Hello All.  I guess that you can tell that I haven't made one single entry on this blog since...oh...Halloween.  Needless to say, my life has of course had events since that time, some happy, some sad, and others downright unremarkable.

My Birthday was last week, and I always feel cruddy around my birthday.  I don't know if it is because I am getting old, or because I get the shaft every year romantically, due to the fact my Happy day is the day before Valentine's Day.  Somehow, it seems no matter how hard you stress a point to men, some things they never get.  As a result, there are things I never get.  Like seperate Bithday and Valentine's Day presents.  The male species tends to reason that a 2 for 1 deal is the key to making me a happy camper every February 14th. 

A.K.A.

The Combo "Ballentine" gift. 

Girls, and you know who you are...you know what I am talking about.  (Oh...you expect flowers and a present for boootthhh days.)  HAH!  I will say my hubby managed some gorgeous white roses and a huge heart shaped brownie.  Why the brownie?  I have no idea, he knows I can't have the sugar.  So, he inherited and ate my brownie.  I somehow suspect that was the plan all along.

Let me rewind back to the holidays if I must, and give everyone a review of life as I know it so far.

Thanksgiving sucked, except for the football.  The hubby and I made it to his Mother's, at a reasonable time, I might add.  My husband and I usually fight Thanksgiving Day, because he has some idea in his head that if his Mom says we are eating at 1 pm, we are actually sitting down to eat at 3 pm, living on the theory she has never been ontime in her life.  We have had to eat after everyone else a few times because he does this.  One year he woudn't get up from his "nap" on this 1 pm - 3 pm theory, and I just loaded up the rugrat, and left his ass in the bed.  He got cold leftovers that year.  I got to eat with the family. 

THIS year, we were the only ones that showed up to eat.  My sister and brother in-law, and their families were a "no show".  It turns out that both my brother and sister in-law were fighting with their respective spouses..(refer to the post on holiday fights..we never live through a holiday without one.)  My mother in-law cooks her ass off for the holidays, and in spite of my complaints about her broom riding persona, I do feel the bite when her kids treat her like this.  At least call somebody and tell them you aren't coming.  Nobody bothered to do that....

Needless to say there was plenty of food to carry home, and enough to last for almost a week.  For all of you handy homemakers out there, let me share my Holiday Bowl idea with you.  I mean that literally. 

If you eat at a relatives for the Thanksgiving Holiday, like we do, this works out pretty good.  Usually a day or two before Thanksgiving, I clean out my bowl cabinet and lid drawer.  If it doesn't have a match, out it goes.  In the garbage.  Adios.  I pick up a new box of Rubbermaid bowls and take the box to my mother in-laws.  Bring home Thanksgiving leftovers in the new bowls, and  there you have it.  All matching bowls and lids every year.  No searching for food storage containers. 

In rolls December, and I start feeling bad.  Not depressed or any particular complaint I can think of, I was just generally feeling bad.  Like I wasn't resting enough, and this ached, and that ached.  Well, add the stress of getting ready for the Holidays to general malaise, and I had me a cocktail. 

December 22 I came down with a kidney stone.  It actually started hurting in my back and ribs about the 20th, but as it is the way of the world to wait to go to the doc, to see if it will go away, that is what I did.  This having been my third kidney stone, nedless to say pain and nausea became a close bedmate.  The last thing a person needs right before Christmas is either one. 

Did I have the gifts wrapped? Hell no.  Did they all get done.  Hell no.  Although I was quite disappointed not to feel up to making my usual Christmas candies, I managed to get out one killer batch of chocolate fudge with walnuts somewhere in those few miserable days before Christmas. At least my hubby said it was great, he managed to polish off the whole 2 lbs of it.

 I called my doc and told him what was up, he in turn sent me right to the ER for a catscan and pain meds.  I kept bouncing between chills, hot flashes, and nausea and vomiting that didn't stop even though I passed the stone Christmas Eve.  Upchucking my way through Christmas Day, my hubby hauls me back to the ER the day after Christmas.  Ho..Ho..Ho...and Oh...Oh..Oh... I was having a gall bladder attack. 

The events that led up to my certian emergency surgery are in quite the purple haze, as finally after days of experiencing what the fires of Hell surely must be like, they gave me what I will call a Rainbow shot.  Every damn thing looked like it had a rainbow colored aura.  Dilauded I think the nurse told me it was, and that was some good dope.  I fell in love two or three times on the way to surgery with various doctors and attendants.  No wonder they lock that [censored] up.  I had immediate clarity as to why my patients really liked this stuff when I was nursing.  There weren't no flies on me.  I hurt, but I didn't care if the building burned to the ground.  It was a very weird drug trip, and I was rather relieved when the anethesiologist told me to "breathe deep".  It was the sleep of the Pharohs of Ancient Egypt, and I was ever so glad to be pain free.

Nothing lasts forever...as the old saying goes.  I woke up burning up and a gut full of acid.  My proceedure was laproscopic, which is great for healing time, but sucked for immediate wake up time. 

Let me give a little history here, as to why my agony may have been a little worse than your average gallbladder attack should be. 

In 1999, I had gastric bypass surgery.  So, my guts are a little misarranged in there.  (Just for the curious, my last official weigh-in at the doc's office a week before the surgery was 386 lbs.  I KNOW it topped 400 before the surgery, because if it wasn't nailed down, I ate it.  I had some idea in my head I was never going to be able to eat again and I figured I might ought to do that while I could.  There are people that will tell you I shouldn't have been a serious candidate for weight loss surgery because I had that psychological dilema.  If you have ever used food to celebrate, laugh, cry, mourn, be angry, and a thousand other emotions that in my mind would get better if I "ate" something, you are the person who understands where I am coming from.  Some folks stick to that cliche' that food is a "crutch" that fat people use to cope with life.  That is such a lie.  Food was my friend, my lover, my mother, my brother, my sister, and my child.  Crutch...nope....a member of my close personal family that would be dearly missed.  Yes.  It was almost like somebody died.  Golly Damn Bill, that sounds like a crutch...HAH!  You bet your sweet ass some of it is dependency.  Food is one of the few things us fatties can count on.   After my surgery and I graduated from baby food to real food, I found that the "food" death was not at all what happens.  You just learn to eat good foods differently.  It takes a lot of practice to learn what you can and cannot eat, because your new stomach violently rejects anything "it" doesn't want to eat.  What you wish to eat in your mind, and what your tastebuds claim to want or need are a totally different thing.  I am down to 198 lbs now, and wish I had a guardian angel to swoop in and give me a tummy tuck.  I do manage to fluctuate in weight also.  It seems to bounce between 180 and 220.  I have no idea how to make it stop....enough of the parenthesis section, now onto the rest of my tale.)

So, the surgeon tells me he had quite a bit of trouble deflating my gall bladder and getting it out of there.  I'd say.  My bellybutton feels like Christmas Elves are in there yanking from the inside as hard as they can.  More nausea and more upchucking.  "Totally normal to have mild discomfort at the umbilicus.", he tells me as he is smiling and patting my foot for some reason.  I will assume that it was because he couldn't pat my hand, due to the IV poles on either side of the bed, and he figured my foot was good enough.   The bottom half of my tummy below my belly button was one big purple bruise and I had five small incisions in various and sundry places on my gut.  The surgeon told me it was from having to manuever the laproscope, that I had scar tissue in there blocking him from my gastric bypass, and that he almost had to replumb me.  I knew before I went in for the surgery that he might cut me open and make a big scar.  I seriously wish he had, then at least the pain would have been localized in one place instead of all over my tummy.  Just imagine doing about a thousand push ups with a case of whooping cough at the same time.  That is how sore my stomach muscles were, and they kept trying to knot up.  The misery had begun...so much for Rainbow shots!!!!

My hubby had to work so I wined it alone at the hospital, and I won't do that again.  My whole experience was terrible.  The unit I was on was a Med/Surg unit I suppose, and with the hospital being small, the pediatric patients were also being cared for by the Med/Surg nurses.  All around me, the rooms on either side, one diagonally across the hall, and another two doors away from the diagonal room was a lady with Alzheimers or some type of dementia.  The children were all in with bacterial lung infections. (I promptly got a flu and pneumonia shot.)  Those kids screamed from the time I was admitted until I was discharged.  The poor little old lady was restrained to her bed, and hollering "Nurse! Nurse! Please help me, Nurse, I neeeeed my medicine!"  That one was her favorite.  Her second favorite screaming sessions involved begging for her husband.  I know that when folks are in the hospital, what goes on between staff and patients is confidential.  Man, I wanted to stick my nose in there so bad.  There was no reason for that lady to be tied up and suffering like that.  Mondern medicines are too far advanced in my eyes for this to happen.  Especially to the elderly, who deserve respect, comfort, and a nurse to actually walk into the room while she is screaming.  Having been in the medical field for many years, I understand that sometimes restraints, either physical or chemical are needed when a person could harm themselves or someone else, but restraining someone who could not possibly raise a flyswatter to kill an insect is inappropriate and somehow just plain cruel. 

Still standing on my soapbox for a few more moments, I will add that some of my insight on the standard of care being given on that nursing floor were inflluenced by that fact that I was in pain and very uncomfortable.  I had requested several times for the nurse to bring my medications.  More than once it was over 2 hours after I requested the medication  So instead of getting medicated every 4 hours, like the doc ordered, it was between 6 and 8 hours before anyone on the nursing staff delivered it to me.  In other words, by the time I got medicine, I was hurting too bad to get very easy.  Not to mention the surgeon ordered Mepergans.  I have firmly decided that if I ever got strung out, that would not be my drug of choice.   No staff member ever offered to help me up to the bathroom right after I came out of surgery, or to help me get showered, change clothes, or even wash my face.  I know I am yammering here, but when you are trapped in your own misery and walking to the bathroom takes major effort, you have plenty of time to think about things like this.  I know to a point I was being ticky, but when you pay for what is supposed to be a five star experience and you get McDonalds, it will drive you crazy when you are sick.  I felt like I was insane by the time I got out of there New Year's Eve.  I did talk to the doc about the medication, and he got that fixed where I was more comfortable, but I didn't get rested and completely comfortable until I got home. 

 

Back when I very first became ill, after I had my son, I had a stroke.  Laying in the hospital like that really opened my eyes to how it was to be a patient and totally dependant on others to take care of you.  I will say that my practice of nursing changed at that point and I lost a lot of ideas that they condition you to in nursing school and in the hospitals.  I treated patients more like I wanted to be treated when I was sick, and I saw a major difference in the outcome of a lot of sick people.  So, everyone forgive me for my frustrations and expectations.  I just know that those particular nurses can do better, because I have done it.  Now, I will get off of my soap box about that.

I get home and still feel bad, my tummy hurts and I can't keep any food down.  I thought maybe it was the gastric bypass playing with me over my sudden lack of a gall bladder, so I just ate a lot of Town House Crackers, drank a lot of iced tea and waitied to go back to the doc.  He does some lab and finds out I have what he thinks is an infection in my stomach, so off to the GI doctor I go.  I just had the upper GI and a bunch of tests last week, in which that doctor confirmed I had some kind of bug irritating my stomach lining, but I have to wait until the biopsy comes back to see exactly what kind.  He said that I could have anything from a viral infection to a parasite, so we will see what the littlle booger is that is making me so pessimistic is, and kill it off with some type of antibiotic I am sure.  Meanwhile I am on Zelnorm, that is suppose to jump start my stomach.  If anyone has experience with this medicine, send me a post.  It seems to just make me go to the bathroom a lot.

I go back to the doc today to find out the verdict, so I will come back and post to share my physical ails when I find out a diagnosis for them.

Now, changing the subject.  My Mom sent me to a day spa for my birthday present.  She bought me a manicure and pedicure.  I went this past Saturday for the morning.  I had never had a pedicure before.  It was kind of strange having someone mess around with my feet, but if you have never had this done, treat yourself.  They gave me a wonderful whirlpool foot bath, exfoliation and massage, and trimmed and painted my toe nails.  It felt soooo good.  I will be saving my pennies to get this done again.  The manicure didn't turn out so hot, I had to go back yesterday for them to redo my nails.  I had acrylics put on, and two hours after I got out of there the nails were chipping off and one broke.  They couldn't fix it Monday because they were closed for President's Day, so by the time I made it in there Tuesday, five of my ten nails had either broken or chipped.  This new set seems to be holding out just fine.  I figure maybe the acrylic wasn't thick enough or something.  I have a lovely French manicure now, and am very happy with the second results.

Now I will close this textbook entry of moaning and groaning, as I feel much better having written it all down for you all to suffer through.  I am going to drink my little coffee and read the news.  Hopefully the world is in better shape than I am...LOL...Cheers all!!!

 

Hello All.  I guess that you can tell that I haven't made one single entry on this blog since...oh...Halloween.  Needless to say, my life has of course had events since that time, some happy, some sad, and others downright unremarkable.

My Birthday was last week, and I always feel cruddy around my birthday.  I don't know if it is because I am getting old, or because I get the shaft every year romantically, due to the fact my Happy day is the day before Valentine's Day.  Somehow, it seems no matter how hard you stress a point to men, some things they never get.  As a result, there are things I never get.  Like seperate Bithday and Valentine's Day presents.  The male species tends to reason that a 2 for 1 deal is the key to making me a happy camper every February 14th. 

A.K.A.

The Combo "Ballentine" gift. 

Girls, and you know who you are...you know what I am talking about.  (Oh...you expect flowers and a present for boootthhh days.)  HAH!  I will say my hubby managed some gorgeous white roses and a huge heart shaped brownie.  Why the brownie?  I have no idea, he knows I can't have the sugar.  So, he inherited and ate my brownie.  I somehow suspect that was the plan all along.

Let me rewind back to the holidays if I must, and give everyone a review of life as I know it so far.

Thanksgiving sucked, except for the football.  The hubby and I made it to his Mother's, at a reasonable time, I might add.  My husband and I usually fight Thanksgiving Day, because he has some idea in his head that if his Mom says we are eating at 1 pm, we are actually sitting down to eat at 3 pm, living on the theory she has never been ontime in her life.  We have had to eat after everyone else a few times because he does this.  One year he woudn't get up from his "nap" on this 1 pm - 3 pm theory, and I just loaded up the rugrat, and left his ass in the bed.  He got cold leftovers that year.  I got to eat with the family. 

THIS year, we were the only ones that showed up to eat.  My sister and brother in-law, and their families were a "no show".  It turns out that both my brother and sister in-law were fighting with their respective spouses..(refer to the post on holiday fights..we never live through a holiday without one.)  My mother in-law cooks her ass off for the holidays, and in spite of my complaints about her broom riding persona, I do feel the bite when her kids treat her like this.  At least call somebody and tell them you aren't coming.  Nobody bothered to do that....

Needless to say there was plenty of food to carry home, and enough to last for almost a week.  For all of you handy homemakers out there, let me share my Holiday Bowl idea with you.  I mean that literally. 

If you eat at a relatives for the Thanksgiving Holiday, like we do, this works out pretty good.  Usually a day or two before Thanksgiving, I clean out my bowl cabinet and lid drawer.  If it doesn't have a match, out it goes.  In the garbage.  Adios.  I pick up a new box of Rubbermaid bowls and take the box to my mother in-laws.  Bring home Thanksgiving leftovers in the new bowls, and  there you have it.  All matching bowls and lids every year.  No searching for food storage containers. 

In rolls December, and I start feeling bad.  Not depressed or any particular complaint I can think of, I was just generally feeling bad.  Like I wasn't resting enough, and this ached, and that ached.  Well, add the stress of getting ready for the Holidays to general malaise, and I had me a cocktail. 

December 22 I came down with a kidney stone.  It actually started hurting in my back and ribs about the 20th, but as it is the way of the world to wait to go to the doc, to see if it will go away, that is what I did.  This having been my third kidney stone, nedless to say pain and nausea became a close bedmate.  The last thing a person needs right before Christmas is either one. 

Did I have the gifts wrapped? Hell no.  Did they all get done.  Hell no.  Although I was quite disappointed not to feel up to making my usual Christmas candies, I managed to get out one killer batch of chocolate fudge with walnuts somewhere in those few miserable days before Christmas. At least my hubby said it was great, he managed to polish off the whole 2 lbs of it.

 I called my doc and told him what was up, he in turn sent me right to the ER for a catscan and pain meds.  I kept bouncing between chills, hot flashes, and nausea and vomiting that didn't stop even though I passed the stone Christmas Eve.  Upchucking my way through Christmas Day, my hubby hauls me back to the ER the day after Christmas.  Ho..Ho..Ho...and Oh...Oh..Oh... I was having a gall bladder attack. 

The events that led up to my certian emergency surgery are in quite the purple haze, as finally after days of experiencing what the fires of Hell surely must be like, they gave me what I will call a Rainbow shot.  Every damn thing looked like it had a rainbow colored aura.  Dilauded I think the nurse told me it was, and that was some good dope.  I fell in love two or three times on the way to surgery with various doctors and attendants.  No wonder they lock that [censored] up.  I had immediate clarity as to why my patients really liked this stuff when I was nursing.  There weren't no flies on me.  I hurt, but I didn't care if the building burned to the ground.  It was a very weird drug trip, and I was rather relieved when the anethesiologist told me to "breathe deep".  It was the sleep of the Pharohs of Ancient Egypt, and I was ever so glad to be pain free.

Nothing lasts forever...as the old saying goes.  I woke up burning up and a gut full of acid.  My proceedure was laproscopic, which is great for healing time, but sucked for immediate wake up time. 

Let me give a little history here, as to why my agony may have been a little worse than your average gallbladder attack should be. 

In 1999, I had gastric bypass surgery.  So, my guts are a little misarranged in there.  (Just for the curious, my last official weigh-in at the doc's office a week before the surgery was 386 lbs.  I KNOW it topped 400 before the surgery, because if it wasn't nailed down, I ate it.  I had some idea in my head I was never going to be able to eat again and I figured I might ought to do that while I could.  There are people that will tell you I shouldn't have been a serious candidate for weight loss surgery because I had that psychological dilema.  If you have ever used food to celebrate, laugh, cry, mourn, be angry, and a thousand other emotions that in my mind would get better if I "ate" something, you are the person who understands where I am coming from.  Some folks stick to that cliche' that food is a "crutch" that fat people use to cope with life.  That is such a lie.  Food was my friend, my lover, my mother, my brother, my sister, and my child.  Crutch...nope....a member of my close personal family that would be dearly missed.  Yes.  It was almost like somebody died.  Golly Damn Bill, that sounds like a crutch...HAH!  You bet your sweet ass some of it is dependency.  Food is one of the few things us fatties can count on.   After my surgery and I graduated from baby food to real food, I found that the "food" death was not at all what happens.  You just learn to eat good foods differently.  It takes a lot of practice to learn what you can and cannot eat, because your new stomach violently rejects anything "it" doesn't want to eat.  What you wish to eat in your mind, and what your tastebuds claim to want or need are a totally different thing.  I am down to 198 lbs now, and wish I had a guardian angel to swoop in and give me a tummy tuck.  I do manage to fluctuate in weight also.  It seems to bounce between 180 and 220.  I have no idea how to make it stop....enough of the parenthesis section, now onto the rest of my tale.)

So, the surgeon tells me he had quite a bit of trouble deflating my gall bladder and getting it out of there.  I'd say.  My bellybutton feels like Christmas Elves are in there yanking from the inside as hard as they can.  More nausea and more upchucking.  "Totally normal to have mild discomfort at the umbilicus.", he tells me as he is smiling and patting my foot for some reason.  I will assume that it was because he couldn't pat my hand, due to the IV poles on either side of the bed, and he figured my foot was good enough.   The bottom half of my tummy below my belly button was one big purple bruise and I had five small incisions in various and sundry places on my gut.  The surgeon told me it was from having to manuever the laproscope, that I had scar tissue in there blocking him from my gastric bypass, and that he almost had to replumb me.  I knew before I went in for the surgery that he might cut me open and make a big scar.  I seriously wish he had, then at least the pain would have been localized in one place instead of all over my tummy.  Just imagine doing about a thousand push ups with a case of whooping cough at the same time.  That is how sore my stomach muscles were, and they kept trying to knot up.  The misery had begun...so much for Rainbow shots!!!!

My hubby had to work so I wined it alone at the hospital, and I won't do that again.  My whole experience was terrible.  The unit I was on was a Med/Surg unit I suppose, and with the hospital being small, the pediatric patients were also being cared for by the Med/Surg nurses.  All around me, the rooms on either side, one diagonally across the hall, and another two doors away from the diagonal room was a lady with Alzheimers or some type of dementia.  The children were all in with bacterial lung infections. (I promptly got a flu and pneumonia shot.)  Those kids screamed from the time I was admitted until I was discharged.  The poor little old lady was restrained to her bed, and hollering "Nurse! Nurse! Please help me, Nurse, I neeeeed my medicine!"  That one was her favorite.  Her second favorite screaming sessions involved begging for her husband.  I know that when folks are in the hospital, what goes on between staff and patients is confidential.  Man, I wanted to stick my nose in there so bad.  There was no reason for that lady to be tied up and suffering like that.  Mondern medicines are too far advanced in my eyes for this to happen.  Especially to the elderly, who deserve respect, comfort, and a nurse to actually walk into the room while she is screaming.  Having been in the medical field for many years, I understand that sometimes restraints, either physical or chemical are needed when a person could harm themselves or someone else, but restraining someone who could not possibly raise a flyswatter to kill an insect is inappropriate and somehow just plain cruel. 

Still standing on my soapbox for a few more moments, I will add that some of my insight on the standard of care being given on that nursing floor were inflluenced by that fact that I was in pain and very uncomfortable.  I had requested several times for the nurse to bring my medications.  More than once it was over 2 hours after I requested the medication  So instead of getting medicated every 4 hours, like the doc ordered, it was between 6 and 8 hours before anyone on the nursing staff delivered it to me.  In other words, by the time I got medicine, I was hurting too bad to get very easy.  Not to mention the surgeon ordered Mepergans.  I have firmly decided that if I ever got strung out, that would not be my drug of choice.   No staff member ever offered to help me up to the bathroom right after I came out of surgery, or to help me get showered, change clothes, or even wash my face.  I know I am yammering here, but when you are trapped in your own misery and walking to the bathroom takes major effort, you have plenty of time to think about things like this.  I know to a point I was being ticky, but when you pay for what is supposed to be a five star experience and you get McDonalds, it will drive you crazy when you are sick.  I felt like I was insane by the time I got out of there New Year's Eve.  I did talk to the doc about the medication, and he got that fixed where I was more comfortable, but I didn't get rested and completely comfortable until I got home. 

 

Back when I very first became ill, after I had my son, I had a stroke.  Laying in the hospital like that really opened my eyes to how it was to be a patient and totally dependant on others to take care of you.  I will say that my practice of nursing changed at that point and I lost a lot of ideas that they condition you to in nursing school and in the hospitals.  I treated patients more like I wanted to be treated when I was sick, and I saw a major difference in the outcome of a lot of sick people.  So, everyone forgive me for my frustrations and expectations.  I just know that those particular nurses can do better, because I have done it.  Now, I will get off of my soap box about that.

I get home and still feel bad, my tummy hurts and I can't keep any food down.  I thought maybe it was the gastric bypass playing with me over my sudden lack of a gall bladder, so I just ate a lot of Town House Crackers, drank a lot of iced tea and waitied to go back to the doc.  He does some lab and finds out I have what he thinks is an infection in my stomach, so off to the GI doctor I go.  I just had the upper GI and a bunch of tests last week, in which that doctor confirmed I had some kind of bug irritating my stomach lining, but I have to wait until the biopsy comes back to see exactly what kind.  He said that I could have anything from a viral infection to a parasite, so we will see what the littlle booger is that is making me so pessimistic is, and kill it off with some type of antibiotic I am sure.  Meanwhile I am on Zelnorm, that is suppose to jump start my stomach.  If anyone has experience with this medicine, send me a post.  It seems to just make me go to the bathroom a lot.

I go back to the doc today to find out the verdict, so I will come back and post to share my physical ails when I find out a diagnosis for them.

Now, changing the subject.  My Mom sent me to a day spa for my birthday present.  She bought me a manicure and pedicure.  I went this past Saturday for the morning.  I had never had a pedicure before.  It was kind of strange having someone mess around with my feet, but if you have never had this done, treat yourself.  They gave me a wonderful whirlpool foot bath, exfoliation and massage, and trimmed and painted my toe nails.  It felt soooo good.  I will be saving my pennies to get this done again.  The manicure didn't turn out so hot, I had to go back yesterday for them to redo my nails.  I had acrylics put on, and two hours after I got out of there the nails were chipping off and one broke.  They couldn't fix it Monday because they were closed for President's Day, so by the time I made it in there Tuesday, five of my ten nails had either broken or chipped.  This new set seems to be holding out just fine.  I figure maybe the acrylic wasn't thick enough or something.  I have a lovely French manicure now, and am very happy with the second results.

Now I will close this textbook entry of moaning and groaning, as I feel much better having written it all down for you all to suffer through.  I am going to drink my little coffee and read the news.  Hopefully the world is in better shape than I am...LOL...Cheers all!!!

 

 

Hello All.  Sorry I haven't been on in a while.  I just haven't been up to snuff.  HA~HA~  I am going to approach something I said I wasn't going to approach, but leave it to me to approach the unapproachable. 

It is about time for Halloween again, and we have this preacher over in the next town that ALWAYS writes a letter to our local paper about how "sinful" this holiday is, and how we should all "burn" anything we have that is related to Halloween.  He twists history to even say that bobbing for apples was doing in boiling water in ancient times.  Needless to say, EVERY year, it [censored]ES me off.  Somebody tell me how to respond to the subject matter without attacking the preacher personally?  Open forum...leave your suggestions under comments, I'd love to learn how to do this without just dressing him down in all of his ignorance.  What never ceases to amaze me is that the paper actually prints this crud, and not to mention the effect it would have on an impressionable young mind, like a ten or eleven year old, who understands just enough to be terrified of having their head boiling in bobbing apples.

While we are on the subject, in not so many words, another preacher at another church was praying that Dubya would by the Grace of God, be removed from office Sunday.  My ears took in the incredible prayer and laughter almost overtook me as I glanced up at him with his arms heavenward and a dazed look in his eyes as he asked the Lord to free the opressed people of the U.S. from the sins our leader.  There was enough there to know who we were praying that the door would smack in the ass, without losing the status of our tax, if you know what I mean.  I couldn't agree more.  This country is going to hell in a handbasket, and the "average American", is just twiddling their thumbs while Dubya sends it there. 

I think this election will be a surprise for most of the Republican party.  At least according to the polls it will.  All of these nasty rumor slinging little ads are ridiculous, and really don't work for me.  I don't know how everyone else is voting, but I can tell you I am voting a straight Democratic ticket all the way.  If the Republican party has to attack their opponents business partners, family and friends instead of talking about issues that we as a public are dealing with, then there is a HUGE problem going on in our congress.  Gee, Ummm...wonder what they are....molestation, embezzlement, oppression, lying, cheating, stealing, and a ton of other stuff that hasn't come out of the woodwork yet.  Boy, politics really make my day.

EVERYBODY DO ME A FAVOR.

SUPPORT A DEMOCRAT

NOT A JACKASS!!!

 

Enough of politics.  Life moves on slow enough here.  The cotton is so thick it is having to be picked three times in some fields.  My sinuses can tell it too!!

My little boy has earned his Bobcat badge in Scouts, and I don't know if I told everyone or not, but I managed to get elected Den Leader.  We have a big campout this weekend called a Spookoree.  I imagine it is going to be cold as hell, and my arthritis is going to kill me, but I am gonna go.

Other than all that I have reported above, nothing new is going on in this small town of ours.  Time seldom puts it's mark on this place.  When it does, it is permanant and irreversible.  A call from the Grim Reaper, or the birth of a child, the fall of a wonder or the call of the wild.  You never know what Cotton Country will bring.  Cheers~!!!

 

Well, the time for spooks and gooks is upon us, and I am again no where near ready.  All of this hot/cold/hot/cold weather is making my sinus cavities feel as if they are running a triatholon on a daily basis. 

The cotton farmers are ginnig their cotton.

'

And they say we are in for a right dandy crop this year.  So, here are a couple of pictures.  One is a cotton field in bloom, an the other is a cotton bowl open, after it has bloomed.  On some back rounds you drive down around here, it looks like fields of snoq.  Beautiful, if you ever get the chance to come this way.

This particularly flattering photo is ohe of my mother-in-law.  I thought I'd share that one with you all. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This is one of my county's tourist attractions. located right off State RT 412 W. between Alamo, and Maury City, Tennessee.  It is a very nice little place to stop and shop, and sight see if you are traveling here.  They have a cafe, Ja-Ja's Coffe House, and sell fresh vegetables and produce in season.  There are always strawberries, blueberries, and blackberries for sale in the early spring and summer.

This is our city park, in Maury City.  The small town where I live.  Within town limits, according to the census bureau there are only abut 210-300 families living in the town. 

This is the Crockett County Court House.It is about 200 years or more old, I believe.  Elevators     I have been a recent upgrade.It is located at the county seat in a town named Alamo.  It sits in the center of the town and has a one way street around it, that is typical of small towns in the Old South.  There are no street lights, just one stop sigh, that everyone here has gotten a ticket for running at least once in their driving career.

A good old fashioned buggy or hayride are great fun for all of us this time of year.

And, let us not forget the Jack-O-Lanterns.....

 

 

Here it tis' folks.  That post I promised on teenagers.  Uninvited teenagers, into my home that is.  Miss Make-Out with Everyone in the Bar has two kids, boys, who are teens, and they tend to end up here at my house planted in front of the computer doing "homework" at the last minute. (I see more of My Space going on than homework.) 

 

The youngest one likes to spend the night so he can sit up and play video games like Diablo after everyone is in bed.  The last couple of times he has done that he has either gotten sick at school and had to come home, or played hookey from school altogether.  He did this the other day, and called wanting me to come and get him from school, after he had already been here two days playing on our computers.  I told him I couldn't, so he gets someone else to haul him over here.  This supposed "sick" and "vomiting" child had no problem sucking down  most of a 12 pack of soda, a box of pop-tarts, about six burritos, and a box of Reeces cookies.  Not to mention, sitting up and playing the video game.  Right before his mother gets here, the "stomach ache" comes back.  Imagine that.  I tell her he wasn't sick all day.  She tells him she knows he wasn't sick all day.  He counters with the fact he threw up.  She counters with he may have thrown up, but he isn't sick.  End of discussion.  No punishment, zip, nada, and that is it.  My mom would have killed me if I had pulled a stunt like that.  My son better never think about it. 

 

My husband and I discussed it, and we are going to gently ease the teens out the door, and let them find somewhere else to hang out.  We can't afford the grocery bill, and I can't handle the stress.  Having to run, and tote and fetch for them like they are my own kids, but not being able to punish them bothers me.  Visiting from now on will be once in a while, and around the holidays when food is more plentiful for us all.

 

 

Welcome back.  If you have read this much of my rambling on, then you truly are hooked on the hillbillies and I am just getting started good.  I have been sittin around the house for a couple of days coughing my head off.  I went to the ER Monday night and this cracker of a doctor reamed me out for not going to the "hospital" that my regular doctor is on staff.  Let me put this in bold print so anyone who runs into this nutso doesn't screw up and get themselves killed by this guy.  ROBERT MITCHELL M.D.  It didn't strike me until halfway through the ER visit that I saw this same guy when I had one of my three major strokes.  I had nic-named him Dr. HA-HA, because he kept coming behind the curtian and laughing HA-HA, patting my arm and telling me I had a stroke, but I was going to be fine.  Hell, I knew that.  My left side didn't work, I couldn't see out of one eye, and there was slobber drooling down my chin.  My family had me transferred to another doctor's care.  So Dr. HA-HA and my hubby have a go at it. Hubby: What difference does it make what hospital she goes to? She has an acute problem that I would think that you, a doctor, are qualified to treat.  HA-HA:  I am, but most people, ha ha, you know, ha ha, go to where there own doctor is.  Why didn't you go to Covington?  She has got the antibiotic, she has got the sinus pill, what do you want me to do?  Hubby: Treat her.  Isn't there a shot or something you can give her to make her quit coughing like that?  HA-HA: Nooo, there is no such thing.  Hubby: Well, it sure is funny to me that I can go to Gerald White with the same thing she has and he can give me a shot that will stop the cough just like that. (My husband snaps his fingers at this point.)HA-HA: Well, I don't know what kind of miracle he gave you, but I don't have it.  (I am hacking up a lung in the background of all this conversation while a nurse takes my vitals and medical history.  Hubby: Why don't you just call Gerald and ask him what he gives?  Nevermind, Who runs this joint?  HA-HA: Huh? Hubby: Who runs the joint? Who is over you and all of the people who work here? You know, the Administrator?  HA-HA: Noooo, no, no, no.  Hubby: YES, YES, YES, YES.   Finally we were getting somewhere.  I get the breathing treatment, an inhaler, some pain meds, and off to the ball I go. 

Yesterday I felt better, and today I get up with no voice and feel really cruddy.  When I made it to the bathroom and got a look at myself in the mirror I didn't see myself in there.  I saw Casperina, the bitchy ghost in there.  Quite shocking, if I do say so myself. 

Whadda ya know, more crap.  My doc can't get a copy of the X-rays from the hospital because he isn't on staff up there so my hubby has to drive me over there after working twelve hours.  The hospital was afraid I might be impersonating myself on the telephone, so I had to go inperson to show them I wasn't impersonating myself.  People, realize that I come from an area so small that everyone knows everyone elses name, where they live, and who their Mama and Daddy are.  If you come here from out of town, all of the locals are going to know it before the sun goes down.  Here I go, up to the hospital to impersonate myself, where they damned well know who I am. (My son was born there, another story, they lost his pictures.)  I get that done, and no sooner than we head back home and the kissing cousin that was making out with everyone in my prior post, her son calls wanting to come and get a video game he left at my house.   I tell him later.  I could go on and on about this, and I will later in my post about teenagers. 

Then I went to my mothers to get my sister to help me put my son's Cub Scout stuff on his shirt.  8 times Riley calls me about that video game.  I don't think I have ever been so irritated in my life.  You would think I had his wallet, or some life saving medication or something.  Diablo is not worth that many telephone calls, and the next time he badgers me like that I am going to cut him off at the pass and tell him so.  Maybe I will microwave Diablo. 

Well, I have ranted and raved enough for now.  Hope this finds everyone having a better life than I.   Somehow I think that life of an earthworm would have more quality than mine.  Maybe not more quanity, but more quality.  But, then again, I am not a worm, and I don't have to worry about being used for catfish bait.

I have been told by so many folks I need to catch up on my blog, so here I am plugging away at it.  There are plenty of recent events to report too.

School started as you all know.  My rugrat is in the 2nd grade, and homework has really started pouring in.  He has figured out how to wad it up and hide it in the recliner a few years early.  Now I know why my mother was so smart about these things.  She did it too.  We are past the first quarter of school, and no trips to the principal yet.  I was there in her office three times last year for cussing, fighting, and a jello fight.  My son did these things, not I folks.  I am pretty sure the Jello was orange, because the fight was on a Friday, and the school left it a mess in the cafeteria and made the 8 or 9 students involved come up there on Saturday morning come up there and clean the cafeteria.  It sure looked orange when I dropped my son off.  His dad asked him "WHY SON?", his only reply..."It was fun, Daddy."

The summer was quite uneventful, short of my son's birthday party.  The mother-in-law has a built in swimming pool, so needless to say we have a pool party every year.  My fat sister-in-law has a birthday a couple of days before my son, so she wants a pool party too.  The problem is, she never wants to help clean up the pool or the pool area.  She waits for me to do it, and get it all party ready, and has her party the day after ours.  I call her up and ask her to come and help and hear fifty excuses why she can't do it, and then she tells me she always does it.  Which is a big monster lie.  So I tell her it is a big monster lie, and we get into it, at which time I call her a few unsavory things I can't put in here.  End of conversation.  Boo fing hoo...ya know what I mean?  Then her equally fat husband calls me up because I told her what was what, and I tell him what is what too.  I had already been out in 100 degree weather for two days draining, scrubbing, mowing, hauling off truckload after truckload of junk, while they sat in whateve airconditioned environment they were in complaining about me.  I wasn't in the mood for it.   I guess I don't need to tell you they didn't come to the party. 

The theme was Hot Wheels.  We had balloons, and cake, and hotdogs and chips.  I went to WallyWorld and got them to fill the balloons up with helium, so I wouldn't have to huff and puff.  It looked really nice out there.  After the party was over, I lit a ciggarette and popped every damned one of those balloons.  Be damned if she was using them for her party the next day.  (So, I was a little vindictive....yeah I know...pray for me...okay)  Even the ones on the mailbox.  I popped those on my way out.  I didn't find out until later only two people showed for her party.  I am a sick person to be happy about those kinds of things.  Remind me to ask my shrink about that.  There is a german word for taking pleasure in other peoples misfortune, and I can't remember what it is, but I sure was it on that occasion.

Back to the future.  The rugrat decided to be a Cub Scout.  So, off to the first meeting we go.  Nobody knows what to do or say.  Me being the big mouth that I am ends up leading activities, and somehow got elected Den Leader.  Now that is just great.  I had to come home and pull up all of my pot plants.  Can't have a dope growing Cub Scout Den Leader.  I don't smoke it now, but I used to in my late teens and early twenties.  I was up in the attic last spring rambling around for swim gear and found a 35mm film container full of seeds, so I planted them in Miracle Grow potting soil to see if they would pop up after 20 years, and by golly they did, 19 of em'.  I do have certian family members that will never give up the smoke habit, so I gave all but 2 of em away.  I repotted the two, and stuck em' on the back porch.  I don't think I'd be very good at it.  They were only 3 feet tall and had been outthere since June, and this is September.  To all of you smokers out there, yes, this past Friday, the garbage man took away two perfectly good pot plants with my garbage. 

Imagine that...I live right in town next to the fire/police department.  You would think someone would have noticed all 19 of them when I had them on the porch.  I know the guy that mows the yard had to know what they were, but he never said a word.  If I had taken them out in the country somewhere and planted them, I would be sitting in jail as sure as Custer was a General.

My more recent expeditions include being a designated driver for one of my cousions who loves Vodka.  I don't mean good vodka either.  She likes that cheap, rot your liver, take the enamel off of your teeth, and leave blisters on your tounge when you swallow it vodka.  Sort of comprable to Mad Dog 20/20 in price with a much worse taste. 

As soon as that $2.50 plastic gallong jug of clear acid is in her hand she is dumping it into a glass.  3 Quarters vodka, 1 Quarter Orange juice.  Then it's gulp city for the rest of the night. 

The first one is gone before she finishes her make up, and the second one is ready before we head out the door.  Now, for sanity's sake I must add this in here, or none of you will understand why all of this is hilarious.  When we were in high school, this chick was abot a size 6, a cheerleader, in the IN crowd, and was considered "IT" among the pretty people.  She is now 37, divorced 4 times, (twice from the same guy), has two kids, bleaches her hair the same exact color as Anna Nicole Smith, and wears a size 26, but squeezes into a 16.  All of the weight she has picked up is mainly below the waist.  Wide hips, and legs and thighs that look like twin watermelons.  (Not to criticize my family, but I am quite certian they gossip about me all of the time.)  Upon squeezing into her blue jeans, she accessorizes with a see through tube like top, with strings that either tie around the neck, or have spaghetti strap shoulders. Seldom is there a brassiere in sight.  The final touch is earrings as big as her head. All of this to go to a podunk country bar where everyone else is still wearing what they had on at work, or came out of the field in.

Now for the redneckedness.  First stop.  "The Boars Nest".  A HOLE IN THE WALL.  That ain't no joke.  Concrete floor, just enough room for two pool tables, a bar, and a jukebox.  Beer is 2 bucks a bottle, and you can bring your own liquor, but you have to buy your setup there.  A setup costs $1.50.  We walk in and are two of three women there, and the only two patrons that have all of our front teeth, except for the bartender, and his are false.  I have kn0wn Henry, the bartender, for years and years.  When I was nursing I took care of his Mama and his Daddy, so he called me behind the bar to talk.  I end up with a stool back there talking to him.  Little Miss Vodka plants herself on a stool between farmboys and starts jabbering.  Snagglepuss No #1 is oogling at her nearly exposed bosom while Snagglepuss No #2 puts his arm around her and tells her how pretty she is.  I am talking to Henry and watching the Snagglepusses paw all over her, and she either enjoys it, or the vodka keeps her from caring.  She gets up and goes outside with Snagglepuss No #2 to mix another drink, or so she says.  Snagglepuss No #1 gets change from the bar and heads for the jukebox.  More people wander in.  Patrons with teeth.  Wonderful!!!  Miss Vodka and Snagglepuss No#2 make it back inside.  She has lipstick smeared up her cheek and he has it on his neck.  I just hand them both a napkin and they both look at me and say "What?" at the same time.  Little Miss Vodka takes her napkin and heads for the ladies room, so I figure she is only two sheets to the wind if she is sober enough to go and wipe lipstick off of her face after she has been in the parking lot necking.  Out she comes and Snagglepuss No #1 has the jukebox drumming out songs, so he grabs her to dance.  Somehow in the very small space between the pool tables they managed a performance that would make Swayze and Grey blush.  Dirty Dancing was nothing compared to this dance.  Every drunk in the bar was clapping and whooping, and I wanted to crawl underneath the bar and disappear.

Then some folks we went to high school with show up.  Including her very first boyfriend, from like 8th grade.  She forgets about the Snagglepusses, and is all over him like marinade on sushi.  They sit there at the bar drinking and delivering one uppers to each other in between make out rounds in the parking lot until closing time.  WHEW!! I think, I made it.  Au' Contraire'  She wants to go to the other bar right over the county line that doesn't close until 3 a.m.  Being a good sport, I go on and take her there.

We drive the back way, because it was Labor Day weekend, and I didn't want to mess with a roadblock at all.  I wasn't drinking, but they would have taken her for PD in a heartbeat the second she opened her mouth.

We are on a backroad in the middle of nowhere.  A white Z-28 is sitting on the side of the road.  "Stop", she says.  "They might need help", she says.  So, I stop.  Some dude I have never seen in my life comes to the window of my jeep.  She all but climbs over the gear shift into my lap, spilling cheap vodka all over me and the jeep.  "HEY, HEY...DON'T I KNOW YOU?"  He tells her his name.  She is spitting while she talks.  She starts telling him how absolutely dellightful to look at she thinks he is, and how handsome she has always thought he was, and yada, yada, yada.  I am really freaking out at this point.  He tells her to get out so he can see "all" of her.  She goes to get out, trips and falls right into the ditch.  I ask her if she is okay.  Yep, just fine.  She staggers around the Jeep, and the next thing I know they are all laid out on the side of his car, making out.  I can't hold back any more.  Hysterical laughter just started in the pit of my gut and began tumbling out of my mouth.  I was laughing so hard I thought I was going to pee on myself.  She was just in a bar full of men that she could have had her choice of, and here we are in the middle of backwoods Tennessee, and she is picking up a man.  Jeez...That is funny, I don't care who you are.

The necking and phone number exchange over with, it turned out dude had to get home to his girlfriend. HA!

We go on to the other bar, and I will be damned if the Snagglepusses and her old boyfriend werent there too!

The name of the second bar is "The Bucket".  It used tobe called "The Bloody Bucket", because there were so many fights out there.  That kind of thing doesn't happen anymore I don't think.  It is a lot bigger and nicer than The Boars Nest.  It is well lighted, has a dance area, Three pool tables, a nice pine bar, and cooks burgers and stuff.  Not to mention that when a huge sporting event is on, they unplug the jukebox and turn up the televisions, of which there are two.

The race was on again.  The Snagglepusses were chasing Miss Vodka, along with a couple more fellas in the Snagglepuss family.  The old boyfriend was sitting with me at the bar, and actually tried to pick me up.  After I told him I was married and not a one hit wonder, he laid off and started asking about Miss Vodka.  Would she go home with him.  I had no idea. He then proceeds to tell me in graphic detail how many bases she let him get to when they were kids.  (Which falls under things I do not need to know.)  She had been out to the parking lot with at least two different guys to "mix" drinks while this conversation was going on.  My mind and body were praying for this night to be over.  The drunker she got, the louder she got, the dirtier she danced.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, the old boyfriend is talking me up on getting her to go home with him.  He said that he had always wondered what it would be like to spend all night with her.  I said "Well, Buddy boy, here's your chance..go to work." Ugh!  I wondered  if he had figured out all of that drink "mixing" was not all related to putting vodka in the O.J.  Three o'clock couldn't come fast enough for me.  I drag her inebreatied ass to the Jeep force her into it and pull out of the bar.  The old boyfriend is just ahead of us. 

She starts screaming hysterically, "Stop him!!" , "Stop him!!"  For a mile or two, I am flashing my lights at this bozo to stop his car.  She gets out of the Jeep, right in the middle of the highway, and falls again.  "You okay?"...."Yup"...and off she goes to his car.  More making out through the drivers side window.  Arguing that he will take her straight home, when they both know he will take her straight to his home. 

When he got out and opened that passenger side door for her to get in, I let out a sigh of relief that was probably heard in three states.  Don't think he opened it to be a gentleman, he opened it because she was so toasted he had to half haul her to his car.  He couldn't carry her and get the car door open too.  As soon as he got her safely into the seat of his car, I floored it. Zoom...outta there...Adios....Hasta Luego, Dude.  Five minutes later, my cell rings.  It's Miss Vodka.  She is screaming because I have deserted her.  It seems she forgot she agreed to go where she was going.  After listening to her rave a few minutes, I flipped the phone closed, and the next time it rang I didn't answer it.  I drove home.  When I opened my Jeep door to get out, I spied a gallon jug sitting on the passenger floor board.  It was cheap vodka.  Over half of it was gone.  It's no wonder she didn't remember. 

Looking at my watch told me it was 4 a.m.  I decided that vodka, snagglepusses, and old boyfriends could wait until I'd had a few hours of shut eye.  I locked the doors of my Jeep went off to bed.  I did wonder as I was drifting off to sleep exactly how bad my cousin's hangover was going to be, and I thanked God it wasn't me.

Cheers :)

I know, I know, I haven't posted in quite a while. But it has been nuts here. Trying to get Christmas together. Cooking for Thanksgiving. We never make it through the Holiday season without some kind of fighting. And, of course we didn't make it through this one without one. I just am glad it wasn't in my immediate house hold.

My husband's family has a big Christmas thing at my mother inlaw's house. For grown kids, they rack up VERY frigging well for Christmas. The fight started because my brother in law accused my mother in law of buying him the wrong dvd's to get even with him for not helping her decorate the yard with Christmas lights for the holidays. A side fight was going on between my sister in law and her husband, and my husband and I were completely out of the loop.

I was of the opinion that my mother in law could spend her money however she wanted to, and everyone promptly told me to shut up, that Miss Congeniality 2, was a chick flick, and there was obviously some type of getting even going on between mother and son. So, I just stayed out of the thing altogether. I didn't see what the big deal was, I would have said, "Thank you." Carried it back to the store, and gotten what I wanted. But six people immediately told me that wasn't the issue. It was the PRINCIPLE. Okie dokie...I don't get it. Chick flick vs. Christmas lights...somebody clue me in if they get it.

I will say that I had a very nice holiday gift wise. Any one who would like to share their gift list with me, please do so. I'd love to hear what you got from Santa!!!

I got, bath stuff, nice nice wooden T.V. trays, a new bird cage for Henrietta my bird, pajamas, houseshoes, peridot earrings, a matching ring and necklace, Jamacia blue mountian coffee beans, Celine Dion Perfume, Bare Minerals Make Up, Halmark Christmas Ornaments, The Wizard of OZ collectors Edition DVD set, and misc. stocking stuffers, such as socks, candy, and eyeglass cleaners, along with a great meal, and enough food to eat for a week!!!

Now it is time to ring the New Year in, so we are going to have a...dum de dum....Texas Hold em' Poker game tomorrow night over at my mother's house. Her's is big enough to hold all of the people. The poker is the "guys" idea. They want to play for money. I'd rather have fun, ya know! So Happy New Year to all, I hope the forthcoming is better for you, than the former. Cheers everyone.

Today was pioneer day at school, and I did one of those things that gets a seven year old beat up and didn't realize it. Kind of like sending him to school in a bunny suit. They sent home a memo last week that the kids could dress up for school today as pioneers. So, I got my son ready this morning. He wanted to go as an outlaw. I decked him out in jeans, boots, a button down plaid shirt, bandannas, a cowboy hat and we drew him on a moustache and beard and eyebrows. I think the eyebrows did him in. He said the kids on the bus gave him hell, but the teachers thought he was cute. He had decided by the time he got home he wanted to keep the eyebrows and the bandannas, but the moustache and beard were gone along with the rest.

He has also fallen in love with a little redhaired girl. I am reminescant of Charlie Brown and his little redhaired girl, but this one is quite different. She is well aware of the power that she has over my son. When he is dropped off at school he kills himself to open the door for her and she merely shakes her pony tails at him, as though it were his job to to this. It is amazing how aware the little girl is at age 6 the power she already has over the opposite sex. She has told him that if he brings her flowers and nice things from Wal-Mart, she will be his girlfriend, so he has been hounding me to buy him flowers for her. I don't know about flowers...but I think he has already proposed, so I better get my engagement ring out and polish it. I think he will pass it around a few times before he ever leaves elementary school. This is just the beginning, I can only imagine what it will be like when he hits puberty.

Well, me and mine went to see the new Potter flick last night. It was quite good if you are a devotee. If you are walking in off of the street and haven't seen any of the other movies, or read any of the books, you won't have any idea what is going on. I won't put any spoilers on here for those of you who haven't seen it yet. I will say that I giggled all the way through it. It is quite funny and full of dry humor. I can't wait for the DVD to hit the shelves.

Well, it's fundraising time again at school. They sent home the forms, and my son is officially selling Krispy Kreme doughnuts. He has a mild form of autism, so his rounds in the neighborhood have been interesting. He has an obsession with clocks and blenders, so on his door to door rounds he has requested that each neighbor let him in their home to view all of their clocks and check each blender to make sure that it is operating correctly. Needless to say, I have had some interesting telephone calls. He also managed to sell three dozen doughnuts to persons unknown. They filled out the form properly, I just have no idea who they are, so I will have to find out before delivery time to make sure where the delicous denziens are to be handed out.

I have been desperately wishing for a vacation. Somewhere warm and forgiving. An anonymous place where I can be myself and nobody cares who you are or where you come from. I was watching the travel channel this morning and there was a lady visiting Greece, and I thought that would be nice until some naked guy came up to her and started a conversation. That is too open for me. Nope, a little more clothing is required when we start talking and a lot more wine before we start taking it off. Maybe the Keys like Jimmy Buffett, just take off and disappear. I hear a person can do that down there, or Mexico, if you learn to speak the language well enough. Brazil is nice if you know Portugese (sp), or even a hut in Africa where I can put my nursing to good use and just disappear into the jungle. Some cultures don't know that cleanliness can save their lives. And some days, a little daydreaming saves mine. Cheers all.

I am to that point between sanity and insanity, I think if I was given a choice, I'd choose insanity. I have been running like a chainsaw since Friday, I am out of gas and oil, but my path is still blocked with no relief in sight. For some reason my family seems to think I am supposed to fix all that ails them. I barely get one eye cracked open in the morning and my son is standing there in his underwear grinning at me. He has bright pink highlighter all over his face. So much for hitting the snooze button. The thrill of Halloween is still following me around because he wanted to go to school as a Jack-O-Lantern today, and I didn't have an orange highlighter in the desk. So, I rolled out of bed and shipped him off to school with pink eyelids. There is only so muc that cold cream and soap will do. I am sure he will manage some excuse, and if he doesn't, I am pretty sure the school will call. I am off to the kitchen to make coffee, and imagine that, the dogs have been in the garbage can. Which irritates the [censored] out of me. I am picking up trash, and Roxanne and Snoopy are just laying in the kitchen door watching me. Probably telepathically commenting to each other about how many "tricks" they can teach me. I do that, and barely get the coffee going, and ding a ling, my phone is ringing. My hubby is on the way home from work. Wonderful. So much for that cup of java alone. He looovveees to call and talk to me about what Skeeter, Scooter, John Boy, and Booger did at work last night. I am not joking. These are real men that go by these names. I often wonder why they don't have one named Cornbread.....or even Froglaig...that would be seriously southern..."Hey, Froglaig, hand me that wrench over there would'ya, Buddy?" Also, these men have wives...could you imagine..."Do you LuAnne take Skeeter.... God I love the south!!!

My husband comes trekking in. We have about eleven cats outsdie and every morning he lets ten of them in the house when he comes in, and I spend the morning rounding them up, and throwing them back outside. They hide everywhere, under the bed, on top of the curtians, etc..etc... He thinks it's sooo cute. Immediately upon coming in the house the miniblinds close, and he shucks off his clothes. Does he do it in the bedroom? Nooooooo. Does he do it in the bathroom? Noooooo. Laundry room??? NOPE!!! His favorite place is right behind the recliner in the living room, where my renegade dogs go and plop down for their morning siesta. So I am trapped in a dark house with a naked man, ten cats, and two very spoiled telepathic dogs....sigh.  Might as well start the laundry. My nudist mate is making a bowl of cereal and I am sorting whites and colors. I hear Snoopy chasing kittens in the living room, and I tell my husband he better go break it up before they destroy something. He grabs his cereal and takes off.  I came through a few moments later with clothes to hang in my sons room and my husband is perched on the recliner watching Regis and Kelly, eating, with his crown jewels hangning down. I came back through the door into the living room at the exact moment my husband was taking a bite of cereal and a small black and white kitten, full claws extended decided that the crown jewels were a punching bag. 

Cereal spewed from his mouth along with a scream, the bowl went flying, the cat hissed and squalled and ran like hell because my hubby jumped and tried to swat it at the same time he was spewing and screaming. I dropped the dirty clothes I was carrying and looked at the cornflakes on my ceiling and laughed until I cried. My husband was screaming at me to catch the cat. I just couldn't find it in my heart to help him find it. Hell, I was going to have to clean the ceiling. I just started rounding up the others and getting them out of the house. My two faithful dogs just lay on the floor and watched all of this and looked at each other occasionally.

I was then summoned to the bathroom to check for injuries, which also put me into a laughing fit so hard I could not look. He wasn't bleeding, and nothing had changed colors, so I had to assume he was okay. I continued to clean up the mess, and laugh. I stayed tickled all day. I coudln't wait for him to go to bed so I could call SOMEBODY and tell what happened. Anybody, my mother, his mother...Booger at work. It was killing me.

He returned to his cereal WITH underwear, and that poor little cat stayed behind the washing machine all day. I am still getting the silent treatment, and he didn't call me this morning, so I got to enjoy my coffee, so I now share with all of you bloggers one very good reason not to sit around the house naked if you are a guy.

I am still waiting on the guys with the straight jackets, and when I get around to telling you about the time he brought me home road kill, ya'll may send those guys over here. Cheers!

Now I will approach my family of dysfunctional people as I tread ever so lightly on their insanity....Ouch..eek...sorry, Mom...no, it wasn't serious, it was just that phony thing you do when you talk to people you don't care for. Just put it back up for now. Nobody is here.

Jeannie-Dear old Mom. Married 3 times, Divorced 3 times. My dad was the first in that short line of suitors. And I say short because her relationships in between divorces lasted a day, a night, a weekend, and oh...maybe a month sometimes before that particular guy was done. Mom and Dad got divorced when I was six months old. It would be very weird living in the same house with both of them...double Yuk! That divorce was one of those usual situations, dear old dad was sleeping with Mom's best friend, who soon became my best stepmother for the next ten years.  And for those of you who were out there wondering, my mom wasn't killing anytime either, she also got me a stepfather right away. It didn't take her too awful much longer, and I had a brother and a sister too. The grown ups in my life waited until I was about 11 to become unhappy, scream at each other, throw things, stay drunk, have affairs and generally conduct themselves like persons who live in Port Charles instead of my home town...I seem to remember comparing our lives to General Hospital on a regular basis.

Larry- my father, emotionally distant, always financially distant. We speak once in a blue moon now. My mother spent years telling me what a womanizing jerk he was, I had to find out for myself what a womanizing jerk he was. I will say that he is very old fashioned in his womanizing, no holding hands in public, treat a lady like a lady, "in public", but I don't know if this is to be nice or to keep from getting caught messing around with whomever he is messing around with. He truly believes women should work themselves to death for the man, give him all of her money, and never question him. If my granny was still alive, I think she would beat him to death.

Gearldine- my now ex-stepmother. Have no idea what she has done since they split, short of marrying some guy in prison, and waiting on him to get out. She and my dad split awhile, she got pregnant, suddenly after years of trying...imagine that. So they gave it another go. I have a half sister that joins the bunch named Alana, so that is how Gearldine enters the picture. General opinion question: Could the boyfriend she had while she and dad were seperated be Alana's father? Hmm...something to ponder. I understand she wasn't coming back, and the guy had a heart attack and died.

Alana-my baby sister, very young and protected, but not as much as I would have thought. She managed to get pregnant her senior year of high school. (She is eight years younger than I am.) She married the boy, and they now have three kids. He drinks and she works. I don't know how that has improved. His mother had a cancer scam going. She made the whole community think she had terminal cancer. They all prayed, held services, and benefits, and collections, and donated a ton of things to the family. His mother kept taking trips to MD Anderson Cancer Hospital in Texas. Then she had a very bad wreck that almost killed her. She ended up on life support and in ICU for several months. When the family asked how the accident was going to affect her cancer, the doctor said: "What cancer? What are you talking about?"  Who want to guess? Money...Attention or a Man??? Which was it??  HA~it was of the male persuasion, and it lived in Texas. It wasn't too awful long after this lady went to prison I came down with cancer cells on my cervix and a problem with cysts. My family was told, and Alana acted like I was lying. I told her, I don't want anything from you, I just felt you ought to know. I guess things like this can make you act weird.

P.J.- My next to youngest sister, married, two beautiful kids, sarcastic sense of humor. This kid works her ass off. Her husband is in construction, he hits the peace pipe a lot, and has a very mannana attitude when it comes to work. They always have ten gozillion things going on. She drives a delivery truck for a major company, that is all I will say here, due to other things that get brought up in this blog. She will get off the truck, and go hang somebody's sheet rock because her old man is behind. Amazing. I couldn't do it. I am lucky I can sweep the floor. Sheet rock and I would never get along. Her kids can be hell in a handbasket. I have kept both of them since they were babies. Katie, the oldest, she raised hell and cried all of the time. She is nine now, and she has reverted to whining when she doesn't get her way. I just stop her cold and put her in a time out or a corner, it always worked when I babysat her. It doesn't work for her Mama. Gracie, the baby, is happy all of the time, shows off, won't stay out of anything, and we all will have to watch her when she becomes a teenager.

Kevin- brother-in-law, PJ's husband, and he and I graduated high school together. He is a huge football fan. He is very quiet, and seldom talks. So, unlike the in-laws on my husbands side, he lacks some of those annoying traits. The only thing he is bad about is telling you he will check on something and never getting to it. My bath drain has been waiting on him over six months now.

***********THE NEXT PART OF THIS POST COVERS EVENTS REGARDING AN ABUSED CHILD, IF YOU THINK THAT READING ABOUT IT WOULD BOTHER YOU, PLEASE SKIP THIS NEXT SECTION, AND MOVE ON **************

 

 

Jeremy- my brother- This one is not easy. Jeremy joined the Navy right out of school, and he was gone about six years. We wondered about him quite a bit because he kept coming home on leave with something new tattooed or pierced everytime he came home. When he came home for good, he settled down some and went to work as a corrections officer. He met a corrections officer there he went nutso over, and they decided to get married. Without digging into complete history, I will say this girl seemed nice enough, she was pretty, never acted strange in front of any of us. She had children, but DHS had placed them with some of her family. She and my brother were going to attempt to get them back. I believe there were 4 of them. They split, and never filed for divorce. She called him up out of the blue some months later and told him that he was a father. He immediately went to go and see this baby. He went back to my mom, and told her about the baby. He said that the baby was very dirty, swollen all over, his umbilical cord had not fallen off, and that his circumcision was not well. The child was 7 weeks old. He also added that his wife was living with a known cocaine dealer.  My brother and my mother cooked up a plan to just take this baby from this girl. I was so upset I was pacing the floor. My mom called her and talked to her very nice and invited her over, while she was there my mother suggested that she let the baby spend the night. The girl decided that it felt safe anough, and she trusted my mother. As soon as the girl leaves, my brother and my mom proceed to take pictures of the kid, his clothes, his carried, and they take his clothes off and take pictures of him naked also. My brother heads off to a lawyer to file for emergency custody and my mom brings the baby to my house. They are wanting to hide him down there. Absolutely not. I told both of them, I didn't like it, I didn't like the way they were doing it, and no, they couldn't hide him at my house. My husband jumped in at this point, and he is upset, no, we wont help in this. I called my sister, P.J. and she said she wasn't going to hide the baby either. So my brother shows back up, having filed the papers, and he and my mom leave with the baby. I knew the girl probably wouldn't start looking until the next day when she was supposed to pick up her baby, but I was up rocking in my rocking chair all night. It still makes me sick at my stomach now. She came to my house the next night, and she was crying, upset, wanting to know where her baby was, and I just told her that my brother had the baby and had filed for emergency custody. As, for where the baby was , I didn't know, because I didn't. This girl just cried and cried and cried. I have never heard anyone cry like she did. It came from the very bottom of her soul. I cried with her. I have never been so torn in my life. She finally went home. I told my mother and my brother I had done this and strangely enough, nobody was angry. The next morning testing from the doctor's office came back, and large amounts of dexomethorpin and benadryl were found in the baby's system. The pediatrician said this accounted for the swelling. He stated that this was done sometimes to make a newborn that cried a lot sleep, or by a disassociated mother who didn't want to mess with her child. He felt that with a healthier diet and better care, it would go down in a realtively short period of time. He of course, had an infection from his umbilical cord, and circumcision, and a slight upper respiratory infection.

The baby's mother had some things put in the newspaper. Her father owns the local paper, but this did little to convince the judge to return the child to her. Her the laws are funny. In a custody fight if no legal papers have been written, whoever happens to have posession of the child has all of the rights. A gag order was issued, so the paper, she, nor my brother could talk about the case. 

Meanwhile, the baby's respiratory infection kept getting worse and was requiring daily trips to the doctor. He was taking breathing treatments every four hours at home. My brother was staying at my house at night so that I could take care of the baby at night. My brother had to work in the daytime.  The pediatrician was reccomending hospitalization, and my brother didn't want to put the baby in the hospital. I am a nurse, my mother is a nurse, so he felt we could care for him at home just as well. I pushed for him to put the child in the hospital, but he wouldn't budge.

January 23, 2000 the Tennessee Titans beat the Jacksonville Jaguars 33 to 14. We were going to the Superbowl. Adelphia was going to be open to fans to welcome the team back, so my husband and I got in the truck and headed for Nashville. We are pretty big football fans. My mother had to work, so she was headed to The Med in Memphis, and my brother was left alone with the baby.  My husband and I didn't get back from Nashville until probably 2 a.m. We stayed at my mother-in-laws. My husband dropped right off to sleep, and I was pacing the floor. I couldn't sleep and had no idea why.  Anne's house is very very big, I was up front downstairs and everyone else was upstairs. I heard the phone ringing a couple of times. Yes, odd, for the middle of the night, but not for her house, my father-in-law does heating and cooling, people are apt to call anytime. I heard it ringing again, wondering why nobody got it upstairs, I trekked to the office to hear my mother screaming on Anne's answering maching that the baby had died, to come home right away. I went into complete panic mode, I couldn't get my husband awake. He sleeps like the dead, I did everything but pour ice water on him. I wasn't supposed to be driving, I take seizure medicine, and I hadn't gone a year yet without a seizure. At this point, I didn't care, I wrapped my rugrat up in a blanket, threw him in his carseat, and headed for my mama's.

At this point the details don't matter, he died of SIDS. He was a child with two names, and two parents who loved him very much, no matter what the arguement was about. The thing that I remember most about the whole ordeal is that my husband, who is normally immovable, overbearing, and strong, fell all to pieces when he saw the little fellow didn't have a pacifier in his coffin. He immediately left the funeral home and went to the local drug store and bought one to put in his little fist. To me, it is little things like that God remembers.

This about wraps it up for my immediate family. I will however approach the lunatics in my extended family at a later date.  No, I haven't forgotten, the story about teaching my grandma how to smoke a joint is a funny one, but she was a funny lady. Cheers!

I haven't written down a word in what seems like eons. My sister-in-law went into the hospital last month for routine gall bladder surgery, and ended up on life support. It's amazing how something as simple as a tonsilectomy can turn out so serious. She is only 26 and in good health, so we are all still wondering what went wrong.

The last two months has been a blur of helping with her kids, trying to keep my child settled in school, and not feeling so hot myself. She got out of the hospital for a week, and is now back in the hospital. She has three little ones, and finally someone decided to try daycare for awhile instead of shuffling the kids around, and it seems to be working out well for my brother-in-law, who cannot miss anymore work, because of money. That seems to be what makes things tick in this country. The almighty dollar. Having been where they are now, I understand.

Just to give folks a better play on the gist of things in the south, so you know who I am talking about, well, here is a list of the cast and crew that I call my family, may God have Mercy on their souls and mine when this lifetime is over. We are all eligible for the insanity ticket, if you know what I mean. I will stick to immediate family, and if things branch out, I can explain from there. Around here, first cousins are included, and I have a humdinger of one straight out of All My Children, who is on this list.

Lara- this is me- recovering addict, mommy, writer, sometimes know it all, intolerant of ignorance, distrustful of people who want to get close to me at times, especially women,  nurse, reader, newshound, painter, gardner, craftmaker, and sometime recluse from the world.

Steve-my husband-always a know it all, possibly where I get my know it all attitude because I get tired of one upping him all of the time. He is very smart, but has the idea he has to be the smartest person in the room. He can't stand to let anyone else win anything. He would rather crush you like an insect on the windshield of a 57 Chevy than he had let you win at anything. It gets nauseating at times, but it comes in handy when I need to complain to "The Management" somewhere about something.  He also worked for Wal-Mart for ten years, and if you EVER have a complaint against them, just drop me a line. He can work their phones and get in touch with the Regional Manager of this, and the Executive Director of that in the drop of a hat. I dropped an Air Conditioner while I was pregnant with my son, and I was worried about having to pay for it...HA!  Not in his world.  He calls them up and has a store manager over here personally delivering a brand new "free" airconditioner.  The only reason I tried to load it was because I couldn't find anyone to do it for me. He has a 4 year degree from UT Knoxville, and he has driven a forklift for the last 8 years. So much for ambition. Other job descriptions include furniture salesman, and Orkin Man.  He just got a promotion to supervisor at his printing factory 3 months ago, and is hating himself for taking the job already. But, I bitched and moaned until he did, and I bitched and moaned until he took the printing job.  If he won't use his education, at least he can earn some decent money.  He works with a bunch of sexist idiots, and yes, they all have redneck nic names. John Boy, Scooter, Booger Eater, and his is Hammer.  Those are the ones I can remeber right now, he talks about them so much, I tune out a lot. You gals know what I am talking about, listening for the keywords, like "trouble", "affair", "money", and things like that.  I will say he is the most normal in his family besides his adoptive father.  His heart is as big as this house, he cherishes our son, and the life we have built, but he and I have really beat the hell out of each other emotionally. It is a wonder one of us isn't in prison for strangulation.

Elisabeth-(sigh) my mother-in-law, spoiled, well to do, thinks she should have been rich, rich, rich, grieves deeply because her daddy lost everything before he died, wont throw anything out, EVER, including her deceased parents clothing, mounts broom when she arises from bed in the morning, and dismounts when she returns to bed at night.  I don't think Anne could be happy if she couldn't gripe. My husband takes after her. It's just pick, pick, pick, all day long. I understand she has mellowed with age. If this is so, it is good I was around when she was at her peak.  This lady is a collector of everything. Precious Moments, Beanie Babies, Cherubs, Keychains, you name it, whatever is hot at the minute. It doesn't matter what it costs. I remember the Princess Diana Beanie Babies were going for a couple hundred dollars apiece and she paid that for them, and gave each daughter in law one for Christmas that year. For me that much money is the majority of a car payment.  I couldn't imagine.  In spite of her obvious faults, (I want it al for me, me, me, me!!!), she tends to be very generous, and tenderhearted at times.  She is a good grandmother to my son.  She doesn't see him as much as she sees her other grandsons, but we don't live in the same town, or go over there as much, so I excuse her.  She makes up for it at Christmas and Birthdays. She always gets all of us something for Valentines Day and Easter, and most grandparents don't do that.  She travels out of the country several times a year, so I am treated with one of my greatest loves....foreign coffee....ahhhh Jamaica Blue Mountian, Kona, Eco Montana, Guatemala Antigua, ......I could go on and on and on about the beans, but I won't, I 'll just get back to the story.  Where were we?? Anne....yes, her children, she has three including my husband, and they all have a love/hate relationship with her.  I have never seen people fight like they do.  Each family member remembers every single little thing they have ever done to each other, and when there is an arguement about anything at all, those little things all come flying out of the closet. Ex: "Mom, can I borrow the truck?" "No" "Why not?!?" "It's MINE, and I said SO!"...Anne is already annoyed at having to respond to a question. "Well, ok that is just fine then.. Do you just remember when I was twelve and YOU got rid of MY comic book collection? I just cried and cried. Grandaddy said he was going to be watching you, Mom. Well, he's dead now, and he's watching you, Mom!"  Anne slams her fork down and snaps, "Well, just take the damned truck. There better be gas in it when you come back!"  I am just sitting there going WOW, talk about guilt trips. I never tried the dead grandparent bit on anyone, first of all my mom would never have believed it, and second of all, if I had tried to feed her a bull[censored] line like that she would have whipped my ass.  I remember one time before Steve and I got married, his brother had given me a dress that belonged to his ex-wife.  It was a glitzy sequined evening kind of thing.  Steve and I were moving in to a new place and Anne was over there helping us move.  She sees the dress in my closet and takes it out. "That's MINE!" (A favorite phrase on my husband's side of the family.) She takes the dress and locks it into the truck.  I am upset, my husband gets upset,  the skeleton's come out of their family closet, she get's mad, unloads "HER" truck and leaves.  Steve is still [censored]ed off, so he tries to pick up the china cabinet by himself and when it is too heavy, he sits it down on one of my crystal platters I had sitting in the floor to wrap in newspaper before I put it in a box.  It shatters into a million pieces and I bust out bawling.  I can't handle anymore.  He calls Anne up on the phone and rakes her over the coals for making him break my crystal, telling her that it is all her fault it got broken in the first place.  Next thing I know, she is bringing me a new "SET" of crystal. Not a platter, the whole shebang...punchbowl, platters, cups, etc...etc...  I still haven't figured out how it was her fault he broke my platter, but the crystal sure is nice.

James-my father-in-law, workaholic, on purpose I think to stay away from Anne, she set up two seperate beds in their room last year simply because he breathes, he was a mailman for 30 years and did heating and cooling on the side, I wish I could find fault with him, but I just can't.  He is good as gold to everyone except Anne, whom he has been married to for 40 years I think, and they have a love/hate thing going on.  I have sat and watched him intentionally do things that he KNOWS she is going to go into a screaming fit about.  This past Christmas she wanted a new television for the den, and he didn't have the t.v. there waiting on her Christmas morning, I think.  She threw a fit, so he just wouldn't open any of his gifts from her.  We always have a big holiday out there, so everybody has a load of gifts.  Everytime someone would hand him a gift, if it was from her on the tag, he just chucked it over by the fireplace and left it laying there.  They were still there New Year's I know.  I assume he opened them sometime, as they disappeared, but my mother-in-law was fit to be tied.  He just laughed.  The thing he is accused of most is not completing necessary household tasks in a timely manner.  But, hey, not my house, but it explains where my husband gets his laziness around the house.  At least Fletcher will load the dishwasher and see about his own laundry, because he sure isn't lazy when it comes to making extra money or going to work.  It will hurt my feelings really bad if something happens to him, if he didn't torture Anne, my holidays wouldn't be complete.

Jean-sister-in-law- Oh Boy! This one is a cookie. Whining, spoiled, manipulative, brat. That about sums it up. But she is young...so young.  She just had a baby last year, whom she now chases with a washrag, and tries to make the little girl stay still. I take every opportunity that I can to allow my neice to play with icing, fingerpaints, pudding, pie, and any other substance that children take pleasure in smearing all over their clothes and their faces.  It mortifies Heather to see the baby's pristine outfits rumpled and smeared with whatever we have been playing with, and since I am nice enough to chuck the kid in the tub afterward, she can't say a damned thing.  I can hardly wait until she is old enough to have toys with small pieces.  I see a Lightbright with 3000 extra ones in her future.

Bubba-This is Heather's husband. This guy is a real piece of work too.  He is currently a deputy for the sheriff's department, and the ONLY person I know that has ever gotten written up at work for farting.  The way I understand it, he was in the Sheriff's office being written up for something else, and when he turned to leave, he farted, so they wrote him up again.  Could you imagine how embarassing that would be? Jesus!  When he met Heather he was trying to get his EMT, and I think he is smart enough to do it, he knows his [censored], he just freezes up on the test, and his lack of social skills keeps him from remaining employed at the same job for very long.  He is very negative at times. Not to mention a hypochondriac. Always sick with something or hurt.  I just hope it doesn't rub off on the kid. 

James JR.-brother-in-law, very mild mannered, avoids confrontation, is interested in nothing but sports and video games, can talk about nothing but sports and video games, and exaggerates everything. I don't think he does it intentionally, I just think it's his way.  When he was younger he partied a little, ran around a little, but pretty much stuck close to home.  He didn't officially move out of his Mama's house until about a year ago.  He was married once, and that didn't last a year, before he was back home.  Somebody came up with the idea to open up a strip club about twenty minutes from here, and he started going there.  So, the biggest stir this guy has caused in the family was marrying one of the strippers, who I will get to next.  He, Heather, and my husband always fight on holidays and I usually cuss somebody out and break it up.  I have only cussed Anne out once, but that was all it took.  I was on Demerol, I had a migrane, and she picked the wrong day, but that is another story.

Kris-James Jr.'s wife, the ex stripper extrordinare. If I was a guy, I probably wouldn't blame him, she is a natural F cup, and at the time, I think she had a 24 inch waist. I know that there are some guys out there that would agree.  Kris is a very open minded person, but you'd have to be to go where she has gone and live what she has lived.  She is an adopted child, and lived a life of drugs and bars until she met James Jr.  Marriage and love settled her down after a short jail term, but jail will settle you down too.  I know this myself.  Now, she is a mommy of three beautiful boys, who are all boys.  This I know also.  They have worn my ass out since she has been sick.  She grandstands at times, and exaggerates at times, but she is very down to earth for the most part, and she and I get into contests unintentionally trying to one up each other on what our kids can do.  I don't mean to compete, but I do it.  She has a stepmom who is nutty as bat[censored], but I won't go into that unless I need to.  Right now she is just trying to get well I guess.  Not easy to do when you almost die at 26.  I did it at 27, and I have never been so tired in my life. 

So, now you can say Hello, to my husband's side of the family.  My next post I will go into mine. Overbearing mother, absent father, as well as my dope smoking Grandma.  For now, I think I will just play a few games and give my typing fingers a rest.  Cheers~

Today was the longest Friday I think I have ever endured in my life. I didn't sleep well last night. It was one of those toss a little while, look at the clock, turn a little while look at the clock. I gave it up at five and got up and made coffee. I have a POGO membership, and on there you play for badges every week, so I got on there a little while and fiddled around playing for games. I didn't have to get my son up untill seven.  He had no school today, because he has a doctor's appointment. I finally get tired of the computer and coffee and it is only 6:15, so I take a bath to kill some more time.

7AM....Time to get the boy up. I sic my doggies on him. I have a boxer named Roxie, she is 7 months old and weighs about 80 pounds and thinks she can still sit in everyone's lap, and a Daschund named Snoopy, I am not sure how old he is because someone dumped him on a country road and my cousin found him. She couldn't find the owner, so I took him in. He is so tiny, you have to lift him up on the bed. He only weighs about 12-15 lbs. They both jump on my kids head and start licking. This always wakes Josh up giggling. This way I don't have to holler so early in the morning. I hate to have to yell when I first get up, I like to be up and going at least half the day before I have to yell. I am usually in a yelling mood by then.

Okay, the rugrat is up, bathed, dressed, so am I, my mom shows up, we all pile in the minivan, drive to Jackson, go to the doctor, then the real fun begins. My mama wants to shop.

No problem, I need to pick up some grocerys. We went to Estes Grocery store, Gibson's Grocery Store, The Dollar Store, the Drug Store, Thrifti's, the post office, the bank, and finally to my house. The plus side, she took my rug rat home with her for the night, I fell into bed after putting up my groceries from that "one" grocery I needed to go to, and I am just now getting up.

Somehow I get the feeling that this 3 AM jaunt by the computer will be the best part of my whole entire day, the rugrat is at mom's, the hubby is at work, and the house is very quiet...hmmm....I think I will go now and play some games......

Cheers Everyone!!

Hello Folks, Welcome to my blog. These things seem to be all the rage on the net these days, so I decided to start on. This first entry is a quick summary of who I am, where I live, and what is going on in my life, so you won't get confused later on. Well...you may end up being confused anyhow, because I am generally confused, but that is beside the point.

My name is Lara, I am 34 years old, I live in a town about the size of most public rest rooms, it is located in West Tennessee. We have a grocery, a gas station, a post office, and a cop on the beat three nights a week. My whole entire family is from this county. I have lived here all of my life just about, except for a few years here and there between my mother's divorces, three to be exact. I never got away with a damned thing when I was a teenager because the principal was a cousin, an aunt and a cousin who were teachers, and somebody who was kin to me was always on the school board. Everybody else just watched me and called my mother, so whatever I was out doing, she knew whatever it was by the time I got back to the house. Eventually I grew up, got married to a guy in the Navy, he went AWOL, I got divorced, moved back home, I moved in with a guy, lived with him a while, got pregnant with my son, then married him, and here I am....living in my grandma's house, raising my son in the same house I was raised in, and having my whole entire family call me and tell me what he is up to. My Aunt Nancy is still sitting her nosy ass right on that front porch swing across the street, just like she did when I was a kid.  He is at the age where he thinks I know magic or something. He hasn't quite figured out that there are eyes everywhere watching him.

I was a nurse for 16 years before my health and my sanity wouldn't let me work anymore. I had several strokes in 1998 due to a blood disorder that I didn't know I had untill then. That started a roller coaster of health problems. I gained weight, stayed sick, became diabetic. In 1999 I had gastric bypass surgery. I lost over 200 lbs in 18 months, became addicted to barbituates and pain medications because I had another stroke, severe headaches, and was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis by 2003. I was taking over the counter ephedra or yellow jackets to wake up and get through the day along with hydrocodone and xanax, and ambien, fioricet, and xanax at night to sleep. I will say for the record, I never took drugs from my job. I worked for the prison system, and they don't keep drugs like that there. I either got them from the doctor, psychiatrist, or ordered them off of the internet, you'd be surprised how easy it was. In April 2004, I got pulled over and got a DUI for driving under the influence of prescription drugs....twice. Five days apart....HA!!! Imagine that. To make matters even worse, the cop that arrested me was an ex boyfriend. So, we just cussed each other out before he took me to jail both times. It took about a year of going back and forth to court to get it all straightened out. When I got out of jail after being arrested the second time, I checked myself into a detox facility. Not before finding out that my mother was trying to get me involuntarily committed. I was [censored]ed at her for a long time. When I checked into detox, I didn't put her on my visitor list, and I didn't take any calls from her. All she would have had to do was ask me. I was ready to go. She is underhanded and sneaky that way sometimes, then she tries to act innocent about it.

With a few medicine changes, rehab, a good pain management doctor, and a month in jail under my belt all I have to face now is a probation officer untill my fines are paid. My jail time was quite interesting. I accquired a couple of friends. A hispanic girl responsible for Fed Ex'ing 300lbs of marijuana from Texas to herself here, and a lady that killed her husband, put him in their bathtub, and turned the A/C on max so nobody would smell him. I will include more about these girls later, as we still write letters to each other.

Even though I am disabled now, I am far from laying down. I read, I write, I keep my mind active. I have been working on a book, and keep coming up with new ideas all of the time. I just stick them in my laptop, and hope something develops.

I won't even touch base on my marriage in this opening blog, for that is a strange creature in itself. Some days it is as complicated as constitutional law to figure out, and other days it is as simple as flipping a light switch. My husband is one of those people that talks incessantly about nothing, if I could just figure out where his switch was it wouldn't be so complicated.

Cheers Everyone,

Lara