Too Old For Myspace

2010-09-14T20:18:00.000-07:00

Meth Lab Barbie !!

Too much free time for me allows my creative genius to flourish....and this is one of my prized creations! She is "Meth Lab Barbara" (just in case of copyright issues with the "Barbie" dolls out there!) She comes with a scooter instead of a Corvette or van, due to her many drunk driving convictions. She is also complete with bags to store her psuedoephedrine purchases and an Indiana inspired dirty yard sale clothing wardrobe!

No Hoosier doll collection is complete without her!!!

Family Recipes

2010-09-04T21:51:00.000-07:00

I was just perusing my old recipe box. Alone at home in the middle of the night and digging through family recipes typically makes me think of my dead father and his love for cooking. Then I usually end up drowning in a sea of mournful despair...remembering him....thinking of how much I'd love to see him again and share recipes...and tell him how sorry I am for all the mean things I ever said to him. It's a pitiful display of spontaneous sobbing grief. It's a ritual that I should be smart enough to stop recreating!
Tonight is different. I think he'd enjoy this. I'm looking at his recipe for "Pickled Mushrooms". Now this is a recipe that he wrote down for me in his own words. I am writing it down as he did, so be prepared for a few expletives. Here it is.

Pickled Mushrooms

Ingredients: 1/2 cup oil

1/2 cup vinegar

1 Tablespoon Sugar

1 Tablespoon Chopped pimento

1 Tablespoon chopped parsley

1/2 Tablespoon Italian seasoning

4 garlic cloves minced

8 drops hot pepper sauce

1 medium onion sliced into rings

2 4oz jars of Green Giant whole mushrooms drained

Directions: Except onions and mushrooms, place other ingredients in a 1 quart jar and shake until well blended. Then add mushrooms and onions. Chill this crap at least overnight.

For a genuine case of the drizzly shits, double the recipe, don't let anyone else have any and eat both jars while drinking a case of Mickey's Wide Mouths.

Stock up on Charmin!

So there you have it...a family recipe from the master...Mike Jones. I miss my dad so badly sometimes that I don't think I will ever get over his sudden tragic passing. Then I remember what a goofball he was and how much humor and cooking skill he passed down to me. That makes my heart break a little less on nights like this.

The 2008 Flood

2008-06-26T11:23:00.001-07:00

I never thought I'd see the day when they would pull a damn boat up to my front door and rescue my family, but I did. This month, we experienced unbelievable flooding. We had nearly ten inches of rain in one night! When my husband and I went out to get into the car to leave for work one Saturday morning, the lightning strikes illuminated the fact that we were stranded! So many homes in our town were destroyed by the rushing water. Our garage was underwater...all our gardens and shed were destroyed. We were fortunate enough that our house didn't get water in it. We had 1/2 inch at all doorways to go! We did have flood insurance....WITH A $5,000 DEDUCTIBLE. FEMA has rejected us. Hopefully an SBA disaster loan will cover it before the mold in our crawlspace takes over. This was our first natural disaster and hopefully it will be our last!

"I feel it in the changing winds" (Jimmy Buffett's words, not Lisa's)

2008-04-25T13:20:00.000-07:00

I hate my job. I hate factory life. I took one of those quizzes the other day on rating your "burnout" level. If you scored over 65, it said you were in a SERIOUS DANGER ZONE!!! I scored 82. A couple of weeks back, a coworker and I were giggling at work about a hostage crisis. Let me first say that we were cracking up...neither of us owns a firearm or knows how to use one...I don't even kill spiders...I'm basically harmless but am equipped with a bad temper. Anyhoo....somebody overheard us and turned us in to Human Resources for threatening to shoot people. I was humiliated..but now that the quiz told me I'm dangerous, maybe I should be worried! Just kidding. Really I'm just working on my degree in social work so that I can escape factory life. The career option for sitting on the beach fishing and smoking dope isn't coming up, so college at age 37 seems to be my best option. I need change. I need some thrills. After nine years of a hideous ex-wife in the mix and a group of disgusting stepchildren digging into my sanity and dozens of financial tragedies and homeowners nightmares, it's time for change. I work with this fruitloop who claims to be having a midlife crisis. I don't think that is me. I think I just need some fun. I took my husband to see "Jesus Christ Superstar" last night. Good gracious! How old is Ted Neely anyway?????? That was a start. It was Mr. J's first rock opera and we decided that we need to do more stuff like that. I'm thinking.....should we go to space camp or just check out a different book at the library. So far this week, the biggest thrill besides Ted was the fact that Weight Watchers frozen meals were on sale at Krogers at low, low price of $2.00. Damn...I think I might have peed my pants from the excitement!!! I think that Mr. J and I need to get out more.

For the Love of Dogs

2008-01-23T16:47:00.000-08:00

Anna, Betsy, Holly, Annie, Taz, Icky, Rowsby-Woof, Jubal Early, Ruby Slipper, Cooper, Hank. So many dogs have taken residency in my life. They've passed in and out; each leaving a distinct impression on my heart. I can still tell you all their quirks, favorite foods, bad habits, and health problems. I can't remember what I had for lunch yesterday, but I can remember the day that Anna bit Jamie Toby on the face. I can remember Betsy sleeping between my parents and the day my Aunt Nancy came over to help with my brother and I because my mom was falling apart over Betsy's death. I remember Annie. God...I remember Annie. Such a sweet Black Lab/Irish Setter mix. My constant companion as a teenager died of lung cancer. Taz was rescued from a parking lot and could fit four squeeky toys in his dachsund mix mouth. He was also a sandwich thief (he only took the top piece of bread!). Icky...the speckled Beagle. After we went to get her, the rest of the litter was left to die in the hot sun. Taz and Icky were sometimes my father's only friends when he was between wives, girlfriends, and benders. Of course Jubal is sitting right next to me...the super dog....the cosmically connected English speaking dog. Ruby, bless her heart, victim to a passing car was here only 13 weeks. Cooper and Hank are about to dedicate their lives to medical research if they don't start pooping OUTSIDE. There is, however, a pooch that stands out above the rest. It's Rowsby-woof. Today is her birthday. She would have been 14. God I miss her and her extreme understanding of me and my heart. I knew she would be gone eventually, but I had no idea of the impact it would have on my life. Isn't it amazing what you choose to put on a back burner? Rest in peace, Miss Woof. Love, Mom

Re"Cooper"ation

2007-12-13T17:14:00.000-08:00

Well....here I go again. We brought home another puppy. Her name is Cooper. She is a Cairn Terrier and she has become a serious momma's baby in a matter of four days. She's beautiful and brindle and I can't take my eyes off of her.
She's much feistier than Ruby was. Ruby was very much a little love sponge and pretty complacent for a Cairn Terrier. Cooper is all Cairn! Don't get me wrong...she spends A LOT of time curled up in my arms, but the rest of the time (time when she's not sleeping!) she's beating up on Jubal the giant golden retriever and terrorizing the cats.
She's doing much for my heart, too. Two losses in a short time has torn me up. Cooper is cracking me up and making my heart go pitty pat. A nice turn from the feeling of my heart going kerthud.

Goodbye Yellow Brick Road

2007-12-04T16:50:00.000-08:00

Well, here I am...another tragedy under my belt and another brick road on the horizon. I am thinking maybe the yellow one was not the right one. I'm looking to the white one or maybe the blue one this time.
On November 12, 2007....I was sitting in the kitchen while Jubal the Golden Retriever and Ruby the Cairn Terrier were playing in the yard. In a matter of just a few moments, Ruby slipped under the fence and was hit and killed by a car.
She was precious. She was fitting into our life perfectly and was nearly housetrained. I would have to say that she was easing the pain of Rowsby's death in fine fashion and I was completely bonded to that little turd. I cannot describe the pain and torment of that Tuesday morning. I'm trying to put it together for a possible future blog about the deaths of pets. For right now, however, I am at a loss to describe it. I layed in a chair for a week sobbing and wringing my hands. I erected a huge flourescent pink sign in my yard expressing my feelings toward the son of a bitch that murdered my puppy and I sent an open letter to that person to the newspaper. It was published last Sunday. Here it is, in case there might be someone reading my blog who is not a regular subscriber to the Tribune Star.

Heartless driver killed family pet

This is an open letter to the individual who hit and killed my 13-week-old Cairn Terrier near Springhill and Canal on the morning of Monday, Nov. 12.I know you were in a hurry that morning, so you didn’t get a chance to meet the precious creature that you senselessly murdered, so I will tell you a bit about her.Her name was Ruby. She was 13 weeks old and she was a very dear part of our family. She loved stuffed animals, rope bones, Precise puppy food, and any person that walked through our front door. She came to live with our family after our 14-year-old chocolate lab passed away this past fall. Since she came here, she has brought much light and healing to a grieving family after the loss of our senior girl.
I doubt this means much to you. After all, you didn’t even hesitate as her little five-pound body was crushed under your speeding vehicle. She never stood a chance after sneaking under the fence that we mistakenly thought was puppy proof. How many times are we going to wake up at night regretting that we missed a puppy-sized breach in the fence when someone like you was on the way down our street.
She was defenseless against someone like you; someone who couldn’t care less about Cairn Terrier babies and whether or not they are in your way.The next time you are speeding down a street where families live, you need to remember that regardless of any level of isolation or independence that we lay claim to, our actions still affect those along our path.
Maybe you were running late. Maybe you were on the phone. Maybe you were primping in the mirror. Regardless of what was going on in your car that morning, your negligence and selfishness left a gaping hole in our home and in our hearts. One minute, all was right with our world and with Ruby’s. During the next minute, your actions turned that world into a nightmare that we can never wake up from. There have been few things that have impacted our lives more than scooping up a family member whose eyeballs have been popped out after a blow from a heartless passerby.
We miss Ruby terribly. In the few short weeks that we had her with us, we saw her bond with our Golden Retriever, learn to respect the chief tuxedo cat, and almost grasp the concept of going No. 1 and No. 2 outside. She destroyed all the squeakers in all the dog toys, ate a cinnamon broom, and became quite attached to our brown recliner. So much life was lived in 13 weeks, only to be cut short by someone who didn’t seem to care about those who live along the streets that they sped down that morning.
I hope that this is the last time that anything like this happens to our family. If folks would be more inclined to live as if they weren’t the only ones here, maybe this wouldn’t happen to any family.
Slow down on residential streets. Most have 30 mph or lower speed limits for a reason. I think that pets and children who don’t always know what waits for them on busy streets are reason enough for a speed limit. Their lives are worth more than your need to hurry. Your cell phone, makeup, and radio can wait on them with far less impact on your life than their deaths will have on the rest of us.

Personally, I think it's Pulitzer material. I think from now on, anytime my heart is broken, I'm going to publish my pain in the local paper!

Start at the Beginning

2007-10-03T07:32:00.000-07:00

That is what Glenda told Dorothy to do when Dorothy was preparing to embark on her journey to see the Wizard of Oz. "Start at the beginning."
This week has involved a lot of starting at the beginning. I've had to remember what I did with my life in the beginning before Rowsby showed up. I am afraid I've had some difficulty adjusting to her absence. At one point, I considered spending a few nights in a hotel because I found my home to be an intolerable place without her here. Time is helping and I have a very supportive husband who has been right by my side through all my emotional breakdowns.
Also this week, my stepdaughter moved back to West Virginia. After putting her father through financial ruin and a court hearing to get her here, she secretly plotted with her inbred mother to get her back to West Virginia. What a mess. Last Monday, while "M" was at school, my husband and I packed her belongings up for her and sent her back to Clarksburg, West Virginia. At first, we were thinking that it might be painful. It hasn't been. We have had a wonderful week living like we lived in the beginning before his children moved here and brought their garbage and tumult with them. The house is quiet. The house is clean. I'm picturing the little woman in the movie "Poltergeist" saying "This hawssse is clean." Going back to the beginning has so far been a very cleansing and peaceful experience. If I had known about this peace before, I'd have put the little bastards on a Greyhound bus last year!!!!! Just kidding.
Starting at the beginning has taken other space up in my life this week. With the stress of the stepkids from hell, tremendous financial strain, and the loss of my dog, has come a bizarre set of emotional problems on my side of the street. I have experienced depression before. At the time I didn't know it was depression, but years later when I've looked into some clinical information on depression...I know I was experiencing depression. I thought those days were gone. They were not. For a while now, I have been feeling very strange. I've had some bouts with depression and some mental confusion. Then a few weeks back I started experiencing rage. I've never felt this way before. Even the simplest things made me go in a back room and shake uncontrollably and rage. I feel bad for my husband. I thought about going to spend a day or two with my friend Rosie so that I might get my head straight. Maybe if I left the situation for a day or two, the fog would clear. I later felt that leaving would only punish my husband. Separating from him would not do me any good, because he is not the source of the rage. HIS KIDS ARE!!!!! GRIEF IS!!!!!! So here is what we've proposed to do.
First, "M" went away. YAY!!!! The little freak is out of here and living with other freaks who will have to take care of her freakishness. Amazingly enough, I don't feel like raging.
The other issue is grief. I have decided to get another dog. I didn't think I'd do this, but I am afraid that the void Rowsby left is going to swallow me up. On October 17, we are going to Cincinnati to pick up a Cairn Terrier that will be named "Ruby". Actually her full name is "Ruby Slipper", but we'll call her "Ruby". She has a big job to do and that is why I picked a Cairn. They have the fortitude to take on an emotional wreck and still be the independent love sponge. "Ruby" is hopefully going to help me to start at the beginning and become the emotionally stable and strong person that I once was. She'll never replace the Woofmeister. Those brown shoes will never be filled. She can, however, close a chapter of grief and loss and open a new one of companionship of the terrier variety!
I'm also considering some counseling. My friend, Rosie, has had much luck in counseling. I'm thinking that maybe the frequent rage and sadness is something that might need tending to. I would imagine that it could only do good.
The beginning is looking good. It feels more comfortable than the middle of a mess. At the beginning I am remembering the steps I need to take to move forward again. In the middle of the mess, the steps are forgotten and distress clouds any options. So with a peaceful house, a new baby coming soon, and an outlet for emotional discord, I think I might just be okay.

Rest in Peace, Rowsby-Woof

2007-09-20T22:52:00.000-07:00

Her name was Rowsby-Woof. We called her "Rowsby", Miss Woof", Woofie-Pop, Browndog, Jengus-Gook, Huh-Huh Dog, and an assundry of other nicknames and tags. She was a chocolate Lab. She was my best friend. She was a constant companion. She was a comforter. She was an entertainment committee. Now, she's gone.
The night before last, I was going to write a blog about how great my dog was. I wanted to write about her as a tribute to a great living being, so that the world wouldn't think that I could only honor her once she was passed. Now, after being too late, I'm writing a memorial tribute.
Rowsby died in her sleep yesterday after battling kidney failure at the age of 14.
I cannot describe the pain. Three years ago, my father passed suddenly at the age of 57 and I don't remember the pain being this bad. Maybe it was. Maybe I've just put it aside and replaced it with pleasant memories and current events.
In a day or so, I'm going to get it together. Right now, I'm scatterbrained and uncontrollably sobbing. I have so many profound things to say but can't put these thoughts in line with this physical, gut-wrenching pain blowing them around.

I guess I'm lucky

2007-09-03T17:46:00.000-07:00

In this life, things change rapidly. I was listening today to a song by Don Henley called "New York Minute". What a sad song. It is, however, a true song. It only takes a minute for all your life to change. In the minutes of the last month, my best friend Rosie has had her life turned inside out. After overcoming breast cancer at the age of 36, her husband decided to move on to other women. So in just a few minutes time...she has found herself alone, bankrupt, physically scarred by surgery to remove her breast, and scrambling to figure out what the hell just happened.
In the town I live in this week there was a family leaving Wednesday night church. The wife went to get the truck while the husband waited on the sidewalk with their four year old son. He was conversing with friends and in the few minutes that followed, their four year old slipped away without notice and ran after his mother's truck. His mother didn't see him and ran over him. In a split second, the lives of everyone there changed forever. One minute all the world was right and the next minute it sent them into hell. I couldn't imagine what that poor mother felt. How is she coping? Will she ever get to a point where she doesn't blame herself? In the minutes that are coming, will she and her husband tear each other apart in an effort to deal with the pain and guilt that they don't deserve?
Tornadoes can remove entire towns in minutes. My grandmother's roommate at the nursing home she lives in passed away the other morning while everyone was taking a few minutes to eat breakfast. In less than a second, this little old lady who spent her last few days in pain and misery suddenly knew the secrets of eternity. My dad found this out in the second that he drew his last breath of earthly air. How long did it take him to get to heaven? Was it as short a trip as was his trip to slip away? God I miss him. He's been gone for three years...that's a lot of minutes...it only seems like a few. How many minutes will it take me to stop feeling bad about trying to brush him off the week before he died alone in the bathroom? How many minutes will it be before I get to see him again and make him that cherry pie that he asked me to bake for him that he never got? In the minutes since he went away, I've moved, had my gallbladder out, had two carpal tunnel surgeries, seen three stepchildren move in and out of my house, lost two cats to cars, gone back to school, bought another car, and renewed my wedding vows. He's missed all of these events in a short amount of time.
It amazes me how torked up I get over the things that happen in the minutes of my life. It seems that I should try harder to enjoy the minutes. They are gonna keep ticking away to new minutes before I've dealt with the previous minutes.
Oh...the philosophical moments are the most amazing. I used to think I could only have these epiphanies when I was drunk. Now that I'm sober I find that I have them just as often and I can remember them to write them down. Beautiful.
In this current minute, I'm enjoying a great marriage. Damn, I've got a good husband. He's a gift that I hope to have plenty of minutes with. I'm also enjoying what will probably be the last minutes of the last days of my chocolate lab's life. I hope that her very last minute will be spent with me. I hope that her 14 years of minutes that she's had so far have been as precious to her as they have been to me. At this minute, I'm living in my childhood home that I love. I've got a good job and the opportunity to go to college. My fridge is full, my bills are paid, and my car has a full tank of gas. In short, I'm a blessed person at this minute. Originally I was going to draw up a post about how much I hate my stepkids (well....I only HATE a couple of them!) but I'm realizing that it ain't so bad. So many others are having horrible minutes right now and I have no reason to try to portray my minutes as anything near as painful as they could be.
I'm gonna go kiss my labrador and pinch my husband on the butt and thank God for the privilege of doing so.

A small victory

2007-04-23T15:49:00.000-07:00

Well, my husband had his court hearing. It went quite well. We didn't have to go to Appalachia after all. He was able to appear via phone with his attorney appearing in person. Child support was minimal, custody of "M" was given to her dad. Imelda will now have to pay medical costs. This was a good day. We will actually be able to afford to buy things for the kids that live with their mother since we won't be writing her a big check. We have found in the past that writing her a big child support leads to nothing for the children. She gets vacations, computers, and gaming systems while the kids run around in ill fitting clothing, shoes that are too small, and lice. Oh...and the electricity gets shut off so she can instead pay for things like wedding cakes.
I'm ready for this semester to be over. I need a break from writing papers!
My dog is in kidney failure and I'm coming to grips with her mortality. What will I do without my chocolate lab? I am afraid that the empty space will swallow me up. She is feeling pretty bad these days....I will let her go when she's ready.
I must make this short today. I have green beans to plant.

The puppy

2007-04-12T17:43:00.000-07:00

I just got back from West Virginia. We took "M" home yesterday after she visited us for spring break. This is my 16 year old stepdaughter. In five days is the hearing where she will be put in her dad's custody. She could have just stayed here and started school here and picked up right where she is in school, but just to be a creep...her mom made her stay there. Really she is trying to keep "M" there for six more weeks in order to collect an extra month of child support on her and this is worth more to her than letting "M" get started in school.
We did bring "M's" puppy home, though. He is a ten week old pit mix. Imelda told us that she suspected that "Farley" the pit mix has kennel cough since he was coughing. We took him to the vet today and he doesn't have kennel cough. He has an irritated trachea because somebody at Imelda's house (most likely her lazy idiot husband) has tried to choke Farley. Nice.
When we dropped off "M" there were several of the vagrants that live in the house out on the porch. They are all over 19 years old, have no jobs, smoke dope, pierce their bodies, you name it. They all live there, doing drugs, and acting like trash. Of course, my husband's 13 year old daughter, "T" is living there with all this going on and his son, "B" is partaking in all the debauchery. One vagrant even posted on the internet a naked picture of himself in "T"'s bed with his genitals covered with one of her stuffed animals. Of course child protective services didn't care.
After the animal abuse, drug usage in the house, several bouts with lice and a note decribing the 13 year old's last sexual experience...we're wondering where to turn after several calls to authorities with not even a hint of investigation. What the hell is going on here? Why is this acceptable? Why isn't Imelda in jail?
We don't know what to do. Where will these kids end up? They are all flunking school (the ones that live with mom). They are being molested, drugged, lied to, used, held back, and degraded and they have the state of West Virginia's blessing in it all. Sick.

The Inaugural Post

2007-04-10T15:25:00.000-07:00

This is my new blog. I've never had a blog. At this time last year, I didn't know what a blog was. I had to ask my friend Rosie to tell me what a blog was. Now here I am...blogging. I feel so trendy! Really, I don't feel trendy. I feel like finding a place to vent. Rosie started her blog after she was diagnosed with breast cancer. Lots of folks (myself included) have read her space on the web diligently and came as close as they could to experiencing her trials along the road to recovery. I have found this fascinating and have come to the conclusion that my own trials should be posted for all the world to see and maybe, just maybe...they might become less trial and more adventure.
The trial at hand right now in my little world has to do with my stepchildren and the scourge of humanity called the ex-wife. There are other ways to describe this ex-wife, but I will choose to keep my blog family friendly! I think that is is very important that people start to hear about the struggles of fathers in the child custody world and I'm afraid it will be difficult to be unbiased and politically correct. This means that if you are a bad mother seeking out to financially rape your ex-husband and to form a chasm between him and his children, then you will only be offended by this blog so please stop reading and walk away now!
I am sure that anyone who reads my posts will hear a lot about stepkids and the ex-wife. They are the main reason for initiating this online window to my world and they tend to dominate what I am ranting about most of the time. The ex-wife (I'll call her sheet serpent...oops that isn't family friendly...how about DNA dumpster...nope, still not rated "G"...okay, let's refer to her as Imelda (in reference to another famous scumbag chiseler).
I'll set the stage by giving the reader's digest version of things as they stand and in further posts, I'll add in the details. It'll be like a soap opera...woohoo!
My husband and I live in Indiana. We are middle class manufacturing employees living in the suburbs with way too many pets. There is a golden retriever, a chocolate lab, a tuxedo cat, a stripey cat, two bunnies, and a bearded dragon. We attend a Baptist church and we are the only sober Jimmy Buffett fans in the free world. Right now, my 19 year old stepdaughter lives with us and my 16 year old stepdaughter will be moving in after next week's custody hearing. My 15 year old stepson used to live with us. He moved out in January after he got caught stealing. There was also some suspicion that he was using drugs (duh....he was selling all his stuff and losing weight at a rapid rate). Upon his conviction by his dad, "B" decided that it would be easier to move in with his mother in Appalachia where he could be free to participate in an assundry of illegal activities with her blessing than it would be to stay here and face consequences.
So here we are, awaiting a hearing.....the lives of stepkids in the balance. That is all for my inaugural post. Come back soon for more!