Something I have been noticing for years now, jelled into a solid though last week. I've been spending a LOT of time over the last four years in playscapes, parks, gyms, zoos, and many other children related places. And I'm a huge people watcher. So what have I noticed?
I've noticed that when you see a "good" father out with his children, they are usually girls. Only one out of every ten good fathers will have a son around, and then only one.
I classify a good father as one that actually interacts in a beneficial manner with his child. Plays with them. Is soft-spoken in his discipline. Doesn't seem to be there to hit on women. And one who's children like him.
On the other hand . . .
I've noticed that when I see a "bad" father out with his children, he'll have 2-4 boys running around. Occasionally, he'll have a girl or two, but ALWAYS multiple boys.
I classify a bad father as one that sits in his car or as far away as he can get from the action. Doesn't interact with his children and yells at them when they bother him. Spends all his time on the phone or hitting on women. And who's children are afraid of him.
I can't help but wonder what the balance of nice vs. uncaring men in our population will be in twenty or thirty years down the road.
Survival of the fittest, I think not.
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Cute Bird Feeders Galore!
I put up an ehow article on making these cute bird feeders that are made from recycled laundry detergent bottles.
I made five of them up for less than $5 and in about an hour. My birds LOVE them.
http://www.ehow.com/how_5050601_make-plastic-laundry-detergent-bottles.html
I've also made my own cement bird bath and automatic bird bath drip; which I will be posting in the next week some times.
So you birders might want to stay tuned! lol
Sick Son, Sad Daughter, Tired Mom and Dad
Today, we are not a happy family.
Will has come down with something. He is running a slight fever and has non-stop sneezes. He's cranky and feels bad. He took over a three hour nap in the middle of the day, and then he just laid around on whoever he could get close to the rest of the evening. He's not running, yelling, screaming, dancing, fighting, or attacking.
Tori called me in tears and talked to me on my cell phone while I was checking out at Borders, driving to Home Depot, shopping in Home Depot, paying, and reloading Will back in the vehicle. She's sad and wants to come home. She still hasn't found a job and she can't stand what her father has turned into. This has not been the nice break in circumstances she was hoping for from her summer.
I'm exhausted. I haven't really slept well the entire time Steve was gone. I put in long hours and just kept going. Now that he's home, it seems to have all just hit me at once. I just want to lay down and rest.
And poor Steve, fresh from a week of emotional turmoil and stressful family reunions, comes home to work that is a week behind. He didn't complain about work when he got home today, which tells me just as much as Will's unusual behavior.
I wonder if he's sick too?
Will has come down with something. He is running a slight fever and has non-stop sneezes. He's cranky and feels bad. He took over a three hour nap in the middle of the day, and then he just laid around on whoever he could get close to the rest of the evening. He's not running, yelling, screaming, dancing, fighting, or attacking.
Tori called me in tears and talked to me on my cell phone while I was checking out at Borders, driving to Home Depot, shopping in Home Depot, paying, and reloading Will back in the vehicle. She's sad and wants to come home. She still hasn't found a job and she can't stand what her father has turned into. This has not been the nice break in circumstances she was hoping for from her summer.
I'm exhausted. I haven't really slept well the entire time Steve was gone. I put in long hours and just kept going. Now that he's home, it seems to have all just hit me at once. I just want to lay down and rest.
And poor Steve, fresh from a week of emotional turmoil and stressful family reunions, comes home to work that is a week behind. He didn't complain about work when he got home today, which tells me just as much as Will's unusual behavior.
I wonder if he's sick too?
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
At Least They Don't Expire
Tori spent a few days at the house before leaving for the summer. While she was hear, I was wigging out about my first wholesale order.
I have followed a backlink from my site to their database earlier and found my listing. The person hosting the purchase stated that four of any single pattern had to be purchased. Then, a few days later, I followed another back link and came across an actual spread sheet.
On the spreadsheet, there were totals next to seven of my patterns, with numbers ranging from 4-6.
My concern was, what if each number represents a set of four? So instead of having to put together four patterns, I need to put together sixteen? I whined about not knowing in advance, about how much time it would take, the fear of running out of supplies mid-order and having to wait for them to be shipped to me.
Tori asked why I didn't go back out to the site and check more closely for information. I had tried to, the backlink was no longer available and I could'nt find the info I needed at all.
Then she says, "So, go ahead and start making them up now. It's not like their going to expire."
Duh!
So, as soon as I dropped Steve off at the airport, I started printing out orders. I didn't remember how many of which pattern was sold so I assumed six orders of each pattern; and that each order was times four.
It took me the better part of Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and part of Monday to finish preparing over 160 complete ready to ship patterns.
And they are beautiful. Three boxes of perfectly pressed, sealed, colorful patterns ready to be shipped out.
Then this morning, when I was checking my website I had a current backlink to the spreadsheet again. I clicked over and found the order. With more time, I was able to figure out everything. Each order represents only one order, not the four I had understood it to. So, at a minimum, I have printed out and prepared THREE TIMES the amount of patterns I needed to.
Oh well, at least they don't expire.
I have followed a backlink from my site to their database earlier and found my listing. The person hosting the purchase stated that four of any single pattern had to be purchased. Then, a few days later, I followed another back link and came across an actual spread sheet.
On the spreadsheet, there were totals next to seven of my patterns, with numbers ranging from 4-6.
My concern was, what if each number represents a set of four? So instead of having to put together four patterns, I need to put together sixteen? I whined about not knowing in advance, about how much time it would take, the fear of running out of supplies mid-order and having to wait for them to be shipped to me.
Tori asked why I didn't go back out to the site and check more closely for information. I had tried to, the backlink was no longer available and I could'nt find the info I needed at all.
Then she says, "So, go ahead and start making them up now. It's not like their going to expire."
Duh!
So, as soon as I dropped Steve off at the airport, I started printing out orders. I didn't remember how many of which pattern was sold so I assumed six orders of each pattern; and that each order was times four.
It took me the better part of Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and part of Monday to finish preparing over 160 complete ready to ship patterns.
And they are beautiful. Three boxes of perfectly pressed, sealed, colorful patterns ready to be shipped out.
Then this morning, when I was checking my website I had a current backlink to the spreadsheet again. I clicked over and found the order. With more time, I was able to figure out everything. Each order represents only one order, not the four I had understood it to. So, at a minimum, I have printed out and prepared THREE TIMES the amount of patterns I needed to.
Oh well, at least they don't expire.
Trained in the Deadly Art of Disco
I took Will to Burger King in the middle of the day to play. They have an air conditioned indoor playscape, and it was way too hot to be outside. He had TONS of energy to run off and it beat watching him do laps inside the house.
We were probably there about an hour and a half and several groups of children came and went. But there was this one little boy that I may never forget.
I didn't catch his name, so I'm just going to call his Stu. Stu appeared to be around seven years old; a good two years older than Will.
Will and Stu had been playing together about fifteen minutes. They were running and chasing each other and doing odd Ninja Turtle/Power Ranger fight sceanes. But they never actually made contact, so I wasn't worried about it. For those of you who haven't raised boys, this seems to be pretty universal at their age.
I just happen to be paying close attention to them when Stu pulled back in a stance of some sort and said, "I am trained in the deadly art of ---"
Some crying child, loud parent, or blaring speaker kept me from hearing the rest of his sentence clearly. But I watched him, expecting to see some karate or wrestling moves. He did a few odd jerking movements that I couldn't identify.
Now, I'm not much of a fight watcher. But my ex took a few months of karate while we were together. I've seen a few movies. If Stu's parents were paying for lessons, they were getting jipped.
Then he lays on his back on the floor and does a half spin.
He jumps back up and starts doing those same odd movements. I'm suddenly reminded of how bad we all looked as children, practising for our first school dance.
Then he does something that looks like the robot.
Stu freezes in position and tells Will again, "I am trained in the deadly are of disco."
And I almost choked on my tongue.
The kid wasn't joking. Some idiot had shown Stu some half-baked disco moves and convinced him they were fighting stances; a deadly art.
Who every it was, must not have liked the poor boy.
I myself, felt very sorry for Disco Stu and hope he wisens up before his first playground fight (or wears tap shoes that day).
We were probably there about an hour and a half and several groups of children came and went. But there was this one little boy that I may never forget.
I didn't catch his name, so I'm just going to call his Stu. Stu appeared to be around seven years old; a good two years older than Will.
Will and Stu had been playing together about fifteen minutes. They were running and chasing each other and doing odd Ninja Turtle/Power Ranger fight sceanes. But they never actually made contact, so I wasn't worried about it. For those of you who haven't raised boys, this seems to be pretty universal at their age.
I just happen to be paying close attention to them when Stu pulled back in a stance of some sort and said, "I am trained in the deadly art of ---"
Some crying child, loud parent, or blaring speaker kept me from hearing the rest of his sentence clearly. But I watched him, expecting to see some karate or wrestling moves. He did a few odd jerking movements that I couldn't identify.
Now, I'm not much of a fight watcher. But my ex took a few months of karate while we were together. I've seen a few movies. If Stu's parents were paying for lessons, they were getting jipped.
Then he lays on his back on the floor and does a half spin.
He jumps back up and starts doing those same odd movements. I'm suddenly reminded of how bad we all looked as children, practising for our first school dance.
Then he does something that looks like the robot.
Stu freezes in position and tells Will again, "I am trained in the deadly are of disco."
And I almost choked on my tongue.
The kid wasn't joking. Some idiot had shown Stu some half-baked disco moves and convinced him they were fighting stances; a deadly art.
Who every it was, must not have liked the poor boy.
I myself, felt very sorry for Disco Stu and hope he wisens up before his first playground fight (or wears tap shoes that day).
Monday, May 25, 2009
Grief -- Dates vs. Situations
I've had people I loved and cared about die, but never anyone as close to me as a sibling, as Becky.
I went through the months of inconsolable grief. The anger. The disbelief. The acceptance.
I expected certain dates to bring forth the pain ever now and then; but for it to slowly lessen as life goes on.
But I forgot about the situations.
Dates you know are coming and you can build up your resistance to make it thorugh. Holiday, birthdays, the day she died. I expect to hurt on these days. Around these days. The memories are stronger, more detailed. The vague visits I took to her house or when she'd come visit me didn't have set dates. They weren't reoccuring. So while I remember them, they are not anchored to a date to plague me. But memories of gifts, cards, and get togethers around the holidays are.
But situations? They just sneak up and kick your ass unexpectadly.
Last week I needed to get some crit points on one of my sites and ended up criting a story where a woman had a breast reduction surgery. The story it's self was happy and uplifting. I pointed out how painful Becky had said the surgery was, how it took months to recover from, how Becky suffered from depression afterwards. Which led me to wonder if the resulting depression ever went away or just leached in and contributed to her eventaul suicide. Which made me sad.
Then Uncle Bill died. While I didn't fly up for the funeral, I have grieved for his loss here at home. I have greived for the loss of my sister-in-law's father. And both of their losses have brought back to the fore the pain of Becky's loss.
I'm working like crazy, running and doing SOMETHING when I'm not working, and sleeping very little; trying to escape the sludge of grief that has crept up.
Yep, dates are like slow rising flood waters. You know they are coming and you can shore up your resistance and limit the damage.
Situations catch you with your shields lowered and your thoughts else where and slam into you like unexpected tidal waves, destroying all your meager defensese.
I'm off to hunt for a life vest.
I went through the months of inconsolable grief. The anger. The disbelief. The acceptance.
I expected certain dates to bring forth the pain ever now and then; but for it to slowly lessen as life goes on.
But I forgot about the situations.
Dates you know are coming and you can build up your resistance to make it thorugh. Holiday, birthdays, the day she died. I expect to hurt on these days. Around these days. The memories are stronger, more detailed. The vague visits I took to her house or when she'd come visit me didn't have set dates. They weren't reoccuring. So while I remember them, they are not anchored to a date to plague me. But memories of gifts, cards, and get togethers around the holidays are.
But situations? They just sneak up and kick your ass unexpectadly.
Last week I needed to get some crit points on one of my sites and ended up criting a story where a woman had a breast reduction surgery. The story it's self was happy and uplifting. I pointed out how painful Becky had said the surgery was, how it took months to recover from, how Becky suffered from depression afterwards. Which led me to wonder if the resulting depression ever went away or just leached in and contributed to her eventaul suicide. Which made me sad.
Then Uncle Bill died. While I didn't fly up for the funeral, I have grieved for his loss here at home. I have greived for the loss of my sister-in-law's father. And both of their losses have brought back to the fore the pain of Becky's loss.
I'm working like crazy, running and doing SOMETHING when I'm not working, and sleeping very little; trying to escape the sludge of grief that has crept up.
Yep, dates are like slow rising flood waters. You know they are coming and you can shore up your resistance and limit the damage.
Situations catch you with your shields lowered and your thoughts else where and slam into you like unexpected tidal waves, destroying all your meager defensese.
I'm off to hunt for a life vest.
Unexpectadly Disappointed
I am suppose to meet my sister, Laura, later this week. She is 2-3 years older than I am. And while she lives in Lousianna and we've known of each other for at least 7 or 8 years, we've never met. She's one of my biological father's children.
But with a few unexpected twists, I face my upcoming trip a lot more stressed and broke than is good for me. After thinking about it for several days, I decided I need to cut down my trip drastically.
Originally, I was going to drive down Wednesday morning and stay with Byjo all of W,TH, and FRI. I might have gotten to see Laura some time during W and TH, but I was going to spend all day FRI with her and her family. Then come home on SAT.
When things began to go south, I thought I'd drive down TH and visit Byjo and spend the night, then see Laura for part of the day on FRI and drive home that same day.
This new arrangement had the added benefit of not only saving money and reducing the amount of time I'd spend surrounding by people (because I don't do well spending hours and hours with people), but I could also pick Steve up at the airport on WED in San Antonio and save a friend of his from having to leave work to do so.
Sounds great hu?
Yeah, until I pulled up Laura's old email and found out that I had confused the days she would be in the Dallas area. Instead of being there WED-FRI, she is going to be there MON-WED. There is REALLY no way I can make that.
I consoled my self with the fact we only live about 10 hours away from each other. And really, we've had 7+ years to meet. If it was that friggen important to either of us, we'd have met by now. Besides, we're in our mid 40s, surely we have many more years to get together.
But when I called her this morning and heard her voice...
When I heard her disappointement that I wouldn't be making it, I felt bad. I felt like I was missing something important. Like it honestly mattered to her that I woudln't be there.
No matter how I twist the times and funds; I just can't make it right now.
But I think I'll do as Steve suggested and set myself a concrete time to go visit her as soon as she gets home.
That's what I'll tell myself today, anyway.
But with a few unexpected twists, I face my upcoming trip a lot more stressed and broke than is good for me. After thinking about it for several days, I decided I need to cut down my trip drastically.
Originally, I was going to drive down Wednesday morning and stay with Byjo all of W,TH, and FRI. I might have gotten to see Laura some time during W and TH, but I was going to spend all day FRI with her and her family. Then come home on SAT.
When things began to go south, I thought I'd drive down TH and visit Byjo and spend the night, then see Laura for part of the day on FRI and drive home that same day.
This new arrangement had the added benefit of not only saving money and reducing the amount of time I'd spend surrounding by people (because I don't do well spending hours and hours with people), but I could also pick Steve up at the airport on WED in San Antonio and save a friend of his from having to leave work to do so.
Sounds great hu?
Yeah, until I pulled up Laura's old email and found out that I had confused the days she would be in the Dallas area. Instead of being there WED-FRI, she is going to be there MON-WED. There is REALLY no way I can make that.
I consoled my self with the fact we only live about 10 hours away from each other. And really, we've had 7+ years to meet. If it was that friggen important to either of us, we'd have met by now. Besides, we're in our mid 40s, surely we have many more years to get together.
But when I called her this morning and heard her voice...
When I heard her disappointement that I wouldn't be making it, I felt bad. I felt like I was missing something important. Like it honestly mattered to her that I woudln't be there.
No matter how I twist the times and funds; I just can't make it right now.
But I think I'll do as Steve suggested and set myself a concrete time to go visit her as soon as she gets home.
That's what I'll tell myself today, anyway.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Can I Afford to Sell Wholesale?
I have my first wholesale order coming up and it's caused me no end of concern.
A company that hosts group purchases contacted me about six weeks ago asking about my wholesale prices. Many small pattern companies wholesale only on large qualities. So if a small business owner wanted to buy just three or four of each pattern to see how they sell, they'd be out of luck.
The company that contacted me, has a running database of all the companies they can purchase from for wholesale. Then their members, of which there are hundreds, can just purchase a few items to try them out. The company has cut off dates of every 6-8 weeks when they send in a single order that is shipped directly to them. They sort and reship to the individual businesses, for a small per item fee.
It's really a great set up.
A week or so ago, I followed a backlink out to their database and found that my patterns were being offered in sets of four (4) and that I had any where from five to size orders for six or seven of my patterns. Then I noticed that my current sales were "cut off" which means they are in the process of placing the order.
This entire month, I've been half excited and half terrified, trying to imagine how big my first wholesale order would be. The number one issue is the work involved in putting out that many patterns (150-200 patterns). To give you some idea, while I sell around 20 patterns a week, half of them are electronic. I only make and ship out around 10 patterns a week. (I use to do double that, but the economy sucks!)
With the deadline luming, I am looking at completing 15-20 weeks worth of work in under a week . . . while Steve is not home and I have constant care of Will. Definitely a challenge.
The other consideration is cost. Standard deduction for wholesale patterns is 50%. So I am working my ass off for half as much money as I normally get for a pattern. I will end up using months worth of ink, paper, toner, and plotter paper for this one order. All of which, I will have to replace almost immediately.
I've had both my major printers going 16 hours out of the day for the last three days. I've gone through an entire box of four rolls of plotter paper ($60 value) and six reams of paper ($20). I've already had to replace my Cyan toner ($35) and an ink cartridge ($25). My drum is also on it's last leg and will probably need to be replaced tomorrow ($150). Fortunately, I had all these items on hand as I buy them when I get a good discount.
While most of the printing will be done by tomorrow I will still have a day or two of work ahead of me. I have to finish folding all the patterns. Then I have to heat press them, assemble them, and put them in plastic bags.
Why bother with the hassle?
I've asked myself that same question several times the last few days. Sadly, I have some good answers.
Will it be worth it? We'll just have to wait and see.
A company that hosts group purchases contacted me about six weeks ago asking about my wholesale prices. Many small pattern companies wholesale only on large qualities. So if a small business owner wanted to buy just three or four of each pattern to see how they sell, they'd be out of luck.
The company that contacted me, has a running database of all the companies they can purchase from for wholesale. Then their members, of which there are hundreds, can just purchase a few items to try them out. The company has cut off dates of every 6-8 weeks when they send in a single order that is shipped directly to them. They sort and reship to the individual businesses, for a small per item fee.
It's really a great set up.
A week or so ago, I followed a backlink out to their database and found that my patterns were being offered in sets of four (4) and that I had any where from five to size orders for six or seven of my patterns. Then I noticed that my current sales were "cut off" which means they are in the process of placing the order.
This entire month, I've been half excited and half terrified, trying to imagine how big my first wholesale order would be. The number one issue is the work involved in putting out that many patterns (150-200 patterns). To give you some idea, while I sell around 20 patterns a week, half of them are electronic. I only make and ship out around 10 patterns a week. (I use to do double that, but the economy sucks!)
With the deadline luming, I am looking at completing 15-20 weeks worth of work in under a week . . . while Steve is not home and I have constant care of Will. Definitely a challenge.
The other consideration is cost. Standard deduction for wholesale patterns is 50%. So I am working my ass off for half as much money as I normally get for a pattern. I will end up using months worth of ink, paper, toner, and plotter paper for this one order. All of which, I will have to replace almost immediately.
I've had both my major printers going 16 hours out of the day for the last three days. I've gone through an entire box of four rolls of plotter paper ($60 value) and six reams of paper ($20). I've already had to replace my Cyan toner ($35) and an ink cartridge ($25). My drum is also on it's last leg and will probably need to be replaced tomorrow ($150). Fortunately, I had all these items on hand as I buy them when I get a good discount.
While most of the printing will be done by tomorrow I will still have a day or two of work ahead of me. I have to finish folding all the patterns. Then I have to heat press them, assemble them, and put them in plastic bags.
Why bother with the hassle?
I've asked myself that same question several times the last few days. Sadly, I have some good answers.
- Each pattern contains my web address, so who ever they are sold to will be able to find my site and purchase more and different patterns.
- If the store owners like my patterns and they sell, they will increase their purchase next time.
- Store owners and customers will tell others about my patterns.
- Why not? I'll try anything twice -- just to make sure the first time wasn't a fluke.
Will it be worth it? We'll just have to wait and see.
Happy to be Black
So . . .
A few people I know on facebook took a color quiz and had their results up. I had a few moments and decided to take it.
While an old friend of mine ended up being orange -- which translates to:
"You are a kind of peacemaker.
You don't like fighting and you don't like to choose sides.
You're nice to everyone.
You always try to be friends with everyone,
especially those that are being excluded.
Your personality is bright and you try
to look at the bright side of things.
You get scared easily and can back down on challenges, though.
I thought that was kind of cool; so I took the quiz.
As it turns out, I am the anti-Christ. I am Black:
You like to be alone and you don't enjoy the company of others.
You get annoyed easily.
You always try to keep others away.
You aren't a team player.
Most people would be hurt or upset to end up with this personality summation.
I loved it. I've been smiling all day thinking of my black personality.
Does that say something bad about me?
Do I care. lol
A few people I know on facebook took a color quiz and had their results up. I had a few moments and decided to take it.
While an old friend of mine ended up being orange -- which translates to:
"You are a kind of peacemaker.
You don't like fighting and you don't like to choose sides.
You're nice to everyone.
You always try to be friends with everyone,
especially those that are being excluded.
Your personality is bright and you try
to look at the bright side of things.
You get scared easily and can back down on challenges, though.
I thought that was kind of cool; so I took the quiz.
As it turns out, I am the anti-Christ. I am Black:
You like to be alone and you don't enjoy the company of others.
You get annoyed easily.
You always try to keep others away.
You aren't a team player.
Most people would be hurt or upset to end up with this personality summation.
I loved it. I've been smiling all day thinking of my black personality.
Does that say something bad about me?
Do I care. lol
Friday, May 22, 2009
Tori's dad and his debit card(s)
Tori just called me so upset she was almost yelling in the phone. She met her dad's flight into Austin yesterday morning, then drove him to Brady to visit with his family. They are leaving there tonight, to drive to his home in CO where she will be spending the summer. She's ready to come back to Austin NOW.
Once you no longer live with an alcoholic on a daily baises, you forget how very irritating they can be. And it seems, the older the alcoholic, the worse they are.
Tori's Dad (TD), forgot the pin number on his debit card a few weeks back and ordered a new debit card. He'd had his old one for years, but all of a sudden he has NO CLUE what the pin is.
TD's new debit card arrived in the mail the day before his flight to Austin, so he brought it along. He forgot to bring the letter with his new pin. So when he got off the plane he had less that $50 in cash to pay for gas and food until they get to CO. He convinced Tori that if they'd just stop by the bank they could get everything figured out.
Once they finally locate a branch of his bank, TD pulls out two debit cards from his wallet. He tells the clerk he doesn't care which one they get to work, he just needs one with a new pin on it. They take the card he gives them as the "new" debit card and finally program it. Although, they seem a little confused about the account.
When Tori and her dad reach a town between here and Brady, they stop to eat and TD starts digging around in his bag for something. She hears, "Oh, shit. What's this?"
It's his new debit card, complete with stickers and an 800 number to call to activate. In his bag, not his wallet. "Well, if this is my new card. What the hell did they put a new pin number on." After digging out his wallet, he realizes he gave them his copy of Tori's debit card.
Tori opened an account six years ago and had her dad listed so he could deposit money when he was able. It is her every-day account. Filled with only her money as he hadn't added anything in well over a year.
They go by an ATM and sure enough, Tori's pin to her own bank account is no longer accurate. And quess what, TD forgot the new pin. So they BOTH have no access to either of their accounts.
To add insult to injury . . .
When they get in Brady, Tori's grandfather gives her $300 to help with her books and stuff for next semester and her dad immediately starts spending it on beer. Every time he makes her take him to see a friend, because he can't drive and drink, he volunteers to buy more beer when they run out.
"I'll pay you back when we get in CO," he swears.
I wonder if he ever paid Bonnet back the money he borrowed from her?
Once you no longer live with an alcoholic on a daily baises, you forget how very irritating they can be. And it seems, the older the alcoholic, the worse they are.
Tori's Dad (TD), forgot the pin number on his debit card a few weeks back and ordered a new debit card. He'd had his old one for years, but all of a sudden he has NO CLUE what the pin is.
TD's new debit card arrived in the mail the day before his flight to Austin, so he brought it along. He forgot to bring the letter with his new pin. So when he got off the plane he had less that $50 in cash to pay for gas and food until they get to CO. He convinced Tori that if they'd just stop by the bank they could get everything figured out.
Once they finally locate a branch of his bank, TD pulls out two debit cards from his wallet. He tells the clerk he doesn't care which one they get to work, he just needs one with a new pin on it. They take the card he gives them as the "new" debit card and finally program it. Although, they seem a little confused about the account.
When Tori and her dad reach a town between here and Brady, they stop to eat and TD starts digging around in his bag for something. She hears, "Oh, shit. What's this?"
It's his new debit card, complete with stickers and an 800 number to call to activate. In his bag, not his wallet. "Well, if this is my new card. What the hell did they put a new pin number on." After digging out his wallet, he realizes he gave them his copy of Tori's debit card.
Tori opened an account six years ago and had her dad listed so he could deposit money when he was able. It is her every-day account. Filled with only her money as he hadn't added anything in well over a year.
They go by an ATM and sure enough, Tori's pin to her own bank account is no longer accurate. And quess what, TD forgot the new pin. So they BOTH have no access to either of their accounts.
To add insult to injury . . .
When they get in Brady, Tori's grandfather gives her $300 to help with her books and stuff for next semester and her dad immediately starts spending it on beer. Every time he makes her take him to see a friend, because he can't drive and drink, he volunteers to buy more beer when they run out.
"I'll pay you back when we get in CO," he swears.
I wonder if he ever paid Bonnet back the money he borrowed from her?
The spelling checker didn't find any problems.
I have suffered through my entire life as a person who can not spell.
I'm intelligent, creative, and EXTREMELY well read. Based upon that criteria alone, I should be able to spell with the best of them. But I can't. As a flaw, it is further encumbered by my choice of careers; which always seem to be in the publishing field.
You can't imagine how often I was picked at about my inability to spell by editors, proofers, or writers I've worked with. You've never had your boss suggest you send outgoing emails to the editorial department before sending them out. Never finished an outstanding layout for a new book cover only to have everyone laugh and talk about the misspelled word on the cover . . . for weeks.
The inability to spell has been the bane of my existence. And don't think I've not tried to do something about it, I have. I've read books on the subject, I use my spell checker, I've learned little tricks over the years for certain words. It's just not enough.
I finally learned to accept it as just part of who I am. I honestly think I'm a little dyslexic. I didn't grow up in an environment where anyone cared enough to test me, so I just stumbled through life. But even when I key, my letters and words get jumbled all the time. I've just adapted.
I have had to accept that while I can do many things as well as, or better, than others; spelling isn't one of them.
But when I do write an email, post, or letter and hit the spell check button, nothing makes me feel better than to see . . .
The spelling checker didn't find any problems.
I'm intelligent, creative, and EXTREMELY well read. Based upon that criteria alone, I should be able to spell with the best of them. But I can't. As a flaw, it is further encumbered by my choice of careers; which always seem to be in the publishing field.
You can't imagine how often I was picked at about my inability to spell by editors, proofers, or writers I've worked with. You've never had your boss suggest you send outgoing emails to the editorial department before sending them out. Never finished an outstanding layout for a new book cover only to have everyone laugh and talk about the misspelled word on the cover . . . for weeks.
The inability to spell has been the bane of my existence. And don't think I've not tried to do something about it, I have. I've read books on the subject, I use my spell checker, I've learned little tricks over the years for certain words. It's just not enough.
I finally learned to accept it as just part of who I am. I honestly think I'm a little dyslexic. I didn't grow up in an environment where anyone cared enough to test me, so I just stumbled through life. But even when I key, my letters and words get jumbled all the time. I've just adapted.
I have had to accept that while I can do many things as well as, or better, than others; spelling isn't one of them.
But when I do write an email, post, or letter and hit the spell check button, nothing makes me feel better than to see . . .
The spelling checker didn't find any problems.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
What Time is it?
I have an opportunity to experience life as few people ever will. Life without time.
To a huge degree, I do this most of the time. As a stay-at-home mom with a non-school age child, there really are few restrictions on my time. Will and I go to sleep and wake up when he wants -- not by any pre-set schedule.
We sort of float through our days.
The only thing we have to be aware of is that Steve gets off work at 4:00; so I need to have my shopping/errands run by then. I need to have some idea of what we'll have for supper. After Steve gets home, everything is about getting ready for Steve to go to bed at 9:00. We eat, get clean, prepare for bed, so the house can sort of close down around 9:00.
Will is usually still up and running around for another two to three hours. I'm usually up for another four or five hours. But then, what does it matter? Time is irrrelivant.
Other than having to get up incredibly early this morning, the day has been without time constraints at all. We ate when we were hungry. Napped when we felt like it. I realized today that even the small scheduling I do on a daily baises most of the time is lifted. There is no be home by 4:00 or be ready for bed by 9:00 without Steve here.
Being near a city makes it even easier to loose sight of time; I can run out and get food, groceries, gas, a movie; anything I want, any time of the day.
Not once in the next week, will I need to be concerned at all about what time of the day it is.
It's a little frightening actually.
Sort of like the saying, "If no one is in the forest to hear a tree fall, does it make a sound?"
If you don't have to be anywhere or do anything at a specific time, does anyone notice when you show up?
To a huge degree, I do this most of the time. As a stay-at-home mom with a non-school age child, there really are few restrictions on my time. Will and I go to sleep and wake up when he wants -- not by any pre-set schedule.
We sort of float through our days.
The only thing we have to be aware of is that Steve gets off work at 4:00; so I need to have my shopping/errands run by then. I need to have some idea of what we'll have for supper. After Steve gets home, everything is about getting ready for Steve to go to bed at 9:00. We eat, get clean, prepare for bed, so the house can sort of close down around 9:00.
Will is usually still up and running around for another two to three hours. I'm usually up for another four or five hours. But then, what does it matter? Time is irrrelivant.
Other than having to get up incredibly early this morning, the day has been without time constraints at all. We ate when we were hungry. Napped when we felt like it. I realized today that even the small scheduling I do on a daily baises most of the time is lifted. There is no be home by 4:00 or be ready for bed by 9:00 without Steve here.
Being near a city makes it even easier to loose sight of time; I can run out and get food, groceries, gas, a movie; anything I want, any time of the day.
Not once in the next week, will I need to be concerned at all about what time of the day it is.
It's a little frightening actually.
Sort of like the saying, "If no one is in the forest to hear a tree fall, does it make a sound?"
If you don't have to be anywhere or do anything at a specific time, does anyone notice when you show up?
And then there were two . . .
Although Tori lives fifteen-twenty miles away, I still see her at least once a week. But this last week I saw a lot of her. She decided to spend her summer in CO with her dad and Bonnet, so she gave up her apartment and moved everything home for the two-three months she will be gone. I saw her most of the day, every day this week.
She left for CO today.
Will and I took Steve to the SA airport early this morning as well.
So after a week of a house filled with family, it is now just Will and I.
She left for CO today.
Will and I took Steve to the SA airport early this morning as well.
So after a week of a house filled with family, it is now just Will and I.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
A Comfortable Anniversary
Today was our twelve anniversary. We went out for a nice set down breakfast (if you have toddlers you know how rare these can be), went bowling, and just stayed home and relaxed the rest of the day. Watched the conclusion to Survivor.
Steve asked me several times what I wanted to do. I'd tell him it was both our anniversaries and ask him what he wanted to do. His response was, "Oh, no. My job is to do what you want to do."
Oddly, it wasn't me that taught him that. I don't know where he gets his weird ideas on how men are suppose to treat their wives . . . but I like them.
I can't explain adequately how enjoyable and relaxing our day was, without comparing it to anniversaries of my past. Way past.
The Past
I was married to the girls father for ten years. And to be fair, I don't know if it was the dynamics of that marriage or my age that contributed to the differences in anniversaries.
First, they were HUGELY important. I would spend hundreds just getting pampered for my anniversary; hair dye and style, makeup, tanning, fake nails. I would spend more on the perfect outfit to wear out: something slinky that didn't say "Momma" when I put it on. Oh, and it had to have matching shoes and accessories.
There had to be plans: a drive to the city, dinner in a nice restaurant, dancing, lots of alcohol. Actually, every thing in those years required lost of alcohol. And I would INSIST upon my husband dressing up and going along with everything I wanted. Which was HUGE. I am not, nor have I ever been, the "insist" kind of wife.
And every year I was disappointed. It didn't matter how hard I tried, what I wore, what we did or ate, where we went . . . it just never filled the "need" I had that always popped up around my anniversary.
The Present
Steve and I are so relaxed and casual about our anniversaries that last year we actually forgot it. Bot of us, totally forgot it. It was about a week past our anniversary when we were looking at the calendar for something and went, "Oh no, we didn't!" But we did. We just laughed. You hear or husbands forgetting their anniversary date occasionally. But how often have you heard of both parties forgetting it the same year?
Our marriage isn't flashy or exciting. We're not sexy or rich. We are just normal people who care and support each other in a hundred small ways every day. We allow each other to be who they really are and enjoy the oddities that make them unique. We're not perfect by any means, as people or as a relationship. But we've learned to adapt, ignore, and work around most of our differences.
I don't know if it's the level of trust in our relationship, acceptance within ourselves, or peace within our home lives that allows our anniversary to so comfortably pass.
But for whatever reason, I much prefer today to the lavish and expensive anniversaries of my past.
I sit here relaxed and happy, looking forward to many more anniversaries in the future. Including a few "missed" ones as well.
Steve asked me several times what I wanted to do. I'd tell him it was both our anniversaries and ask him what he wanted to do. His response was, "Oh, no. My job is to do what you want to do."
Oddly, it wasn't me that taught him that. I don't know where he gets his weird ideas on how men are suppose to treat their wives . . . but I like them.
I can't explain adequately how enjoyable and relaxing our day was, without comparing it to anniversaries of my past. Way past.
The Past
I was married to the girls father for ten years. And to be fair, I don't know if it was the dynamics of that marriage or my age that contributed to the differences in anniversaries.
First, they were HUGELY important. I would spend hundreds just getting pampered for my anniversary; hair dye and style, makeup, tanning, fake nails. I would spend more on the perfect outfit to wear out: something slinky that didn't say "Momma" when I put it on. Oh, and it had to have matching shoes and accessories.
There had to be plans: a drive to the city, dinner in a nice restaurant, dancing, lots of alcohol. Actually, every thing in those years required lost of alcohol. And I would INSIST upon my husband dressing up and going along with everything I wanted. Which was HUGE. I am not, nor have I ever been, the "insist" kind of wife.
And every year I was disappointed. It didn't matter how hard I tried, what I wore, what we did or ate, where we went . . . it just never filled the "need" I had that always popped up around my anniversary.
The Present
Steve and I are so relaxed and casual about our anniversaries that last year we actually forgot it. Bot of us, totally forgot it. It was about a week past our anniversary when we were looking at the calendar for something and went, "Oh no, we didn't!" But we did. We just laughed. You hear or husbands forgetting their anniversary date occasionally. But how often have you heard of both parties forgetting it the same year?
Our marriage isn't flashy or exciting. We're not sexy or rich. We are just normal people who care and support each other in a hundred small ways every day. We allow each other to be who they really are and enjoy the oddities that make them unique. We're not perfect by any means, as people or as a relationship. But we've learned to adapt, ignore, and work around most of our differences.
I don't know if it's the level of trust in our relationship, acceptance within ourselves, or peace within our home lives that allows our anniversary to so comfortably pass.
But for whatever reason, I much prefer today to the lavish and expensive anniversaries of my past.
I sit here relaxed and happy, looking forward to many more anniversaries in the future. Including a few "missed" ones as well.
Friday, May 15, 2009
And the extended family gets smaller
In the last week, two members of our extended family have passed away.
First, Steve lost his Uncle Bill last Monday. I can count on my hands how many times I actually met or interacted with Bill. He lived in ND, and as we live in TX, we didn't have a lot of chances to get better acquainted.
While I never had a real opportunity to knew him, it was easy to see the love he and Steve felt for each other. It was easy to tell he was greatly responsible for Steve's love of teasing and warped sense of humor.
Our Will, was actually named after Uncle Bill -- who was really a William. I had no good father figures from my childhood to name a boy after and Steve fought hard for William. I've never regretted it.
Our second loss this week, was my brother Jessy's father-in-law. Jessy and his wife have been married 20 years. Her father died of a heart attack while driving, which lead to a head-on collision with a friend of his -- who is also in the hospital.
While both of these deaths will more greatly impact other family members, I can not let them pass without acknowledgement.
My thoughts are with you all and your heart aches not alone.
First, Steve lost his Uncle Bill last Monday. I can count on my hands how many times I actually met or interacted with Bill. He lived in ND, and as we live in TX, we didn't have a lot of chances to get better acquainted.
While I never had a real opportunity to knew him, it was easy to see the love he and Steve felt for each other. It was easy to tell he was greatly responsible for Steve's love of teasing and warped sense of humor.
Our Will, was actually named after Uncle Bill -- who was really a William. I had no good father figures from my childhood to name a boy after and Steve fought hard for William. I've never regretted it.
Our second loss this week, was my brother Jessy's father-in-law. Jessy and his wife have been married 20 years. Her father died of a heart attack while driving, which lead to a head-on collision with a friend of his -- who is also in the hospital.
While both of these deaths will more greatly impact other family members, I can not let them pass without acknowledgement.
My thoughts are with you all and your heart aches not alone.
Jesus is a My-ō-gata
A few days ago, Will was playing with his toys and I heard him say, "Jeeesuuus!"
Yes, it was exactly "that" tone of voice.
Now, we're not religious in our home. We don't go to church. We don't read the bible or watch preachers on TV. I honestly have never heard the word Jesus even mentioned in our home.
On top of that, Will is never anywhere that I am not. Well, except for the hour a day he spends at the YMCAs day care. Where, apparently, someone says "Jeeesuuuus!" enough to impress it upon my 4-year old.
"Do you even know who Jesus is?" I ask him.
"Yeah," he responds, "Jesus is a My-ō-gata."
I just smiled.
Will has this vocabulary of words he reuses constantly. Mostly when playing with power ranger action figures, transformers, or when he just forgets what he's going to say. But unlike normal children who's make believe friend is named Kathy, Todd, Mark, or Dog . . . my son tends to be a little paranormal in his name choices.
Some of his favorite play names include:
And several more. Of coarse, they are most likely misspelled. Because my son prefers making up his own words to learning the ABCs. In fact, if you ask Will to sing the ABCs, the first thing he'll ask is, "My ABCs?"
What the unsuspecting adult will not understand and he actually has his own ABCs, and they go something like this . . .
A,EWE,3,TA,F,7,9,PU,O,R,B,2,PE . . . and they never end.
I'm a little in awe of his imagination. I wrote a paranormal book and my characters are Luke, Jacob, and Cindy. Next time I think I'll have Will name them.
Yes, it was exactly "that" tone of voice.
Now, we're not religious in our home. We don't go to church. We don't read the bible or watch preachers on TV. I honestly have never heard the word Jesus even mentioned in our home.
On top of that, Will is never anywhere that I am not. Well, except for the hour a day he spends at the YMCAs day care. Where, apparently, someone says "Jeeesuuuus!" enough to impress it upon my 4-year old.
"Do you even know who Jesus is?" I ask him.
"Yeah," he responds, "Jesus is a My-ō-gata."
I just smiled.
Will has this vocabulary of words he reuses constantly. Mostly when playing with power ranger action figures, transformers, or when he just forgets what he's going to say. But unlike normal children who's make believe friend is named Kathy, Todd, Mark, or Dog . . . my son tends to be a little paranormal in his name choices.
Some of his favorite play names include:
- My-ō-gata
- Te-Te-Hi-Du
- Mu-Ne-Ta-Ne
- Gue-La-Te-Te
And several more. Of coarse, they are most likely misspelled. Because my son prefers making up his own words to learning the ABCs. In fact, if you ask Will to sing the ABCs, the first thing he'll ask is, "My ABCs?"
What the unsuspecting adult will not understand and he actually has his own ABCs, and they go something like this . . .
A,EWE,3,TA,F,7,9,PU,O,R,B,2,PE . . . and they never end.
I'm a little in awe of his imagination. I wrote a paranormal book and my characters are Luke, Jacob, and Cindy. Next time I think I'll have Will name them.
And in 6 weeks, I'll be . . .
So I have completed one week at the YMCA.
The first day I went, I only did one set of 10 reps on each muscle working machine (there are about 10 of them). I had to use only the non-hand moving stepper and walk relatively slow to keep my heart rate in acceptable rate. I didn't have the energy to do my "warm down" or stretches after working out.
A week later, I did 15-20 reps on each machine. I used the skier (with active arm movements), still kind of slow. I "warmed down" and spent five minutes on the stretcher afterwards. Oh, and I've lost 5 pounds in the last week. Considering I can feel the muscel regernation, I am pretty excited about it.
On the way to the car, I got to thinking . . .
If I loose five pounds a week for six weeks, I'll . . .
Still be fat.
Guess I better think longer term.
The first day I went, I only did one set of 10 reps on each muscle working machine (there are about 10 of them). I had to use only the non-hand moving stepper and walk relatively slow to keep my heart rate in acceptable rate. I didn't have the energy to do my "warm down" or stretches after working out.
A week later, I did 15-20 reps on each machine. I used the skier (with active arm movements), still kind of slow. I "warmed down" and spent five minutes on the stretcher afterwards. Oh, and I've lost 5 pounds in the last week. Considering I can feel the muscel regernation, I am pretty excited about it.
On the way to the car, I got to thinking . . .
If I loose five pounds a week for six weeks, I'll . . .
Still be fat.
Guess I better think longer term.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Best Card Received TodaySaid the Momma Manta Ray
Bonnet purchased and over nighted my mothers-day card to me this year. She sent it to Tori, who signed and hand delivered it this morning. Right before she took us all to breakfast. The card is huge and very colorful. Knowing Bonnet's sense of humour, I have to wonder if she wrote the song. We wish you happy mother's day
we love you lots today.
Well, we love you every day,
but even more today!
We love you more than hay,
more than a fish fillet,
more than a double latte,
or a big ol' manta ray!
Are we annoying you?
That's what we're s'posed to do!
Our song is almost through...
in fact, it's done.
Here is a video of the card, for sound purposes only.
Saturday, May 9, 2009
What my Mother will be getting me for Mother's Day
I know, normally a person gives their mother a gift on Mother's day. In fact, every time I've been near a store the last week I've seen people seemingly overwhelmed with having to pick out their mom a gift. At least four people, during one trip to Walmart, ACTUALLY were walking around with those feet messaging pillows going, "Do you think she'll like these?"
You'll never know how close I come to saying, "No, idiot!"
Every time I've logged online the last week I've been bombarded with advertisements for Mother's Day gifts. And it wasn't to many years ago that I would have AT LEAST purchased cards for my mother, mother-in-law, ex-mother-in-laws, grandmother-in-laws, ex-grandmother-in-laws, and sisters. But that time has passed.
Somewhere between 38 and 42 I lost Pollyanna. You know her: miss "positive", little miss "sun shine", old "the sun will come out tomorrow" . . . oops, wrong person. I use to honestly PURSUE the belief that life was good and fair and than everyone wanted only good things for you.
Oh, I'm not all miss dark and negative . . . I'm just sort of "miss".
As mother's day approaches, I've paid it little to no thought at all. It's just another day. I have one daughter in CO that I've only seen once in 8 months, one that I probably will not see tomorrow, a 4-year old that is to young to understand a holiday, a sick husband, ex-in-laws that have finally become EX, and a mother I've only seen for about half an hour at my sisters funeral last winter (and that was 1/2 an hour to long).
While I have not given "my" mother's day much thought, I have been thinking about my mother. And I realize that the last few years without interacting with her have been a great blessing. So I started compiling a list of the things my mother has given me by being absent from my life, her gift to me these last few years.
So, my mother's day gift to me from my mom, will be peace. The ability to enjoy my day without the constant struggle of her in it.
Thanks mom! You're the greatest!
You'll never know how close I come to saying, "No, idiot!"
Every time I've logged online the last week I've been bombarded with advertisements for Mother's Day gifts. And it wasn't to many years ago that I would have AT LEAST purchased cards for my mother, mother-in-law, ex-mother-in-laws, grandmother-in-laws, ex-grandmother-in-laws, and sisters. But that time has passed.
Somewhere between 38 and 42 I lost Pollyanna. You know her: miss "positive", little miss "sun shine", old "the sun will come out tomorrow" . . . oops, wrong person. I use to honestly PURSUE the belief that life was good and fair and than everyone wanted only good things for you.
Oh, I'm not all miss dark and negative . . . I'm just sort of "miss".
As mother's day approaches, I've paid it little to no thought at all. It's just another day. I have one daughter in CO that I've only seen once in 8 months, one that I probably will not see tomorrow, a 4-year old that is to young to understand a holiday, a sick husband, ex-in-laws that have finally become EX, and a mother I've only seen for about half an hour at my sisters funeral last winter (and that was 1/2 an hour to long).
While I have not given "my" mother's day much thought, I have been thinking about my mother. And I realize that the last few years without interacting with her have been a great blessing. So I started compiling a list of the things my mother has given me by being absent from my life, her gift to me these last few years.
- I do not have to fear each phone call will be a plea for money or a desperate bid for attention
- I do not have to fear each knock at the door will be my mother coming to live with me PERMENATLY
- I do not have to pick out the gift hardest for her to gripe about once I leave town (and easiest for her to return)
- I don't have to visit her with my ugly white son she can't stand to touch
- I don't have to listen to her bad mouth my husband who is working his ass off to fix her house because he quit a better paying job and she could have used the money
- I don't have to worry about ever taking my son to the nut house to visit his grandmother
- I don't have to sent every spare penny we can scape together to her to get her perscriptions filled (a.k.a., a new tv for the bedroom)
- I don't have to worry about getting letters in the mail that might be nice, but most likely will rip you to shreads as surely as if she'd taken a belt to your back
- I don't have to worry about her killing my daughter off because she's convinces she's gay
- I don't have to worry about how I'll talk Steve into driving up and working on her house, car, yard ONE MORE TIME
So, my mother's day gift to me from my mom, will be peace. The ability to enjoy my day without the constant struggle of her in it.
Thanks mom! You're the greatest!
Friday, May 8, 2009
He Ought to Write for Hallmark
Every evening, before he is sent to bed, Will helps Steve "make the bed". Which is really just an excuse for the two of them to wrestle. Tonight, I joined in and at one point Steve wrapped his arms around Will and I and declared us a sandwich. Will was the cheese.
Will hates to be called anything but a boy or "will", so he immediately started arguing. Once he had us straightened out he proceeded to inform us that I (aka, Momma) was not bread either.
According to my loving four year old, I'm a big huge girl.
Out of the mouths of babes.
Will hates to be called anything but a boy or "will", so he immediately started arguing. Once he had us straightened out he proceeded to inform us that I (aka, Momma) was not bread either.
According to my loving four year old, I'm a big huge girl.
Out of the mouths of babes.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
E-books
As an avid reader and a pretty computer literate person, you would think e-books would be like the mother ship to me. But they're not.
In a basic principle kind of way, I am opposed to another step the world is taking in isolating us from each other. If all books were ebooks, you wouldn't need to go to the book store or libary. There would be no story times. No family bibles that have been handed down from generation to generation.
I know, you are wondering if you are at the right blog.
But the easier to explain reason I don't care for ebooks is that you have to use a computer of some sort to access them. As someone who spends an average of 4-6 hours a day on a computer (filling orders, ansering questions, or writing), I don't find it comforting to "read" for enjoying on it.
Not earth shattering news. Just an interesting twist of fate I thought of today.
In a basic principle kind of way, I am opposed to another step the world is taking in isolating us from each other. If all books were ebooks, you wouldn't need to go to the book store or libary. There would be no story times. No family bibles that have been handed down from generation to generation.
I know, you are wondering if you are at the right blog.
But the easier to explain reason I don't care for ebooks is that you have to use a computer of some sort to access them. As someone who spends an average of 4-6 hours a day on a computer (filling orders, ansering questions, or writing), I don't find it comforting to "read" for enjoying on it.
Not earth shattering news. Just an interesting twist of fate I thought of today.
First day at the gym
It wasn't as bad as I expected, though I am still waiting for the shoe to drop. In my case, it will be the leg cramps that hit me in the middle of the night.
We got to gym about 10:30 this morning and it took 15 minutes to sign up and get my card. I dropped Will off at the Little Gym and headed into the gym area. I spent half an hour on various machines working out my back, tummy, and arms. Then did a 45 minute program on a stepper/glider type thing.
Considering a 1/2 mile walk last Wednesday evening kept me up all night with leg cramps, I took it very easy. I used low weight counts and only did one set of reps on the machines. I kept the incline low and watched my blood pressure like a hawk.
After I finished working out and collected Will, we changed and played in the indoor pool for about 1/2 an hour.
He had a BLAST and wants to go back every day. He got to play with children for 1-1/2 hours and go swimming; what's not to love?
I was exhausted this afternoon and actually kept trying to take a nap, which Will was determined I would not be doing. But I had more energy this evening and felt happier with myself.
Now, lets just hope I'm up to it again tomorrow.
We got to gym about 10:30 this morning and it took 15 minutes to sign up and get my card. I dropped Will off at the Little Gym and headed into the gym area. I spent half an hour on various machines working out my back, tummy, and arms. Then did a 45 minute program on a stepper/glider type thing.
Considering a 1/2 mile walk last Wednesday evening kept me up all night with leg cramps, I took it very easy. I used low weight counts and only did one set of reps on the machines. I kept the incline low and watched my blood pressure like a hawk.
After I finished working out and collected Will, we changed and played in the indoor pool for about 1/2 an hour.
He had a BLAST and wants to go back every day. He got to play with children for 1-1/2 hours and go swimming; what's not to love?
I was exhausted this afternoon and actually kept trying to take a nap, which Will was determined I would not be doing. But I had more energy this evening and felt happier with myself.
Now, lets just hope I'm up to it again tomorrow.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
My Sister from Another Mother
I was raised as the oldest of five children. My mother did give birth to a boy that would be about 1-1/2 years younger than me, but he was put up for adoption. She married Ernest and gave birth to the siblings I was raised with. Although, technically they are my half-brothers and sisters, I've never felt that way about them.
As the oldest, I was there when they were born. Aware they were expected before their birth. I watched them learn to crawl, walk, talk, ride a bike. I got to feed them, clean up after them, and watch them -- a lot. What part of that sounds like I was ever only half their sister?
I was born illegitimate, which luckily is not a big of an issue these days as it was forty years ago. My father was in the process of divorcing his wife, or not, who really knows. But by the time of my birth, he was a single man. He left his wife and two children and went to Vietnam when I was about three months old. He died before I was six months old.
My mother -- whose sanity is questionable 70% of the time -- told me his parents came by to tell her of his death and tried to talk her into giving me up. Whether they did or not, I can never remember any interaction with them.
When I was about 13, I took all the information mom had given me and searched for my paternal grandparents. I found them living less than two hours away from me. I started writing them letters and we shared correspondence for about three months. Then I talked an aunt of mine into taking me by to see them. I truthfully remember very little about them. They were very sweet. The biggest thing I remember was there was a photo of a girl on their mantel. The girl was really close to my age and she LOOKED JUST LIKE ME.
You have to realize that I spent my entire life looking like no one. Never quite feeling like I fit in or belonged anywhere. It was amazing to know that not only did I have the blood of these nice NORMAL people in my veins, but that I looked just like someone. I thought the photo was of a cousin of mine or something. When I returned home after my visit my stepfather confronted me about contacting the other side of my family. He burned my only photo of my father I had, all my letters from my grandparents, slapped me around, and told me that if I ever contacted them again he'd throw me out on the street.
I never contacted them again. I left home at 15 and moved to the very city they lived in . . . and I never contacted them. Part of it was I didn't believe that I belonged in a normal family. But a part of it was that I had received what I needed from their letters, the visit, the photo. I didn't NEED them like I had earlier.
In my mid thirties, I got interested in setting up my genealogy. I was working for a company that had the feast or famine way of doing business. I would work 12-14 hours days, 6 or 7 days a week for a few weeks. Then I would play games on my computer 8 hours a day, 5 days a week. Working on my genealogy was the perfect antidote.
During the time I was working on it, I became familiar with how to search for people and what public records you could access. I found my father's death certificate, which led me to his divorce certificate. I found his wife's name, the name of two children they had together, and their address at the time -- in Alabama.
I do a global search for all Terry Collin's (my half-brother's name) in Alabama, not really expecting to get a hit. I email all of them with email addresses, no hit. Then I mail out a standard form letter to all the other ones. I get an email a week later from my brother Terry. We wrote, talked on the phone, Steve even took me up to meet him sometime that first year. It was awesome.
Since then, he's started a new carrer where he moves around a bunch. I've only seen him one more time. But I like him. I know he's out there.
Within 24-hours of meeting Terry, his sister Laura called me on the phone. She's two years older than me, Terry is 4. That in it's self is a hoot; I've gone from being the oldest of siblings to being stuck in the middle. She phoned a lot for the first month or so, sent cool gifts for the girls. Then she sort of disappeared. I've never met her, although she lives in LA -- not that far away.
She's married and has two girls. At least one of which is now old enough to have supplied her with grand babies. :) She's also the girl that was in the photo; the one that looks just like me.
In fact, every time I've met Terry, he always points out how much we look alike. He was in Austin last year and stopped by. During his visit I said something about having never seen Laura, and his response was, "Sure you have. Look in the mirror." Brothers!
Any hoot . . .
Laura emailed me to let me know her family is vacationing in Arlington the end of this month. They will be there for three days. She wanted to know if I could drive up to meet them. As luck would have it, my sister Byjo lives in Benbrook, which is only about 30 minutes from Arlington. I've been hoping to make it up to see Byjo for months -- but I was waiting for her other company to move out. lol
So, it's set. At almost 43, I will meet my older sister for the first time in my life. The one person who looks just like me.
My sister from another mother.
As the oldest, I was there when they were born. Aware they were expected before their birth. I watched them learn to crawl, walk, talk, ride a bike. I got to feed them, clean up after them, and watch them -- a lot. What part of that sounds like I was ever only half their sister?
I was born illegitimate, which luckily is not a big of an issue these days as it was forty years ago. My father was in the process of divorcing his wife, or not, who really knows. But by the time of my birth, he was a single man. He left his wife and two children and went to Vietnam when I was about three months old. He died before I was six months old.
My mother -- whose sanity is questionable 70% of the time -- told me his parents came by to tell her of his death and tried to talk her into giving me up. Whether they did or not, I can never remember any interaction with them.
When I was about 13, I took all the information mom had given me and searched for my paternal grandparents. I found them living less than two hours away from me. I started writing them letters and we shared correspondence for about three months. Then I talked an aunt of mine into taking me by to see them. I truthfully remember very little about them. They were very sweet. The biggest thing I remember was there was a photo of a girl on their mantel. The girl was really close to my age and she LOOKED JUST LIKE ME.
You have to realize that I spent my entire life looking like no one. Never quite feeling like I fit in or belonged anywhere. It was amazing to know that not only did I have the blood of these nice NORMAL people in my veins, but that I looked just like someone. I thought the photo was of a cousin of mine or something. When I returned home after my visit my stepfather confronted me about contacting the other side of my family. He burned my only photo of my father I had, all my letters from my grandparents, slapped me around, and told me that if I ever contacted them again he'd throw me out on the street.
I never contacted them again. I left home at 15 and moved to the very city they lived in . . . and I never contacted them. Part of it was I didn't believe that I belonged in a normal family. But a part of it was that I had received what I needed from their letters, the visit, the photo. I didn't NEED them like I had earlier.
In my mid thirties, I got interested in setting up my genealogy. I was working for a company that had the feast or famine way of doing business. I would work 12-14 hours days, 6 or 7 days a week for a few weeks. Then I would play games on my computer 8 hours a day, 5 days a week. Working on my genealogy was the perfect antidote.
During the time I was working on it, I became familiar with how to search for people and what public records you could access. I found my father's death certificate, which led me to his divorce certificate. I found his wife's name, the name of two children they had together, and their address at the time -- in Alabama.
I do a global search for all Terry Collin's (my half-brother's name) in Alabama, not really expecting to get a hit. I email all of them with email addresses, no hit. Then I mail out a standard form letter to all the other ones. I get an email a week later from my brother Terry. We wrote, talked on the phone, Steve even took me up to meet him sometime that first year. It was awesome.
Since then, he's started a new carrer where he moves around a bunch. I've only seen him one more time. But I like him. I know he's out there.
Within 24-hours of meeting Terry, his sister Laura called me on the phone. She's two years older than me, Terry is 4. That in it's self is a hoot; I've gone from being the oldest of siblings to being stuck in the middle. She phoned a lot for the first month or so, sent cool gifts for the girls. Then she sort of disappeared. I've never met her, although she lives in LA -- not that far away.
She's married and has two girls. At least one of which is now old enough to have supplied her with grand babies. :) She's also the girl that was in the photo; the one that looks just like me.
In fact, every time I've met Terry, he always points out how much we look alike. He was in Austin last year and stopped by. During his visit I said something about having never seen Laura, and his response was, "Sure you have. Look in the mirror." Brothers!
Any hoot . . .
Laura emailed me to let me know her family is vacationing in Arlington the end of this month. They will be there for three days. She wanted to know if I could drive up to meet them. As luck would have it, my sister Byjo lives in Benbrook, which is only about 30 minutes from Arlington. I've been hoping to make it up to see Byjo for months -- but I was waiting for her other company to move out. lol
So, it's set. At almost 43, I will meet my older sister for the first time in my life. The one person who looks just like me.
My sister from another mother.
D-Day
So, it's come to this. I've finally had to admit failure and face D-day.
All of my life I've waged a war on weight. It wasn't to bad when I was in my twenties and had young active children. It wasn't horrible in my thirties; as my children were to old to confine me and I was very active.
But the forties . . .
The forties have not been good to me weight wise. I spent several years pretty depressed, then my sister killed herself. From my 40th birthday until the end of October of last year I had probably gained 10 pounds. 10 pounds in 2-1/2 years. Not good.
Since my sisters death the end of October (a little over 6 months) I've gained another 20 pounds. That tends to make the previous weight gain seem small in comparison. For the first time in my life, my weight is so high that it's having a negative impact on the quality of my life.
And that is just the stuff I can think of right now.
So the time has come to "do" something. I can't ignore it any longer. I can't expect other's to help me out. I can't depend on myself, or Steve, to motivate me to exercise.
So tomorrow is D-day. It's D day I get off my fat ass and join the local YMCA.
Yes, I am very excited about forcing my jiggling and bouncing excessive flesh into work out close that are to small. Then huffing and puffing next to a size 2 Barbie doll that has the gall to wear makeup to the gym and spend the entire work out on her cell phone.
And while I am sharing with you my battle with the bulge, I will not be sharing any photos of it. Which oddly enough, I found several large women who DID document with photos their weight loss. Just so you don't feel left out, I'm posting one below.
No, it's not me. I would never be caught dead in that much pink and she has really cute hair.
All of my life I've waged a war on weight. It wasn't to bad when I was in my twenties and had young active children. It wasn't horrible in my thirties; as my children were to old to confine me and I was very active.
But the forties . . .
The forties have not been good to me weight wise. I spent several years pretty depressed, then my sister killed herself. From my 40th birthday until the end of October of last year I had probably gained 10 pounds. 10 pounds in 2-1/2 years. Not good.
Since my sisters death the end of October (a little over 6 months) I've gained another 20 pounds. That tends to make the previous weight gain seem small in comparison. For the first time in my life, my weight is so high that it's having a negative impact on the quality of my life.
When laying flat on my back, I have trouble breathing.
When I go to long without eating, I get sick.
I can hardly walk a mile and that at a pace so slow it doesn't count.
I can not STAND any heat or getting overexerted; I'll get sick.
My knees and joints ache.
And that is just the stuff I can think of right now.
So the time has come to "do" something. I can't ignore it any longer. I can't expect other's to help me out. I can't depend on myself, or Steve, to motivate me to exercise.
So tomorrow is D-day. It's D day I get off my fat ass and join the local YMCA.
Yes, I am very excited about forcing my jiggling and bouncing excessive flesh into work out close that are to small. Then huffing and puffing next to a size 2 Barbie doll that has the gall to wear makeup to the gym and spend the entire work out on her cell phone.
And while I am sharing with you my battle with the bulge, I will not be sharing any photos of it. Which oddly enough, I found several large women who DID document with photos their weight loss. Just so you don't feel left out, I'm posting one below.
No, it's not me. I would never be caught dead in that much pink and she has really cute hair.
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