one of us

They say that one cannot die from a broken heart. I do not concur. Our precious Becky has suffered a loss that serves as a nightmare for mothers everywhere. A parent having to bury a child is just so unfathomably sad. Yet, while I know little James is safe and not suffering, I grieve. I grieve for Becca's loss, her heart-broken-ness. I grieve the fact that things will never be the same for her, James and Makaylee. I grieve the loss of innocence.
As I stood there, surrounded by family, I realized that baby James was born one of us. There are different kinds of us - friends-us, coworkers-us, family-us. As a family, I feel there can never be enough or too many of us. We lost one of us. Nothing makes that better.

Matthew 6:24

No one can serve two masters, for either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and money.

I realize that these are hard times. I find it startling that only 7 years after 9/11, that we as Americans, are even contemplating electing someone with the name of Barack Hussein Obama. There are so many things that can be said either way. I can understand those against the war in Iraq, more than I can those citing money issues as the reason to vote for Obama. I am not saying that John McCain would be my first pick for president. I am saying that in a world that seems intent on blaming America for most of the global problems, we need a leader that will stand by us, in front of us.

I am so not sure Obama will do that. The press make it seem that his election would be a sign of penitence to the Muslim world, our way of saying sorry. I do not think the election of Obama would be perceived that way by the extremists. They would see it as a sign of cowardice, trying to back down from a fight. We didn't start the fight. We may have misstepped along the way, but make no mistake. This was not a fight that America started. I would feel more secure with a man like John McCain representing us.

This month's Reader Digest has an article about how the whole world would prefer Obama as our president. WHAT??? I want to scream. How dare they attempt to parlay their benighted opinions would affect our choices! Almost every country in the article has come to the United States with their hand out at one time or another. Several of them, several times. I am a little infuriated that Reader's Digest would publish this CRAP in the month before the election.

Obama is the snake oil salesman of this election, prescribing cures for everything. All the while, those he prescribes to are nothing more than socially inept hypochondriacs. No. I would not have chosen John McCain for the post of president, but between John McCain and Barack Obama, there isn't a choice. It is simply John McCain. The press may want to gloss over Obama's shortcomings and Muslim heritage with glittery word confetti, but I shall not. Barack Hussein Obama is not fit to stand next to John McCain, let alone run against Mr. McCain in a presidential election.

loathsome ticket brokers

While I cannot believe that I have become one of those parents, who are willing to subject themselves to a concert involving thousands of screaming children, there are even more diabolic creatures out there. Ones that worm eating parasites that refuse to touch, gouging the price of the tickets to such said event, to astronomical heights.
I have just purchased 4 tickets to see the Wiggles Live. First, I cannot believe that I am paying the regular ticket price of $191.00 for these tickets. I was online, with all my Ticketmaster info already entered at 10:00 am. At 10:02, the best seats available were center section, row R. For those of you not handy with math, that translates to the 23rd row. UGH!! Really??? I tried and tried for better seats. After about 6 times, I got nervous and went ahead and bought the seats, figuring if I could score better seats, I would sell these for cost to some other despondent parent later. I attempted to reason with the computer. You know, when you put in how many tickets wanted and price limit, the secondary page with the scrambled words? I thought, "Oh wow, this is a long/hard word, these must be better seats!!" Um, nope. Their not.
I then went to other sites, like Stub Hub, Tickets Now, etc.. There were tickets for the show already posted. Center section, row C (3rd row for those mathematically challenged), $190.00 each. My wanting to take my sons to a Wiggles concert should not make me want to curse. At least, not yet.

dangerously invested

Today, as I was playing with Tommy, I realized that I had become emotionally invested in my sons, dangerously so. They are a part of my soul, intertwined in such a fashioned that one cannot tell where I end and they begin. Do all mothers feel this way? I would guess so. It seems they hold my heart, along with most of my happiness in their tiny hands. I have never allowed anyone to have that much of me, tiny little thieves.

graham crackers and apple juice

I have always loved the smell of really good perfume. You know the kind, the ones that cost at about a day's worth of wages. I have recently changed my mind, very recently. Tonight even. As I was getting Tommy ready for bed, I was nuzzling his neck in order to get giggles. He smelled of graham crackers and apple juice. The combination was wonderful. Estee Lauder should hop on this scent. It would make women feel young, protective and sweet all at once. One could say that the smell of graham crackers and apple juice is my new favorite........

Kindergarten

Today is the day. I am not even sure of where to begin. Andy started kindergarten today. How did this happen? He should be about two years old. Instead, time insists that he is ready to go start school. I have had my misgivings with time before. This time, I will hold time against itself.

He rode the bus even. I allowed him to. He didn't want me taking pictures. "We don't have time for pictures, mom. I have to get to school." When I told him that Ann and I would follow the bus, he informed me that I couldn't do that. There were laws against it. I asked him what kind of laws. "The kindergarten law, mom." Stupid laws.

love life

Sometimes I am reminded of how much I just love being who and where I am in life. Things may not always be perfect, but life is so precious. blah, blah, blah.......i know.

stress fractures

Lately, there have been stress fractures in my sanity. I was thinking how those little fractures would look on a mental MRI. Is it better to have one's mind & heart in perfect condition, with no little fractures or tears, or it is better to have the evidence of living life? I think living. I envision my fractures being glue with an Elmer's type of glue, and lots of glitter sprinkled on them. Different colors of glitter, for different types of fractures. I would also like some hologram type stickers as well, to cover the little tears. Yes, I am sure, on a mental MRI, I would be a show piece. But I suppose that is ok. I do love glitter.....

Wee.......

Tommy loves to say "WEE!!". It helps me remember to slow down and enjoy things. As adults, we become so serious and seem to loose track of the little things that give such pleasure. Simple things are the best things.

traveling

I hate traveling....I love to go, but the getting there is a bear. I don't care for heavy traffic or people for that matter either.

Preach It Rev Wright

Preach it, Rev. Wright. The more you tell your wonderfully askew point of view on life here in America, the more I realize that a normal thinking person could not have sat under your tutelage, unless they agreed with you.

Even more unsettling than your views of AIDS and 9/11 is that fact that Barack Obama would have us, the American public, believe that he was unaware of the extent of these views. That is unbelieveable. What, he (Obama) sat in church and simply didn't listen? If that is the case, why on earth would we as a people want him for president? So he can sit through cabinet meetings, and conveniently say he didn't realize what was being said.....that whatever happens because of these cabinet meetings, falls on someone else in the meeting? Brother, if you can't pay attention in church, than cabinet meeting aren't for you.

Barack Obama is already showing a yellow streak of fear. Anyone having a pastor like Rev. Wright would have to know what absurd views that he holds. To denounce those views, now that the light of the media has fallen on them, is a sign of cowardice. How ever much that I have disagreed with George Bush on things, being a coward is not one of the things I see in the President.

In this great country of the United States of America, we can hold what ever sort of view we want. I do not agree with Rev. Wright, but because of the many brave soliders who fight and die for our nation and it's people, he and I have the right to expound on our personal opinions. So, I say, preach it.

getting older

I turn 35 years old today. Hmmm. That's all. Just getting older, not sure how much wiser though. Let you know when I figure it out....

shopping carts

Yesterday, as I was running into Krogers for a few items, it occured to me that if I had been a cowboy long ago, it would have been I who had the gimpy horse. I know this because, never fail, I always get that cart. You know the one.....yes, my friend, you do.

Whether it be the right front wheel swinging wildly in the air, with no intention of ever touching the ground again, or the left rear wheel that is sooo tired of screaming children in it's tiny passenger seat, that it refuses to ever move again. I have a knack of picking those carts. If carts were horses, mine would always be gimpy.

I have decided to be ok with this. If I were that gimpy cart, who had been shunned by anyone who comes near me, just because one of my wheels was in psychosis, I would be grateful for someone to appreciate that my other three wheels were working overtime to compensate for any percieved shortcomings. I, as that cart, would be proud to drive lopsidedly along.

Come along gimpy, come along. ;)

giving flowers

Today is the tenth anniversary of my cousin's passing away. He died at the age of 27. That age seems somewhat old and yet, terribly young, doesn't it? You know the old adage 'time marches on', well today it rings loud for me. As I got ready for the day this morning, I saw the age that the past ten years has added to my facial features, and I for once, was thankful for the little lines that come with time.

I had the strongest urge to go to his gravesite, I just wanted to touch his tombstone, and lay flowers there to honor his life. I know that nothing can bring him back, but still. I talked to his sister and learned that their mother, my aunt is very sick in the hospital. After I hung up, I decided against the 2 hour round trip to his gravesite. I don't know what he would have done. He might have visited my grave today, if it was I who had died all those years ago. I have come to realize that the pain of losing him is far outweighed by the joyful memories of him. We were normal cousins, spats and all. But in us ran a deep connection; blood, upbring, being of the same generation. I am not sure what it was, but it was always there. He never meet a stranger. never ever.

I decided today that his precious mother who has almost died several times, both from physical illness and sheer grief, needed the flowers that I was so intent on delivering today. You know the old adage ' give flowers to the living.....'. Today, I kept that one.

mingling dirt

Mike and I went to Mama Arey's house on Saturday. It was such an enjoyable day. While my husband worked on the gutters and things of that nature, I helped Mama in her flower beds.....I'm not sure how much work was done, but it was enough to make her happy.



While there, she asked me if I would like any starts off of her flowers or trees. Well, of course. I was digging up a small start from a bush, and saw some little green sprouts that I had mistakenly gotten as well. I asked her what they were, and if I should put them back. She's like " Oh no honey, those are just lilies, take them too." Only at her house does one try to get a start from a bush, and end up with lilies to boot.



She gave me several starts - the bushes, lilies, peonies, and flags too. I will try with all my might to get these precious starts to grow, and all the while she has columbine growing in the cracks of her sidewalk. There are crocus growing wild throughout her yard and even in the gravel of the driveway. It seems as if either the place or the dirt is magical. Maybe it is there, where the flower fairies that I believe in, orginated. It might be a hub for all the tiny do good flower fairies. I hope I got one along with my starts.



I have said ALL THAT to get to this point. Yesterday as I was transplanting all my new treasures, after I got each start out of the plastic bag, I would turn the bag upside down and empty all the dirt out, into the flowers' or bushes' new home. I really didn't think much about it until I had gotten done with all of them. As I got up off my knees, I grabbed the last bag and wadded it up. I noticed it still had dirt in it. I thought, "Ah it's just dirt." and kept walking towards the door to the house. I stopped abruptly, because my second thought was "It's magical dirt, from years of love, care and devotion." Not just to the flowers, and all the yard items, but the house even. Just Mama. I wanted to mingle Mama's dirt with the dirt at my house. Mingle - to mix together, blend: to join or unite with.

Food Whore

There, it is written. It is true. I have heard that the first step of recovery is admitting that there is a problem. Well, really? I love food. Correction, adore food. I joined Weight Watchers, and have lost alittle over 10 pounds. That looks like such a little amount when paired with the amount of weight I need to lose. I weigh as much as some NFL players .....what the??? I'm not sure when it happened. I realize that I didn't just go to bed one night, and bang.....size 24/26 the next morning. But in hindsight, I can't really put my finger on anything. I eat just like everyone else, I thought. CLEARLY NOT.
Food Whore. As for these people that lose 25 lbs, and are perfectly thin, I want to say "Yes I am happy for you, I know you had a problem. You solved it, way to go." But, the fat girl in me wants to scream, REALLY??? REALLY????? If you haven't ever thought of rolling around naked {by yourself ;) } in a mansized pizza or huge chocolate cake, then you do not have a food issue problem. I have thought of it. Daydreamed quite extensively of it, to be honest.
Food is my drug of choice. Herion, cocaine, even alcohol has never held any allure for me. But food, OMG. I want to get to the place where I can say that food was my choice of drugs. How do you get there? With other drugs, one can walk away, remove the drug entirely from their lives. Not so with food, we must have it in order to survive. It is always going to be lurking. I guess that anyone with an addiction thinks that their type of addiction is the worst of the worst. Maybe, maybe not. Who flippin knows, anyone got any answers??
I am not sure how to re-program myself. I don't even know if I want to. I do want to be a smaller size. What size? Is there a magic size at which I will be happy with myself? I am scared now. I have reached a place that I need to lose weight to remain healthy. I want to see my boys grow up and not have them worry about my health (just because I can't say no to a second portion every time.). To see my grandchildren, and to play with them. Can I lose weight for them, or must I do it for myself?
I realize that weight is just one area in your life, a person must be rounded in all areas to be truely happy. But if you've ever been really heavy, then you understand how being fat can overwhelm every aspect of your life. BEING FAT.......that is me. Maybe I can relate BEING FAT with FOOD WHORE. They sure go hand and hand for me.