can pull off an amazing fake tan, leave your shirt on.  YES YOU!!  I do not need to see, what only a mother could love, taking my kid to the park or out walking my dog.  I don't need to see it, and neither does anyone else.  Have some dignity and put that shirt back on. 

People who judge others.  I am not talking about making observations, like the one I just posted about the shirtless gross man, what I mean is those who pick apart others in order to make themselves look better.  I just think, unless you want to take over their lives and do it better, shut up!  I am so sick of people thinking it's okay to tell someone else how to live their lives, like they are an expert at it.  It's so ugly to sit at a table with someone and have to sit there listening to them pick apart every single person in the room.  Ugly

Last, but not at all least.  It is very ugly when you talk out the side of your mouth and don't have the first idea of what you are saying.  I think someone who just disagrees to disagree is one of the ugliest people out there.  I equally hate it when people jump to conclusions simply because they are said over some radio station so therefor they must be true and accurate.  I like it when people question things, go do the research and then open your mind up before stating an opinion.  My in-laws were all Republicans.  When you asked them why they were Republican they couldn't give you an answer other than, "well because I want less Govt involvement".  Other than that they were dumb founded as to why they were.  The funniest thing is all I ever heard from them was how the government needed to regulate this and regulate that, especially abortions and gay rights, but hey they wanted less government involvement.  Well at least with the things they deemed important like gun laws and such! All they knew was any Democrats who ever walked the earth was a bad choice next to any Republican, and that's a fact Jack!!  UGLY!

Theatre

The lights come down, the room is filled with darkness as the first lingering note is heard.  The orchestra surrounds the note and fills your ears with the melodies of what are to come.  As the curtain rises you start to feel the excitement build, the music crescendo's as the first of many actors fill the stage, and the show begins.

Theatre has been my refuge, my safe and familiar place for most of my life.  In my almost 45 yrs I have seen more theatre productions than I could count, some being better than others, but all well worth the investment.  I am a Thespian through and through.

My love for the theatre comes from my teen years, maybe even before that.  I was a one of two bee's and my brother was one of two skunks in our churches production of Noah's Ark, it was a marvelous production that was filled with songs and stories.  The entire church were involved, most of the character's were played by amazing singers and actors.  I loved every single minute of it.  In my teen years I volunteered with the community theatre in my home town.  I learned how to dress sets, paint back drops, and build furniture during those days.  Later I would do more important things within productions, like run the lights and spot, but for the most part my role was very small.  Everything from South Pacific to Annie get Your Gun was produced there, which lead to me wanting more.  I loved the energy, the excitement, the conradery that came along with putting on a show, it was like a drug to me.

In those early days I never really had the guts to audition to be in anything on stage, back ground work was where I enjoyed being.  I would have loved to be in the middle of it, belting out the songs, but fear overtook me and I was never quite able to achieve that during those early years. 

In my last year of high school I gained courage from some place deep within myself and forced myself to apply for college for music, vocals being my instrument.  Surprising to me, I was accepted everywhere I applied and chose to go to Toronto, like New York, if you can make it there you can make it anywhere.

I was overjoyed to be finally heading in the direction of my love.  Nothing pleased me more than getting up and singing this or that and walking away feeling good about myself.  In no time the whole atmosphere became more competitive than I liked, and I started to realize that there were people who hated me for no other reason than I was good.  I hated the whole thing, being competitive takes all the fun out of it.  I have never understood why on earth it is something to be competitive about.  Needless to say, I moved on and didn't look back.

When I moved to Houston TX I started working in a professional musical theatre.  It wasn't much different than college, as far as  the back stabbing and behind the back talk.  Actually it was more like high school that way than college had been, but I stuck with it for almost 5 yrs.  During those years I worked mostly behind the scenes as stage manager or running the light board.  I enjoyed the work, I loved the shows.

If I were to pick out my favorite show of all time I would have to chose Parade, by Jason Robert Brown.  I loved that show more than any one I had ever seen.  It moved me in a way that I had never been moved before, and I liked that.  This show tells the true story of a Jewish business man, Leo Frank,  in 1913 in Marietta Georgia, who has been accused of killing a young girl.  The story is dark, sad and depicts the beliefs of the time. The outcome is not one you see often in musicals, however it rings the truth of the time and makes you cringe to think that people were actually that way once.   This is an amazing show, one I could see over and over.  

We have tried from a very early age to take Zeb to as many musicals as we can.  He is made for musical theatre.  To ask a kid with ADHD to sit for two or three hours is like asking the wind to stop blowing through the trees, impossible.  When Zeb sits down in those theatre seats and the show starts, you can't get that kid to move, or talk or even look away from the stage for two or three hours.  Any sign of ADHD is gone, and he is who God intended him to be.  We have taken him to see so many shows, both in New York as well as in Detroit I really couldn't list them all, but his favorite by far is Wicked.  Not a bad favorite, considering the great message that show has, not to mention the amazing songs!

Theatre is to be cherished.  Nothing conveys a story, a message if you will like live theatre can.  The arts are being hit hard in this economy, unfortunately, as it is not exactly a need for most people.  Schools are taking their programs out, due to budget cuts.  It would sadden me so much if we were to watch the decline of such a treasured gift.  All through the ages, theatre has been an outlet for all, a way to get away from all the ills of the world and become lost in for a couple of hours.  It is a great way to spend a Sunday afternoon, with the whole family, and I intend to continue going until I can no longer go anymore.

Zeb will be on stage one day, that I can count on.  He has what it takes, he loves it like I have never seen before.  I look forward to one day sitting in the audience as my baby is up there entertaining the folks like I know he can.  That is why he is here. 

Storms

There's nothing like watching a storm come in over lake Erie.  You can see the clouds start to join together, while the colours darken giving an erie glow to the water.  It's very hard to not recognize the majestic power happening right before your eyes.  The clouds move quickly towards you, as the waves increase in size and intensity.  White caps are all you see, as far as your eyes can go across the lake.  The noise from the waves hitting the shore begins to sound like you are inside a tunnel filled with water and they are sloshing you around.  The sound is intense, as the storm builds.  The gulls are flying like crazy above the white caps, waiting on an easy meal, their feathers shine, almost a metalic colour, against the dark cloud backdrop.  Your heart starts to speed up, you feel your arms and legs start to kind of tingle with excitement.  All of a sudden there is crack, and a loud boom and you head to shelter because this is going to be a big one.

I love a storm, there is so much power, so much excitement in them.  It doesn't have to be a warm summer one off the lake, it can be a snow filled one also.  When the world becomes electric with the excitement only a storm can bring, makes me feel alive.

When I was in the eleventh grade we had one of the biggest snow storms I can remember.   It all started on a Saturday afternoon.  My parents were in Toronto at a boat show and I was alone at home.   It had been planned for quite some time and I was okay with it.  I was scheduled to babysit on Saturday night, and they were going to be home early on Sunday,  I had exams the next week so most of my free time needed to be used to study and prepare anyway so having the house empty would only help with that. 

The storm rolled in around noon on Saturday.  We lived in the snow belt of Ontario and were very used to bigger storms, and from what they were saying this one was going to be a big one, but nothing that would have too big of an effect on anyone, maybe just inconvenience some people Saturday night.  I was to be at my neighbours by 5:30 to sit with their kids while they went out to a wedding reception. 

Before I headed over to the neighbours I spent a hour cutting fire wood for our wood burning stove.  There was a room in the house that was only heated by wood so I wanted to make sure I had enough wood for the night, that way I would come home to a warm place to study and not have to go out in the worst of it.  When I finished I headed across the street to watch the kids.

At about 10:30 the parents came home, they paid me and told me how bad it was out there.  It seems that the reception shut down early so that those who were from the county could get home before they closed the roads, the storm was gaining up speed and turning into something no one had predicted.  I went home and watched the news, and then I stayed up for a while and watched the storm.  It was pretty intense.

I woke up to the same conditions that where there when I went to bed.  Nothing was weakening, and I wondered how on earth my parents were going to make the 2 hr trip in this.  On our back porch there was drifts as high as the windows, and I couldn't even see where the yard ended and the road began.  No plows had been down our street for hours, maybe not since sometime yesterday afternoon and that told me that they were working really had keeping the main streets clear and couldn't get to the back streets.  This was pretty normal.  I went outside and cut a lot more wood, and was beginning to feel a bit like a pioneer on the prairie's back in the 1800's, out chopping wood to keep the insides warm as the storm attacked the world around me.  I imagined I was Laura Inglis, trapped in a shack in the middle of a late winter storm, slowly freezing to death. 

My parents called around 2 that afternoon.  They had left Toronto not knowing about the storm hitting our area and had made it as far as Stratford and couldn't go any further because of all the road closures.  They were going to stay with friends until it started to lighten up and until then I was on my own.  Stratford was only 20 minutes away, so that tells you how bad this thing really was.

On day three the sun came out.  My exams were cancelled that week as even when it did stop it was going to take some time to dig the town out of this, so there was no need to plan when they didn't know when to plan for.  I loved the idea of having more time before my first exam, it was quite a relief.  On that third day I got on my snow suit and headed into town on foot.  I needed milk and also wanted to drop in on my sister-in-law and see my baby niece.  It was alot of fun meeting people on the street as they were feverishly shovelling out their driveways and cleaning off their roofs.  There was about three feet of accumulation over those three days and that amount can cause serious problems if left on some roofs. 

I love the feeling of a good intense storm, but I also like the ray of light that first appears as it turns direction and heads out of town.  Storms create such a feeling of excitement and electricity, its almost addictive.

Storms in life and storms in weather are all very similar.  When you are enduring a difficult storm in life, you are filled with electricity, most of which comes in the form of stress, but it is still there.  It's during storms that we feel alive, awaken, and ready to move beyond it to the brighter days.  I love the feeling, even when it's not a good time it's there to remind me that there is always a light at the end that shows me a new way of looking at things.  There will always be storms of all sorts, it nature, it's what makes the world go around.

Resentful

I am not ashamed to admit, I am kind of an Oprah junkie!  It's true, and has been since I was in high school.  I have learned a great deal from many of her shows, and find many of the things she has to say reaches me in ways that nothing else does.  Her new OWN network is no exception.  I am truly a life class student.  This week her life class was on forgiveness, and well I have a lot to learn when it comes to this subject.

I had a miserable childhood.  Without question, things happened to me as a kid that should never have happened.  There have been lasting effects from all of that dysfunction and abuse, things that have made me bleed for many years after the events happened.  Through therapy and self help, I accepted years ago that it was not my fault.  I was a child and in a child's body, there was nothing a child could do to fix or stop the things that happened, I was not to blame in any way.  I have acknowledged and fully accepted that reality for years, but there are parts that still, to this day, stay with me.  There are things that come up from time to time that I know are a direct result to my childhood, things I cannot control today, but cause me a great deal of resentment, hurt, and overall dissatisfaction.  There is also a great deal of frustration that goes along with many of the things that happen today.  This show explained to me what forgiveness really is.

I allowed myself the time to watch Oprah's life class, and really listen to what the 4 guru's in the area of forgiveness had to say.  I learned so much about my life now, how it relates to the life I had as a child and where to go from here.  I actually got more from that two hour show than I have gotten from 8 months of therapy.  I would like to explain what I have learned.

The first thing I learned was from Ms. Iyanla Vanzant.  She said, "until you learn to heal the wounds of your past, you will continue to bleed into the future. You can bandage that bleeding with food or drugs, you can bandage that with work or sex, but eventually it will stain your life.  And you will continue to bleed".  What this says to me is, if I don't acknowledge what happened, accept that nothing I can do now will ever change it, and forgive myself and others I will always have this making me sick. 

Forgiveness has always been a difficult thing for me, mainly because I, for some reason, have always felt like it was a get out of jail free card.  I have learned that forgiveness has nothing to do with that, but more to do with me.  I realize now that I must give up the hope that the past will ever have a different outcome, and that what was done to me, although has effected me, does not have to define me.  I need to forgive those that trespassed against me, and move on.  Until I can do that they will always have a hold on me. 

Deepak Chopra says "if you beat a dog, the dog will attempt to protect itself.  When you see that dog again after two years the dog will attack you, but it did not spend those two years planning that attack".  This spoke volumes to me.  I have spent so much time holding what other's have done to me, expecting an apology, an acknowledgement of what they did to me.  I have held onto this, while they have gone on with their lives living it as they will, forgetting all about me.  I hold them in my life as long as I don't move beyond it.  Until then, they still have control of me and they know nothing about it.  He goes onto say "Holding onto resentment is like holding onto your breath, you will start to suffocate."  I know exactly what he is saying there.  There have been times in my life where I have felt smothered, stifled by the things of my past, not having the energy to live for today.  I expel so much energy on my enemies that I don't have any left to give to myself or the people in my life who love me.  He further says that "pain like pleasure is a signal~ saying something is out of balance in your emotional life or your physical life.  You have to process the pain  or it will resurface.  It will resurface as anger and hostility, anticipated pain in the future, because you didn't know how to deal with it in the past, results in feelings of fear and anxiety.  This leads to the redirection of pain~pushing it back on yourself, which manifests in guilt and shame and all of these things deplete your energy to the point of depression."  Every one of these things have a physical component, where something physical goes wrong with you.  I have eaten my pain away for most of my life.  Yes, from time to time I have been able to lose weight, but each time reaching the same weight again and again.  I need to let go of those things that bind me to the past, those people, and more importantly, I need to learn to nurture myself like I would my child.  I need to put myself in a place where I am able to functionally deal with the pain and acknowledge it for what it is.  I need to accept my pain, and give myself the permission to feel it.

Bishop T.D. Jakes had the biggest impact on me, what he said really rang true in my ears, and were exactly what I needed to hear.  He says "unforgiveness, unchecked, is a cancer to the soul.  A cancer that will not stay where it starts~it spreads throughout your life, into every aspect of it,  until it has built walls around you."  That is so true.  Unforgiveness has done that exact thing.  I am not able to forgive those, so now I live in fear.  I fear my son walking through life without my watchful eye on him at every moment.  I fear letting people into our lives, in a more than casual way, in fear of letting the wrong person in.  I have felt that I would rather have Zeb beaten in the school yard ever single day of his life than have to endure sexual abuse, and have put him in a cocoon in order to prevent it.  Walls!  We are surrounded by so many walls that he can't even enjoy the simplest things like going to a friends house after school.  I have to keep saying to myself that I am not going to let what you did to me continue to effect how I choose to live now!  I need to cut the ropes that bind me to what was once, and free myself to what can be!  This does not mean that I have to forget what happened to me, remembering makes it possible to not repeat the past again, he goes onto say "if you forget, you lose the wisdom that can be extracted from the incident."  This is when the light bulb went off like the Fourth of July!!  I don't have to forget, I don't have to accept them in my life further, I just need to forgive them.  He also goes onto say that "you can pick one part of your life out, examine it, and it may bring a bitter taste to your mouth, but when you examine the whole of your life together it tastes pretty good."  For me that is so true.  I have defined myself by the story I tell.  I define myself by what happened to me, but in reality what happened to me made me a person who is compassionate to other's, gives to others with no feeling of needing repayment, and it has enabled me to live my life loving with my whole heart.  With out the events of my childhood would I be the kind, strong courageous person I am today?  No!

Someone then goes on to ask the Bishop "what can I do when the person who has hurt me still has to be in my life, and I have to deal with them on a regular basis, what then?"  His replay to that was this "you can't expect a broken radio to still play music, so you change your expectations of the radio until it is fixed.  If you continue to expect someone to love on a gallon level and they are a pint person you are going to be frustrated the rest of your life!  Lower your expectations, accept they are only a pint person, and fill your life with as many gallon people so that the pint people play smaller, less active roles in your life."  This changed everything for me.  I needed someone to say just that.  I have expected so many things from the pint people in my life, things they just never had to give.  It's not exactly that they didn't want to give them, but rather because they aren't lying, they don't have it to give.  I have so wanted my mother to be the mother I want, but she just doesn't have it to give.  Now I get it, I am a gallon person and that is why we have always clashed.  I have spent my life finding other gallon people.  All this time I thought I was trying to find replacements for the things I lacked, but instead I have just been looking for other gallon people to fill up the space the pint people have left.  This was truly a light bulb, life changing moment for me. 

This show has really made me think and re-evaluate my past thinking.  I think now that I have a lot more ammunition to go into the future with, things that can help me accept other's better and most importantly, to cut the ties to people who have no place in my life.  I think it's time they stopped getting free rent in my head!

Quality vs. Quantity

I don't know about you, but I have always been a quality girl.  I enjoy good things, rather than lots of things in most cases.

I would rather save my money and go out to a really nice meal, than go out every weekend for fast food.

I would rather have a couple of really good, really close friends than a large number of not so close not so good friends.  I guess it's because I like to get invested in people, I don't know why I just do.  I love having a network of people I know and can do things with from time to time, but I think having a couple of quality friends, one's who are invested in your life and you in theirs is a true gift.

As a kid, I think the only time I really wanted anything in quantity were Easter eggs, and candy on Hallowe'en.  I was more of a quality kid.  I liked getting nice clothes, maybe fewer but stuff I really liked.  I loved having one nice pair of shoes, so I would save up my money and buy a really nice pair of shoes ever 6 months or so.

Now, with money tight, we do cut corners on what we buy Zeb.  There was a time when it was quantity rather than quality with him.  For some reason we feel into the trap where we thought he had to have every new toy out there.  Now we try to stick to things that bring some sort of skill along with it, and yes, he gets a lot less that he used to because these items tend to be more expensive.

I would much rather have a deep, interesting conversation with someone than just spend the time with them talking about other people or the weather.  I like getting to know people, and enjoy the process of really getting to know them.  I really think this is why we are on this earth, to really connect.  Hard to do with all the electronic things we have today, but I do still try.

We haven't bought a new car once in our relationship, we buy used.  When we do buy a car/van we go and pick out the best make and model for our buck.  The last car we bought was a Honda civic and although it had over 100km on it when we bought it, I know that car will run well for at least another 200km.  If I were to have bought anything made by American builders, they would start to die around 200, or ten years which ever comes first.  I would rather have an older car that will run longer than one that will start to die in a year or so.

I love to have my back yard filled with colourful birds and songs, so I guess when it comes to that I want quantity all the way.  There is nothing like taking my morning coffee out to the back porch in the morning and hearing the music fill my ears.

What kind of person are you really?  Do you want lots no matter what it is, or do you want something good more often??

P is for Penis

When Zeb was born I got talked out of getting him circumcised. Even though we have universal health care here in Canada, circumcision is not covered, so  when a baby boy is born there is a decision to make.  Usually it comes down to money, but I am sure for some being circumcised or not plays a big role in their family (the whole, well I want him to look like his daddy kind of thing).  I didn't have a need for him to look like anyone, or a religious conviction, so I was convinced that it was not necessary.  Damie  wanted it done, and well I wish I had listened to her. 

He was born tongue tied and had a ear/nose/throat specialist come in and clip it.  This was very traumatic for me, so I was easily persuaded against the circumcision.  I had heard my baby scream louder than I had ever heard him do when that mean old doctor cut his little tongue, there was no way anyone was getting anywhere near that penis.

Having Zeb was no easy feat.  I started labour at 4 am on the 2nd of Dec. and I had him at 6 pm on the 4th of Dec.  More than 57 hours of labour.  By the time he finally came out I was beyond done with pain.  The three of us then spent the next day and a half in that hospital room, getting to know each other, and feeling like a family.  The nurses were rude, at best, and stayed clear of our room.  I can't say for sure, maybe they are just rude to everyone, but I think it just might have had something to do with the fact that it was two mommies.  You should have seen the nurse try to help me get him to latch on, she stood by the end of the bed and tried to talk me through it.  When he wouldn't latch on she looked in his mouth and said, "well the kid is tougue tied and the doctor won't be in until Monday (this was Sat.) so you better start giving him a bottle until then".  Well, that's what ended up happening, and then even after getting the tougue clipped he wouldn't latch on because the bottle was less work for him.  I spent many nights up at the hospital in their breast feeding clinic trying to get him to do it, to no avail.  This would end up being one of the biggest stressors, as well as one of my biggest regrets in life.

When Zeb was three I was watching a Dr. Oz show.  This particular show was about many things, but one of the topics was  the pro's and con's of circumsisum.  He talked about all the societies currently that do not circumcise and how that there is an 80% increased risk in those societies for uncircumcised men to contract STD's, but most importantly the AIDS virus.  Instantly I wanted him circumcised.

We made an appointment with our family Dr, who then made an appointment with a urologist, who then told us he would do it for a certain amount of money.  We booked the appointment a month or so later, and we were set.

We talked to Zeb about what was going to happen, we wanted him to be as prepared as he could be.  He wasn't yet 4 so he really didn't understand much, but what he did understand was that he could tell all his classmates in daycare that he was going to a penis doctor.  We found out from some other parents how their kids had come home and told them that Zeb was getting an operation on his penis.  He was the talk of the class!!

We had to be at the hospital very early in the morning, as Zeb was one of the first ones being done that day.  I know I was worried and very nervous, I didn't really know what to expect after, but I was prepared for the worst.  My poor little boy was going to have his little penis cut in half and it was going to really hurt him.  Of course I went through the whole "am I doing the right thing? Does he really need this? What was I thinking?" but Damie just kept reassuring me that it was going to be okay.  Zeb, well he was just enjoying the excitement and the attention.



Zeb went into the operating room and Damie and I waited, and an hour later he was in recovery.  They came and got me, as only one parent could be in there at once, and when I got to his little crib he was just coming out of the anesthesia and was crying very quietly.  I felt so bad for him, and of course I questioned if I had done the right thing, but all in all we got through it. 

For the next week or so Zeb walked like he had a load in his pants, it was kind of funny to look at.  He had a hard time using the bathroom at first, but that went away in a day or so.  We were glad to have it over and really felt that we had made the right decision.

Over the years since the operation, his penis has not exactly healed the way we had intended.  Each year it has grown more and more to the right, so much so that now he has to sit to urinate so as to not get it all over the seat and floor.  This is very concerning for us, so off to the Dr we went.  

Our family Dr sent us to see a plastic surgeon in Nov.  He took a look at Zeb's penis and decided that unless it is pointing to the right during an erection, he did not feel it was necessary to do anything about it.  He sent us home with the task of getting a picture of his penis during an erection.

I have to tell you, there are times that I have felt the need for a daddy in the picture, and this is definitely one of those times.  I have no business taking a picture of my 7 yr old son's erection, but you have to do what you have to do.  

Zeb sees the plastic surgeon next month, where he will see by the pictures that, yes his penis does still pull to the right even when he has an erection, and then the poor little guy will have to have surgery once again on his penis.  

I am sure you can see why not having him circumcised at birth is one of my biggest regrets in life.  I wanted to spare him the pain then, but now I have made him already go through one major painful experience and so another.  My suggestion to all parents out there who may not want to do it at birth, it is alot better then having to do it when they remember the pain.

Definitely a Bad Mommy moment!!                         

OXY

This past Saturday night, after having a nice dinner out with the family I began to get a pain just below my rib cage.  I thought I was too full, a feeling I hate but know all too well.  The great thing about feeling too full, in a couple of hours you feel better and by morning you are ready to do it all over again.  Well, this time the pain didn't get better, it got worse and worse and worse.

By about midnight I was unable to stand, sit, lay down, without enormous amounts of pain.  In fact, if I even tried to sit or lay the pain got worse.  So I stood hunched over holding myself up with my arms, by the bed.  I couldn't believe the pain, it just wouldn't go away no matter how I positioned myself.  Damie had enough and by 1 am we were heading down the highway on the 40 minute drive to the hospital.

The ride in was so painful, I tried to close my eyes and imagine other things, but the pain wouldn't let me.  Every once in a while I let out a little moan, just to relieve some of the discomfort, and to make sure Damie knew I was still alive.  Zeb was in the back seat, not saying much but every once in awhile he would ask if I was going to be okay.  I felt bad for the little bugger, up in the middle of the night with one of his mommas sicker than a dog.

We reached the hospital in all I could do was stand at a desk in the lobby and wait while Damie gave all the information, I was lucky to have had her, I couldn't have done any of this alone.  The nurse triage me, and I went right in.  She too all my vitals, took blood and asked me to get into a gown.  I did what she asked and then I walked around the emergency patient area, hoping that they would do something about the pain sooner rather than later.

After being in the emergency room for 2 hrs 40 mins they started a morphine drip, and after two bags I was good to go.  The relief was amazing, night and day.  I couldn't believe that I didn't die.  I would live.  I had successfully made it through my very first organ problem, and it was my gallbladder.

I have to tell you, the pain was worse than labour.  With labour you get these intense moments of pain, but there is relief in the middle.  It comes and it goes, not with organ pain.  It is just sharp and non stop.

The ER doc sent me home with a script, that you betcha I had filled first thing the next day.  Now, if there is a next time, I can get relief quicker and maybe miss the ER trip. 

Pain drugs are no joke, and should never be taken lightly.  I don't anticipate ever actually having to take this med, but I will if I should ever feel that way again.  There is a need for strong pain relievers, for things like this where there is no way to get through it without relief.  It is really too bad that some people feel the need to abuse these much needed medications, as I know now what real pain feels like. 

Now I can say, I have had a gallbladder attack and lived to tell about it.

Nightmares!

I used to have a lot of nightmares, sometimes night after night, but lately my dream state has been rather boring and calm.

Nightmares used to pledge me, to the point where I would be up more during the night than sleep.  I would fall asleep easily, but be awakened by a nightmare at some point in the early morning hours and not be able to return to sleep.

When I was a kid, nightmares happened pretty frequently, especially after watching movies that would stay with me and attack me in the night.  I remember after watching Jaws at the drive in with my family and having a difficult time sleeping for weeks not to mention, if I did have a nightmare I couldn't bring myself to put my feet on my floor because I truly believed Jaws was just waiting to get them as soon as they dangled over the bed.  It was 1975, I was 8 what do you expect.  The next summer my parents took us to the french river for a two week vacation in a cabin.  One afternoon I went to jump off the end of a dock, just as I hit the water I felt something brush past my leg and I started screaming!! The whole area was filled with swimmers and boaters and every single one of them came running down the dock to my aid.  There were not exactly happy when they discovered that I was screaming over a rope that was being pulled by a boat that just passed the end of the dock.  I can tell you this, I don't know what was scarier, the thing in the water, or all the people running down to help me. 

I remember, after my parents taking us to see Amityville Horror, I had to sleep on the floor of their bedroom for two weeks.  To this day if I wake up in the night anywhere near the time of 3:15 I can't bring myself to get out of bed, even if I am awake because I need to use the bathroom so bad I can taste it.  I have to wake Damie up to stay awake until I return.  Crazy eh!

One night, a few years ago, Damie and I were sound asleep.  It was an early summer night, one of those nights that you don't need air conditioning just yet because the cool breeze that comes through the window is just perfect for a cozy sleep.  On this particular night I was awoken to the sound of a police car passing the house announcing over the loud speakers that "This is an emergency, please lock all doors and windows immediately".  Well this scared the crap out of me, so I woke up Damie, told her what I had just heard, and begged her to go around the house alone and close all the windows and doors alone.  I know she was scared but she knew full well I wasn't going to do it and it had to be done, the police had said it was an emergency after all!!  After she returned from locking everything we both sat on the bed wondering what on earth we were going to do next, there must have been some escaped killer on the streets and we were in grave danger!  I can tell you, I have never been as scared as I was a that moment, and Damie was freaking right out.  At some point Damie decided she needed more information so she called the police department.  She talked to the dispatcher and then got off the phone.  It seems that this was not real, that I had dreamt it.  That was crazy, how could I have dreamt it??  Well, as it turns out, nothing happened that night and it was all a dream.  I can't tell you how mad Damie was, to this day she will tell you how much that scared her.


I really haven't been affected by a movie in years, well not until I saw "The Strangers" a couple of years ago.  Now that movie did me in.  I love a good scary movie from time to time but this one was beyond regular scary to me.  This movie scared me to my core.  I can't tell you how many times I couldn't get out of bed to use the bathroom or check on my kid because that movie was too much for me.  To think about it right now scares me. 

Nightmares happen to everyone, and for any reason, but with Damie she doesn't just have nightmare she has night terrors.  When she is dreaming about spiders that girl will jump straight out of bed and point at all the spiders in the room.  When this happens I am usually abruptly startled our of a nice dream state and immediately in the scared mode within seconds.  I jump most of the time right along with her.  I hate it.  It takes me hours to get past it and get back to sleep, for her who has caused all this, just lays back down and is in sleep mode instantly.  I hate night terrors more than I hate nightmares. 

M is for Music

I am sure most of you can say when you hear certain songs they take you right back to a moment in history that you have never forgot. I am that way, music has played a big role in my life, it's always been a good friend to me.

When I was born some Monkey's song was number one.  I don't really care much about that, or the Monkey's for that matter (don't tell Damie, she loves them~~R.I.P. Davy Jones).  I don't really remember much music early on, except you know the regular stuff like Mary had a little lamb, or Jesus loves me, that sort of stuff.

My parents had the biggest influence on my music favorites early on. They both liked adult contemporary music.  I don't think it was called that then, but that's what I would call it now.  My mom loved Doris Day, and if I heard "Que sera sera" once I heard it a 1000 times.  She also loved Helen Ready, so before I knew anything about being a woman I knew "I am woman" hear me roar!! 

My dads tastes were a little more my liking (she says bashfully, afraid that someone might throw lemons at her).  He loved "The Lettermen".  They were the 50's answer to today's boy bands only they weren't all that cute.  They had a nice sound, not unlike the beach boys, but they sang more about love and college and that sort of thing.  He loved them.  So my ears from an early age were filled with songs like "The Way You Look Tonight" or "Goin out of my head/ Can't take my Eyes Off of You".  This was my life early on.

Of course any Bing Crosby song brings me right back to the days that I would lay under the Christmas tree colouring in my colouring book, while my dad laid beside me singing along with Bing. Sometimes I thought he just might actually be Bing. I loved that time of my life, so simple, so easy.  Those quiet times with my dad were few and far between, so they are very special to me.

One more group my parents loved were the Carpenters.  I loved their music, still do.  I can't tell you how many hours I spent in my room typing out the lyrics so that I could sing along, playing my tennis racket guitar.  I can still remember the day she died.  My parents and I were driving to see friends and they announced it on the radio just as we were pulling out of the driveway.  They played their music none stop the whole rest of the ride.  It was a sad day for me.

My Dad and I spent many afternoons on our boat blasting Neil Diamond from the 8 track player as we rode along.  I think my dad secretly thought he was Neil, singing along like a rock star.  Those were the days, they warm my heart.

Around 10 or so I started picking my own music, well at least going to the store and buying my own albums, remember when they were called albums.  My first record ever was Andy Gibb.  I liked his voice, but man was that guy to die for, what a beautiful glass of water.  I listened to that album until it was almost worn out.

The 70's kind of sucked for music, unless you liked disco which I can't say I was a big fan of.  My friend Sheri had a real thing for ABBA, not since have I seen such a fan until Zeb (he loves Mamma Mia, the movie).  She spent hours listening to Voulez vous.  It kind of drove me nuts, but not as nuts a Wham!, which was her other favorite.  Karen and I spent hours revolved around music.  We would sit in front of a fan and sing the Go Go's "Our Lips Are Sealed".  If you sang right into the fan, while it was going, your voice would sound just like Belinda Carlisle's.  I also remember singing "Never Been To Me" by Charlene over and over while on a campout in my back yard.  Oh the memories.

Everytime I hear anything from Madonna's "Like a Virgin" album it brings me right back to the first night I made out with a guy in high school, not all the way mind you so get your mind out of the gutter.  Or when I hear "Shout" I think of so many trips to Grand bend. 

Smells bring be me back to events in my life, but music does it even more.  Life is filled with those types of things, you remember where you were and who you were with just by hearing a song, or smelling something like cotton candy.  Our minds are wonderful things aren't they!

L is for Lucky

I wouldn't say I was the unluckiest person, but damn close.  I don't tend to win anything, oh except this year I have been the only person in the house to win anything with the roll up the rim at Timmie's.

Damie is our lucky one in the house, she has me in her life doesn't she!!  Apart from me, she is one lucky Chickie.  We have gone to the casino maybe three times, and every time we stick to only spending 20 buck each.  Well my 20 is gone before I can even get comfortable on the stool, and she can make hers go up to 300.  I call that luck.

I'm not sure, in most cases if I believe in luck.  I think I believe in things happening exactly how they were intended.  I think luck has nothing to do with it.

If it weren't for the people who have come into my life, I would never had made to adulthood.   It wasn't luck that brought those people to me, it was the way it was all planned out to begin with.  I wasn't unlucky because I had terrible things happen to me as a kid, it was intended that way to make me into the person I am today.

Yesterday, a friend emailed me about the fact that she had recently broken up with her boyfriend, and she is having a hard time with it. We all know that feeling, broken hearts take so long to heal.  I can say to her, well you were lucky to have him while you did, but I really believe that she had him for as long as was intended.

There are reasons for everything, sometimes we don't understand them at the time, sometimes we never understand them, but there is something we are given from each little thing that comes into our lives.

I feel lucky to have Damie and Zeb in my life, I don't deserve them, but yet here they are.  I know luck really has nothing to do with it, Damie was just in that chat room at the right time for us to meet.  And as for Zeb, well he happened first try, I think he definitely was intended. 

I know why these two people were brought into my life.  Damie and Zeb bring qualities that I have never experienced before.  Damie has taught me so much about so many things.  She is an amazing mom, and through her I have learned what it all means.  She is easier than me, she doesn't worry about the small stuff the way I do.  She has taught me to just chill more, and leave things as they come.  Zeb on the other hand has taught me to be open, carefree with others, and to just accept that all the people we come across daily are just friends we haven't met yet.  He doesn't get all upset when someone wont play with him, he just moves on to someone who will.  Great lesson for me to learn.

Life is full of unexplainable things, but they are all there for a specific reason.  As for luck, well it has nothing to do with it.

K is for Karen

K is for Karen

Karen was a very close friend of mine.  She died 20 yrs ago, because she thought it might be a good idea to mix Tylenol and vodka.  Seems that isn't the best idea.  It was a long and difficult road she went down before taking the deadly combination, one that, for the most part, I went down with her.

We had met accidentally, about 11 yrs earlier.  She was the younger sister of a friend of mine and one day I showed up at my friends house to discover she wasn't there, but her little sister was.  Karen convinced me to hang out with her that day, and we were quick, close friends from then on.

Karen was born with ABS (Amniotic Band Syndrome).  This resulted in her having only her thumb and baby finger on her right hand, and a few fingers with tight rings around them like you would get if you in fact had a ring on that was too tight on her left hand.  She also had some other problems, but for the most part none of it slowed her down one bit.  She wrote with her right hand, learned to type with both hands, and well, did everything anyone else would do. 

One of the first things I learned about her is that she was adopted.   This was one area of her life that seemed to fascinate her.  She would ask her mom all the time about it.  She knew where she was born, at what time of day, and that was about it.  I think that deep down inside she always felt that if she wasn't born with all the issues that her birth parents wouldn't have given her up.  Her mom would always tell her how much they wanted her from the moment they saw her, and how much she had brought to their lives, but it didn't stop Karen from wanting to know more.

Karen was a very kind person, who always put your needs ahead of her own.  She really cared about other people, and had decided really early on that she wanted to be a nurse.  I always thought she would make a great one.  She wasn't shy in the slightest, and had a way with people that just came easy to her.  People just took to her, she had that kind of personality.

She was very loyal, I knew we were going to be friends forever.  She knew all my secrets and I knew hers, and we still liked each other in spite of it.  I actually can't remember a time when I was ever really angry with her, I am sure there were times, teenagers tend to have drama in everything, but nothing stands out.  I remember times when other girls would be mean to her, and maybe she deserved it, maybe not, but I have to say, for the most part she was a very likable girl.

We kind of grew up together.  We saw each other through many changes, like getting your drivers licence.  Okay, so when she got hers I was a little scared, can't say I ever actually went in the car with her.  We were confirmed at church the same day, we went to pathfinders during the same time, and we both belonged to the same choir at church.  She was a part of my life, and I hers. 

After she graduated from high school she went onto college to become a nurse. At the time she was also working two jobs and managing to travel back and forth to college everyday.  Sometimes she would stay at her aunts, who lived closer to her school than her parents did.  I admired her ability to juggle everything.  It just came easy for her. 

Everything changed for her after a trip to the east coast to see friends. Something happened to her, something that it is not my place to divulge, but something that should never happen to anyone happened.  This changed everything for her.

I remember the day she sat at my kitchen table, after returning from her trip, and told me what happened on the way home.  I remember crying for her, and feeling helpless and very very angry.  I remember thinking, this is just something we are going to work through together, that we could figure this all out and she would be okay.  I told her that I was there for her, that I loved her no matter what and whatever she needed from me wouldn't be too much to ask.  If I had only known, that day sitting at that table, that this was the beginning of a very difficult, sad downward spiral.  I didn't see it at the time, I always saw her as someone who could easily get through everything, but this was not going to be one of those things.

For the next couple of years she struggled.  She struggled with her feelings of guilt, judgement, sadness, shame, etc.  I felt for her, I wanted to just wave a magic wand and make it all go away, but I couldn't.  I spent hours with her talking, crying, hoping that someday I would have my friend back.  I wished she could just find the right person to help her get out of the black hole she was in before she spun out of control.

While this was all going on, she found out who her birth mother was.  For some reason she needed the answers now, and finally those in her life that had the answers decided that they would finally share the secret with her.  I think they had the very best intentions, that they thought this would fix things, but it didn't it made it all worse.

I will never forget the day I got told that she was no longer with us, that she had died.  That day is burned into my memory, and stays with me where ever I go.

For a long time I felt guilty.  I still do a little bit.  I kept thinking, if I was only a better friend she wouldn't have wanted to be without me, if I had only tried harder to help her, she would have got better.  I know that none of this is true, but I feel to this day that I am not the friend I should have been to her, or to anyone for that matter.  Her death changed me forever.

I miss her so much, every single day.  I think of what she might have been like now, how much she would have loved Damie and Zeb, and how much fun she would have brought into our lives.  I think about what it would have been like to raise our kids together, to be mommies and share all that.  I wish she had just held on, just a little longer, just long enough to see that it would get better.

Today's blog is about my bestie! There was no one like her before her, or after, and I will never forget.

Julie and Joel

Here's the story, of a hateful bitch lady! And her little man child partner Joel.  They were so rich  they thought they didn't smell, and their heads were so high in the clouds they couldn't tell.

We met Julie and Joel through our once friend Patti.  Her and Julie had been sorority sisters and had recently been talking about all the amazing work Damie and I had been doing at Patti's place.  Julie took this information home, and in typical rich person fashion saw a cheap opportunity.  It seems that Joel was doing some work around his house, and had a couple of landscape guys helping out.  He was paying them a fortune for what he thought we could do for pennies.  Typical!

He was putting his house up for sale and needed to finish the front of his property.  He was putting up a retaining wall with garden bricks and needed someone to work cheap dragging the bricks from one place to another, hence the phone call to us. 

Now isn't that the way, the rich taking advantage of the less fortunate, or students.  They get the exact same results from the cheap labour, as they would from the not so cheap labour so they go with the cheap. 

We were poor, Damie was in school, I was an illegal alien, so our hands were tied.  We did any job, cheap and without complaint.  This one was no exception.

So we agreed on a price and off we went that July afternoon.  The temps were around 98, with humidity at about 100%.  Yes you are right, it was not going to be much fun.  We arrived on time, and without delay we were busy at it.  Our job was to carry the garden bricks from the driveway to the area at the front of the lawn.  Joel was there waiting on us, and when a new brick came he placed it where he wanted it.  It went on for an hour or so, when we asked if we could get a break for a minute and get some water.  He said he didn't have any water, so we were out of luck.  We continued for another two hours, and then the job was done.  We took our 40.00 and drove directly to the nearest 7/11 to get some water.  No we didn't get heat stroke, but we were lucky.

A week goes by, and then the phone rings.  This time it's Julie calling.  She asks if we could come clean her house.  She is expecting a baby, and would like the house cleaned well before his arrival.

We talked about it, and decided since we would be working in air conditioning, and at our own pace things would be fine.  We agreed to come and clean that week.

When you walk into Julie's house there is one very promenade thing that doesn't just catch your eye as you enter, but is actually unavoidable.  She has a life sized picture of herself with her dog hanging above her fake fire place in the middle of her house.  Who puts a life sized picture of themselves in the middle of the one room that everyone that enters is going to see?  I mean, who would put a life sized picture anywhere in their house, but to actually think that anyone would think that was charming is beyond my understanding.

Damie and I went to work, cleaning the house well.  She also wanted laundry done while we were there, which was fine.  It was a tutorial on how the laundry had to be done, due to Joel's skin problems.  It was as if we were dealing with someone with extreme food allergies.  All she had to say is wash his clothes with this laundry liquid, but that just want good enough. 

You see, with most very rich people, when you are talking to the people who you think are extremely below you, you have to talk to them as if they are mentally challenged.  At least that is the memo Julie got.

The day went fine, no big problems, except we were not willing to stay and finish all the laundry.  We didn't have the time, and that was not in the original agreement.  She paid us, and off we went about out lives.

A month goes by and Julie calls again.  This time she wants to know if we could come clean on a weekly basis.  She has just had her baby and needs someone to come every week and clean and do laundry.  It seems that the last person who had done it just quit without notice and they needed someone quick.  We will later learn why anyone would quit this job. 

We both talked about it.  We needed the money, but didn't enjoy them at all, but again the money won out.  We started cleaning that week.

We arrived at 9:00 on the dot, which isn't easy when you have to rely on public transit and it takes about an hour and a half to get there.  We started working, and realized while we were there that these two people never left the nursery the whole time we were there, and we were there for the better part of a whole day.  They never got dressed, and never came out for food or anything.  It became abundantly clear that the two of them were very nervous parents and couldn't let that child out of their site.

The other thing about these two people is that they had three little short haired ugly dogs.  The dogs hair was all over the house, and it took a great deal of time getting it off everything.  We finished the day, got paid and went home.

Shortly after arriving home we got a call from Joel saying that we did not vacuum the stairs very well.  He said there was a lot of dog hair still on the stairs and that next week we were going to have to do a better job. 

Bad us.

The next week we cleaned the downstairs, the two bathrooms on the second floor and then I spent two hours cleaning the dog hair off the stair case that ran from the third floor to the second and from the second floor to the first.  Damie spend the rest of the time on the bedrooms and the attic, along with doing all the laundry in the house.  We were there for an hour more than we were the week before, and got paid the same, but felt good about the whole thing.

An hour or so after getting home we got another call from Joel.  He said that we did not vacuum very well under the bed, and that there was some dog hair under it.  I explained that the vacuum only goes so far and I made sure it went as far as I could get it.  He then said that he has a vacuum that goes farther and I should have used that one.  Okay I said, but you never told me about any other vacuum and so therefore I could only do what I was able to do.  He followed that up with "I think we will dock you next week for the lack of vacuuming this week, and I am not at all happy that you spent two hours on the stairs when there was no vacuuming done all the way under the beds".  Really???

Damie and I talked about it, and decided that we would go the next week, but that would be the last time.  We felt it was only right to go do it one more time, let them dock us, and tell them that would be the last time. 

The day we were to go clean it was raining.  We decided to get on the bus a few minutes earlier than usual, due to the rain and the fact that we wanted to be there a little earlier so that we could talk to them when we first arrived.  We got on the bus at 7:15 and arrived at their home around 8:50.  We rang the bell on the gate (again, very rich) and waited to be buzzed in.  No one answered.  We rang the bell again.  This time no answer.  I said to Damie that I thought that they both may be busy, as they don't actually expect us until 9, so we stood there waiting until nine, in the rain.  We rang the bell again, still no answer.  We could see that they both were there, at least both cars were there.  We thought they may have slept in or something so we went down the street to a coffee shop and sat down for a few minutes, out of the rain.  At 9:30 we went back to the house and rang the bell.  This time Joel answered the bell.  He told us that since we were not there on time they would no longer be needing our services.  Damie argued with him about the time for a few minutes, but then left it.  We went home.

About an hour after we were home the phone rang, it was Joel.  It seems that the two of them had thought about it and had decided that they wanted us back the next day.  Damie informed him that if we were to come back the next day, we were going to tie them both up and whip them silly he was going to have to pay us for today, as they let us come there, spend the money for the bus, not answer the door and we lost out on getting other work for the day.  He said he didn't agree to that, that if we came it would be for the already agreed on price, not a penny more.  He also followed that up with "you two need this job, I remember one of you saying that you were not legal in the States, so you better come back and do the job".

What would you have done??  Would you have gone back?

Well, we never went back. 

Some people just don't deserve the good fortunes they receive.

From what I have heard since, Julie and Joel split up a few months later (I guess that baby was too much for them) and Julie's business (which as it turns out was how her and Joel met, as she was his boss) went belly up a year later.  Sometimes, exactly the right thing comes to those who need it!

And that's the story about Julie and Joel. 

~ I ~

"I" has been a difficult letter for me.  There are so many things that start with "I" and I can't really tell a great story about any of them today.

Inspiration starts with "I" and there are many things that inspires me.

Good mothers inspire me to be a better mother myself.  I love the way they interact with their children and help them cross over to the next phase of their lives.  I have a person I read on blogger that inspires me with so many things, from relationships to parenting, it really is endless.  There a several women in my personal life that inspire by the way they raise their children. Some inspire me to be a better person, some inspire me to be a better mother than they are. 

I am inspired by people I read about or watch on Television.  Oprah has been a lifetime inspiration to me.  The stories she brings to the public often inspire me to do better, want more, and work harder.  I remember one story several years ago about a woman named Christine McFadden.  While she was out one morning walking with a friend her ex husband came to her home and shot and killed her four children and then himself. He made sure that he left this scene for her to find.  For months after that Christine wished she had died with her children. When she was first on Oprah I could see the emptiness in her eyes, and I wished for her pain to go away.  Her story stayed with me for years, even to today.  This lady experienced the worst that life could hand her, yet she still forced herself to get up in the morning and take a breath and put one foot in front of the other.  A few years later, Oprah went back to talk to Christine and see how things had changed for her.  Well, she was married again, and had just had twins.  What an inspiration.  She came from a place that I don't think I could have gotten out of, and she allowed herself to love again. Amazing!  Every time I think, I just can't get out of bed, it hurts too much or I just don't have what it takes, I think of Christine and I get up. 

I watched a very close friend live through breast cancer.  She was very sick, and for a while I wondered if she would win the fight.  She did, and to celebrate life, before her hair even really started growing back, she went on a canoe trip down a large river in the western part of Canada, where she celebrated her life surrounded by strong women.  She even at one point took off her shirt and moved through the pain of losing her breasts to this terrible disease.  She inspired me to hold on to what you have, and embrace life, before you lose it.  Her strength through breast cancer and then the death of her son a year later taught me that we can never give up hope that tomorrow will be better.

Zeb inspires me the most I think.  I watch the way he is, the way he just happily goes through life and that inspires me to lighten up a bit.  Children have such an innocence, and in that they hold no grudges, make no enemies, and accepts everyone equally.  I love that he doesn't remember from one visit to another how kids treat him, each time he sees his friends again it's a fresh slate.  I love the way he loves with his whole heart.  He isn't afraid to show his affection and his happiness.  I love how he get excited about things, and can't contain himself, it comes out of his pores.  I love the way he can easily walk among strangers and has a belief that they are just all friends he hasn't really met yet.  I love how ever time he comes home from school he is happy, even when his day didn't go so good, he just moves beyond it.  He inspires me to be much more flexible, to not care so much about things and more about having fun. 

Inspiration is what drives us, moves us to want more, or to stretch ourselves when we think we can't. 

Inspiration is a good word.  I am glad I picked it.

Tell me, what inspires you?