Archive for the ‘life lessons’ Category

The Jury is still out…

December 1, 2008

Deliberations will continue as there is still a certain amount of doubt derived from his claims of innocence.

Let me take you back to the scene of the crime…

Yesterday I made a valiant attempt to clean the mounds of leaves from my flower beds. The daunting task was made more miserable by the cold swirling winds which redistributed the leaves nearly as fast I piled them. Not to be defeated, I learned to rake and speed-scoop in a fairly effective manner.  

Feeling slightly guilty for watching football while I toiled in the wintry storm, Mr. J would occasionally come out and offer advice. (not help… just creative words of wisdom) Such as; “You should hold the bag so that it fills with wind as you are dumping the leaves in.”

Alas, the cold got the better of me (it must have dropped close to 60 degrees) and I went in for hot cocoa.

It was about this time that the Chargers BF’d another game and the slew of potty-mouth verbage could be heard throughout the house. I decided that now would be a good time to start dinner.

Alas, I looked at my kitchen floor and being that I am easily distracted decided to sweep my floor before cooking. I had left my dustpan outside and needed to retrieve first… Once I was outside, I decided to put the last pile of leaves in he bag…

About halfway thru my scooping I heard the back door open and thought the fabulous Mr. J had come out to give me a hand. No such luck – I once again heard the backdoor close and knew he had gone back inside. No problem, I should only be another 5 minutes and I would be inside as well.

WELLLLLLLL…. That is how it should have ended. As it turned out, I reached the back door and tried to open it. It was locked!

I did the logical thing; I knocked and I knocked and I knocked. I then proceeded to knock on all the windows downstairs, peeking into the windows that had the blinds cracked. Nadda…. Being that I was still very logical in my thinking; I grabbed the net for the pool as it has a 10 foot pole on it and I began tapping on all the upstairs windows.

All my efforts were in vain. I did not even see a curtain move inside. So, I moved on to plan “B” I began hollering at various windows. The only response I received were curious looks from the elderly couple across the street. (Damn, I was hoping to refrain from becoming the circus attraction in our new neighborhood.)

I had now been outside for close to 30 minutes. Because I had not intended on making it an outside adventure, I was no longer wearing my shoes and the cold was making me a tad bit irritable. I eyed Mr. J’s truck in the driveway and contemplated breaking out a window so that I could have a semi-warm place to sit during my banishment.

Ah-ha! I was in luck (well if you discount the fact that I was locked out without my shoes and Mr. J appeared oblivious) his truck was unlocked. I honked the horn a couple times, thinking that might draw his attention to my perilous circumstances. Nadda, nadda, nadda. Only more stares from my neighbors.

Well Hell… Feeling more than a tad bit unloved and forgotten, I decided that I might as well finish cleaning out the remaining flower beds. Sooner or later Mr. J would get hungry and come look for me. Or if he ordered a pizza I could slip in with the delivery.

About halfway through the last flowerbed, Mr J came out and asked if I minded taking a break to cook some dinner. (you do not want to know the ugly words that crept into my brain at that moment)

Mr J claims that he thought I was upstairs taking a nap when he locked the door. It was only after he got hungry and went upstairs to check on me that he noticed I was not in the house.

I am not buying his story… I think he was sneaking from room to room watching me knocking and yelling for help, all the while laughing his ass off. I think it was only his stomach begging to be fed that had him coming to my aide.

The best part… (depending on how you look at it) was the questions he asked me: “Why didn’t you have your keys with you.”

Why would I take my keys with me when I go to the back yard for a dustpan?  

“Why didn’t you have you cell phone with you? You could have called me.”

Uh yeah, I often go to the backyard and call you on my cell phone. It makes a lot more sense than coming inside and talking to you in person.

I was only going out for the fricken dustpan….. Grrrrrr….

In case you wondered, I used extreme restraint and I stopped myself from dropping his chicken on the floor a couple times before dinner.


Straight from the Heart

November 17, 2008

The other night we were laying in bed just enjoying each others company. I was resting my head on Mr. J’s shoulder and running my hand across his chest. My finger tips lingered on his scar and I slowly traced it from one end to the other.

I could feel J tensing … and I said, “I love your scar.”

The hesitation was in his voice when he asked what I was talking about… Was I joking? Why would anyone love something so ugly?

“Aw baby. It is not ugly at all. Every time I run my fingers down your scar, I am reminded of how lucky I am that you are alive and in my life.”

For thirty-eight years J has tried to hide his scar, too embarrassed to take his shirt off around others. Years of hearing the laughter and ridicule.

But, I can only smile when I trace my fingers across it… Because he is ALIVE!

Slowly, I traced my fingers up to his face, across his lips, and to his cheek. I felt the tears that silently moistened his eyes…

My heart ached… so many years of pain welled up inside that beating heart… covered by a scar, a scar that should be his badge of honor… A scar that shouts to the World, “This wonderful man is Alive.”  

J took my fingers and kissed them.

I love this man and his many scars, for they make him complete.

Fourth & Fourth meme

November 14, 2008

I have not been as active as I would like to be on the Internet because the boss thinks I should work while I am at the office… And my hubby thinks I should snuggle when I am at home.

But I could never turn down a tag from the fabulous Trisha Her post always touch a soft spot in my heart (yes, I have a soft spot in there somewhere)   Her writing can make me feel all warm and fuzzy or like lighting a fire under someones azz all in the same breath. (what can I say, she has mad skills)

OKey Dokey here are the rules:

1. Go to your pictures file.
2. Go to the 4th file.
3. Go to the 4th picture.
4. Post it and tell the story.
5. Tag 4 more people.


I took this picture on a cross country drive from North West Wyoming to South East Texas. (1500 miles… You really have to love each other to ride in a car together for 1500 miles)

Mr. J and I were torn between hauling butt back home on the interstate, making good time… Or cruising the back country. When we got to Colorado I got a wild idea (what are the chances?) We should hop off the interstate and take US 50 across the state. Just a suggestion to other brave souls out there who might seek adventure: IF YOU CHOSE THIS ROAD (and I recommend it highly) DO NOT TRY IT IN THE WINTER!

We went up and down and around some of the steepest most beautiful mountains I have ever seen.  In this picture, we were crossing over the Continental Divide.

I stepped out onto the ledge and took several pictures. Mr. J kept begging me to come back off the ledge or he was going to leave me. Ha! I had the keys and there was no way he was coming out to get them.

I truly love my home. BUT, if I could afford to live anywhere in the world, this would be one of my top choices. (at least for the summer months)

Now for my tags:

The wonderful



Taoist Biker

Purple Colored Glasses

Sensitivity Training

November 10, 2008

Alrighty, I admit it. I need it… Or something to help me learn to be more tolerant, more patient, less apt to call a putz a putz.

I came to this brilliant realization the other day when a coworker peeked his head in my office and said he needed to go home because he was not feeling well. I was a breath away form asking, “What’s the matter, your pussy hurting you again?”

Not all my fault. You see I have been hanging out with the guys and they say that every time one of them complains about an ache or a pain. It is their way of calling the other guy soft for whining.

Still, I have absolutely no business using such delightful terms of endearment with my coworkers.

I decided I needed a refresher course and church would be a good place for me. So, I slipped on a dress and headed out the door. Just five minutes into my 20 minute drive I almost turned my car around and came home. Five minutes… and I was cursing like a sailor at the inatentive drivers who had taken over every lane of the road.  

I was sure that the Pastor would be able to feel the evil cloud that was permeating from my soul.

I slipped into an empty pew, hoping to remain invisible and unapproachable. Why do fellow church goers feel the need to reach out and try to make you feel welcome? I did not really want to be noticed. I simply wanted to hear the message and slip back out…

(note to self: come in during the opening hymn and slip out during the closing prayer)

OK, it was not that bad… and the message was very moving, he talked about the commitments we must make as couples to stay together in these trying times. I really think Mr. J needed to be there as well cuz the guy was telling the husbands to compliment their wives on the little things, like dinner. (and Mr J needs a refresher course on that one)

In fact he needs a course on eating whatever I cook and telling me it is delightful. (waiting until I turn my head and then spitting the crap into a napkin or a house plant.)  I will see if the Pastor will bring it up again next week and take Mr. J with me.

All-in-all it was good for me.

I didn’t curse at one person on the drive home!

The things we do for Love

July 9, 2008

We have all been there. (Please tell me I am not alone in my crazy acts of love)


This morning was just one of those times… 4:30 in the morning, I had just finished cooking Mr. J’s breakfast of chorizo and egg burritos, wrapped them in foil for him to eat on his drive in to work. I packed his lunch, gave him a kiss, and pushed him out the door.


I then turned to clean up the breakfast dishes and noticed his burritos were sitting on the counter. Quickly scooping them up, I flew out the door and ran down the street waving my arms to get his attention. I was dressed, errrr… rather not dressed for my morning sprint in one of his T-shirts, a pair of his boxer shorts and my very own bare feet.


I did not even stop to think (uhhh no kidding, huh?) that anyone who might be out and about would be calling the police. I just knew that I had to get his attention before he reached the end of the block. Just before he reached the stop sign, Mr. J looked in his rear view mirror and saw me running down the middle of the street with my arms flailing like an albatross on crack.


It was not a matter of trying to prove anything… I just did not want him to start his day without breakfast. It’s All Love!  


Is it love that makes us lose some our senses, such as common sense?


It must be love. If not, I would have sat at the table and enjoyed his burritos while sipping another cup of coffee.


It is love that has us tasting the special breakfast that our 5 year old child made for us on Mother’s Day or tasting their sticky lollypop when they wave it in front of us with begging eyes.


It is love that has us leaning down and letting our dog kiss us on the mouth. Ok, I quit doing this after watching my beloved Chance lick his balls. I KNOW where his tongue has been.


It is love that turns the silly annoyances of our loved ones into acts of endearment; such as my son pretending to ‘air’ box me every time I walk by. This reminds me, it is love that has him slipping a bottle of vitamin water into my lunch everyday.


And it is love that has them taking out the trash without being asked. Ok, that one might be the product of constant nagging in prior years…


I am curious to hear what crazy things you may have done, without hesitating to consider the risks, out of LOVE. 

(I am going to try and catch up on comments and everyones blogs today and tomorrow…)   

31 Flavors

June 27, 2008

Here is an update rolled into a post of sorts…


My gorgeous son, also known in some circles as Romi’s future husband, is comfortably settled at the J house.


I remember when he was a toddler and I anxiously waited for him to learn to talk. When the words began they NEVER stopped. On long car trips I would bribe him with McDonalds if he could stop talking for five frickin minutes. It nearly made his head explode, but he was able to refrain and win his Happy Meal.


Then he grew up and went to war. My home was so quiet… eerie silence hung from the walls. I craved his phone calls from the other side of the world and hung on every syllable.


WELL, he is home… And the nonstop chatter is once again bouncing from every corner. I adore my son and love his wit. He is a frickin walking encyclopedia of knowledge. Name a subject and he spits out the data. This is all cool… to a point. But, Oh My Hell, I think my eyeballs are bleeding. I am now suffering from severe sensory overload. The chatter never stops.


I am going to see if he can once again be bought off with a Happy Meal.  


Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t trade him for the world, I just need to adjust to the constant motion from his corner.


I have also given up running around the house in my bra and panties (or less). I think it would be cruel and unusual punishment to subject a grown child to all his momma’s jiggly parts unclothed. I don’t want him to be scarred.


He has introduced me to the series “Heroes” which I had previously written off without even a glimpse.  I am now a Heroes addict and have watched six episodes in two days… I will be watching the remaining episodes of season one this weekend.




Last night in bed, I climbed over Mr. J to check the setting on the alarm clock. I just happened to be naked and he just happened to be naked and I was being a bit of a tease…


Somehow or other, I must have put pressure on my stomach or something… and I threw up in my mouth a little. There I was laying naked across my husband, trying my best to regain control over a bad situation… He looked concerned and asked if I was ok.


I quietly explained what had just happened and then proceeded to laugh hysterically.


It just hit me in a funny way… I use that expression from the movie “Dodge Ball” all the time. It was ironic that when I actually did throw up in my mouth, I was trying to get a rise out of Mr. J.


His response… “Before I met you, I had no idea that crazy comes in 31 flavors.”

What Ifs…

June 12, 2008

Randomness at it’s Best


First I am apologizing for not keeping up on the various blogs lately. Hell froze over…and I have been snowed under. That does not even make sense, but I am flying on tangents and am going to shoot this crap from my head while it is almost coherent.


Last night I put on some fancy cold crème and climbed into bed. This is a first time experience for me and from the WTF look that Mr. J shot my direction it might take some getting used to. I decided that I do not want my face to look like this:


(This picture was ganked from )

So he is going to need to close his eyes and pucker up and kiss me dammit. He won’t admit saying anything bad, but I distinctly heard the words “Granny” and “My Mother” being muttered from his side of the bed.


What if he woke up in the morning and it was his granny in bed beside him? J


Thinking back to the time I drove from Twin Falls, Idaho to Hebo, Oregon with my then 10 month old son. Just the baby and I cruising down I-84… About 650 miles, not stopping unless I needed gas or to potty. When David would get too fidgety I would hand him red licorice to munch on. Not the brightest thing to do, but I was only 21 and enjoyed learning from my mistakes.


(This picture was ganked from )


Somewhere around La Grande, Oregon he became increasingly whiney… So I stopped, unbuckled him from his car seat and let him snuggle on my lap while I drove. We made it about 40 more miles when he puked about a pound of licorice all over the both of us.


I miss those drives across the country… I made one before with David when he was 5 months old… From Twin Falls, Idaho to Worland, Wyoming – 500 miles, stopping again for gas and to feed and change him. I never worried about crazies on the highway… Weird now that I think back on it. I had so very few fears.


It is not that I was never faced with crazies on the highway…

Just 3 months pregnant with him, I was driving about 150 miles to my grandparents and had some sick pervert pull up beside me and honked his horn. I looked over and he was stroking himself. This guy scared me. It did not matter if I sped up or slowed down, he was right beside me on the interstate, honking and signaling for me to pull over. I was rescued by a truck driver, who was caught behind us. The trucker flashed his headlights at me and then slowly pulled to the shoulder. I too pulled to the shoulder and the truck driver rolled up to my bumper and got out to check on me. After explaining what was happening, he agreed to follow me all the way to my Grandparents’ exit to make sure the guy did not harass me any longer.   


So much could have gone wrong, Makes ya wonder about the ‘what ifs…’


Another ‘what if’ that I was thinking about this morning…


I almost killed my ex husband.  We had only been married a couple years and David was just a few months old. The Dummy was working in Oregon (that is why I made the interstate drives by myself). He called me one night and said he was not coming home that particular weekend. I tucked David into bed and fell asleep myself.


About 2:00 in the morning I was awakened by my bedroom window being opened. I was in a trance of sorts when I slipped to a kneeling position by my bed, picked up the 22 rifle, and aimed it at the intruder. The son of a bitch was my husband. He wanted to know if I had someone in bed with me while he was gone. I hesitated for just a second before pulling the trigger…


It makes me wonder what if I had not hesitated.


… And one more.


I have a fabulous friend, Retired LtCol Sharon Jacko who is back in Afghanistan, this time as a civilian. She and a wonderful group are there helping women get set up in businesses of their own, to become self-sufficient. I opened up a recent email and one of the pictures enclosed made my heart skip a beat.


The young boy looks just like my brother Todd when he was young. Todd passed away at the age of 17. The picture is such a shocking resemblance that I started to cry.  This September will mark twenty years since Todd was around to make me laugh.


What if he were still alive today?        *Sigh*


(LtCol Jacko’s picture of Afghani boy)

In The Beginning…

June 11, 2008

… There was light.


Oh wait, I am talking about my beginning. Sometime around the first part of February in 1963 my parents made passionate love… (I really do not know the details as they chose to never disclose them with me) So, they may have had a session of grudge sex, or I might have been the result of a ‘quickie.’


It really does not matter all that much at this point, but don’t we all want to be the result of some wickedly hot sex? Anyhow, nine months later… Waaalaaaah, I am here.


That is not where I was going with this post, but thought it would be rude to leave out the real beginning.


Fast forward a few decades…


This is my Official 100th post and thought it appropriate to share with ya’ll how this particular blog came about.


The Beginning…


About a year ago, the wonderful, funny, strong, intelligent, sexy, gifted, and fantastic mother and friend, Ms LL at Chromed Curses (did I leave anything out?) asked me how I was doing. So I sent her an email and pulled no punches. She told me that the email should really go in a blog…


… And so it began… How-to-start-a-blog


Today, I wanted to thank LL, SK, and all my new blogging buddies for helping me laugh at the crazies.


Hugs to each and every one of you. Ya’ll ROCK





Rebel Without a Clue

June 6, 2008

Today’s post might be tough to follow as my thoughts are kind of flighty jumbled this morning. I am dealing with both inner and outside turmoil leaving my brain in utter chaos.


We have been throwing several ideas back and forth as to the location and type of home we want to move to. Ideally we would be living on our own back forty with a pool and plenty of room to stretch out.


However, if we opt for acreage we will only have enough left in the budget for a home like this:


Even that would beat the feeling which our neighborhood gives us that we are trapped in this:



Perhaps we will be able to find a quiet neighborhood something like this:



Stewing over the choices we took a break and watched one of my most favorite movies; “Rebel Without a Cause.”


The conflicts portrayed in the movie have lain heavy on me today, refusing to ease up.   



I spent the better part of the night researching the writing and directing of the movie. It is FACINATING stuff.


I especially love the words of the director, Nicholas Ray, who in speaking of James Dean said:


The conflict between giving himself and fear of giving in to his own feelings; a vulnerability so deeply embedded that one is instantly moved, almost disturbed by it.


… Adding to the already cluttered thoughts of the movie and finding the perfect home, are the anger and frustration felt when a ‘heffa’ (Texas ghetto slang for stupid ass bitch) tried not once, not twice, but three times to run Mr. J and me off the road last night. I could tell Mr. J’s blood pressure was elevating to a dangerous level. This woman tried repeatedly to ram the side of our car. We stopped to let her move on and she stopped and backed up to us. We took a few pictures of her erratic behavior and called the police. I have no idea if they did anything other than take our info… But, it was frustrating.


I did manage to chuckle under my breath when Mr. J said, “If she were a man I would beat the shit out of her.”


So today I am rebelling against life in general. There is nothing else for me to do because my mind is refusing to rationalize. How does a sensible business woman rebel the ass-backwardness of life? Shit, I do not have a clue. So I am rebelling via my wardrobe. Today there are no high heels, no fancy suits, no pantyhose… I am wearing saggy-baggy blue jeans and a uuber soft T-shirt.


Yes, I am sticking it to the establishment. I am a Rebel. A Rebel without a clue. All that I do know is I am not going to do it. I have absolutely no clue what it is I am not going to do, but no one is going to make me do whatever it is I am not going to do. I am serious… Well, kind of.


The Twisted Sister song just jumped into my head. “We’re Not Gonna Take It” …


This is an excellent theme song for the new rebel in me.


I wish I could write scripts for people’s lives and hand them to the cast to be acted out as written. I would hand the police their script today.


Act One; Scene One… (This is a short piece)


Police Officer knocking on the door of aforementioned ‘heffa’: Ma’am, we have been contacted by the Cracker Jacks Corporation and they have rescinded your driving privileges. You will need to hand over the license which they issued to you.


You have the right to remain silent. We are asking that you exercise this right. We do not want to hear your foul mouth. Do you understand? If you do not understand a roll of duct tape will be provided and applied.



Scene fades out…

… And another quote by Nicolas Ray:

“The imagination is a pretty precious source of protection.”

No Holding Back

June 5, 2008

My dear friend  Mario the plumber came by the office yesterday afternoon. Mario is a breath of fresh air in my smoggy city, the sun peeking thru on a stormy day, a flower rising up thru the crack in the sidewalk… (I could do this all day)


We talked for a couple hours about life and death. We shared our wisdom on the insane land prices where he lives, as his neighborhood just might be the only place in the country where prices continue to escalate. We laughed about the photography studio, around the corner, that everyone knows is really a front for a whore house. And we talked about his cancer, the surgery, his prognosis, and further testing.


He offered to show me his scar that runs from his belly button to his kibbles and bits. I politely declined. I mean, if you have seen one you have seen them all. (Scars, I mean scars)


He also talked in great detail about having his catheter removed. He left me cringing in pain and I don’t even have a tube crammed up my stuff. He shared the anxieties he felt about having a “drippy faucet” the rest of his life. Thankfully he will not need to borrow his wife’s maxi pads as the dripping stopped after a few minutes. (It was so sweet of him to pass this on to me.)


I adore Mario. Although 20 some years my senior, we can talk about anything and everything, with no worries of offense or embarrassment.  


I love sharing everything with Mr. J, but it is kind of nice to have a Mario in my life as well. Like a small child, Mario says what is on his mind, never holding back. Sometimes I wince at the vulgarities of his openness. But I would not change one thing about my Mario.


Who else would have the nerve to shout to me from across the parking lot as he pulled out, “Tell that husband of yours to flush a box of tampons down the drain, so that I will have a legitimate reason to stop in and have coffee with ya’ll.”