I can't believe I drank the entire thing!

Like many of you, I often fall victium to an impulse buy while waiting in line at the check out counter. For me, it is always a magazine - shocker, I know. With my love of crafts, herbs, and relationship trivia, there is no end to the temptation that magazines pose.

Two of my favorite are Women's World and First. Both magazines have diet information, recipes, crafts, relationship information and run under $2 each. What can I say, I'm a cheap date.

The last time I picked up a magazine was when Bonnet was visiting and I purchased a copy of Women's World for the decorative cupcake ideas for Valentines. Bonnet was reading it later that evening and pointed out an article that declared you could lose inches from your waist without exercise or chaning your diet. All you had to do was injest Safflower Oil on a dialy baises. Their test group of women lost an average of 2-4 inches in a WEEK.

Safflower Oil is avaiable at the grocery store for less than $4 a bottle and you only have to take 2 teaspoons a day, so I thought what the hell. I tried it.

I jotted down my measurements before starting to take it. I took it three days before my trip to the coast. Didn't take it for the next four days, so when I got back I started it again. Only this time I forgot it was teaspoons and ended up taking 2 tablespoons each night for nearly two weeks.

I didn't loose any inches around my waist, or anywhere else I can find.

Suprisingly, I didn't gain any either.

It might have been that my test period was during the most heavily eatting time of the year. Or, maybe those two weeks of triple the amount I was suppose to take was at fault.

Or, and here is a wild idea, I shouldn't take health advice from an article in a $1.99 magazine.

Gooey Fingers

As far as I'm concerned, there aren't to many things I like better than a cool evening and sitting around a camp fire in the back yard. Yeah, I'm a little more country than most but I like my comfort too. Plus the ability to go inside any time I want.

I also like roasting things on camp fires; franks, sausage, marshmallows. I love roasting marshmallows, but I don't like eating them. Most of my life I've roasted them, blew the fire out, and pitched them into a convenient bush. Tonight that all changed.

As it happens Will loves to roast marshmallows AND eat them. I know, he's odd. But what can you do? What he doesn't like to do is pull them off the stick when they are hot, so that became my job.

He'd burn the marshmallows, nearly hyperventilate blowing out the flames, and then poke the stick my direction to pull off the crispy melted goo. Assuming he would not like all the crisp burn stuff, cause I sure don't, I would slide that off the marshmallow and feed him the gooey warm center.

The problem was the build up of goo on my fingers. I wasn't liking off my fingers each time and I had no towel or rag to wipe them on. By the eighth or ninth marshmallow I was getting desperate. While I had only been using one hand, the sticky mess was at least 1/4 inch deep on each finger tip - until about an inch down each digit.

I tried to pull the goo from my fingers with the other hand. Now I have two gooey fingers. I picked up a stick to try to pry the goo off. It broke into little pieces that stuck to my fingers. I tried to sling the goo and stick pieces from my hands behind me and hit Rocky with both hands. Now I have dog hair covering the gooey sticks.

Just wanting the ever growing trash site on my hands gone, I bend over and smear my hands in the dirty. Hoping it will work as an abrasive and help get the goo off. Nope. Now their covered in dirt.

Before I got desperate enough to try sticking both hands in the fire Steve walks up with a wet rag and dry towel.

I glance over at the back of the house less than 50 feet away.

After cleaning off my hands, Will brings me another burnt offering. Not wanting a repeat, I feed him the entire thing - burnt crispy outer and warm gooey center.

He loved it.

And a hint of poo

This afternoon I went out to enjoy the warm day. It was in the mid 70s here. While outside, I decided to trim up my dogs - which is a nasty and stinky job.

My plan, all along, had been to finish up with the dogs and go in and take an early shower. Well . . .

Steve came home and ran in to take a leak. Since it took him quite a while to come back out I figured he something must have come up. (giggle) When finished with the dogs I went back into the house and washed my hands in the kitchen sink. I walked towards the bathroom but the odor prevented me from getting closer than 15 feet to the door.

For no apparent reason, other than I'm old, female, and crotchety, I was pissed at Steve for making it impossible for me to take a shower. A shower he had no way of knowing I was planning on taking.

I grumbled, complained. and went to play on the computer. He came in a few moments later and tells me its all better. The bathroom smells of burnt match, candles, and a hint of poo. His phrasing tickled my funny bone and I had to reply, "Sounds like my life. Everything is great with a slight hint of poo."

Odd, how some things once said never go away.

All evening we've been picking at each other. Coming up with new ways to use the phrase "hint of poo", to describe out lives in ways that end with "a hint of poo".

A Good Weekend

Steve surprised me last week by telling me he was taking Will with him on his weekend to the country. Rex, a friend of Steve's, drags my hubby out to his father's place every couple of months. Usually it's just the men and there is handyman work and shooting involved. This weekend they took the boys with them.

I had from Friday evening around 7:00 until Sunday around 6:00 all to myself.

It was GREAT!

Well, it was great for me. You probably would have been bored to death.

Friday evening I went to Borders and literally looked at the title of every book in the Romance section. Picked a few out and scanned the backs even -- yeah, who's the man now? I bought a couple. Then I made a stop for supper; cheesecake.

Saturday I met my friend Charlene for breakfast at a favorite place of ours to eat. Then we came back to my house for a few hours of scrapbooking. The excitement just never ends. We drove into North Austin for a scrapbooking sale at Joann's then stopped in at the Mongolian BBQ - which Charlene had never been to. Then home for more scrapbooking. I finished my wedding album that I've been working on for over a year and a half. Yippee! We ended the evening with a visit to Starbucks - which I was unfamiliar with. Charlene ordered me something Carmel, hot, and decadent - and desert. We set in the empty storefront and watched traffic, discussed our facebook addictions.

When I got back to the house I started Will a scrapbook of our last trip to the zoo. I got about half way done before crawling into bed with a good book. This morning I finished the scrapbook. Tori showed up about eleven and we went out to lunch. We were both starving and tried several places before finding something that was open that early. It was WONDERFUL. Then we drove up to Ikea and strolled through the store, looking at anything we wanted. Bought a few things.

After she left, I ran up to the fabric store and lucked out on getting exactly what I needed. When I got home, Steve and Will were here.

Really, it was perfect. I got to do what I like with no one rushing me, calling out "Mama" every thirty seconds, having to make meals, and the dogs didn't even pea (or poo) on the floor all weekend.

It was golden.

Aging Update

Ever since I hit my forties, I've been shocked and horrified at the changes in my body. Sure, my body has undergone radical changes through out my life; growth spurts, adolescents, birth, surgery. But I realized that for every stage of my life, up to now, I've always been prepared.

When you're a child, everyone tells you what is happening. What the changes mean. What's coming next. Your parents, teachers, doctors explain everything in detail.

When you hit adolescents the same people tell you what to expect ahead of time; how your body will change and how your emotions will change. They even tell you about the opposite sex. No real surprises.

It's the same when you have sex, get married, get pregnant, give birth, and raise kids. Everyone is full of advice.

Then out of the blue you hit a level in your lifespan that no one talks about, aging. Okay, growing old, giving out, going downhill, taking the big slide . . .

Who talks about that? No one. No one tells you hair will start growing out of weird places, that muscles will disappear overnight, that joints will slip (as well as your ass). No one talks about aging. Maybe it's worse in my case since I'm the eldest of my siblings. We have no parents or grandparents to guide us. So I was just walking around one day and hit the wall; age.

Well, for my younger siblings, and those of you out there that are unarmed against age as well, I am going to post honest stories and experiences as I live them. To get the ball started, this happened to me today . . .

Loose Hips

Today was a good day for me. My hair was happy. I had on a pair of jeans that looked good on me. I was wearing two inch heel boots that gave me a little boost. I felt good -- and you women know what I mean.

I also had a lot to do today, running errands here and there. In the middle of a trip from the car to inside a building I realized that I was swinging my hips. When women feel good they swing their hips loosely as they walk, it's very sexy. Once I realized I was doing it, I smiled. It's been so long since I have knowingly swung my hips. I continued doing it all day with a large smile on my face.

This evening I was at the computer for about an hour. When I went to get up I landed on the floor, screaming in pain. Grabbing my right hip, I struggeled not to cry. I had to roll onto my back and straighten out my leg, applying pressure against the area that was tense. Laying there, I started laughing - which was okay, it gave me something to do while for the five minutes I was down there. I finally managed to stand but it was ten minutes later before I could put weight on my right leg. An hour before I was no longer limping.

Pretty steep payment for using a joint like it hasn't been used in a while.
I'll think twice before I enjoy a good swagger again.

Parenting Class

Will brought home a letter from his school containing information about a new parenting class they were offering. The first part of the page told you about what you would learn; how to listen/communicate/discipline/reward your child.

Although I have raised two girls, I was thinking about taking the class, depending on hours. The next section tells you the classes are split to take place on four separate days, in the AM. Sounding better.

The last section of the page tells you how every parent that completes the class will receive a $100 gift certificate for HEB - our local super market. This seemed a little odd, but I wouldn't refuse an extra $100 worth of groceries.

Where do I sign up?

Apparently, no where. In very tiny type on the bottom of the page it lets us know the class is in Spanish and there may be one held in English later depending on the need.

Will is in the AM version of the Pre-K grade because it is the English speaking group; the afternoon class is in Spanish. In Will's classroom of 18 students, he is the only white one. I doubt there will be much call for an English version of this class.

Talking to a Five Year Old

On the way back from Walmart this afternoon, Will initiated a conversation that threw me. Oh, at this point, I'm never surprised about what a five-year old deems as a suitable conversation topic. It's the way their mind works and how conversations jump from one spot to another with no seeming connection.

He started off talking about how big he was.

I'm big hu, Mom?
I'm a big boy.
I'm almost a man, hu Mom?


I pointed out he was only five, a man had to be at least 18 - in the eyes of the law, I'd set the bar a little higher if it was up to me. However, Will missed my point.


Yeah, like I said. I'm almost a man.


So then I point out that after he's a big boy, he'll be a young man - like Tori's boyfriend. Then he'll be a grown man - like Papa. Then he'll be an old man - like Opa.

Will asks if I'm going to be an old lady. I laughed and told him, yes, I would, and much sooner than he was going to be an old man.


So can we get married when we're old?


I explained we, as in Will and I, would never be getting married. I told him I was married to his Papa - which came as a shock to Will. I told him when he was a grown man he would meet a grown lady he loved and marry her.


So, when I'm old and married, can I have a knife?

Wall? Maze? Labyrinth?

Each pain or injury a person suffers results in new self-imposed regulations or restrictions.

Don't touch the stove when it's hot.

Don't date the first person to come along after a break up.

Always take your own car on a first date.

While all the things listed above should be common sense, most people don't really adhere to the advice until they've have a bad experience. And whether the hurt is a physical, emotional, or a sexual one, the result is the same. Every injury results in a wall.

The concept is not new. Psychiatrists have been discussing building and breaking down emotional walls for ever. I've been aware of the distance (wall) I put up most of my life. If you aren't aware of your own wall, you have at least met someone with one.

Over the last few weeks, I've come to realize something shocking, that is the fact that it's not a single wall that is reinforced with each new injury or slight. It is a complicated conglomeration of interlocking walls. A labyrinth. A maze.

The first time I was able to clearly see the distinction was when I realized that even those I love and hold dear are divided into different areas.

For myself, my inner wall - that is damn near indestructible - contains only my children and Steve; people that could do damn near anything and I'd still love them. Outside of that wall is another wall that is pretty spectacular on it's own and it contains my siblings. The next wall is a little easier to get into, if you like 60-foot steep cliffs. (LOL) It contains a chosen friend, a few relatives, and some in-laws that just will not give up. And the walls just keep going.

The more I thought about these individual walls the more I realized that people have crossed barriers; moved closer to the center ring. And that is when I realized it wasn't actually a labyrinth at all, it was more like a maze from Dungeons and Dragons. Without my even knowing it, there are different levels and tasks that a person must pass or complete to move to the next level.

Yeah, yeah, I'm spending to much time playing games. :)

Whether the task is simple persistence, common goals, time acquainted, I can't really say. I think each level has it's own restrictions and they are probably set at the time of the injury that caused the wall to show up.

Not being one, I can't say for sure, but I feel that there are probably people out there that aren't as injured. That grew up in a more stable environment, more protected. Or, that were capable of protecting themselves earlier.

I guess I just wanted to say to all you people hiding behind walls of your own, you're not alone. It just feels that way because we're all bricked in.

Warming up in the Frig

I went shopping Monday and ended up leaving two twelve packs of sodas in the back of the SUV. This happens often, and it's no biggie. Or at least it hasn't been for the last 40 plus years I've lived in Texas.

Today, I finally brought them in the house. While carrying them, I noticed they were REALLY cold. Steve took them from me and put them in the refrigerator.

Half an hour later, I opened one up and it had flakes of ice floating around in it. When I told Steve, his response was, "Yeah, I put them in the frig to warm up."

I lost Will in Europe

I picked up a second version of the flu that is going around while on the coast and have been as ill, or more so, than I was before heading down there. As a result, I have not been sleeping well.

After getting Will off to school this morning I went back to bed and fell instantly asleep. I dreamed we visited some unspecific place in Europe and ended up at this three-mile long river-walk type environment. Will and I got separated from everyone we knew. The area was crowded, and streets were crooked and there were ton's of dead ends. We were walking. I had no idea where we were.

We walked for hours and Will was whining. I was scared. Then I turn around and Will is gone. I searched for him for hours. Crying. Screaming his name. I finally managed to locate the house we were staying at and tell everyone that he was missing. They laughed. Everyone gets lost there first time here. No biggie.

The terror of the dream woke me and I glanced up to see that I'd only been asleep an hour. Not really awake, I felt driven to go back to sleep and find Will. I had to find Will. I slept for another hour and searched until I was horse and cried out. I never found him. I awoke chilled and terrified.

As the day progresses, I realize it was just a dream, and not a difficult one to figure out. So far in January, I've lost Ella, my brother-in-law's 18-year old niece failed to wake up after a party on New Year Eve, two women's husbands have left them, and my neighbors 16-year old daughter turned up pregnant.

Lots of loss; lives, family, hope, the future.

He Left Me

A friend of mine asked me to meet her for lunch today and the first words out of her mouth were, "He left me last night."

This was particularly surprising as she and her husband were preparing to re-take their vows after seven years of marriage. I met with her earlier this week when she dropped off her wedding dress to be re-sized and ordered the invitations.

While having lunch that day, she told me of an acquaintance of ours whose husband had just walked out the day before. They'd been married for eleven years and have a beautiful six year old daughter. He met up with an old high-school flame and had been having an affair for three months. It's over. Goodbye.

While discussing our shock over that break up, I told my friend, Jennifer, that I didn't have to worry about that with Steve. I might have to worry about lots of other things, but not him cheating on me -- it's just not in his nature.

Of coarse, Jennifer immediately responds that she doesn't have to worry about her hubby either. And even as this sexy young woman tells me about how faithful her husband is, a part of me is going "yeah, right." I am so cynical!

Two days later, twenty-six year old Jennifer is crying on my shoulder after her forty year old husband left her with two children under the age of five to raise alone. No old school sweetheart for him, a stripper he met where he's been eating lunch.

On the way home, I realized this is the fourth marriage that I've seen broken up in the last year. And they all have amazing things in common.

1. All are marriages of between 7-11 years.


2. All have at least one small child, most two.


3. All the wives are mainly stay-at-home moms.


4. All the wives are pretty, have nice bodies, are nice natured, and good moms.


5. All are first marriages.

This is some scary shit. If beings sexy, having a great body, being loyal, good natured, and sacrificing by staying home for your children doesn't make you a woman worth hanging onto . . . what does?

All of these women were left for women that are more "fun" -- like to drink, dance, party. Women that have some sort of job and don't need a man to support them.

All things the wives were before children came along.

My first thought is, good riddance to bad rubbage! They don't deserve the women they had.

But my heart hurts for the women for I know EXACTLY where they will be left . . .

Working any job they can take

Putting their kids in day care

Going home exhausted and having to be both parents

Getting a room mate so they can afford a house

Moving in with relatives

No free time

No time to date

No extra money

Having to explain to their kids

Smiling and being polite with each 'new' girlfriend Dad brings around

And dad? Oh, he has to pay child support.

Good Bye Ella

I got the call this morning, Ella passed away in her sleep last night.

I'm glad the girls and I had an opportunity to drive up and visit with her on Christmas Eve. She was mostly lucid, well aware of who we were. Capable of hugging us and expressing her love and gratitude that we'd made the trip.

Ella is the girl's grandmother, my ex-mother-in-law. As she was Anthony's step-mother, she shares no blood with the girls. But the love she showered on them couldn't have been any stronger if she had been. From South Carolina, Ella was without blood relatives in Texas. She and I hit it off immediately and she became the closest thing to a mother that I've ever had.

She taught me to sew. Bought me my first sewing machine, and then a serger. We made up crafts together and sold them in stores around Central Texas. We went to craft fairs out of town together. We worked together in the pecan house, with the girls in a playpen. I helped her open and run an antique mall in town.

She took me on vacations, bought me clothes, loved my girls. She taught me more about family, adjusting to marriage, and sticking up for my self than anyone else ever has. Ella was also the first person to believe in me. The first person to tell me I could do anything I wanted, to BELIEVE I could be anything I wanted.

And she would talk about anything, there was no taboo subject where Ella was concerned. She loved to talk, to anyone, on any subject, at any time.

Our relationship didn't end with my separation from her step-son. Her love didn't end with my girls, she took Will in as one of her own and loved him equally.

I will miss her.

Internet Scams

Last year I signed up online to receive this free CD of information on how to work for Google and earn money. The concept made sense to me, you search for and add links to places on the Internet to certain companies and web pages -- I do the same thing with my website all the time. While the CD was free, they required you pay .99 for shipping. No biggy.

WRONG!

As you probably guessed, I never received a CD. However, over the next six months different payments were withdrawn from my credit card account for such places as 1800SECURECREDIT -- talk about adding insult to injury. The first month three different places charged me fees ranging from $7.95 to $29.95. Fortunately, each fee had a phone number attached to it. I had to wait through tons of elevator music to speak to real people but the fees were refunded and service disconnected.

Only to have new ones pop up the next month.

I dealt with this issue every month until they stopped popping up. I couldn't close the account as it was my Paypal account where all my business is handled through.

This morning I was on Paypal when a $24.95 payment to 8882301023CREDITSOURCE was processed. I did a quick search to find out they have charged me the last three months in a roll. Nearly $75!

I called and was told, as I always have been, that I signed up for the service. I denied it. They offered to issue me this months fee returned. I flat refused to accept it and asked to speak to a manager. The very determined young man asked why? REALLY? WHY? I told him:

This is a scam and I did not sign up for your service. I want all three months refunded. I want the name and number of you and your manager.

He put me on hold again while he talked to her. After several minutes of elevator music he comes back on and explains that their policy only allows for refunds with in 60 days. So he can refund me the last two payments but not the first one.

I tell him that is still not acceptable and I want the managers name. He mumbles and dodges and then finally gives me an obviously fake name: E. Badger. (Do you think he was referring to me?) He goes on to suggest I call the same number again (go through 20 more minutes of elevator music) then ask who ever answers to contact me to the manager.

I suggest he contacts me to the manager since I'm already on the phone. He puts me back on hold (more elevator music) and finally says the manager is busy but this one time they will make an allowance and refund all three months.

Amazingly, the rest of the conversation didn't take but a few minutes to get a confirmation number and I didn't even have to listen to any more of the elevator music they were so proud of.

Succes -- this time -- and a cautionary tale. This same thing happened to Steve via a CD on grants for college age students. Beware, even the most computer literate people can get taken.

A Stupid Customer

Since returning home from Port A, I've been having a trying time dealing with one annoying - and dare I say, STUPID - customer.

When I checked my emails last night I was shocked to find a notification from Paypal (the firm that all my funds are processed through) letting me know that a customer had filled against me for non-receipt of an item.

I get at least one person a month who is lacking in basic brain cells and files one of these complaints. It is always a customer who has purchased an electronic product -- one that is delivered to their email. Even though I state in bold and uppercase letters on my "thank you" page that it is not uncommon for the email containing their pattern to end up in the junk folder, no one ever checks for it there. So some poor sap will wait weeks and finally file for a refund based upon non receipt. I have never been able to figure out why these people don't contact me first, but they don't. Lots of others do. I literally have this same issue arise an average of 3-4 times a week. People just don't read the notices.

What surprised me about this order was that it was placed on the 31st of December and she filed a non receipt dispute on January the 2nd. What the hell?

Now, it is true that I make a point of sending out electronic products within 24-hours of receiving payments on a standard work week (M-F). But while in Port A, I checked all incoming orders and contacted the customers to let them know their patterns would be late coming in and to offer to refund their money if that was inconvenient. She wasn't one of them.

So I read the complaint:

I ordered an electronic pattern and the website said it would be delivered in 24 hours. I did not receive it and she has not responded to me. I want a refund.


I checked the order she placed and responded with:

The customer clearly ordered a print product as identified with the uppercase word "PRINT" found on her receipt. And while the Thank-You page of my website does say all electronic patterns are delivered within 24-hours, the customer clearly did not order an electronic pattern. The Thank-You page states that print products are sent out in 3-4 business days from receipt of payment. If the customer would like to convert her order to an electronic product I would be happy to email her the file and refund the different. She only has to contact me to let me know how to proceed.


Before retiring for the night, I checked the dispute again and the customer responded:


I'm not sure what the difference is in electronic or print, either way i need the pattern. i ordered the print pattern expecting to get it. how long does it take. please explain to me and send me the pattern which ever way is faster so i can get this project done i already have the fabric and I'm just waiting for measurements.


I respond with:


The print version can be mailed out on Monday and will take 3-4 days to arrive. Or, you can choose to receive the e-version, which can be emailed to you within 24 hours of the release of the funds for this transaction. After you drop the claim and the funds are put back into my account, I can refund you the difference in price between electronic and print copy (plus S/H) and email off your pattern.


This morning when I get up, the dispute had been cancelled and the funds put back in my account. There were also two different responses from the customer. The first asking me to go ahead and mail out the print pattern. The second telling me to email her the pattern so they could get started on it. I responded with an email asking which way she preferred to receive the pattern; print or email. Some customers make the mistake of thinking they get both.

She responds with a nasty email telling me that she already answered this question and that I should read my email. She wants the electronic.

I generally use the paypal information to identify what needs to be sent out, the paypal info at the bottom of her email said "shopping cart"; so I sent her the electronic version of my shopping cart cover pattern. Not a minute after sending the email I scrolled down to delete her various other messages and come across the original order via paypal. I open it up to verify her order and find that she actually ordered the Infant Car Seat Cover pattern. I have to assume paypal was referring to her purchase via the shopping cart when that appeared in the later messages.

I immediately forward that file along with an apology and the correct files. I tell her to keep the other pattern, after all it was my mistake.

So, I'm out an extra pattern and have spent hours battling to simply communicate with a single customer. It's done. Over. On to the next agitated person willing to whip me for their inability to read or place an order on line . . .

But, oh no, it's not over.

I received another nasty email from the customer asking me why the hell I sent her the wrong pattern. Going on and on about how difficult this process had been. How hard I was to communicate with. Telling me if I was incapable of filling her order she just wanted a refund.

I calmly suggested she check her junk folder.

Awe, the peace and quite of an empty inbox.