Talk Thursday: Life Altering Truths

I have always known I am loved. My parents have loved me despite my antics, rebellions, my teenage wrath and my youthful ignorance. My daughter has stuck with me with love and support through good times, thin times, bad times, parenting faux pas, and three husbands. My husband has stayed years beyond those who have left, put up with my strong will and opinionated self which he matches most of the time. I give my love with joy and accept your love in honor, with respect and stewardship.

Every person deserves love…at least at the start. A child is born – planned or not, with little expectation beyond life than to be wanted and loved, to give love, and of course there is that pesky eighteen year period of bills, the latest toys, and homework. But as a parent we usually understand what we are taking on, well at least we have a vague idea of our responsibilities. Some life starters don’t have a clue, can’t fathom how they can (for whatever reason) meet the demands of another life responsibility, or could put somebody else first before themselves and opt to give up their rights to parent – hopefully these children are adopted into welcoming families with more love than they know what to do with.

What rents my heart in to a zillion bloody unfunctioning pieces of abysmal sorrow is the knowledge that there are people (because I can’t call them parents, moms, or dads) who forsake that precious life, trample all of humanity by pimping out their five year old for their next fix, to pay their bills, or for a little extra spending cash.

The short life history of Shanyia Davis, whose “mother” pimped her out for sex is breaking my heart. I am so tired of “mothers" and "fathers” who go on TV wailing for their missing child when the whole time they are responsible, non-negotiable responsibility for the life, abuse, and destruction of a child who trusted, loved, and obeyed the authority in their life. They make it hard to believe the mothers and fathers who really are distraught over their missing child, people who have no culpability in the disappearance, abuse, death. I am non-violent, I don’t tend to believe in the death penalty, but right now I am filled with hatred and despair (emotions and judgment I am usually not wont to entertain) over this and several other HUNDRED cases just like this one. I don’t understand, I will not pretend to understand, I just want it changed. And I have no idea of how to do this.

In the Sandra Bulloch movie 28 Days the graduates of the addiction treatment center are charged with keeping a houseplant alive for a prescribed amount of months before being allowed to have a pet or a significant other in their life, if the houseplant dies, no pet, no significant other, and well no sex. Many high schools offer a class where students are required to care for a baby (a bag of flour, an egg, a whatever breakable abuseable thing) to give the potential caregiver/parent a taste of 24/7 responsibility. Isn’t it sad we don’t have some sort of litmus test in real life where a potential parent could be tested for skills of heart and humanity before being allowed to breed?

In my dismay and anger over the miss use, mistreatment, and murder of the Shanyia Davises of this world , I find that public disembowelment of any functioning reproductive system in such parents is only the beginning of a fitting punishment.

The life altering truth: Being loved and cherished isn't a given.

In Sorrow,
Cele

50 Questions Meme

I love Memes and the answers often change, so I took this off of Psam’s website. I think I’ve done it before, but I’ll have to go searching to find out.

1. What do you add to your coffee? Warm ups.
2. What are you reading now? Magic Soul by Jennifer Apodaca. Up next Death Dealer by Heather Graham.
3. Do you own a gun? 9mm Glock
4. Are you registered to vote? Yes... Republic.... It was an absolute joy to write Barack Obama's name on my primary ballot. In truth I’m an independent and should reregister, but then I’d miss the fun of write ins.
5. Do you get nervous before doctor appointments? Not, really but I laugh a lot. Hey you go to a guy whom you watched grow up and whose dad was one of your teachers. Or get a well woman’s from the girl you graduated with and see if you don't laugh.
6. What do you think of hot dogs? Darker please with mustard and relish.
7. Favorite Christmas Song? Religious? O, Holy Night. Secular? 1) White Christmas (Drifters version) 2) Do They Know It’s Christmas 3) The Hippopotamus Song.
8. What do you prefer to drink in the morning? Copious amounts of fresh brewed hot French Roast Coffee
9. Can you do push ups? Yes, God it took me years to master and then I got fat. But, oh, crap I better go check and no I can’t do chin ups.
10. What was the name of your first boyfriend/girlfriend? Ronnie, and yes, his eyes were a beautiful blue eyes with black lashes.
11. What’s your favorite piece of jewelry? Amethyst birthstone 16th birthday
12. Favorite hobby? Gardening, hot tub, book (in that order).
13. Do you work with people who idolize you? Only Grant.
14. Do you have ADD? No, Psam say’s I have OCD. I doubt that have you looked on top of my refrigerator or in my closets?
15. What’s one trait that you hate about yourself? I am the queen of procrastinators everywhere.
16. What’s your Middle name? Calista
17. Name 3 thoughts at this exact moment. I need to sleep, but this isn’t finished, oh look something shiny.
18. Name 3 things you bought yesterday. Groceries, diet pills, a mocha – okay two but one was for Ducky.
19. Name 3 beverages you regularly drink. Coffee, water, herbal tea (of late Celestrial Seasonings Apricot Peach Honeybush.)
20. Current worry right now? What? Me Worry?
21. What side do you dress to? The naked side
22. Favorite place to be? Just one? In my garden
23. How did you bring in the New Year? Probably snoring.
24. Where would you like to go? Ireland, Scotland, Alaska
25. Name three people who will complete this. (within the next 25 questions) Me, Myself, and I
26. Whose answers do you want to read the most? hmmmm
27. What color shirt are you wearing? Green tank top
28. Do you like sleeping on satin sheets? No, you slide off and end up on the floor. I like cool sheets, really cool, helps stave off the hot flashes.
29. Can you whistle? Yes, and it’s gotten me in trouble with a teacher, in good with a teacher, and heard.
30. Favorite colors(s)? Green and Vesuvius
31. Could you be a pirate? No, I like hot baths far too much and get seasick far too often.
32. What songs do you sing in the shower? If I Were A Rich Man
33. Favorite girls name? Siobahn
34. Favorite boy’s name? Benjamin
35. What’s in your pocket right now? no pockets, but my Kleenex is in my bra.
36. Last thing that made you laugh? Taylor Swift’s SNL Monologue Song.
37. Best bed sheets as a child? All our sheets were white cotton.
38. Worst injury you’ve ever had? Broke my butt playing softball; broke my foot parasailing.
39. Do you love where you live? I live in Heaven. Yes, I love where I live.
40. How many TVs do you have in your house? Three
41. Who is your loudest friend? My sister, Pinecone
42. How many dogs do you have? One
43. Does anyone have a crush on you? Nah.
44. What are the most fun things you ever did? Surfing, road trips and singing in the car with Psam
45. What are your favorite books? The Lord Of The Rings – JRR Tolkien, anything Jane Austen, The Stand – Stephen King. The Jenny T. Partridge series by Natalie Collins. TB White, The Once and Future King.
46. What is your favorite candy? Lindor Truffles & Peeps
47. Favorite Team? U of O Ducks.
48. What songs do you want played at your funeral? I will not have a funeral.
49. What were you doing at 12 AM? Sleeping
50. What was the first thing you thought of when you woke up? “Oh God, I think I even I heard me snoring.”
    Sith,
    Cele

Talk Thursday: Mea Culpa

Having failed Spanish through out school, I never attempted Latin or Legalese. So I had to look up Mea Culpa. Yes, that is the Girl Scout’s honest truth, while I’ve tried to own up to my guilt(s) through out my adult life, I have stayed away from most acts carrying potential legal ramifications – ergo, I’ve never been faced with Mea Culpa and had to swear an oath on a stack of Bibles.

I pondered…nope can’t admit to that one. I contemplated… Oh, no no…that one is off limits. Hmmm, ohmigawd my daughter reads this I’m not posting that one. So I was going to tell you about the time I rammed my dad’s VW fastback through the garage door. Yeah, I know, I’ve owned that one for years.

But now, charges have been brought up against me in the court of blog that I must address- that of being the mother of a latch-key, McGyver loving, scientific adolescent. Had I known the potential danger involved I would have kept the two teen girls (and their uninvited boyfriend) on board who’d been babysitting her. Wouldn’t that have been lovely?

Instead I had the lady next door keep an “eye on her”, (the opportunity for a sense of freedom and responsibility – or so I told myself) I came home on my break, and was off work by 5 o’clock. Apparently it wasn’t enough. I noticed something was up when my spoons began disappearing (to this day I don’t have matching spoons.) You’ve undoubtedly heard of bee’s knees – well I’ve had the elbows, wings, and bee butts too, cryogenically preserved for a future examination/dissection/experiments that never came along. I frequently had to vacuum out my freezer to find the chicken potpies.

Suddenly, to my horror, I discovered the orange juice was missing. Orange Juice. What the heck is going on with the orange juice? She looked sincere and honest when she said she’d not drunk all the orange juice. Then I found the roll of film. Doused completely in OJ, I’m not sure what was on the roll originally I only saw pulp. Knowing the amount of ammo in our house and being an avid follower of Myth-Busters I am happy to say I found no locks (and therefore doors) with burn marks. It could have turned out sooooo much worse.

Isn’t hindsight amazing? I thought I’d been doing the best I could. My daughter was my life, she was my support system, heck she raised me. She’s long been the voice of sanity in my adult life – I’d fight through hell and back (if I believed in Hell) for her if need be. While she was growing up I gave her my evenings, my weekends, every effort and opportunity I could, and the best of myself – As a parent you know it wasn’t enough.

Sadly, inside yourself you know it’s never enough. I’m not asking absolution, I can’t find absolution in myself – and heck she can’t give it because she loves me and sees it differently. Now I look back realizing I was even worse a parent during her teen years. If possible I’d take it back, do it differently. Yes, I have long felt guilt, heavy smothering guilt over my parenting (or lack there of.) And still despite me, she turned out a great person and a much better parent than I’d ever hoped to be. Isn’t that the strangest fucking gratification? I tried to make this funny, sadly it’s not, it’s just honest.

Guiltily,
Cele

Vacation - well the late middle part - III?

I am some how falling behind on my vacation post. Ergo the vacation that keeps on giving...beyond the sinus thingie I came home with. On Wednesday morning, not as early as we'd have liked, we got up, bought coffee and a bran muffin and again headed east. Dawn had come and gone, the morning was beautiful and the drive not as long as the day before.

I'd been to Zion Canyon when I was a little girl. My cousin and his wife had gone the week before. Armed with the appropriate footwear they did some hiking, saw a great big rattle snake, and that kept me from wandering too far off the parking lot pavement.

Knowing that Zion is nothing like the Grand Canyon, but holds it's own beauty...and not as long the drive, I thought Ducky would like it. We paid our $25 entrance fee at the park gate. Drove into the park on a little winding road that showed us little.

Little that is, until we rounded a corner and the three buttes came into view. My concerns dissolved as Ducky let out as wonderful, "Oh, wow!"

The sky was a beautiful blue, the red rim rock amazing. I kept thinking that it didn't look quite like I'd remembered (or my mom's pictures bring to mind) I was thinking I'd been wrong and it was Bryce Canyon I was remembering. That was until we got back to the park gift shop to discover picture that look like the Zion Canyon I rember. I'd not been aware that there was two different entrances to Zion National Park.

The entire time I kept wondering how they got the name of Kolob Canyon? So I googled. Now I know more about something I never wanted to know about. It always comes down to Joseph Smith doesn't it? I'm thinking the three buttes must have been a three head phalic thingie with him. Delusional dreams.

I was especially taken with the evidence of erosion slowly digging it's new cracks, fissues, and crevases for the next millienum.

I even had Ducky take my picture, and while it shows exactly how fat I am, I'm sharing. My God those are massive breastesies. I need to diet again.

Sith,

Cele

Happy Halloween!

Growing up we were big on pumpkin carving in my family.

I've not out grown that love.

Happy Halloween,

Cele

Talk Thursday: Semi-True Stories

When I was a kid the Cascades song, Rhythm of the Rain would run through my head endlessly. Which isn’t bad if you’re not trying to go to sleep. But usually I was, tossing and turning, thumping my pillow, and listening to the darn song in my head – verse after verse, chorus after chorus, over and over again. Wide awake.

A bit later on in life I learned to alter my breathing to fall asleep. And a few years after that when we moved to Oregon I would lay in bed at night and wander the streets of my old neighborhood mentally naming each kid, in each house – in order. Then I would name their dogs, their cats, parents, sixty houses, I got pretty good at it. Needless to say, forty years later I can still do it, except it doesn’t put me to sleep anymore. Now I just take pills and say my prayers.

What I did get from the whole exercise (which expanded into blocks away from my neighborhood) was a good memory, or at least the realization that I have a fairly good memory. Apparently better than most, I thought everyone had this good of a memory – people like my friend Pam make me see otherwise.

The one thing I can’t remember is the first grade. I remember kindergarten, crap I remember the first day of kindergarten (but it cost me a nickel if I said crap.) I have a cute little picture of me from that year. I remember my teacher. I remember being bummed at the end of the year because it was summer of all darn things and there was no school (we didn’t get bummed, that actually came several years later.)

My first grade – almost a complete blank. I know my teacher was Miss Saurdeaux (in my head it is Miss Sourdough) she was young and blonde. Tada that is it! I have no school picture from that year and I’m fairly damn certain that is the reason it is a large blank in my memory.

Except one day – the day they took the school pictures. Yep, I remember that very day, because I was home sick with the mumps. It was a sunny November day, I was wearing my Halloween costume (really Girl Scout’s Honor – well except I’d not been a Girl Scout yet, or even a Brownie) mom had gotten me an angel costume that year… remember when you could get flannel Halloween costumes that miraculously became jammies? Been there.

Anyway, it was late morning when my mother became panicked because Butch was missing. I don’t mean he was suppose to be in the front yard missing, I mean he wasn’t to be found anywhere in the neighborhood (which was the afore mentioned three block cul-de-sac of sixty homes) and his trike was missing. Yes, trike he was four years old. Come to think of it Mrs. Taylor couldn’t find Donny, and Mrs. Winters was missing a Lance (it was a blessing really). The three had suddenly disappeared – Butch, the eldest by a year or so was the ringleader – the neighbors were sure.

My mother called the police; her panic increased she was stuck between staying with her sick child and combing the streets looking for her missing child. The cops on the other hand were scouring everywhere within a six block radius for the missing miscreants. I was languishing of the mumps in my Halloween Angel jammies, watching Sheriff John (it was lunch time.)

Mr. Taylor (they lived two houses down) came home and was just about to join the search when a black and white pulled in front of our house with Lance and Donny in the back seat, trikes jutting from the trunk. Yes my brother was safe, but they needed help.

A few days before a little boy a few blocks away had gotten lost in the storm system for a day and a half. In La Mirada the storm culvers are massive concrete structures that run for miles under the streets. It had been feared that the three had some how found their way into the storm system and were lost. A smart officer had decided that was a bit too evolve for three toddlers and checked the local grocery stores. Nope, no trikes and kids at Safeway (which would have been the much preferred location, no big streets to cross.) None, at the liquor store (personally I loved the candy counter at the liquor store.) Across the street at Boys Market (clearly the name should have been a hint) the officer found three trikes jammed in the phone booths outside the store. Why inside the phone booths? They didn’t want their trikes discovered (there’s a hot market out there for bashed and battered trikes) and stolen. Or maybe they didn’t want to be found by the cops.

What was definitely known was that Butch was in big trouble. Not only had he crossed La Mirada Boulevard with his rag tag team of lost boys, but he was refusing to get into the car with a stranger. In fact he wouldn’t even talk to the stranger (except to say he’s not allowed to talk to strangers) and yes, to him that meant the cop was a stranger – no talk.

I don’t remember what happened when Mr. Taylor brought him home, because I was sick and still had the mumps. Hey, I was only six, give me a break. It was while I was in the first grade and Crap! I can’t even remember that year.

Sith,
Cele

Vacation Part II, the Roll That Got Away

Everyone who takes rolls of film has a story about the one that got away; yes, often confused with the fish story. This is one of those stories…

When I plan a vacation, I plan a pretty full vacation. I mean, who knows when you might get to return? And of course after you’ve spent seven days seeing the sights, won’t it be several years before you go back? After spending two days and nights acquainting ourselves with our hotel, the restaurants there in and about, and with the Fremont Experience Ducky and I spent Monday taking in the sights and sounds of the southern end of the strip time share high pressure sales seminar. Note no commas, that’s how it felt. No I didn’t take pictures…well I did…sort of…but that is for later.

As a child my parents gave us the best of the US that they could. We scoured Route 66, I-80 and the roads in between. I have a freakish memory that can pull out bits and bobs of this event or that dating all the way back to age two and a half. I’m sure part of that is aided by my mom’s photo albums spurring my memories along. Which explains why I can’t remember first grade, I had mumps the day pictures were taken. And maybe I’ll tell that story tomorrow, but the gist is that I don’t remember first grade. Major digression. Knowing that we would be within driving distance of great places I remember from childhood, but Ducky’d never seen, I was primed to play the tour guide.

Monday afternoon I rented a car for three days. Tuesday morning, way too friggin’ early for vacation, Ducky and I bought coffee and a bran muffin, loaded up the rental, went against what Horace Greeley preached, and headed east. I’d planned three-day trips for our vacation: Hoover Damn, Grand Canyon, and Zion Canyon. Ducky smartly suggested doing the farthest first and the nearest last, so Tuesday we were off through the Nevada high desert into Arizona, into Utah and back into AZ for the North Rim.

After having to make a few stops for Ducky to rest his hip (really it’s walking the kinks out, but well you know) and five and a half hours later I was second guessing my desire to show him the Grand Canyon. He was in pain and fighting off cranky (which is a huge accomplishment) when we arrived in the parking lot of the North Rim Visitors center. One shot and I was already changing my film. We walked along the path getting small glimpses of the rim rock, making me fear the North Rim would not live up to my memories of the South Rim.

Suddenly the area opened up and we were offered endless views of the Grand Canyon. I am always amazed by the grandeur wrought by Mother Nature, an amazement that was renewed by Ducky’s fascination.
Now my husband has a
fear of heights, yes pretty much equaled to my terror of snakes, he’s a bit more emboldened than I am. He walked out on points and let me take his picture. UNFUCKINGHEARDOF!!! Ducky despises having his picture taken. He let me take shots here, there,
and even had a German couple trade cameras and locations with us to get couples shots. I was in seventh heaven.

Half way through I changed film again and loaded roll number four. While my digital was in the rental, I’d only brought my Pentax on our walk. That Tuesday I shot the better part of two rolls of film capturing the vistas of the North Rim, Ducky, and the day.

Only to return home and find, roll number three of seven is nowhere to be found.
Sith,
Cele