Category Archives: Life

Just a Little Bit of Prose

Just once I’d like to lay my head down and go to sleep. Sleep without the play play play pause play of constant loops in my head and all the conversations I never had with the people I should have burning in my throat.

I need to go to San Fransisco. I need to see my unbiological brother and sit by the ocean smoking cigarettes and listening to waves until we finally break down and start talking about all the ghosts that haunt us because he gets it. He gets how people are there and you watch them spiral down and no matter how hard you try to hold on you’re just left with splinters and bleeding onto pages. 

Because even though it hurts like hell to relive the worst moments in your life, sometimes it’s the only way to fall asleep and make room for dreams.

It Was Beginning to Look a lot Like Unemployment

Holy Bejeebus, it’s been a rough few months. There was the wedding and finally being able to relax a little bit, but of course life kicks you right in the lady balls when you least expect. Darrick’s grandmother passed away right as I was transferred into a different department at work and he developed a sore in his foot (one of the most dangerous things for a diabetic) right within a few days’ span. When he finally notice something was wrong, he already had angry red spikes going almost up to his knee.

Darrick spent a few days in the hospital getting pumped full of antibiotics and wearing special leg booties that squeezed at intervals to encourage increased blood flow, then was released just in time for trick or treat. He’s been put off of work ever since because he can’t stand eight hours on an open wound.

Finances have been tight, but we are making it thus far. Unfortunately, being transfered at work for me was incredibly hard on me. A few months back they had asked me if I would be interested, but I wasn’t. Shipping is easily one of the most stressful areas of the place and will eat your life if you let it. I didn’t want to work all of those hours! Not with my two young girls. But then they cut my materials planning job, so it was either make the move or be without a job for the holidays.

And when you put it that way…

But oh, it’s been rough. You’re thrown in the fire and trying to figure it out. Every customer wants shipments made in a particular way with particular paperwork done and sometimes sent to particular people. Don’t get me started on overseas shipments! The whole department was dropping balls left and right while we juggled around each other trying to figure out our places. I was so stressed I had trouble eating and sleeping and just existed in a state of anxious, balled-up nerves, only to be told I should know more and be better at my job.

I almost walked out twice. The only thing that kept me there was being the only working parent at this time, and even then it was a close call. Darrick actually sat me down one night and told me how this job was affecting our family. My four-year-old said I never come home before bedtime, I would snap at my ten-year-old to the point she felt lile she couldn’t talk to me, and I didn’t laugh or make jokes anymore. All I would do is come home, eat, and go to sleep.

I refuse to be that person anymore. Family is my number one priority. I’ll work in McDonald’s 50 hours if I have to if it means we’re happier. I don’t care.

It flipped a switch for me, really. I had been so terrified of doing something wrong at work that I was afraid to do anything at all. So I just dove in. I restructured my tasks throughout the day and I’m leaving as close to my 8 hours as possible now. I’m doing my best, and if it isn’t good enough, then that should tell them something because I am not a slacker and everyone around there knows that. I’ve never been one to shy away from difficult or overwhelming tasks, which is why I tend to get the crappier jobs no one has previously done correctly. Sucks for me, but ok.

Since I’ve made the changes in my attitude and restructured things, it seems to be doing a lot better. I hope it stays that way! 

Upcoming Birthday Shenanigans

I have an idea.

Scary, I know. But I’m really excited about this. 

My mama’s birthday is coming up in November and she truly needs some fun in her life right now. And today on my lunch, it hit me: an intervention.

Don’t get me wrong. She doesn’t have a substance abuse problem. It won’t be that kind of intervention.

It’s for shooting opossums.

Let me explain: she owns a farm that’s about 70 acres and keeps getting stray cats dumped on her. She feels terrible for them, so she leaves food out so they don’t go hungry. Of course, since there’s food around, it attracts scavengers like raccoons and opossums and they attack the cats. So my mama shoots them. 

Let me tell you, I have seen my mother run across a house with a gun and no pants waaay too many times. #farmerproblems?

I’m just in the beginning stages of this little plan, but so far I plan to have friends and family writing letters explaining how her “problem” has affected all of our lives (mine is going to be about having to help with body disposal) and consequences if she doesn’t stop (I’m going to make her bag up her own dead critters), a cake in the shape of an opossum that’s been shot – not in the head though (gross!), and varment-themed snack foods.

I’m ridiculously excited to put this together!

Those Wedding Bells Finally Rang


Except they didn’t because we didn’t get married at a church because they tend to frown on people like me.

What can I say about that day? It was exciting, it was nerve-wracking and stressful trying to get everything done. We made it, we got married, and then I almost starved because they made me get pictures done while everyone else was eating. I had a great picture of me taken while trying to cram a whole cupcake in my mouth for that first-dance thing. I haven’t seen it yet,but I bet it’s a thing of beauty.

For the wedding, we rented a shelter at the park where we had our first (this is so not a date) date. Here’s my brother helping with setting up our decorations:

And my fabulous sister-in-law:

​My un-biological sister:

​And my lovely aunt, who hurt her foot and leg a few days before the wedding, but came anyways to help decorate:

All of whom I owe massive thanks to for helping me pull off my wedding. They showed up early, they showed up injured, and what they pulled off was better than I imagined. They hung lights, they hung paper lanterns, they hung balloons, they stapled down tablecloths and wrapped ribbons and made centerpieces. It was amazing! You can see some of it here:

​The wedding itself was short and sweet, but very Christian – Darrick did have his requests after all. I figured I owed him since he puts up with my shenigans. Like slapping him with raw bacon.

I haven’t gotten all my pictures back yet, but here’s some teasers:​

I’m trying very hard not to laugh in that one because Sophie had just farted.​

​That sign says “lost my balls.” I’m so proud.​


It was an amazing night, and everything I could have asked for except one thing – my dad. I held it together all day. I was too busy and nervous for anything else. It wasn’t until the ride home alone with Darrick that I let myself feel that missing piece and started crying.

He held my hand and said nothing. 

I Want a Love Like Carrie and the Girls

Who else likes to sit around in their jammies late at night and settle in for a Netflix or Amazon Prime marathon while they drift into (ahem…postpone) sleep? I’m sure I’m not the only one. Lately I’ve gotten into Sex and the City, which my fiance is still making fun of me for. “It’s just all about sex,” he says, “there isn’t anything else to it.”

But he’s completely wrong when it comes to this show. Yes, it features sex sometimes, but that isn’t the focal point. The focal point is Carrie learning about herself through her relationships. She’s continually questioning everything and in a very public forum – a weekly column in a New York newspaper – and judging by the popularity of that column and her ensuing book deal, her curiosity and explorations resonate with her readers.

Personally, it isn’t just the show I love but also my memories of watching the show in bit and pieces as it was being aired years ago. I was in high school and in the beginning stages of my own explorations. It was exciting to me. Inspiring. It was the first time I considered the possibility of being a writer and I took steps toward my interest in journalism to try it on for size. I took a year of journalism in high school writing for the school paper and even went away for a week one summer to a journalism camp at Ball State University (shout out to my Indiana homefolk!). It wasn’t the right fit for me. It turns out, I only like writing about things when I’m actually interested in them.

It was also the first time I realized that adults don’t always have their shit together either. They each go through their own set of problems that is reminiscent of the real world asskicking that happens when your expectations don’t live up to what actually pans out in your life – and it all works out ok in the end anyway. You make it work, one way or another.

And the main thread through the whole storyline is the girls’ friendship with each other. They may fuss and they may fall out over some pretty big issues at times, but they are always there for each other and always make time to be together. Wouldn’t it be nice if real life was like that?

Instead, it’s more like the end of How I Met Your Mother – all the closeness fades away as some have kids, some pursue their dreams at the detriment of everything else, and some just plain don’t change but your opinion of them does. That’s just life. It boils down to “being there for the big moments” and the next thing you know…you’re missing those too. In the end, everyone is just trying to survive their own lives while hanging onto the bits of the people they’ve been throughout the years.

I think that’s one of the many reasons audiences are drawn into tv shows the way they are. You get pulled into the lives of a core group of people. You evolve with them through their struggles, you grieve the loss of some and celebrate the joys of others. It reminds you of times in your life when you were those people on the screen. The adventures. The laughter. The heartaches. The friendships. The family you make for yourself.

So yeah, I’m gonna keep watching the same old tv shows in my pajamas and wax nostalgic about the way things used to be.

There are some damned good people back in those times.

 

 

Morning Shenanigans

I got up at five this morning to shower and try to do something with my face to make it more presentable, and had a little bit of time before waking up the girls.

I got bored.

I had already slathered my hair with the  plethora of products to try to tame it down and still had the hair gel by me. I look at it.

I look back at Darrick, looking comfy as all get out with his arms propped up behind his head and snoring like it pays him money.

He has no hair on his head….but he has armpits.

This morning, he woke up to teeny, tiny dreadlocks in places I’m pretty sure he never expected.

L is for Look, An Idiot

I love to make people laugh. It’s just how I’m wired; it must be the Sagitarius nature.Today, the new materials planner at work came over to my square of the plant floor.

I think he was sorry.

I happened to be speaking to the receiving coordinator at the time, and he joined in our conversation. At one point he said, “I’m quick!” and we both heard, “I quit.”

The receiving coordinator freaks out and the poor guy immediately backtracks to correct our impression. Then he gets to joking around and says, “What would I do with my three kids?”

I chip in with “Well, you eat them.”

He looks at me aghast. I have to continue.

“That way, you can survive longer since you have no money for food, and you don’t have to worry about feeding them or what they’re doing.”

Probably not the right thing to say, but boy was his face hilarious.

F is for Forgetting

My father passed away ten years ago yesterday. I’m not much of a talker. I’m a writer by nature. I’m a bit random for a blogger. But I can write.

It’s how I’ve kept my sanity.

…………………….        ………………………

F is for Forgetting.

Forgetting the shake in the voice on the phone as I was told my dad was sick and going to the hospital, forgetting the frantic phone calls to my mother and brother trying to figure out what was happening, why in the world my dad would go to the hospital over being sick when he would barely go to the doctor for a broken bone.

Forgetting my sister-in-law’s panic as she realized I had no idea and had to break the news that he had been taken by ambulance and that he wasn’t breathing and had no heartbeat.

Forgetting the annoyance on the desk clerk’s face when I rushed in asking where he was and she said she had never heard of that patient and I needed to calm down.

I didn’t realize I’d beat the ambulance there since I was closer. I waited outside.

Forgetting them pulling my dad out of the ambulance, breathing bag over his face so I couldn’t really see it, but oh god, his arm. His arm was just hanging off the gurney and he would never do that.

Forgetting running back inside and flipping off the desk clerk who insisted that I WAIT and running to the back, yanking open curtains until I found them. Shirt cut open, cuts in his skin as they did I don’t even know what, he didn’t look right, they were shocking him and prodding him.

Mom. Where’s Mom?

Running back to the waiting room and taking her back to him, but they stopped us and had us go into a room to wait.

It was too quiet. There were too many tears and too much silence and nobody with any answers. Other people were coming and we had more to call to get Dad’s shift taking care of grandma covered.

Forgetting the doctor coming in and telling us what we already knew but didn’t want to admit and the cheerful nurse coming in right behind him to ask if we’d ever given organ donation a thought and how my dad would’ve felt about it.

Forget the itch under my skin to leave, forget the hugs and the crying and the keening noise I didn’t realize I was making as I cried.

Forget going outside. Forget how beautiful the day was, sun shining and birds singing. Forget how traitorous that was.

Forget waiting as his brothers and sisters came, breaking the news to them. Forget the disbelief, the grief.

Forget going back inside.

Forget the hospital letting us see his body, forget the tilt of his head and the way his mouth was just slightly open. Like it was when he snored. The way mom ran her hand down the side of his face, kissed his forehead.

Forget the ride to her house. It didn’t matter where we were. My mouth would still taste like pennies and my hands, I didn’t know what to with them.

Forget all of it.

I survived, even if pieces of me didn’t.

E is for the Elephant in the Room

This is a little embarassing to admit to, but I have bad credit. Most of it stems from when I was right out if high school and just into college (hello, student loans), but I’ve continued to let it go on for a long time now. It seems like every time I start living beyond paycheck to paycheck, life kicks me in the teeth to remind me just who’s boss around here. For example, things were great with my littlest one’s dad when my student loans came due. I wasn’t worried at all…but then that blew up and I wound up completely heartbroken, living with my mother with a six-year-old and a six-month-old, and working about twenty hours a week as a waitress. It was one of the worst times of my life, and my credit was the very last thing on my mind.

I met Darrick, and it took months for me to even admit to myself how much I liked him. We moved in together over a year later and it took a while to find our groove (joint checking is hard, people!). We both got great jobs and started looking at our future and what we need to do to be able to get into our own house.

And then he started getting sick. His diabetes spun out of control, he started being in a lot of pain, and he was so ill that he lost over 150 pounds in less than a year. He missed a lot of work through that, and then his doctor out him off work while we try to figure out what’s going on with him.

Now we’re in a position where we know a lot of what he’s not sick with, but still don’t have a solid answer on a diagnosis and he’s out of time off. He’s about to return to work, and while I worry my head off about him and how he’s feeling, there’s no denying that we’ll be able to breathe much better financially. And now we can start looking forward to our future a littke more.

And that means getting our credit lined out. It’s scary and it’s going to take a lot of work, but I’ll be glad to get the ball rolling and watch my credit score climb. And hopefully in a year or maybe two, we’ll be able to purchase our own home.

I just wish I had some idea of what I’m doing when I’m trying to fix all this mess! Lol. Everyone has different advice and sorting through it all is tricky, dang it.

C is for Challenge

If you’re wondering what’s with the letters lately, it’s all about this:

image

26 blog posts this month, keeping track by using the letters of the alphabet. I haven’t utilized my blog properly for a long time and it seemed like just the kick in the pants I needed. I have a lot of challenging things in my life I can’t do much about right now. This one I can.

I’ve thrown down a few more gauntlets for myself this month as well. As mentioned in previous posts, I am not the greatest of housekeepers. My house isn’t gross or anything. Just really messy is some rooms. Ok…maybe all if them. I seem to have a magic ability to obtain and keep things that we simply don’t use. I also tend to let the housework pile up and then get mad that no one is doing anything about it.

Apparently that’s what makes sense in my brain.

So I’ve decided to also challenge myself to do more around the place. At least one thing every day to make a difference.

Of course, I also have children. That one thing a day is probably pointless, but it’s the thought that counts, right?