Conversations with Cats

I am home during the week while my family is all either at work or school. Aside from my one evening and one day per week of volunteering, I haven't been up to much. Oh, I've gotten some things accomplished. I've done a little yard work, worked out everyday, managed a three day juice fast...in other words, yeah, not much.

Today, I found myself in the kitchen singing "Sweet Caroline" to one of my cats. It's a song I often sing to them, except I change the lyrics to "Sweet Kitty Cats". I'm pretty sure that I could beat out that annoying "Friday" girl if anyone every taped me. So, I'm singing and emptying a container of Popeye's Red Beans and Rice into a microwave - safe bowl when I drop said container.

I turned to my cat, who immediately started eating some rice and said "Why do I always drop things after I've cleaned the floor? And why are you trying to eat rice? Are you a Japanese cat? I hear cats in Japan eat rice all the time. I think that's pretty fucked up, but, whatever." She just looked at me and ran when I brought out the broom (as if I've ever beaten her with a broom!) and I was left pondering the mess and trying not to think about the possibility that there may be some lard in Popeye's Red Beans and Rice. If there is, I'm pretty sure I don't want to know about it, because Popeye's Red Beans and Rice is the Holy Grail of fast food for me; and as a loud mouthed vegan, it would make me look really bad if I was eating lard. For now, I am pleading ignorance, though I am pretty sure a few clicks of the mouse and I would have my answer.

Darned Google! And darn my inability to un-know things!!! Sigh... they are not vegan. Pork fat is in the ingredient list amongst some other not so unprocessed or healthy things. Goodbye, Popeyes!

I feel ill now.

Back to my crazy flow...

I recently deactivated my Facebook account. It was a long time coming and had to be done. There were several factors that led to me finally cutting the virtual life cord, not the least of which was that my gorgeous and wonderful husband deactivated his and I missed him. Then, I found myself saying so in my status and then airing some dirty laundry that if he HAD been on there would have royally pissed him off. I realized this after a moment or two and deleted my comment. But, I felt like Pandora's box had been opened already. It wasn't such a big deal, really. In fact, I'll say it here with no problem; it was just in that forum, it was inappropriate. But, all I said was that I missed him, but was kind of glad he had deactivated since so many old "friends" (female) had been showing up on there lately. I guess I was getting a bit jealous.

Scratch that, I was totally getting more than a bit jealous; not in a worried way, mind you. I wasn't in fear of my husband running off with some bimbo he had "befriended" in 1989. Actually, it made me remember some things that 18 years together had made blurry. That my husband is crazy hot, for one. That he had a life before me, for another. That one kind of stings. But seriously, he was 27 when we met. He had travelled around the world with the Marines and several bands by that time. But, I kind of conveniently forgot that there may have several dozen women in that "Before Me" picture.

And thank God there were! I mean, we would not be together today if he had been a 27 year old virgin. No. Not a chance. Half the reason I fell for him was because of certain abilities that I will say no more about... :) 'scuse me while I reel my brain back to the present... thank you.

Anyway, I was glad for the realization. I have a living, breathing, smoking hot husband! I need to spend time with him; not just virtually liking his virtual stuff!

FaceFight

Ahh, the age of Facebook.

It certainly has it's merits; catching up with old friends, staying close with those who are far away, learning about people from all over the world, etc. And, it has it's drawbacks. Someone printed a list of 100 reasons they hated Facebook and I'm pretty sure I agreed with 97 of them, including "I hate people who comment on everything" right on top of "I hate people who never comment". :)

I have issues with people having a conversation that has nothing to do with what I've typed or asking "what does that mean?" when I've posted a clever movie quote. IT'S A MOVIE!!! I want to scream. Or, GANDHI SAID THAT, DUMBASS!!! Though, I'm sure Gandhi never called anyone dumbass.

I think it's safe to say that I have a love/hate relationship with the social network.

Recently, I've been trying to follow the protests that are happening around the country over state budgets. I am incensed that the mainstream media is not covering it in any real way. Some news programs have mentioned the protests (now in week 4!!!) but, none have shown video. Egypt protests for a few weeks and it's all over the news. Wisconsin protests and it's on Egypt's news, but not ours. There is something very wrong with this.

Anyway, this post is not about that; not really.

I was following a story on the MoveOn page on Facebook, commenting and liking here and there, when the thread was completely hijacked by trolls (trolls that, by the way, were all Facebook friends, I checked). I was still trying to be civil, when one of them said "I wonder why I haven't been kicked off of here yet?" and another replied something about how Liberals are slow and we probably didn't notice. So I said, calmly "Maybe we are just trying to have a rational discussion; silly us". And left it at that. At that point, I was pretty much done with the thread, because nothing productive was coming out of it, just these idiots getting their jollies by ripping us "stupid liberals".

But, of course I had to check back later, because I obsess about minutae and someone had commented "Hey, (commenter), (commenter) and Amy, why don't you act like real Christians?"

And I was like, WHAT? When did I ever profess to being a Christian? Ummm, NEVER?!?!!! And this is what I hate about religion, especially holier than thou born again and evangelical Christianity. WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, CALLING ME A CHRISTIAN, LADY?!?!?!!! IF I WANTED TO BE A CHRISTIAN, YOU'D BETTER BELIEVE I'D BE A HELL OF A SIGHT BETTER THAN YOU AT IT!!!! WHY DON'T YOU PUT UP SOME BILLBOARDS OF ABORTED FETUSES OR ONES TELLING US THAT THE WORLD IS GOING TO END IN MAY????!!!! DON'T YOU HAVE SOME GAYS TO HATE OR SOMETHING??!?!?!???

I'd been called names in my life, but I had never been so insulted in all my life as when some numbskull called me a Christian!

" I like your Christ. I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ" ~ Gandhi

Oh, Where to Begin?

There are really great things about a warmup in February. Opening windows that have been shut for four months is nice. Driving with the window down, even a crack; wonderful. There are some bad things about it too. The Mulsh (that is mud/slush) and the worst part: The TEASE. You walk outside in a sweatshirt and no hat for the first time in what seems like years and your brain goes SPRING!!! WHOOO HOO! I'VE MISSED YOU SO MUCH!!! Then you realize it's only halfway through February. It's not fair.

I want my Spring to arrive and stay, thanks! And in the Midwest you can't plan on this actually happening until about May 5th. Oh sure, it'll hit 70 a few times before that, maybe even kiss 80; but it will snow in April. That is as close to a sure bet as you can get. It will snow in April and you will get the flu right after you spend a few days walking around in the mulsh and smiling at the sun and looking for crocuses.

I think I live here just so I'll have something to complain about.

I've always said that I am a "grass is always greener" person. I always think that "if only I lived in Florida, I'd be so happy" or "if only I lost 20 pounds" or "If only I had enough money for x or y or z; that would really make me happy". And it does. For awhile, anyway. Okay, maybe for a few days. But, then what? Then, I start thinking of the next sure cure for the grass is greener syndrome.

I'm not saying that I shouldn't move someplace warmer. I'd probably love it. I'm not saying that I shouldn't lose 20 pounds; I really should. And more money would help.

I'm saying I need to get off my ass and make the happy happen, because it sure isn't going to come up and bite me while I whine on the computer. And, it won't make my stomach any smaller.

I need to get up and get going. I need to find the happy.

I'm Not THAT Crazy; Am I?

I have to do a little bit of soul searching with this one. I mean, clearly, clearly there are a lot of issues going on here; crazy household, anger issues, a child that needs a bit more attention than most, how to effectively discipline your child... like I said, a lot going on.

I don't pretend to have all the answers. If I did, my life would be so, so much easier. What I do know is when something doesn't feel right. And this does not feel right.

Let's take it bit by bit: Small child comes home after a rough day at school and the first thing he experiences is this woman yelling in his face. My younger kids have a similiar system at school with cards and colors, etc. Most of the time, unless you get a call from the principal, "flipping your card" is for minor offenses. So, this kid had a few minor infractions during the day and was too scared to tell his mom (Gee, I wonder why?), so he lies and says he didn't get in trouble.

Let's stop here. If you KNOW your kid is lying about something, why make them repeat it? Why not just say, "Hey, I know you are lying because of XYZ evidence" and move on? It's just going to make you madder to hear the kid repeat the lie over and over.

And, I'm not sure what the history of this child is, but, I guess he's a handful. I do know that the kid was adopted from Russia. Huge red flag. If this kid came from a Russian orphanage, he's bound to have more issues than most and she should have been well aware of this going in. But, I realize that knowing something and living with it are two very different things. I would just think that she would have a bit more sympathy for a child that had already had a rough start. It breaks my heart to think of children born into a place with no love, no attachment, no kind of a real life. It's wonderful that this woman wanted to rescue this child, but what kind of rescue is this?

So, back to what's going on in the video. She continues berating and screaming before the kid can even take off his jacket. She pours hotsauce into his mouth, then glares at him while he holds it and warns him not to spit it out.

A couple of things about this stand out to me more than others: Why does she keep the hotsauce in the bathroom? Does she use it so often this way that it can't be kept in the kitchen? And, why does she seem to take so much pleasure in having him suffer in front of her? She also makes him tell her the rules as she stands over him. He knows the rules, but, it's pretty hard to follow the rules all day, everyday. Sometimes, people make mistakes. She screams "We don't lie in this house!!!" But, is she perfect? Does she never slip up? And when she does, does someone greet her at the door with hotsauce and a cold shower? I don't think so.

What a way to come home! I feel so sad for this boy. School must be tough for him, but, to not even be able to feel safe at home after a hard day must be so much worse. Imagine not having a soft place to land, ever. Tragic.

So, I watched the video and got angry and sad and judgy and then, I had to step back and think about it. Hadn't I lost my shit occasionally with my children? Oh, yes. So, I did a little more soul searching.

My oldest at about the same age as this boy was more than a handful. He was a spitting, kicking, angry whirling dervish. There were times I used the cold shower treatment when he was in the midst of one of his rages. It worked in the way that rebooting a computer works. Sometimes, when all else fails, you've got to restart the system. I don't relish the thought of these moments. I do realize that maybe I could have done something differently, but 5-10 seconds under cold water was, at the time, the one thing that made him snap out of it. Then, he could calm down and we could talk.

I hate the way this woman screams in the little boy's face. But, hadn't I occasionally screamed? You bet I had. But, I can also remember what it feels like to be on the receiving end. That usually is enough to nip it in the bud for me.

My kids do not have perfect behavior. They screw up. They make mistakes. But, home for them is a soft place to land. The world is a scary place. If they can't feel safe and loved at home, where will they?

I hold my kids accountable for their behavior. Good behavior earns rewards, bad behavior gets the fun stuff taken away. It's not a perfect system and sometimes, they push me to the brink. But, those kids know that I love them. I wonder if the little boy in the video feels that kind of love?

Nancy Kerrigan and Me

Does anyone remember her?

She was the skater that got her kneecaps bludgeoned by Tonya Harding's hit man so that she would be unable to compete against her. Crazy, soap opera crap.

At the time, you thought... "Oh my! That poor girl! This is the worst thing to happen to women's figure skating since Peggy Fleming started hawking feminine hygiene products!"

And it was. Totally spiteful. Just a bad, bad thing.

And then, you saw the tape of her reaction...

"Why, why, why?!?!?!" she whined and cried.

"WHY?!?!??!?!"

and you thought, "why couldn't they have hit her in the mouth?"

Just for a second.

Not that you thought she deserved it, because no one deserves to be hurt like that...but, you just wished she'd been a bit more graceful about the whole thing.

Anyway...

I didn't get the stupid job. I wanted it, I thought. Now, 22 hours later, I am realizing it was for the best. Though, I could really use the money...really, really use the money...it would have been a strain in so many other ways.

But, for a few hours, I could feel Nancy Kerrigan's pain.

"Why? Why? Why didn't they want me? What's wrong with ME?!?!?", I cried.

Then, I realized. It wasn't meant to be. And I don't mean that in some kind of mystical way. Just in the way that somewhere, down inside, I knew that it wasn't the right thing and it showed somehow.

I can blame shortsighted leadership; for they are that. But, really when it comes down to it, I just didn't wow them like I should have.

It's okay.

There will be other things. BETTER THINGS. And I will be able to see them because I will be open.

The whining ends here.

Uncle Billy

A six year old girl, sweaty hair falling out of her blond ponytails, plays in front of her grandparent's house. She is alone, not unusual for an only child, but this only child was usually surrounded by a half dozen or so cousins, aunts and uncles, who were all close to her age. Across the street, a man sits in a car. If asked to describe the car, the girl could not; cars are of no interest to her. She doesn't look up until the sun catches the driver’s door window as it opens. A man is getting out and this piques her interest just enough that she continues to stare instead of looking back down at the ants she had been watching. The man is looking at her too and there is something about his gaze that says he is there to see her. She stands up and puts her hand over her eyebrows to get a better look at the man who is now crossing the street. There is no fear in her, just curiosity. As he gets closer, the girl says " I know you! " and points at the big bear of a man. His face, his strangely familiar face breaks into a wide smile and he laughs " I know you too! "

At the same time, the girl's mother is walking up the long driveway. She stops a few feet away from where the girl and the man stand. " Time for supper! " she says. Her voice is louder than it needs to be and sounds angry for reasons the girl can only think have to do with her.

She grabs the man by the hand and says " Mom, Uncle Billy's here! " The mother tells her to go in and wash up and that she needs to speak to Uncle Billy. Her tone makes it clear that she is not to be questioned about this, so the girl reluctantly walks towards the house. As she turns the handle of the door, she looks back and sees her mother's arms flying out at her sides and hears her angry voice. The girl feels sad and ashamed, though she isn't sure why.

The girl sits at the table, after kissing her grandfather on the cheek. " Hiya, Pretty! " He says. This usually makes her feel happy, but at the moment, she is thinking of her mom and Uncle Billy outside. She suddenly gets up and runs to the window… in time to see the car ( it was blue ) drive up the hill and away from the house. She sees her mom walking back to the front door, her face seething.
The girl sits down next to her grandpa again. He strokes her hair and gives her a smile. He takes her hand in his and gives it a squeeze. As she looks up at him with teary eyes, her mom comes in and hands her a gift.

"it's from Uncle Billy " she says and walks into the kitchen to help Grandma with the food.

Gifts are meant to be happy things but the girl felt very unhappy as she opened this one. It was a tea set. She was a tom boy, but swore through her tears that it was the best present ever.
Her grandmother came in then with her milk and the bread and butter. She was starving a half hour ago, but now the thought of eating made her feel sick. She wanted to lay down and cry instead of eating her grandma's good meatloaf .
Her mom put some carrots and corn on her plate as her grandma handed around the meatloaf. She stared at it, then at her mom. She knew she'd have to eat it all. What's more, she knew that there would be no more conversation about Uncle Billy today. What she couldn't know was that she wouldn't see him for 11 more years.

Somewhere along the line, Uncle Billy became the bad guy. He was to blame for any sadness in her, any feeling of difference. After all, he hadn't called or written or tried to find her out in front of her grandparents house again.

But, he was there, she found out much later - too late. He was there at her softball games, just far enough away that she wouldn't recognize him. He was there when she finally rebelled and reached out and then cursed him for leaving her. He was always there, in little ways and especially in the gaze she saw looking back from her mirror. Always, always there.

Uncle Billy died much too young. Too young to hear her call him Dad again, like she had when she was small, so small she couldn't remember. Before he learned that she had forgiven him, that she knew, finally, that it wasn't all his fault, that he had tried and failed and tried and failed again.
Parents are fallible.

Death to October

I always get depressed around K’s birthday and deathday.
I guess this time of year doesn’t help matters. I HATE November, which is closing in fast. I like Thanksgiving, but that is it. I would prefer to be in a coma for the rest of the month.

Here is a blog I wrote about K last year around this time:

My favorite song to listen to when I am depressed is "Smoke" by Ben Folds Five. You can feel his despair in the way he bangs the piano keys and in the catch of his voice.

But, the lyrics...therein lies the magic.
"Here's a secret...no one will ever know the reasons for the tears"

That line says it all.

It's hard to lose someone that you love, but I've found that it's the sadness no one understands that is the hardest to deal with.

For example: If your cat/dog/significant other dies, everyone knows why you are sad. If your high school boyfriend that you hadn't seen in three years dies, people are sympathetic, but only to a point. When it's been a year and you are still talking about it, people wonder what is wrong with you. When it's been almost 20, they just think you are crazy.

"They were broken up!" They say to themselves. They think they know the whole story. But, they don't.

They don't know about the stolen moments that the two of you shared. They don't know about the soul connection that you still have. They definitely don't know that you dream about him at least once or twice a month and that you still wake up in tears when you realize that it was just a dream.

In the dreams you are as young and beautiful as he is. Perpetually twenty, full of energy and youth. You are still his girl, the one that despite the obstacles, like, oh…death, he still needs to be near.

No one thinks that the one they love will die young. They think that they will have forever.

When we last parted, it was as enemies. My beautiful man did not need to see me with a new guy. He really didn't need it on his turf, especially. The pissing contest ensued and I left in tears. It was ugly.

A few months later, I was packing to move three thousand miles away from my birthplace, thinking about him; wondering if I should call...wanting to make up before I left.

But, no, we would have time. We would have plenty of time to have another “drink” together. We'd laugh at that stupid fight, because we knew that no matter how much time went by, or who we were with, we would always wind up back together. We always had. It was how it was meant to be.

This is the lesson I am meant to learn. I need to cherish those I have now and leave little room in my life for regrets. My regret carrying case is now full, thank you! No more!