Precious little ball of fluff and scratchy kitteh klaws…
Karen B. on Unmedicated Me Colleen on Retail Gamblers Karen B. on Retail Gamblers Angel on 10:26pm EST Karen B. on Cooking
Hello! My name is __________. I’m a 34 years old/young/grown/matured…
I was born in Podunk, Indian on December 13, 1977. My mother was a home-maker and waitress and my father was in construction and remodeling, so we moved a lot during my formative years. I celebrated my 2nd birthday in Tampa, Florida with my Mother, Father, Brother, and Grandmother. The first time in my young life that I’d seen palm trees swaying in 60 degree weather, I was blowing out (or spitting on) candles on a Winnie The Pooh birthday cake. From the Tampa area, we moved to the “panhandle” of Florida, where we lived from my 3rd year to my 8th year.
We came back to Indiana when my father decided he missed his 3 older sons and older daughter too much to stay away from his ex-wife any longer, and my mother “dreamed of a White Christmas” until she cried…nearly constantly, around Christmas-time. So, even though my big brother and I fully believed we’d never make new friends, Mom and Dad packed us up and moved us back to Indiana – Elkhart County, to be exact. We spent Christmas of 1986 with my 3 oldest brothers and their wives and girlfriends. It was….well, it was like Christmas the first year “back home in Indiana”! And for the record, both my brother and I did make friends. So, while I hated the moving then, I learned to roll with the punches and to treasure the love of family and friends more and more each day.
My high school was small. There were 184 in my graduating class, the class of 1996. In a school of about 800 or 900 total, each of my four years there, the rural community was hit with a death of some sort. My sophomore year, my oldest brother was in a fatal car accident, and a week later, one of my best friends and her mother and father were murdered in their home. My junior year, one of our star wrestler/star football player friends was killed in an accident while cleaning his gun. He was a hunter, and it is said that he was cleaning his gun and it must have gone off…
I’ve always believed, perhaps because of these losses – or perhaps in preparation for them – that nothing happens without reason and that out of our grieving comes an opportunity for Supreme Joy! This belief, along with my Faith in God and Jesus Christ as my savior, along with my family ties, and along with my close friendships, made each of these deaths more bearable.
Then, in August of 1997, my father died of lung cancer. I was, understandably, angry, lost, and hurting so badly. My mother lost her spouse of nearly 25 years, my brother got married in April of 1998, and I was here at VU, attending classes. Neither I, nor my mom had anyone to lean on where we were, so Mom decided to move to Vincennes to live near me for a while. Once her world settled down, and her grieving eased, she met a man and they began dating. Then, I got married in September of 2000, and moved back to Elkhart county with my husband. Mom stayed in Vincennes. She’s lived here ever since, but I wanted to continue living in northern Indiana. I got divorced in February of 2005.
I had met someone. I had fallen back in love with someone. I wanted to be near that someone. That someone was a woman. Even my mother’s love couldn’t encompass my shame at this news. I “knew” it was wrong. I knew divorce was wrong. I knew that I was, virtually single-handedly, hurting a dozen or more people. But I also knew that I had always lived to others’ expectations of me. This was the time to live, and love, for ME.
Three years later, she walked away from me, and I moved back to Vincennes. Mom was still here, and provided a soft place to land while my heart mended. I began taking classes for some sort of medical career – I was unsure of what, exactly, but had an idea I’d like Massage Therapy. Within a year, I met a woman who lived in Ohio, and by the end of the summer of 2008, I was a resident of Warren, Ohio. Ugh! Warren sucks…to put it bluntly. It’s dirty and has perverted (even further) the worst side of capitalism, expanding the playing field for personal and community greed. No one there trusts anyone – not even family or loved ones. The people are stingy and manipulative. This town, an hour and fifteen minutes southeast of Cleveland, is where I really learned what it means when someone says “every man for himself”. It’s where I became a little cynical and jaded. It’s where I saw an ugly side of myself come out from the shadows – “to watch my own back”, so to speak. And yet, within this shadowed, dirty, greedy, mini-tropolis, a tiny gem exists. That is my love. My partner. My laughter and my friend.
Jeannine has encouraged me to continue on with my Massage Therapy training, and has (figuratively) held my hand when I recently fell short of my goal. I just moved back to Vincennes, again, this past August to pursue (again) my studies. Jeannine, with too many encumbrances in Warren, stayed there, but is with me in spirit – encouraging me through each trial and triumph, and it is to her side that I will return when I’m done here…at VU…for the last time…I hope…
My name is ___________. I’m the Irish-German daughter of a now-deceased Carpenter/Remodeler and a sweet, unassuming, somewhat sassy Stay-At-Home-Mom/Waitress/Pre-School Teacher/Nursing Student/Home Health Aide. I’m relatively humble, and yet proud of who I have become and where I came from. I’m a Woman. Christian. Lesbian. American. Daughter. Sister. Friend. Lover. Student. Just me. Ordinary. Awesome!
Happy birthday to ME. 🙂
Well, here I am…sitting in the computer lab at VU, eating M&Ms and wondering if I should be doing that (both b/c I have yet to hit the gym here on campus and b/c of the left-behind germs on the shared computer). It’s been THREE months since I last posted, and a LOT has changed in my life.
I came back to college at VU, got accepted into the massage therapy program, I got my old job back, I studied/practiced my a** off, passed the first two “practicals” (hands-on tests), and then failed the third which resulted in my getting dropped from the program and Mom & I moved into a 2-bedroom place together (big, green, tree-filled yard. basement. pets allowed!). I got another job (sitting with a hospice patient in her one room apartment until she passes), too! My transmission on my van went out and I am borrowing mom’s car, bumming rides from friends, or riding my bike everywhere. (Though it’s a college town, V. is not very “bicycle friendly”.)
Observations and random rambling follow…
People who sit in a QUIET area (ie a library) should not wear huge 80’s style/Dee Jay headphones and then “beat-box” or “rap” loudly enough that they can be heard 50 yards away!
Super skinny dudes should not wear super baggy sweats and those (formerly viewed as cute) sock monkey stocking caps and then sit at a computer and pull their shirts up far enough that I can nearly see their nipples, while they gaze at their own navels as if they’ll find something interesting in there… UGH! You know who you are – STOP!
CHILDREN should not be brought into the library (on campus) while others (even the mental giants mentioned above) are using it to study, blog, meet their next fling, or update Facebook statuses (statusi?, stati?).
Boys with “Screech” hair should not wear ski goggles while sitting at a computer…granted, he has them pushed up (like a plexi-glass headband of sorts) but still – what’s he thinking? Or is he…at all?
Boy mentioned above should NOT look at me as if I’ve done something horrible when I clear my throat and/or crack my knuckles. Come to think of it – NO ONE should…
I am doing way better in Anatomy & Physiology II since getting dropped from the massage program… I guess I had better be, though. It’s pretty much the only thing I have to study for, now, other than the Self-Paced online class I picked up to keep my credit hours up to 6 total, and help my GPA*!
Mom and I are going to paint the bathroom this weekend (…oh yeah, we can paint, too!)
I kind of feel like having pizza for dinner, tonight (812-895-PAPA).**
I miss my Love (still in Ohio, and probably not missing me NEARLY as much as I miss her).
I also miss my friends from Ohio and northern Indiana.
The boy sitting across from me with the army-green hoodie and the “Shaggy” hair – yeah, he’s probably stoned…
If I had to survive for a day without my cell phone, my car, a computer, or my alarm clock… I’d just sleep all day (you thought I was gonna choose which one, huh?!)
My good friend and her husband just had their house broken into yesterday. I hope the stuff that person/those people stole catches fire while they’re using it, or the money they get from hocking it has the ebola virus on it and they get flesh eating sores…and die before anyone else comes into contact with them and gets infected (ok, I don’t really want someone to die b/c they stole something, but……dang it! That sucks!)
The girl sitting across from me looks a lot like Kate from Lowes in Warren, Ohio… She’s probably not as nice, though. Kate’s really really nice!
I don’t want to ride the bike home, today (’cause my butt hurts from riding it yesterday), but I’m going to.
I’m thankful that my mom brought me TO campus in her car (with my bike in the trunk) b/c it was pretty chill this morning….and my butt hurt from yesterday.
I really hope my mom makes Pecan Pie for Thanksgiving, this year…or Strawberry Pretzel Salad…or BOTH…lol.***
I like that girl’s hair. And her bag. But not her leg-warmers. OR THE FACT THAT SHE’S WALKING OUT WITH LOUD HEADPHONE GUY!
My ex husband is a total D*****… and a waste of time and oxygen. (My apologies to O2)
My buddy, Lincoln, just tapped be on my left shoulder while standing my my right side, so I couldn’t see him……Man, I hate that….. (not that people do that, but that I fall for it…)
I wonder what JRM is doing these days.
I didn’t take my mood-stabilizer (or any of my meds) this morning, b/c I forgot…wonder if that’s why I’m so scattered w/ my thinking…
The corner of this tab on the computer is peeled up.
Oh, look! A butterfly!
The stoned boy is leaving. Maybe I should too…? Kinda have to pee…
*I should probably be past “Assignment 1” in that class, eh?
**It’s probably time for lunch
I work as a cashier at a “big (blue and gray) box home improvement warehouse” in NE Ohio. To say I hate my f*ing job most days would be like saying the Arctic is chilly, or Hitler was kind of a jerk.
We have the customers that I like to call “anal orifice” man. We have “hurry up, with my change, you stupid cashier, I’ve got somewhere more important to be” guy. We have “slower than molasses in January” guy who calls you Sugar or Darlin’ (with no “g”) and holds up the line. And of course, “I’m on my cell phone and can’t seem to remove it from my ear long enough to address you or respond to your greeting” dude (for this, also refer back to “anal orifice” man).
Today, however, I had to laugh (nevermind that the laughter was to keep from hitting myself repeatedly with the scan-gun until I became unconscious, and thus, unable to work and blissfully unaware of my surroundings). A middle-elderly woman who reeked of cigarette smoke and wore a leopard print VELOR dress came through “my line” with her junk/treasures for what is likely an ailing garden. What caused me to laugh was not the fact that she struggled for her cash in a click-open/ -close coin purse (that would be cruel, and nothing like me). I wanted to help her, but knowing that this could look bad to a customer (think: “she stole my money from me…” on a report to store manager), I did not. I simply waited, hand unobtrusively extended, palm up, for her to place the cash in my hand as she painstakingly fished each coin and bill from the tiny, sequined abyss. “Casino woman” instead placed each coin on the counter. I picked up each, with a little effort due to short nails and an injured elbow (you wouldn’t think of an elbow until it’s in pain) and she, in turn, continued to place each coin and bill on the counter. A couple ones, a five and a twenty. All placed on the counter and sloooowly slid toward me. And it reminded me of my few trips to various casinos in upstate NY and in the great American Southwest. I learned on my first trip that a casino dealer can’t take your money from your hand. You must put it on the table and slide it out in front of you and remove your hand before s/he can accept your bet.
With this woman’s attire, scent, and manner of monetary exchange, I could only assume that she’d gotten lost on the way home from Wheeling, WV, and landed at our establishment.
I handed her three round, shiny coins and couldn’t resist the urge to say, “You won!”
This week, I’ve made a few yummy treats to share with my Love. I made mint tea with mint picked directly from my little patch of earth. I made a quiche-type dish with eggs that came from a good friend’s hens. I made the delicious meat/onion/cheese/bean/tomato fixins’* for burritos. And, I made a mess in the kitchen. I also made my Love smile. I made Her laugh. I made Her giggle like a child.
And she, in return, made my day!
The swimming trip went … swimmingly. I got burned, she got a tan. We ate fudgesicles from the snack bar, and chicken sandwiches from home. The water was chilly and blessedly calm, and best of all – VERY few screaming children!
*A word that has its origins in southern states, I’d guess, rather than The Hoosier State. I learned it in Florida (lived there as a child – age 2 to age 8).
In this, my first ever WordPress blog, I would like to begin by thanking S. for inspiring me to begin (again) writing (and also acknowledge that the existence of at least one asterisk (*) mark, and it’s correlating footnote, per blog, is borrowed directly from her.) Thank you, S.
Since this is my first post, I’ll likely ramble for a really long time and then branch off a little, to explain my points in said rambling… Thanks, in advance, for staying with me for the duration.
It’s 10:26pm the day before “The Adventure”; a date which I’ve been planning (in large part) for my girlfriend and (somewhat) myself – for nearly a month. I’ll begin by saying that I’m broke. Even so, I spent just under $40 for tickets to a waterpark. $15 for food (which, thankfully, we’re allowed to bring into the park, instead of paying $12 each for a cheap, greasy burger and some half-cooked fries…not to mention another $4 for a flat, watered-down soda). Will spend, likely, about $15 to $20 for gas to get us there and back. And a day of her freaking out about my driving – and me biting my own tongue as she grabs the arm rest or the door (or both, at times) and sharply draws air in through her teeth as if she believes we’re going to die in a fiery crash on the way to our destination. By now, you’re probably thinking, “Why spend the money or time…?”, but I love her. It’s worth all of that, to me. I like a challenge. While that’s true, for the most part, the pure and simple fact is, I think she hung the moon, and tomorrow I’ll go through hell (and, literally, high-water) to show her that I love her and want to show her a good time. She LOVES water! Ocean, river, lake, quarry, or “seeee-ment pond”*. She wants to be in the water any time she can. This summer’s been unbearably hot. Ridiculous. Hellish, even. And she’s been working on a house that she bought with the game-plan of fixing it up and renting it out by late-summer/early-fall. She injured her back about a month ago, and hasn’t fully recovered (MRI scheduled on 8/17 – sooner if possible!). I thought a waterpark would be a nice treat. By now, you’re probably wondering if a waterpark is a great idea for a back-injury? I checked. There’s all kinds of things to do – from a few 6-story water slides to a “lazy river” (ie: slow-moving water and donut-shaped rafts to “laze” along on). There’s a picnic area, a wave pool, and a regular pool (from 1′ to 5′, says the brochure). I think she’ll be fine and I hope she’ll appreciate the trouble I’m going to and the money I’m spending…
Normally I wouldn’t focus so much on the money, but as I write this, I’m also waiting (and waiting and waiting) to hear from VU to see if I’ve made it into the Massage Therapy program. I’ve moved out of my studio apartment because I could barely tolerate my landlords, and am still waiting on my deposit to be returned; I’m sleeping on a (comfortable!) Futon in my girlfriend’s 2nd bedroom/office for about a month; I’m working as many hours as I can, while trying to maintain and grow a relationship before (hopefully) leaving for school in southwestern Indiana (a 9-hour drive from where we live, now); I’m trying to get all the loose ends tied up before I go – and yet, realizing with every day that passes, that I may not be accepted into the program and all this effort could be for naught… In any case, I already owe VU money. I owe other people money. I owe Verizon money. And, either way (school or not), I’m gonna have to get a new apartment/room and this means…you guessed it…more money. I can’t stand it all…
To say the least, I’m stressed out!
It’s now 12:43am. Over 2 hours since I began writing this post. Why the delay? As I was writing, said GF came into the office/bedroom where I’m working and tearfully stated, “I want to sell all my things and move to Hawaii. Start over. Brand new. Fresh.” I had to hastily minimize this screen and talk things out with her. She’s not moving to Hawaii any time soon, by the way (see above where I mentioned a home she’d bought and was in the process of fixing up to rent out). Also, she grilled me: “Where are we going tomorrow?”, “What should I wear?”, “Will there be food?” (no, I figured we’d both just go hungry), “Will we be swimming?”, “How far away is it?”, “Will there be people we know there?”…and on and on and on…
Sigh…now it’s LATE and there’s a BIG day ahead of us, tomorrow. Sun. Waves. Screaming children…oh, shit…screaming children…
Is it too late to cancel?
*pop culture reference to “Beverly Hill-billies. I’m from Indiana and GF thinks all Hoosiers are hillbillies, so, this should make her grin if/when she does finally read this post…