Just Like That

I just don't understand it.

He was only fifteen years old and now he's gone. Last weekend he was at the lake with his friends. Today he's being prepared for burial.

I just can't wrap my head around it.

I want to scream at his parents. I want to hit them until they bleed.

His mother and father did a lot of drugs when he was a baby. His mom divorced his father, took his baby sister and left him with his dad. His dad was unable to care for him, so his grandmother took over. She did a good job, too. In fact, she spent a lot of time nurturing him, bringing him to church, loving him. Whenever his father would come around, she wrapped herself around him even more. She lived for him. A few months ago, I'd heard that he'd moved in with his dad and step-mom, just to "try it out". He got some piercings and tattoo's and it was rumored that he was doing drugs. His girlfriend turned up pregnant. His grandma had him move back in and he seemed to be doing better.

Yesterday morning I got the call. He's gone. He left a text message to his friends that said "if I die I get to rip". His grandmother found him laying on the floor in his room, cold. She may never recover from this. I just can't stop thinking about her heart in all of this. How limp and twisted and crumpled it must be...

My kids are in pretty bad shape. They love their cousin and just lost their grandfather three months ago. My little Silly Girl said "Why is every body dying!?" She curled in a ball in my lap last night and sobbed and sobbed. A few weeks ago they were dipping their toes into the ocean together on a trip to Galveston. And now he's gone.

Just like that.

School Supply Hell

Every year it's the same thing. Immediately after purchasing school supplies for Silly & Wise A, I promise the school supply gods that I will go earlier next year. I swear (with the salt of my brow) that I will not make a fool of myself while cursing at a list of paper, pencils, and crayons.

I am not complaining about actually having to purchase these things. The teachers in my immediate circle of friends and family have told me how much they've taken out of their puny salaries to purchase items parents often miss. I'm determined to not only NOT become one of those parents, but to buy extra, when I can, to supplement their supply.

I'll admit that I think some of the items just confuse me. I have no idea why the fifth grade requires two boxes of Kleenex and the 3rd grade only needs one. No matter what Mr Yammering tells me, I'm sure it's not because the School Supply gods think that the fifth graders are more snotty than the younger kids.

Mostly, I think that the pain in both my wallet and Yammering bottom is that it seems like the store got the lists ahead of us parents and purchased the supplies in the famous hot dog v/s hot dog bun ratio. My son's list said he needed 12 red pens. Red pens in the local stores come in packs of 10. (Of course they do...) Both lists said 1 200ct wide ruled paper. I could only find 150 count. It's not like I mind buying more than I need...I probably would have purchases some extra. But after the seventh or eighth item that is mismatched, I'm beginning to feel duped!

And the polite parents often cease to be polite when they're under their own deadline. I luckily got to shop without my little spuds. But the way the parents nudged and shoved and swore at their lists...all in front of their children...I was glad mine weren't there to benefit from their example.

In all, I went to four stores before I managed to find everything on the school lists. My results may be different from yours. But I highly recommend office supply stores (think easy button) to those finagling discount chain stores. The office supply stores were competitive, sometimes less expensive, and absolutely less stressful.

And I'm all about less stress.

So. School supply gods, if you're listening, I promise to start scanning the school website in early July for supply lists. I promise to purchase those supplies earlier next year. Much earlier.

And should I forget to shop early next year....I promise to refrain from swearing at my list in front of little children.

Boo Yam

I feel a pull to her, an understanding, an empathy. I love her as if she were my own.

It wasn't always this way. In the beginning, when I realized that I was in love with Mr Yammering, when thoughts of him kept my heart soaring above the clouds, I had fleeting, idealistic thoughts of combing her hair, giggling with her, shopping trips....

She hated me of course, my step-daughter-to-be, I was the one who disintegrated her happy home, dissected her life as she knew it, took her father from her mother.

She saw it through her mother's eyes: loudly, crying, screaming, unforgiving. She took it personal, and I didn't blame her. She resented the thought of me.

She has her father's moxy. I respected that. She sent me an email, demanding that I release him, telling me off in loud capitol letters. She gave it a pretty good effort. I still smile when I think of how fiercely she defended her parents, her life. She dug her heels in and didn't budge. My kind of girl.

I am pretty sure that letter is what started it for me. I began to love her about the time I got that letter. I understood her.

I sort of used to be her.

Let me explain. My parents divorced, yes, but that's not the similarity, the only connection, I feel for her.

It was in our upbringing. While she had the blessing of having a non-disputed, decent father, (at least hers was decent, truly) our mothers were sort of, well, not there for us.

My mom had mental issues brought on by her chemical and mental wiring being off, naturally. Her mother had some mental issues because her head was clouded with chemicals. Either way, we were in the same boat. Our fathers were gone, and we were left with mothers who loved us in their hearts, not quite knowing how to proceed with fully showing us love. Mothers who leaned on us to get through their difficult days, lonely nights. Mothers who saw their pain first and foremost, clouding our eager attempts to love them.

I remember wishing for a mother, very badly, when I was in the room with her. I remember trying very hard and feeling like I was barely heard, noticed, except for an inconvenience. And then there was the occasional punch in the stomach if I didn't do the dishes.... Those things didn't happen frequently, and she never would have hurt me if she knew what she was doing. But the non-relationship I had with my mother when I was in her custody helped to shape the person I became.

Because we had similar beginnings, I thought I understood how my step daughter felt. I could see through her eyes to an extent. I wanted to reach out to her, not as a mother, but as someone who could empathize with her.

One night when she was sixteen, a phone call in the middle of the night through tears brought her to live with us. Slowly, over the course of about a month, she began to see me in a different light. I wasn't trying to take any ones place, just trying to show her love. On the weekends, she would go to her mothers. She'd leave Friday, planning to be gone until Sunday. But by Saturday, she'd usually come home, first thing, in tears. I remember her whole body shaking while she cried. It took all week to help her feel better. Then Friday would come and it was lost.

Between mending, we did manage to do some giggling, some shopping and some girly stuff, just the two of us. I remember sitting on the little love seat in the living room one morning, braiding her hair, and secretly smiling to myself.

Weekday mornings were my favorite. I drove her to school every morning. That was the time I had her all to myself for a few short minutes each day. And I loved it! We sang, talked, joked or just sat in silence.

I discovered that there was so much about her that I truly admired. She is stronger than she ever gives herself credit. She is giving, almost to a fault. She loves with everything she's got. I would have thought she'd be more timid in the way she loves, having been hurt so often in her life. Not a chance. She is a tenacious little woman: Strong, funny, sweet, smart, loving, loyal.

For the longest time it seemed that nothing would go right for her. Doors closed, her hopes were squashed, her heart broken. But lately, when I look at her, I can see the fire under her beautiful brown eyes. She is making her life her own, no matter the beginnings. She's still digging in her heels, only this time she's defending herself.

I am so proud of her. I've had the privilege to watch her grow from a timid teenager to, as of this week, a beautiful woman.

I'm not her mother, but I'll be whatever she needs me to be. If she needs a mom or a friend, or someone to sit in silence with, I'll be there. I consider it a privilege to be a part of her life, however much of it she'll share with me.

I love you Boo. Happy Birthday.

It's "No, thank you!"

I'm in my dining room talking to a very nice friend of the family. The birthday celebration is winding down, and I'm cutting cake for anyone who wants some. I ask this family friend if he would like some cake and he smiles sweetly, pats his belly and says "Oh, no! I'm good!".

I hope I didn't sigh out loud. I really like this person and wouldn't want insult him.

"I'm good?" Has this seriously replaced "No, thank you."?? Seriously? At this point I don't care if I sound like Miss Manners . I noticed this about three years ago....slowly creeping up.....and now it's just commonplace.

I'm not a proper person. I was serving the cake in my bathing suit in bare feet... I'm not standing on ceremony here. I just think that all manners shouldn't be thrown out just because it's cool.

I'd concede to "I'm good, thank you." But leaving out the thank you, somehow, insults my offer a bit. I know that this family friend would never ever want to insult us. And I wouldn't dare tell him about it.

I'm too polite.

Love me some old root today!

When I started dating him, I had no idea what I'd gotten myself into.


At the start of this relationship, we were both married to other people. We were having an affair. At one point we ended it, respectfully, lovingly, for the sake of our children. But we quickly decided that out children would be better off if we were happy. We were miserable without each other.


There was a point, well into our dating, that I stepped back to wonder how he stole my heart so swiftly. No, to say he stole it isn't right. That's not how it was. He sort of just moved in. He knew his way around my heart, found the coffee cups, made me a cup the way I like it and settled in for the morning paper. He even saved me the funnies.


There is nothing traditional or proper about our relationship. According to society, we've done everything the wrong way. We shacked up, started with an affair, he stays at home while I work, we had a baby before we were married or properly divorced.... We're a mess! I never imagined how wonderful a mess could be.


I never would admit to needing any other human being before him. And I hope I never have to live without him.


Today is his birthday. Mr Yammering turns...well...older than me today!


I couldn't wish a happier day on anyone and mean it more. I'm blessed to have him in my life. My children and my family are better for knowing him.


Happy Birthday, you old starchy root! I love you with all I've got.

Fat Arse Competion

I'm going to let you in on a (not so) little secret. I'm a fattie.


I love to eat. I can eat my weight in chips in salsa. Throw some cheese in with that and I'm in hog heaven. I love cheeseburgers. The more bacon and goopy crap you throw on top of that the better. And it shows.


I weighed myself on January 7th. After it begged for mercy the digital display coughed up 245.5 lbs. Holy shit! I mean, I knew I was fat. But I've never ever let it get this bad. Stick that on a 5ft 4in body and that adds up to morbidly obese.


Morbidly. What a word. As if OBESE wasn't bad enough. Translation? I'm headed for trouble if I don't do something quick.


Just so happens that a (smart) lady at work wanted to shed some poundage as well and thought up a way to get us to stick to it (this time). A friendly little competition. Each participant puts in $20.00 and the one who takes first place after 12 weeks wins the majority of the pot. She emailed all the ladies she knew at work, whether or not they were fatties, and egged them on. Twenty two women responded and took part. We weighed in and may the highest percentage of weight loss win!!


We were off. I've worked at my company for almost four years. I've never seen this much healthy food in our refrigerator at one time. All the ladies are walking or joining gyms, each one has her eye on the prize!!


I'm no amateur dieter. I started out like I usually start out on a diet. I began to eat low fat food, watch my servings sizes and my initial plan was to work exercise in about a week or two later. Then I began to hear what the other women were doing: drinking more water, cutting out soda, limiting carbs, vigorous exercise...I began to reevaluate my plan.


I asked my husband to drag out the treadmill; the home gym too. If I'm in this, I'm at least going to place. I cut out soda, added more water. I decided that if I was going to eat a carb, it was going to be a good carb: whole wheat breads and pasta's, brown rice, sweet potato's.

I'm not going to bore you with the rest of my diet details, but it turns out I'm pretty competitive. If I heard that Suzie was cutting out the soda, so did I. If I heard that Janet was exercising twice a day, I exercised three. If someone wanted a workout partner, I joined them. I didn't turn down an offer, or a tip on what to do next.

I won. I won!! I won by a healthy margin! I was thrilled! I lost 41lbs in 12 weeks and took home $403.00!!! Woot!

Someone pass the chips!! (& Salsa!)

I'm not skinny enough to post a before & after thigh picture! I still weight just over 200lbs! But. I'm into challenge number two. I'll let ya know how it goes!

Let's Do the Time Warp

I can't believe how low gas prices are in my neighborhood. WOW!!!