The Communication Trap

Ever trap your spouse or significant other in a conversation that they have no way out of? I'm sure we all have a technique. Mine is during road trips. There's nowhere to hide.

**insert evil witch cackle here**

I used to be my husband's navigator. Then he purchased a GPS. He didn't much like the fact that I always knew where we were going and that he was at my mercy. Okay, it may not be for that reason, but it was comical because we always took the same route to the only place we really go on any road trip. Disneyland. After eleven plus years, you'd think it would be a "duh" at this point.

Back to the GPS...how many times have we gotten lost since? Numerous! She's - I say she, because the voice he has chosen is a British woman - even attempted to kill us by driving us into a brick wall. I think she's jealous. When she is wrong, and she is, I am there to navigate us back to where we need to be to get where we're going.

Disneyland: California Adventure

For the times when the husband doesn't need me to guide us to our destination, I really don't have anything to do except speak to him about various things. Some of you know what I'm getting to. It's the roadtrip trap.  He's got nowhere to go.  He has to talk about whatever subject I bring up, that is unless he brings up his own topic.

I know...it's wrong to do it, but seriously when do we have six hours to sit and discuss things that are happening in our lives?  By the time he calms down from his long day at work, he's ready to go to sleep.  I don't have the heart to try to bring up serious topics of conversation after he's had a rough day - which is almost always, since union negotiations began eight months ago.  Our weekends are usually filled with running this way and that to go to different family events or to complete a home project.

I try to justify my trapping him into a conversation by telling myself that if I just get the conversation out of the way, we can both relax and enjoy our little trip.

We always pack our "vacation" days with fun activities so there is, honestly, little relaxing being done. Sometimes our plans work out and other times they don't.  Those events become topic of conversation for the trip back.

This week...we're driving five and a half hours to see family and friends for Thanksgiving with a side trip to Disneyland.

Topic? I'll have to save the subject for a later post.

A Fight to Love

In August of 2006, our Saint Bernard passed in the middle of the night. My husband was heartbroken and completely devastated because she was his best buddy.  She slept when he slept - on the floor next to his side of the bed. When he woke, she'd be up and at his heel.  When he went to the shower, she'd wait patiently outside the door. When he went to work, she'd sleep by the front door, waiting for him to return.  He was her world and she was his.  Admittedly, I was envious of her at times for the attention she received, but she was such a lover.  She showed me love as well, but it wasn't the kind of devotion she had to my husband.  

In November of that same year, with much thought - and a bit of anguish - we decided that we were ready to bring a new love into our home. We debated on whether to adopt a boy or a girl. We settled on a girl so that we didn't have issues with our furniture and leg lifting.  We then debated puppy, young, or adult.  We settled on a puppy, that way we would have numerous years to spend making memories with them.  The final debate was size. We both looked at each other and decided small was the way to go.  We'd loved our Saint Bernard, but she took up quite a bit of space. Her bed of blankets took up a six-by-four foot space in two different rooms, and if I could have I would have given her her own room. 

I wanted to rescue rather than adopt from a breeder.  There are far too many abandoned pets that need to be loved. I started watching the rescue sites and the Humane Society.  Late in November there was a litter of Lhasa and in it, the cutest little girl pup!  I immediately pictured little pink bows in her hair behind her ears after being groomed.  I emailed her picture to my husband and he told me to go get her.  I called the Humane Society immediately to ask that they place her on hold for me, but they said that they already had an interested party playing with her.  

I asked what would happen to her if they decided against adoption and they said she'd be placed back in the kennel because no other inquiries had been made as yet. I gave them my name, called and asked my sister to go with me, and then set out to go get our new "baby." 

Alas, we were not meant to have her.  First, I went to the wrong facility.  When I did find the correct one, she had already gone with that other family.  I decided to go ahead and look around at the other dogs.  The shelter kennels were filled with dogs of every age. It eventually came time to pick up my nieces from school, so we left - sans pup. 

I went back with my nieces and let their mother have some free time to run errands since I'd dragged her with me.  We were walking past the outdoor kennels on our inside and there was this cute little dog wearing a t-shirt that was bedazzled with the word "spoiled" across the back. He wasn't even a foot tall, weighed about fourteen pounds, and as we walked by he followed us as best he could.  When we got inside, he met us at the end of the kennel and continued to watch us. My nieces fell in love with him!

I tried to walk away because he was the opposite of everything my husband and I had discussed.  The pup was a boy, not only a boy but an adult dog. He was four years old and though very puppy like in his actions, he was well on his way to being a full-fledged adult dog.

My husband met us at the shelter, and we began perusing all of the puppies.  One puppy in particular caught his eye. He was a terrier mix and very friendly. But, after watching him for about two minutes, decided against him. He'd had a pillow in the kennel with him and, I guess, decided to show us what he could do, and ripped the pillow apart, pulling out all of its innards. That started the conversation on whether or not we really wanted a puppy.  Which took us back to the adorable little "spoiled" Chihuahua.  He already had the name "Jack", which fit right along with us naming our animal after a Disney character (because, if you haven't already guessed it, we're Disneyphiles). 

We asked to spend a little time with him out in the play yard to see how he'd interact with the kids and us. Turned out that he was already a lap dog and loved my husband.  He was having a good time just being loved and pet by all.  It didn't take us long to decide that he was the one.  I told my husband that he had chosen us the moment we started the walk inside the building, so I'd thought it was pretty much a done deal the moment he liked the dog.

We began the adoption process.  They gave us his medical history which included neutering and surgeries for cherry eye in both eyes. We'd dealt with cherry eye before, so we knew what we were getting ourselves into. We asked that he be chipped because we knew that collars could be removed.  Our "counselor" disappeared and asked the vet tech to go ahead with the insertion.  He came back and we filled out our end of the paperwork.

A few minutes later, someone came up to our counselor and they both disappeared through the double doors. About ten minutes after that, our counselor came back and sat down, looking us both over. He told us that he didn't feel like they could adopt out the dog because he was now considered a vicious animal for biting the technician. He said that when she stuck the needle in Jack's neck, Jack turned and bit her hand. He hadn't been muzzled. 

My husband looked at the counselor and said, "We had the little happy Chihuahua. I didn't have a big menacing-looking dog."

Have you ever seen the size of those needles with the chip? They're huge! I can barely stand a butterfly needle being stuck in my arm, so I knew how he felt.

I asked what would happen to him and they said they'd put him down. I was not having that.  I told my husband that I didn't care, I wanted him. He bit because he got hurt, not because he was vicious. Our counselor offered us other options of course, but I didn't want another dog, I'd already fallen for this one.

We told him we needed a few moments but not to do anything with the dog.  We talked it over.  He was friendly with us and our nieces. He had been playful and very sweet.  There were no signs of viciousness at all.  We were not allowing them to put him down.

We told the counselor that we still wanted to adopt him.  He was concerned for the children; we let him know that we didn't have any.  He was concerned for other animals in the house; we only had one cat and knew that she could hold her own - she still had her claws.  

We had to sign a waiver, stating that we would not hold the Humane Society or anyone else at the shelter, responsible if he ever bit anyone.  We signed it gladly.  

When they brought him back out to us, he was walking along, happy-go-lucky like nothing ever happened. His tongue was hanging out, tail wagging, and just staring right at us.

We went out and spent about $200 on dog food, treats, a bed, some toys and a t-shirt. My husband wanted to get him a little leather jacket...not me, he did...but they were out.

Ooh! Vicious! NOT!

The following weekend, just days after he was deemed a vicious animal, we were at my father-in-law's Christmas party at his home.  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a two year old toddler, pull Jack's tail and he just took it.  He didn't turn on her and snap.  He stood there, staring straight ahead, and let her do it. I went over to rescue him, but he never did a thing to attack her.

Vicious my arse!

Best buddies

Jack has even had pets! He still has one - the fluffy one - but she's turned into his toy fetcher/bath giver.  I don't think a vicious dog would play with a cat or allow them to bathe his ears and backside.

It's nearly six years later...

We've recently had a bit of a health scare with Jack.  He developed a bad cough.  We took him in when it first showed up in May, but his bloodwork only showed a thyroid issue and was negative for anything that could have been causing the cough.  After a few additional weeks, they decided to run the blood tests again and in June, he was diagnosed with Valley Fever.  

Here it is the middle of July and he still has the cough.  They told us that he will most likely be on medication for the rest of his life, depending on the severity of the illness.  If the cough didn't go away within six weeks, we'd run more tests at the three month mark.  We're nearing our eighth week, he's still got the cough.  We don't notice it, until we began to wean him off of the hydrocodone.  We won't be weaning again for another week.

His thyroid meds have helped him to drop about three pounds, so I no longer have my slightly chunky puppy.  We kind of miss the chunk, especially when just last weekend, I watched the newly pup of mine, climb the child gate that used to keep him penned up in the hall whenever we left the house.  I think we need a taller gate!

Our poor boy is losing his hair due to the side effects of the medication treating him for Valley Fever.  He's looking older and balder, but bless him, he still has that bouncy puppy attitude. 

Just admiring Daddy.

New Skin Care Regimen: Week in Review

Here we are Day 8 and though I may have slacked a bit, I still see a noticeable difference in my skin.  Considering the ingredients are really nothing special and inexpensive to boot, I have to say that I was surprised at having achieved such great success.

I realize that I didn't blog about days four through seven, but did you honestly wish to hear the same information over and over again? I didn't believe so.  

Admittedly, day four was a very busy day for me.  I was busy preparing for the weekend for my husband's celebration of the big 4-0.  I was cooking and cleaning throughout the day - which is another reason I didn't blog during that time - and was thoroughly exhausted each and every night.  I did manage to do my treatment that morning, but skipped the coconut oil moisturizer, because I honestly didn't have time to allow it to set in.  

Reminder: the coconut oil stays wet for much longer than your classic commercial moisturizers.

Day five, was busier still.  I had much more cooking and cleaning to do and there were about a dozen more visitors expected than the day before's count.  I was able to get phase one of the treatment completed - hot rag/honey/hot rag - before I realized what time it was and rushed off to finish my prep.  That means there was no scrub and no moisturizer.  I could have used my old moisturizer, but I didn't wish to detract from what the true results would have been.  By the end of the evening, I was too exhausted to fully clean up my house let alone clean my face.

Day six, I awoke to a new blemish.  It was just the one, but I obviously blamed my lack of completing the regimen.  I completed phase one, then did phase two - the scrub - but again didn't have much time to allow the moisturizing effects of the coconut oil to set in.

Day seven, I was a complete and utter slacker.  I blame the dreaded monthly cycle.  I had lost all motivation for everything because of it and just wished to rest.

Today, day eight, I am happy to report that although I missed a few steps in my week, I was able to garner better results with this "natural" treatment than I have in the past with some of the more expensive skin care regimens.

*  I don't like that the coconut oil stays wet for so long, but it's something I am willing to forgive for the wonderful result of clearer and softer skin.  Be sure to allow yourself enough time to let it set in otherwise, your placement of any cosmetic will be poorly set.

*  You do want to add a teensy amount of water to the scrub mixture to keep it from being too sticky.  You don't want to add too much, because it will destroy any real outcome the scrub could have provided.  You'll understand as you begin making it, and you'll figure out your own preference on the density.

*  Only make enough scrub for the single use or the day.  If you make more than what you need, the next time you go to use it, the mixture will be more like pudding.  You can't really exfoliate with a pudding mixture.

*  I found the scrub was pleasant for my knees, elbows, and legs.  If you're going to use it to treat these areas as well, I highly recommend you do it in the tub before a shower.  It's much easier to rinse off. :D

New Skin Care Regimen Day 3

I have to say, I am pleasantly surprised about the way the treatment is working.

I have had a small breakout, but I expected it because the lady time-of-the-month is coming.  I've also been working my ass arse off outside in the sweltering heat.  Those two "activities" should have brought on a full acne breakout, from forehead to neck.  Lucky for me only two small blemishes appeared on the left side of my chin with one making itself known on the right. That's it!

This is extremely unusual.  I usually have one on the eyebrow, one on the nose, a few by the ears and then my cheeks and chin seem to compete with each other to see who can bring out the most amount of blemishes in a four day period.

Okay world, what's going to happen now? No major breakout is nothing short of a miracle for me.  My acne is one of the main reasons I NEVER like getting pictures taken. I have scarring--which no one likes to look at--add the current acne issues and it's just downright unpleasant.  I guess I will know more over the next few days.

Another quick note:  I also noticed a slight decrease in pore size. This is also unexpected, but welcomed.  I'll watch that as we go along as well.

To treat my hands, until I can get a decent manicure, I went ahead and made a little extra of the scrub again this evening.  It seems I have one finger that just doesn't want to submit to treatment. It hasn't escaped my attention that it is my middle finger.

If all goes well, I may allow people take pictures of me in the next few weeks.  Then again, maybe not!

New Skin Care Regimen Day Two

I could have sworn that I posted this last night...

Day two of the skin regimen went a little better.  If you missed day one, you can find it here.  I had decided to go ahead with going through the treatment process before my shower, so it was much easier to remove the scrub from my face.  It was a much better feel than the last time when I had wiped it all off with a washcloth.  I think the plus with the washcloth, was that I felt I had a little extra dead skin removed from my face.  Whether or not that's true is unknown.  Although, my cheeks were very slightly raw, so I guess it's a bit of give and take on how one would want the treatment to progress.

I will admit one thing.  I made a bit too much of the scrub--okay, I tripled it!  I decided to go ahead and use it on my hands.  I massaged the scrub onto my hands and took a little extra time on my cuticles.  It felt very nice, and I believe my forever neglected nails sighed in relief.

The pros thus far are that I don't have to worry about a harsh stinging in my eyes, I don't smell like alcohol or  an indiscriminate chemical, and I do feel a definite difference in the softness of my skin.

The cons--I should say--con, is that the coconut oil doesn't quite sink into the skin fast enough.  I try not to touch my face, but I feel a strange wetness on my skin while walking around and can't help myself.  This also means that I cannot go to bed right away. There is a pro in that!  I get to finish up housework before going to bed. Yay!

Yes, that was sarcasm.

After I go through this process as described in the yahoo article, I may add almond dust to the exfoliating scrub once or twice a week to get the tough stuff removed.  

On to the next!

New Skin Care Regimen Day One

It is once again time for a confession.

I...am a Pinterest addict.  Yes, I, along with many other people on the net, am loving Pinterest.  I like that I have a site in which I may go to view all my bookmarks without clogging up my browser thereby filling the memory on my computer.  I like that it's an all-inclusive community, of sorts, that I can go to find something funny, edible, artistic or down right loathsome! I know what you're thinking, "Why don't you just Google?"  I could, but I'm not always looking for something in particular.  Sometimes, I'm just looking for inspiration.

All that, just to get to the point of this blog.  Shall we proceed?

Thanks to some lovely ladies on Pinterest - who seem to have the same affliction as I do, I saw an article regarding a skin care treatment which claimed that, "Four key ingredients get rid of your acne forever."  Too good to be true?  Maybe...

I'm a 30+ year old woman.  I should NOT have acne but yet, I do.  It sucks.  It's not just the occasional time-of-the-month breakouts.  Those I can handle!  There's always a few of those little buggers hanging out somewhere on my face or just under the surface of my skin.  It's annoying!

I've tried Clinique, Olay, Avon, soap and water, Murad, Proactiv, etcetera, etcetera and so on and so forth.  Nothing has ever seemed to work.  Clinique came close, but it seemed as soon as my skin figured out what I was doing, it decided to get it's revenge and changed skin types.  I didn't think it could do that, but it did.  So with my "I'll try anything once" attitude, I decided to try this.

The problem I saw was that there were no portion listings to advise you on how much of each to use for the mask.  I decided to use equal parts of the four ingredients (1 Tablespoon of each per treatment) and it seems to be doing well.

For the exfoliant I used:
1 Tbsp baking soda
1 Tbsp honey
1 Tbsp finely ground oats

Incidentally, I did finally find the coconut oil (the moisturizing part of the treatment) at Sprouts.  I got the refined coconut oil for right around $6.00.  I couldn't imagine I would've needed chunks of coconut bits to moisturize my skin. Check your local organic market or health food store if you can't find it at your regular grocer.

I first did this treatment last night.  When I awoke this morning, I had completely forgotten that I'd done the treatment - that is until I went into my bathroom and saw my oatmeal riddled washcloth.   Thus far, it's the only part of this treatment that's bugging me.

I began examining my face.  It felt softer; dare I say, a bit smoother?  Definitely.  Upon further examination, a few of the "problem children" that I had gone to bed with the night before, were so small, that I had myself wondering if I had imagined their size! They were nearly gone!

I have already begun Day 2 of the treatment.  I do believe I will do my next treatment right before I shower so that I can rinse the exfoliant rather than using a cloth to take it off my face.  I probably shouldn't be using a cloth in the first place, but I figured the added benefit of rubbing a little extra dead cells off with the cloth couldn't really hurt.

Here's hoping that by the end of week one, I will be acne free!

A "Book" Revisited

Back in March I posted a little something about reading works that were once fan-fiction but have been self-published. The topic of one of the works I discussed has come up over and over again in the last couple of months. 

The Fifty Shades of Grey Series is not something I would consider literary genius.  I can't even consider it decent literature.  There are so many errors and repetitive use of words and phrases that it becomes difficult for me to read.  It's annoying because I know that I've read something similar just a few paragraphs back.

What prompted today's post started out so simply. 

A very dear friend of mine texted me this morning with a link to this article on Crushable.com.  She thought I would get a kick out of it because she knew how I felt about the subject matter.  The author of the article, Natalie Zutter, let the cat out of the proverbial bag about E.L. James' true feelings about those that helped her to get where she is today.  She's making millions of dollars thanks to those that loved her "original" story.

If you read the article, you find out that Fifty Shades of Grey was originally written as fan-fiction.  The name of it was Master of the Universe (affectionately known as MotU) and yes, it was Twilight fan-fiction. What does that mean?  Well, Christian and Ana were originally Edward and Bella.  James built a huge fan base through the Twilight fandom, and if you believe the quotes from a former confidant, she doesn't much appreciate those people.  

The article did spark a question in my mind.  How did Zutter find out about James' dislike of the fandom?  Did she speak directly with the source or pull from a blog?  A bit of a search took me to the spot I was looking for--which brought a great amount of respect for Zutter because she obviously believes in doing her research well.  I found the original source known as "gentleblaze"--well her journal.  Actually her final journal entry.  

I try not to judge people that are so negative--it takes me down a road I don't want to go down--because I'd hate for anyone to judge me so harshly.  I'm sure gentleblaze aka AngstGoddess003 had her reasons for doing what she did.  To be honest, if James had told me how she felt, I don't know that I could have kept that to myself either.  I'd want the fandom that adored her so much and gave her such high praise to know the truth. 

Psst...she doesn't really like you. 

What is sadder still is that James contends that Fifty Shades of Grey is an original work.  She even has Vintage Publishing backing her claim.  Those that read MotU before it was pulled know that this is false. James did pull the story down from Fanfiction.net and Twilighted.  She even went as far as to shut down her site 50shades.com.  If you were to try to go to that site now, it shoots you over to James' current site.  

I understand the drive to get published, believe me, I do.  When you get where you eventually hope to be, you should praise those that helped you get there.  Why would you try to ignore them as if they were a kid throwing their fourth tantrum of the day because you don't want anyone to know they're yours? Oh...wait...is that what it is?

I decided to go ahead and watch Erika James on The View.  One of the things that truly bothered me was that she couldn't look any of the hosts in the eye when speaking to them. She kept playing with her mug of water or looking at the table, finding the grain rather interesting.

"I had no idea so many people had been reading the story." 

Really?  Have she really forgotten about all those people in the world of fan-fiction that helped her with her research and kept telling her how great she was?  Is her memory that short?  Apparently so.

She also said she had an idea and put the "idea" out there. Well, let's see, she put more than the idea out.  She wrote the full story and put it out there on her website.  People have pdf copies of the entire thing.  If you google it, MotU can be found available for download. 

To this day, I don't think MotU should have been published. It was a mess then and it remains a mess.  The editing is bad, there is constant repetitiveness, and let me just say, inaccurate on certain subject matter.  I cannot believe the bull rubbish that she is spilling in these interviews. 

I was laughing my fool ass arse off about the BS-storm from James' camp regarding 50 Shades. I did find some very interesting articles.

For example: Vintage, James' publisher and an extension of Random House, says that MotU and FSoG are two distinct fiction pieces.

 **choking cough**  

There was an actual analysis done.  The gist of it, 89% the same. The 11% difference includes name changes and punctuation additions. Yeah...not at all impressed, but it was interesting to see the few changes she did make.  89% the same does not make two distinct works of fiction.  So sorry.

In the Summer of 2010 a woman by the name of Anne taught a unit in Twilight fanfiction for her Theories of Popular Culture course.  Her blog has the information on the coursework and I found it interesting. I think I may have liked that class and probably would have ripped James' story apart. Oops! Did I say that?   

I found another blogger that brought some interesting points. Fan-fiction cannot be copyrighted.  Not truly.  It's a bit of a GREY area, but the gist of it is that if it's on the net, sadly it falls under "fair use".

I did the research.  A person would have to pay a copyright fee for every piece of work written.  You can't do a general copyright based on your name.  For that you'd need a trademark and the requirements for that get even hairier.  Now James is published and her story copyrighted as Fifty Shades, so under those laws MotU is still fair use.

DISCLAIMER: I have nothing to do with legal.

That being said, I am sure a lawyer could figure out a way to say that MotU was copyrighted.

Where Has Education Gone?

"Education is no substitute for pure raw talent.  However,
it is a good foundation on which talent may build."  ~ David Allio

We all hear about education dollars being cut from states's budgets, schools laying off good educators because they can't afford them, programs being cut in our schools, etcetera...it's all disheartening.  So when one goes to a choir concert at an elementary school, there is hope that some school districts understand the need for the arts as well as education.

Fast forward to the end of an auditorium filled with joyful noise.  The choir director became rather vocal and told all that were gathered that, though she is happy to be kept on after this school year, her program is being cut from three one-hour sessions a week to one half-hour session a week.  Using my skills in Mathematics, rounding up, her program is being cut down by 83%.  Eighty-three percent!

Say you heard that your favorite TV program was just told that their budget was cut and instead of having forty-three minutes of programing to film, they had to fit all of it into seven minutes, 18 seconds.  Could they do that?  Would you still like the show?  Would you be satisfied with the content?

Try this?  You're used to getting a full business week to complete a presentation or a comprehensive report.  You now have six hours and 48 minutes.  Talk about cramming!  Good luck with that.

One more...You're used to making $32,000 a year, budget cuts means you have to take an 83% cut in pay.  Could you live off of $5440 a year?  No?  Scarily enough, some are trying.

Not so easy is it?  Hard to imagine, yet this is what is happening to children's education.

This is only the latest thing to really upset me over what is happening to our educational system.  Three short weeks ago, I was sitting with my niece and she was so proud as she showed me all her hard work.  She was excited for me to see just how well she's been doing in school.  I was looking over one of her rough drafts and noticed there were no marks on the paper except for a "100/100".  There were no notes for improvement in the margins, no kudos.  When I asked her why this was so, she told me that students were getting 100% for turning in their rough drafts.  Just for turning it in!

I, being the way that I am, looked over her draft and saw misspellings, flow issues, punctuation issues, and grammar errors.  I couldn't believe that nothing had been written on this paper by the teacher!  I wasn't at all pleased and decided to work with her on it.  We spent well over an hour discussing the paper and correcting some of the issues.  I made sure that she understood each step that we had gone over.  She ended up getting a good grade, but it made me angry that the teacher gave no direction.

"A proper education enables young people to put their lives in order,
which means knowing what things are more important than other things;
it means putting first things first.
~Wendell Berry

What has happened to our educational structure?

When I was little--in elementary/junior high school--I had art, choir, band and physical education. Art class was once a week with band and choir taking up the other four days of the school week.  Physical education was mandatory five days a week.  I was still taught for a full hour on each of the following subjects: Social Studies/History, Science, Language Arts/English, and Mathematics.

How in the world did this all break down to Physical Education twice a week and Arts programs that are virtually non-existent?  How did educators become so lax in being certain that their students understood the objective?  When did teaching become about only the positives in our nation's history?

When we were younger and fell down, didn't we learn how to get back up without being coddled?  When you got into trouble at school, you went to detention and were not allowed to take your music with you.  You did your school work or the teacher in charge of detention would make sure you had work to do.

I probably should have known this beforehand, but I decided to check and see just how many of our education dollars have been taken away from our kids (by "our kids," I mean family, friends, acquaintances and those I have yet to meet).  I did some research and what I found, shocked the hell heck out of me.

In my state alone, the education budget for fiscal year 2012 was cut by $488,989,600. If you think that's bad, since fiscal year 2009 the budget has been cut by $2,033,762,269.  This sum includes salaries and pensions, maintenance on sites and vehicles, building new schools, supplies, transportation, sports, arts programs, extra-curricular activities, and so much more.  All previously mentioned are necessary to ensure that the kids are being taken care of mind, body and culture.

So where has the money gone?

That's a good and fair question, don't you think?

I have seen that they've erected monuments at the capital, increased politician pay, spent more money to police the border between the United States and Mexico, spent money to entertain out-of-town politicians in a goodwill gesture, and paid--and continue to pay--consultants and accountants to figure out how to better plan our state's future by researching our previous laws and budgets.

How are we faring?

Obviously, not any better.

"A man's mind may be likened to a garden,
which may be intelligently cultivated or allowed to run wild;

but whether cultivated or neglected, it must, and will bring forth.

If no useful seeds are put into it,

then an abundance of useless weed-seeds will fall therein,

and will continue to produce their kind."

~James Allen

Must Give Parents Credit Where Credit is Due

I don't have kids of my own, not by choice, but I do have numerous nieces and nephews.  I know it's not the same, but it's what I have, and I am dealing with what I have been given.  I often envy mothers for the treasure they've been blessed with.  I know what some of you mothers are thinking, "She's off her rocker!" If I were in your shoes, I may be saying the same, but I'm not and probably won't be, so my vision is a bit skewed.  Indulge me, because I think you will appreciate what I have to say.

You know the quote, "The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry"?  That is what happened early this morning.  I had planned to do a few DIY projects at the house today, but I was in no hurry to get out of bed.  As a matter of fact, I was passed out and in a very dreamy state when my phone pulled me out.  Lately, I've been sleeping through the melody, but today I was easily yanked "off stage right" by it at 7am.

I was being asked to play mommy for the day.  My two littlest nieces were the only ones that were in good health in a house of six.  Their mother was too weak to care for them and the rest of the house was not fairing much better.  I, of course, agreed to the undertaking of such an awesome responsibility.  Why wouldn't I? They are my nieces, and I love them to pieces.

I knew I would not be able to get my projects done for the day, but I figured I could definitely get some chores done that I had planned to put off until tomorrow.  That should be the easiest thing, right? Uh, yeah... Not really.  It is definitely something you have to be used to.  I watch them often, but never really for more than four hours by myself.  Usually, I just leave a hole in my day, so that I can spend time playing games, having tea, building castles out of chairs and blankets or seeing what Mickey Mouse's latest escapade was that week.

I picked them up and brought them over to my home. After bringing their items in, I began to cook their breakfast while attempting to make myself a much needed cup of coffee.  I am no good in the mornings without my medium-dark roast.  I have a Keurig machine so it couldn't be easier, right?  I mean all you do is pop a K-cup in, turn it on, once the blue light flashes, close it up, press the appropriate size (LARGE today) and viola, a deliciously aromatic cup of joe.  For some reason, it wasn't so simple today.

I nearly burned the eggs, because I had lost focus and was staring down the toaster instead of the stove.  I finished making our breakfast and sat down with them to eat a slice of toast. I only realized I'd forgotten my coffee when I went to reach for the cup I thought I'd brought to the table with me.  I went to the kitchen and couldn't find my favorite insulated cup--that I wash daily just to use it--the blue lights are flashing, and I still have the apple juice container sitting on the counter.  I go to put it away, and find my cup, sitting where the apple juice bottle had been shelved earlier.

How do you mothers get through your mornings?!  Although, in my defense, I was awakened off schedule, I hope structure helps you all get through.

The day progressed pretty well.  After breakfast, and my second cup of coffee, I got the girls dressed (forcibly with the youngest), and went to our kid-friendly room in the house--the Disney room.  We played a little before I decided I needed to clean up breakfast and I thought, "why not?"  I may as well clean the entire kitchen.  Oh, if only.

Only thirty seconds in the kitchen and I hear the toddling little feet heading in my direction.  It started out innocently enough with a simple request to watch Snow White.  Then another request to sit for this one part I had to see--"Watch this, it's good. No not that part, it's coming. Sit here with me." She pats the couch and I obey like a good auntie.  About halfway through the movie, I tried to get up again, but it was drawing time!  Something to do while watching the movie.  I figured it was no big deal, because the busier they were, the busier I could get at cleaning the house.

Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight.

Lunch happened soon after that, and of course we couldn't agree on one meal, so I made three.  Last night's leftovers for me, PB&J with carrot sticks for the little and grilled cheese with carrot sticks and apple junks for the littlest little.  Then it was time for Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, because the little buggers remembered that I'd said they could watch it after lunch.  Since I hadn't been clear enough on the timing of said viewing, the loophole I'd left allowed a minor manipulation in the agreement.  These kids are good!  Little angels!

Someone needs to put a camera on a kid from the time of their birth and figure out when they begin to gain skills in manipulation and debate.

Of course, littlest little one decides I need to sit and promptly crawls onto my lap and cuddles against my chest.  She passes out within five minutes of doing so, and the other little is asking for a snack.  I told her that she could have one when littlest little woke from her nap.  I take the cuddler to the Disney room and lie her down, and yay for me, she didn't even stir!  Ten minutes later little miss "I have to have a snack now" conks out.

PEACE at last!

Now there came a debate between my head and my body.  Do I nap with them, knowing perfectly well that I may not be sleeping tonight, or do I get some work done around the house?  House won. Damnit!  Although, in hindsight, I suppose it didn't really matter much.  While I was able to get the dishwasher loaded and running, Littlest Little awoke ten minutes later and attempted to rouse her still sleeping older sister.  That was a battle.  I tried to get her to hang with me in the Disney room, but she really wanted her sister.

Before I knew it, the older little woke up, I gave them their snack and we Skyped with another aunt of their's.  All of a sudden I look at the clock and it is nearly 6pm and I hadn't even begun to cook dinner.  I rushed in, started dinner and found out that the dear, sweet man that I call my husband, was not going to be home for dinner.  LUCKY!

The older little came into the kitchen and told me that her tummy hurt. I asked if she felt like food was going to come out of her mouth or if she felt like the potty would help. She chose the latter and when she came back out, she seemed okay.  I was finishing up dinner when she came in and told me that she wasn't hungry, and she began to cry. HARD.  I texted her mother--because I didn't want to wake her--let her know what all was going on and asked her what she would like me to do.

Twenty minutes later, just as I'm getting the kids in their carseats, Mama and Daddy show up to take them home.  I had been with those two toddlers for less than ten hours.  I was exhausted and didn't realize that I had once again overstretched a muscle near my ribs, until I bent to pick up a cracker off the floor.

You stay-at-home mothers and fathers...I don't know whether to envy you or give you a medal for all that you go through on a daily basis.  You need a lot of patience, a phonetic toddler to adult glossary, be willing to give up control and give up sleep.

I won't call you saints, because no one wants to live up to that kind of ideal, but you are damn near.  I have never been so exhausted in my life, and I had painfully intense physical therapy not too long ago.  I applaud your every effort.  How you keep your sanity when there is so much chaos to be dealt with, I'll probably never know.  I don't believe anyone could truly fathom it.

I cleaned seven spills, wiped down the bathroom three times, kept a toddler from eating dog food and a dog treat, picked up the playroom twice, stood guard over Timeout Tower, etc...Long ass day.

A Love for One's Own Creativity

If you haven't been able to tell already, I love cooking almost as much as I love writing.  I can't express enough how much creating something with my own mind or hands thrills me.  What heightens the pleasure I get from it, is the pleasure that others gain from my creations.  If I can see smiles on faces, second helpings--or thirds--being taken from the serving dishes, or hear pleadings for a recipe, I know I've earned my praise.

When someone reads a story of mine, and then gets upset when it ends or is incomplete, I get a little pleasure from that because it means that I've done a good job...in most cases.  Sometimes I wonder if I hadn't written enough, but then I remember as a reader, I am not always satisfied when a story ends.  

A recipe of a good writer includes knowing how to leave some of the story to the imagination.  A reader can often create an image of a character in their mind, but it can differ from another reader's.  As a writer, you never want to write every detail of your character's image or life, right down to their death.  There's a reason fairy tales end with "...and they lived happily ever after."  They knew that the reader didn't want to hear about the pain of the female character's pregnancy or that the main characters struggled to hold their love life together while juggling purpose and occupation.  They knew we didn't want to know that the male character suffered a long painful death, while his wife cried daily by his bedside, watching him wither away.  Fiction is an escape from the very real situations in life, so most want the happy endings; sometimes in more ways than one.  

We all want our happy endings, but the truth is, they aren't always.  What if Snow White had eaten that poison apple while the dwarves were away and the prince had been slain by the Queen's dragon form?  What if true love's first kiss couldn't have saved Snow?

Courtesy mamuvies.blogspot.com

I know...

No one likes to think about it.  

They like the fairytale ending.

Happily ever after is more pleasing to the mind.

I, however, am one of those readers that doesn't at all mind reading the good with the bad, because frankly it makes me feel better reading about someone else having those same struggles.  It makes me feel as though I am not alone in how I feel.  I like feeling connected to the characters in that way.  That is what I try to incorporate into my writing.

When it comes to my cooking, I desperately want that happy ending.  I am constantly abusing using my husband in a "guinea pig" fashion.  He doesn't always mind, but I know when I've done something truly good because he has a tell.  He dances while chewing.  It's both the funniest and most adorable thing I've ever witnessed in my life.  It's when I know that I've had that happy ending in my recipe's story.

My husband did a little secret shopping last week.  He knew I'd been wanting to try buying fresh, locally grown products.  I'd told him that I wanted to see if there was a marked difference between buying these products and the products from the store chains.  I am already a mostly "from scratch" cook, so I wanted to take it another step further.  I can say with 100% certainty that there is indeed a difference.  Not just in helping my neighbors with their livelihood, but the taste of those products I used that were fresh.

Shipping is a terrible thing to do to vegetables.
They probably get jet-lagged, just like people.
~Elizabeth Berry

My wonderful, adoring, loving husband purchased green beans, carrots, asparagus, potatoes, onions, and garlic.  The difference was amazing! The colors were brighter and the taste seemed...cleaner?  I don't know quite how to describe it really.  What I can say is that I will be more than happy to purchase from my neighbors, weekly.  The reward was in the taste, and I won't soon forget it.

I know I had said at the top of the year that I wanted to experiment with food more this year.  So far I've made my own cranberry chutney/sauce, chicken soup, creamy cheese sauce, roasted picante salsa, and chicken stock.  All without the aid of a recipe and husband approved by chew-dancing.

When you finish a recipe and others take pleasure in it, you have to admit, you take pride in what you've done more than if you had stopped at the restaurant and picked up a pizza.  

When Old Projects Are New Again

I recently began to reacquaint myself with an old writing project of mine.  At first, I was scared to see how things were going to work out.  I didn't know if I'd be able to hear my characters in my head anymore.  I didn't know if I would be able to feel what they felt or see what they saw.

I worried that I wouldn't hear their voices talking to me anymore.  It's essential that I hear them.  I need this to be able to continue to work.

<If you didn't read my last post about this, go here. >

Then, my main character reminded me of just how funny he could be.  Truth is, he's a pain in the arse, but he is funny for the most part.  He's my way of getting my frustrations and aggression out of my system without outwardly hurting anyone in my real life.  He's my evil twin, so to speak.  I have a lot of love for this character and the further into the story I get, the more I realize how very much I have missed him.

I am thoroughly enjoying getting reacquainted with him and the others in his story.

He isn't the only one I think about, but he is my focus at the moment.

Alas, I have five or six other projects that are knocking on my window.  They all want attention, but I know I lack enough focus right now to work on them all.  I desperately want to finish this one work, so that I can say that I actually completed something.  I crave that sense of accomplishment.

Back to what I was saying...

I've missed him.  I find myself reading through his pages and laughing--or thwap him on the back of the head if the need presents itself.  It's as if I wasn't the one that wrote the story.  I know I did, because it's my print, but I'm experiencing it all over again as if it were the first time.  I know it's not the first time, because I can hear him saying how funny that moment was, or regretting a decision that was made.  I can hear the character telling me how different he'd wished certain events had transpired, and I find myself aching for him.

I know, I know...You're back to thinking , "Whoa!  She's looney!"  I wouldn't blame you.  I actual think I am sometimes, but like I said in my previous post, you kind of have to be.  If you think that I am completely off my rocker, let me leave you with this.  Are you familiar with Anne Rice?  The creator of Lestat from "Interview with a Vampire"?  She has said in interviews that Lestat would often converse with her while she was writing.  She a NY Times Best Selling Author.

Not so crazy anymore, am I?

Sorry to keep this so short, but I have to get back to my little guy.

He just told me not to call him that..."little," I mean.  He's so touchy!

Character Development

Which came first the author or the characters they've written about?

To be quite honest, I don't truly know.  I suppose it could be both ways.  Numerous authors have said that their stories came to them in a dream.  Is the dream technically supplying the characters or is it the author?  Since it's the author's mind, wouldn't it then be the author?

The mind boggles.

I was asked a question about my writing by one of my readers.  "Have your characters ever awaken you in the middle of the night and nagged at you?"

My answer?  Yes, yes they have.  Numerous times in fact.  It's funny actually.  I'll go to sleep thinking that I have ended my thoughts on a part of my story rather well, only to be awaken by a sort of rumbling in a dream.  Sometimes it's just an echo of a voice and other times, the persona I've imaged in my head, pops into my vision.  They can be such nags when they don't feel like they've been treated properly.  It can be so all-consuming that I have to get out of bed, grab my nearby notebook, and start jotting things down.  At times, it reverberates so violently through my mind that I end up writing chapters of rough information that I will undoubtedly tweak later in the day.

Now hold on! Don't go calling the guys in the white coats just yet.  I haven't gone mad.  I'm not insane, not that a little insanity isn't needed to be any good at telling a good story.  If you don't write, then you may know.

What you need to understand is that though people call writing a process, it's much, much more than that.  When you're writing, you have all these characters from your story, running around in your head.  Each one has their own personality.  Likes, dislikes.  They're constantly attempting to influence what you will write about them next.  No one wants to be put in a bad light, right?

You still think that sounds crazy?  Have you ever talked to yourself?  Chastised yourself for making a mistake...out loud?  Do you keep a journal where each entry begins with "Dear Diary" or some other greeting?

I'm no more crazy than you are.  A writer's characters are a way of getting their own thoughts, aggressions, aggravations, etcetera--I think you get the point--out.

In order to develop characters you need to know how people react in different situations.  Can you tell me that one author can fully know how to write about a killer and his feelings when he goes into a manic episode without truly thinking it through?  You have to imagine yourself in that situation.  Feel everything you can possibly feel without actually going through with the act yourself.  How is it that in another chapter, the writer goes through every feeling a clinically depressed girl has as she struggles with the decision of whether or not to commit suicide, while holding a knife to her wrist?  In still another chapter, that same author can write about the hope of true love, and how it begins as a small bud just stretching from the ground before blooming in the light of day.  Sure they can do research.  They can interview people that have actually experienced such things, but how do you get that exact emotion?  How do they make any reader feel every emotion from each and every one of those characters?

They've drawn you in, by telling you little details in passing.  Sure your experiencing what's happening with the characters in the moment, but you'll read a joke or someone will have a "remember when" moment.  You don't really see them, unless you pay very close attention.

My favorite books are the ones that make me feel what's happening.  I can conjure up an image of the character, feel what they're feeling, put myself in their place.  Those are the books I get involved in and hate when they end.

"Good writing is supposed to evoke sensation in the reader--not the fact that it is raining, 

but the feeling of being rained upon."
~E.L. Doctorow

You'd have to be slightly low on sanity in order to write about all the varying human emotions your characters are going to go through.  The good thing is, when writing about them it can keep you sane. I know...WEIRD!

Still don't understand how I'm sane?  Psychologists tell you to keep a journal so that you can analyze your thoughts when you are in a "normal state", or so that they can.  Can't storytelling be a confession of sorts?  A diary of a time in the past or how one wished how things had happened?  A good storyteller feels the emotion when they're writing it so that they can best express it to the reader.  If they're doing their job right, the reader can completely immerse themselves in the world presented.

I can admit that I don't mind the thought of being slightly insane.  If it makes me a better character developer, or writer/author, then I am all for it.  If I can draw my reader in and have them appreciate or love just one character, I'd be more than pleased.  I'd be ecstatic!

So...if I am insane, I don't want treatment.  My own personal character likes the thought of being able to "act out" through my writing.  If my sleep is interrupted by one of my characters/personas because they're angry with a decision I've made about their actions in a scene, I'm glad for it.

Hi, I'm insane.  I converse with myself and the people running around in my head.

Don't be scared; I don't bite.

Hard.


Where's my jacket?

When All Hope Seems Lost

I guess I am an odd duck.  The things I throw myself into at times could drive any other person mad.  Specifically my husband.

My genealogical research was stalled on a very important branch of the tree just two weeks ago.  The growth was stunted, because I was totally unable to find any information.  Instead of moving forward or staying in place, I decided to go back into the trunk and see if there was something I'd missed in the layers of bark.  Unfortunately, I only revealed to myself that I really had missed anything.  Every layer was in line and revealing every facet laid out in full perfect detail, save for one thing...I had chosen to ignore a tiny piece of information.

Why ignore it?

Because the email address for the data was over a decade old, and I honestly didn't believe that ANYONE would still have an AOL address.  I had seen this address numerous times in my research, and each time I noted the information that had been given in a forum and then moved past the contact without another thought.

I did this again just last week and decided to throw my hands up and resign myself to pray that someone would be able to find the information some day.  I moved away from the computer to break myself free for a few minutes before working on another branch.

I continued in my usually successful attempt to ignore this bit of information, only this time I felt like I was a mother with a child that desperately wanted my attention.  I was being poked, with my apron skirt being tugged on and a little voice kept asking me, "Why can't you talk to that one? Why? Why? Why?!  Come on, let's try it.  Please, can we? Huh? Please can't we just do it?!" Or like in Family Guy, Stewie nagging at Lois

You mothers, aunts, grandmothers, daycare givers and older sisters know exactly what I'm talking about--maybe even a few male counterparts.  There is always a little one doing just that to you for one reason or another.  And what do we do when this happens?  We give in and, just to shut them up, do as they ask.  So, I did just that.

I needed my brain to leave me alone about that contact.  I was 99.9% certain that there would be nothing coming from that contact.  Ever. Never going to happen.

Never. Say. "Never."

The very next morning there was a response to my email inquiry. I sent a timid and gentle reply back, thanking them for their time and that if they couldn't give me much more than what I already had, I would understand.

Two weeks later, that branches bark has strengthened.  Twigs have began to branch off to create even more beautiful branches have began to weave their way through and leaves have begun shine brightly.  The branch of that tree is once again blooming with information.

The smallest pebble on a mountain, may cause a landslide.
The gentlest of missteps can cause a small pile of snow to turn into an avalanche.
Never give up, never surrender.
When you believe things are hopeless, hang on to that sliver of hope that is teasingly dangling by a very thin and frayed piece of string.

All this and a small discussion on Facebook have increased my desire to write.  I have an idea, and it will require quite a bit of research, but I am ready for it.  I am welcoming the challenge that it may bring.  If I can succeed when all hope seemed lost, why couldn't I succeed when there is more than a glimmer of a chance at something?

Once you choose hope, anything is possible.

~Christopher Reeve

The Hardest Part in Reading

The more I read books lately, the more disappointed I become in parts of the publishing world.

I know that just about everyone talks of the Twilight Saga books, and some people consider them a work of art.  I saw many errors in those books.  The timeline was a bit off, there were multiple grammar errors, and can you say "Thesaurus?"  Goodness gracious!  The vocabulary in those books alone was egregious!  (See what I did there? I know how to use one too!)  Who knew teenagers knew what those words meant, let alone knew how to use them?

Most people began with the movies and know nothing of the books, but they really should read them.  The story in the books is much better.  You lose a lot in the movies which, looking back, could be a good thing for some chapters.  The movies did not do the books justice. The timeline in the movies was worse than that in print form.  Catherine Hardwicke's Twilight started the movie in the wrong month to begin with, and she added a warped situation that was never even mentioned in any of the books or Meyers' Midnight Sun.

And now...

There are writers out there doing the Self-publishing trip, but they really should have an excellent editor looking over their work.  They make me want to red-pen every mistake I find. There are missing words, grammar mistakes, word usage errors, point-of-view issues...I could go on, but won't. I don't like to point authors/writers out, that's not what this is about, but it's becoming increasingly difficult to find any book without errors in editing.

This is a story about sacrifice...
death... love... freedom.
This is a story about forever.

A part of me is wanting to take the current book I have, Sempre, and do a little red-penning.  It isn't nearly as bad as some of the others I've read, but there are a few errors here and there.  Sadly, I read this book in another form (fanfiction) before it was published, and I believe I liked it more then than I do now.  It was changed from a first person perspective--I understand why that was done--but you can see the writer's struggle with the transition.

The story itself is a good one; original in concept, good plot and good character development. The flow of the story is done well considering the amount of perspectives the author has to include, but the errors in the edit are unmistakeable.  I am hanging in there though, because I really do like this storyline.

Errors in editing bother me, probably more than they should, but I can't help but get frustrated when I come upon one.  It's not something I want to see in a published work--commercially or self-published.

If the errors in edits were just one or two here and there, okay, maybe I could let it go, but when we're talking roughly about three errors per chapter, things get a bit crazy.  It takes everything in me, not to pull my hair out.  I hate reading the same thing multiple times to try to figure out what the line is supposed to mean.  This is why it takes me so long to finish some of these books.

If I can really get into a book and enjoy myself, I can get through it in one to three days.  I have, at times, found myself taking over one week to get through a book.  Most say you should trade the book if it's taking you that long to read, but when you really want to see where the characters are going, you can't help but read on.

One such book, that I desperately tried to get through...Fifty Shades of Grey.  I cannot help but mention the trilogy because it drives me insane that it is getting so much hype.  Even HOLLYWOOD HYPE!  The wonderful thing is, I don't have to say much about it, because someone else out there felt about it the same way I do.  So, instead of giving my review or spoiling it for anyone on my blog, I shall just give you the link here.  Yes, there are spoilers in that blogger's review.  I don't particularly like her comments about James Cameron, but she is right about the book itself.

I can tell you that the sequels for Fifty Shades of Grey, don't improve upon the mistakes of the first.  They too were self-published and a former fan-fiction, but the storyline here lacks...feeling.  Much of the interaction between characters seemed robotic to me.  The book really didn't change much from its original form. I tolerated it as a fanfic because I had a few friends wanting to discuss it.  I didn't care for it then, and I don't particularly care for it now either.

Scarier still is that Vintage Books, a division of Random House Publishing, has picked up the trilogy and will continue to publish the pack.  One can only hope that they get an editor to fix the gross amount of errors, considering this statement comes from their website:

Vintage Books is the website for Vintage Publishing, a division of Random House which focuses on publishing quality literary fiction and non-fiction.

I'll keep my fingers crossed for all those future readers out there.

I have works of my own, but I would hope that I would be smart enough to be sure that all the edits were complete before I published.  I would also hope that if a publisher agreed to take on my little stories, that they'd take the time to be sure that it was edited properly.  Who knows, maybe there is no more room for that type of a profession.  If not, Lord help the art of language for it is dying just as quickly as it is being used.

My next book to read is Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins.  I want to read it before I see the movie.  The movie looks VERY interesting.

UPDATE: Because I wasn't very clear...you should read Sempre and blow off the Fifty Shades Trilogy.

Dear Football, I Miss You.

Anyone else out there missing football season?!

I'm salivating!

I caught myself looking for ANY news on players past and present.  I want the draft to happen now, not next month! It's going to be an interesting year, I think.  So many good players are now free agents and some of those college boys coming up look pretty decent.

Speaking of old...I feel bad for Peyton Manning. I know he's shopping teams, but come on! The man had a semi-serious neck injury as well as continuous back pain. Didn't he have three surgeries for his neck injury?! He's a risk for sure.  He's also getting kind of up there for a player--he'll be thirty-six next week.  To his credit, he's really good for a man his age.

Manning has only been on my mind because of my husband and some of our family.  He's had a busy couple of weeks, working out with the 49ers, the Broncos, the Cardinals and the Titans.  He looked good, but people can look good when there is no pressure.  Cardinals aren't particularly known for having good protection for the QB, so I would see a lot of injuries in Manning's future if he were to go to the Cards.  Actually, I would say he definitely is NOT going Cardinals.

I actually miss the old days--about five years ago--when my husband and I had Cowboys vs. Skins bets going on.  It was the most fun.  Now he's with the Cardinals--most days.  I know he's torn when the Skins are up against the Cards.  He used to be a loyal Skins fan, but he swapped them out for the Cardinals to be closer to his dad and brother. I don't blame him, but I do have to give him crap for being a flipper.

I, on the other hand, have always been a Cowboy fan.  Don't ask me how I got that way, I honestly don't know.  I'm not from Texas, neither my dad nor my mom was from there.  I just always liked the Cowboys. I know, it's weird.  People are always teasing me about it, but I don't care.  I am a loyal Cowboys fan and always will be.  I'm going to stick to my guns. (LOL)

I think I got a little bit of relief from this little chat. WHEW!

Marriage Advice on the Sly

I was recently approached by someone asking me for my opinion on situations that often come up in a marriage or any relationship for that matter. I am no expert, but I have learned that I can't sweat the little things that happen.  Sometimes you just have to let the niggling annoyances go.

We all know how hard that is.  Men always say that it's us women who have a filing cabinet in our minds of everything they've ever done wrong.  They consider it an arsenal, I just consider it good memory.  Women aren't the only creatures that do this.  Yes, I am looking at the men...and the children for that matter.

You hear it in the stores as you're walking by a mom. "If you behave, I will get you something before we leave." The child often responds with, "You said that last time!"  Later on, you hear the kid wailing about the promise that was supposedly broken yet again. Mom is red-faced, rolling her eyes, pulling her hair out, and looking apologetic for the outburst of her darling little child.  It wasn't necessarily the promise that was broken, but the definition of "behave" wasn't clear enough for the kid to understand.  Or if it was, they have a short term memory.

I don't want to put the instance down because I like keeping things as anonymous as possible on here.  However, I can tell you what I told her.  Again, I am NOT an expert on marriage.

Marriage is a partnership.  You are to deal with incidents as they happen, together as a team.  If there is a large project needing done in the house, get everyone that lives in that house involved.

If you come across some items, though married, you don't feel you should be handling (i.e. work papers, parents' legal documents) set them in a pile for your life-mate to go through.  There's nothing that says you can't be neat and organized without being nosy.  It's what I do.  It's what I've been doing.

I've written before about clearing the clutter in my home.  When I came across things that were my husband's, I set them aside for him to go through.  He'd go through them and stick them back in the pile, which annoyed the heck out of me, but I let it go and made a mental note to re-stack those in his to-go-through pile the next go 'round.

He always says he'd already gone through it, and I'd remind him that he should find a home for it. Thus begins the cycle anew.  I know this will happen every time, and every time I am prepared for it. I just smile and look pretty.

Growing up I always heard marriage is a 50-50 deal.  Even the Christian books on marriage would say that.  I disagree whole-heartedly.  Marriage isn't a 50-50 partnership.  If you both aren't putting your whole selves into it every day, you're short-changing not only your partner but yourself. Why?  Because, what do we do as a species?  We stand back, cross our arms, and say "well, you didn't do that for me, so I'm not doing this for you."  Our inner child then sticks their tongue out and storms off in a temper tantrum.

You have to give your marriage your all or it's not going to last.  It isn't "his and hers" or "he said, she said".  It's "ours" and  "we".

I know first-hand how supremely frustrating it can be to spend all day, power-scrubbing your kitchen, only to have your partner or child come home and spill some breadcrumbs or soda and then walk off, leaving the mess for you to clean up.  Every time it happens, and I mean EVERY single time, I go to that person and ask them to please clean up after themselves.  I explain that I spent a good portion of my day, making sure that the kitchen was germ free and crumb free.  EVERY time I get the same response, "I didn't make a mess."  I just smile and they feel the urge to go and check.

Kill 'em with kindness.  My husband thinks my smile during those times looks sinister, and it probably does, but if I don't smile, I'd most likely scream.

I picture myself looking much like the bride in The Haunted Mansion, raising and lowering her axe as she says, "I do" or "until death, do us part".  If sinister gets the job done, sinister I shall be.

Marriage is hard work.  It's not magical--all unicorns and rainbows--it takes a lot of effort to work through your differences and combine your individual personalities.  It doesn't stop being work just because you've been married longer than most people can fathom.  You really need to pick your battles and once the battle has ended, by way of a satisfactory agreement for both parties, you go back to being a loving couple.  If you dwell on the incident for too long, then you're only prolonging your pain.  Where is the good in that?

Don't sweat it, let it go, and save yourself the grief.  You don't know how long you have with your loved ones.  Wouldn't your time be better spent enjoying life together instead of fighting every step of the way about things that really don't matter?

Marinate on that...

Friend or Foe?

There's an old saying which I believe came from Sun Tzu's "The Art of War":

"Keep your friends close and your enemies closer."

This is so absolutely true, but what happens when you find out your friend was your enemy after all? 

This was a topic of conversation today.  A friend of mine found that one of her friends is a rather good actress when it comes to playing the friend part.  She'd thought this person to be her best friend.  Through the grapevine, she'd recently found that this was actually not the case.  The messenger relayed this sobering information to my friend by citing a particular instance between my friend and her supposed bestie.  She was devastated! I found myself not knowing what to say to her to help her feel better.  I couldn't even begin to guess what I would want anyone to say to me.  

After a few hours, a few more conversations, some relaxation and a shower, I finally realized some things. It's a shock to one's system, and they're not quite sure what to do with that information. They're hurt and may even be a bit on the defensive their first communiqué with that person.  With that first after-the-fact encounter, do they then discuss what has come to light or act like a duck and let it roll off their back?

This is why I don't have many friends. I have been burned by that very platitude more than once.  I've learned, as cynical as it may sound, that I can count on no one but myself.  If I am disappointed, I have myself to blame.  If I am saddened, I have no one to chastise except myself.  

There are those that say that no one can hurt you unless you allow them to.  I agree with this for the most part, but there are things beyond what little control we hold onto that can surprise the hell out of us.  We get broadsided by the shock of it.  The impact of it resonates through every bone of our body, shaking the very fiber of our being so much so that it cripples us for a time.

Why is it that what our best friends say to us wound us so deeply?  

When we say we have a best friend, we're saying that we have finally found that person--outside of our family--that we can trust with our inner most secrets.  We don't expect them to judge.  We fully expect that they will stand by our side, no matter the situation.  

Sadly, reality eventually hits for most of us, and we come to the realization that what we have is yet another hum-drum "friend"...not a best friend. 

People just have a lot of growing up to do.  I know this is true for me, but I have learned quite a bit from my harried past.  

For example, judging someone is not my job.  I may not appreciate things certain people do or the way they do them, but it isn't my place to tell them what they've done wrong.  I couldn't honestly say that in that moment I wouldn't have done the same.  Also, do I know for sure that the other way "I would have done things" would have been correct?

Opinions run amuck.  Everyone has an opinion.  It is our unfortunate job to listen to all of them.  We don't have to take them in, but if we don't allow them to be spoken, we are perceived as ignorant or uncooperative.  It just better to deal with it.

If, for whatever reason, someone steps in and tries to help you with your situation, however unwanted it may be, thank them.  You may still POLITELY turn them away, but thank them for their efforts nonetheless.

Don't sweat the small stuff.  They're never worth the amount of pain they cause when allowed to fester.

The Gift of Genealogy: Take Two

Recently, I was asked to help a relative locate someone whom they are a descendant of.  I love doing the research, so I was MORE than happy to oblige!  The moment I entered the name into Ancestry.com, the little leaves you always hear about in the commercials, began to spring.

It was mind-blowing!  All it took was a name and knowing two small facts about a set of parents and *POOF* everything began to appear.  It was great! I began finding more and more relatives as the night drew to a close. The relative left my home, and I continued to fill them in on my findings over the next few days.

Less than two weeks later, I found something that has kept me awake, mind wandering and pondering.  Never in my life would I have believed that I would find one of the most intriguing stories I'd ever set eyes on.  I can't stop researching the subject, because it makes me wonder what led to the events of the story and what happened to everyone involved.  I've been on this branch of the tree for nearly two weeks, and I know this relative is a bit overwhelmed with the amount of information I have been able to find.  I want to slow things down and not be so devastatingly forthcoming with the details.

The problem is once I get started, I just cannot stop. I'm like Walter Sherman (character on The Finder, a FOX TV Series starring Geoff Stults and Michael Clarke Duncan) in that way.  I feel like if I were to stop, it might physically hurt. I know I will lose sleep if I don't find everything there is to find about the subject.

Photo courtesy: Fox.com  -- Lettering added by "Writing Off into the Sunset" blog author.

"What happens when he can't find something? I will tell you. He will run himself ragged like a bloodhound." 

~The Finder: Episode 1: Pilot
Speaking Character: Isabel

That quote best describes how I am. I think that's why I like the show so much.  Walter Sherman, though fictional, makes me feel somewhat normal about my need to research a subject until I'm satisfied or can't find anything more.  I haven't found any ancestral link to why I am this way, I just am.

What researching these stories has done for me is a story in itself. I have learned valuable information on how to do even more research in other aspects of media to find ancestors and what stories may be connected to them.  In such a short time, they've become invaluable tidbits to help me with my own branch of the tree.

The sad part of this post is this: when people set on a journey into ancestral history, they don't expect to find anything truly scandalous in their family's past.  Unfortunately, it can happen. The important thing to remember is that it is in the past, not an actual part of the person one has become on their own.  What our ancestors may have done in the past can't inflict the pain on us now, that it may have inflicted on those immediately around them at the time. We can learn of these stories, take them in, and reconcile our feelings about them. If nothing else, we can learn from the mistakes they may have made.

The Kelly Clarkson/Jorgen Eloffson song "Stronger" is relevant to a point.

...What doesn't kill you makes you stronger
Stand a little taller
Doesn't mean I'm lonely when I'm alone
What doesn't kill you makes a fighter
Footsteps even lighter...

It's the same as any life lesson we have been made to deal with.

Accept what has happened. Learn from it. Move past it. Stand straighter with the knowledge you hold, because you are a better person for it. Go out there swinging with all your might, because the information can't hurt you. You are better for knowing, because you can choose your path.