Quite a few things are on my mind. If I can get myself to write, I try to stay focused on at least one thing. But it was an eventful weekend.
First off, I checked my yahoo email, something which I do not do enough, and never on a regular basis. There was an email from the big daughters basketball "coach"
He is not her regular coach. It is a special program we pay extra money for her to attend. It works on focus areas, one thing at a time one day at a time. One day they may just dribble, for two hours. The next they may just run drills, you know, that kind of thing. Anyway, the email is from the people who run the facility that this goes on at. It was a letter informing us parents that they have decided to open and close each practice with a prayer, and they were making sure that was ok with everyone. And of course it was. There were all the respond emails saying how that was wonderful and we could all use a bit of prayer. Yippie.
So here I sit. Not knowing what to do, but mainly pissed the you know what off! How come around every corner someone is trying to press their religious beliefs on other peoples children? Obviously, the first thing we want to do is say, NO this is NOT ok with us! But been there done that. I tried to fight for separation of church and state here in our own school system with no avail. Walked away feeling like I really stood up for mine and my child's rights, but only got labeled "the atheist mom" and more invites for my kids to go to church with other people than ever.
Just leave your god out of my kids basketball! Please!? And do people really think, that if there is this all powerful god, that he or she is sitting around waiting to answer peoples prayers about how their basketball practice is going to go, or has just gone? Hell, he or she cant even answer the prayers of the sick and dying, and you expect this god to help your kid focus on the goal better? Sheesh! Give me a break.
And, I don't know what to do?!
Second off, my whole family saw a UFO this weekend. For real. Let me clarify that I said UFO, not aliens...but an unidentified flying object. It was awesome. We were driving back to tx from southern ok after visiting Dad A. There was what looked to be the smoke that comes out of the back of a jet plane, or maybe a really long tail of a comet in the sky. The Man noticed it first, then I did. We thought it may be one of the two things I just said, but noticed it did not move. For over 50 miles. It did not disappear like clouds or smoke from airplanes do, or like a comet tail does, it just stayed there in the same position for 50 MILES! We noticed a few other people driving by us with their heads pressed to their windshields pointing at it. Finally, near the tx border, we pulled the car off the highway and stopped on the exit ramp. We all exited the vehicle, all five of us and just stared in disbelief. It was different, standing there in the open air looking up at it. It was "beyond" the other clouds in the sky. It was up there with the stars. And yes, I took 15-20 pics, and no, one one of them came out. We stood there in its "presence" for a bit, then got back into the car to head on down the road. When getting back on the highway, on the on ramp, there was another car pulled over, with a man and a woman outside looking up. So we were not alone...we are not alone.
It was pretty awesome to share that experience with my whole family.
That's all friends. Over and out.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Fat Kids
So, last night we went and watched the big daughter in a choir performance. It was good. I mean, you know how that stuff goes, and hour to long, trying to keep the middle and little one quiet, people around me farting, holding my breath, all the usual.
But I have never seen so many fat kids! I swear every other girls belly was hanging over their jeans. It was sad. When I was a kid, we had the regular 3-4 fat kids in school. That was about the norm. Now they are everywhere!
And I place all the blame on their parents.
SHAME ON YOU, PARENTS!
What do you feed your kids? What do you let them put in their bodies? Do you think they want to be fat? Do you take them out and play with them or do you let them occupy their time in front of the T.V., internet, video games, or just laying around on their cell phones? Do you keep your fridge filled with soda? Do you shove happy meals down their throats because it is easier for you? Wake up, America! We are doing this to our children! We are one of the most over weight nations in the WORLD and it is by choice.
Sorry for the rant. It just makes me sad. So many of these kids are going to get sick, diseases, have low self confidence and it is all because of the lifestyle their parents let them lead.
I know certain children may have problems with things like their thyroid and what not...but not all of them. It is laziness on the part of the parents. And it is crap. We are buying less and less swing sets and trampolines and more and more x-boxes and laptops. We are setting these kids up for a line of health problems for the rest of their lives. We are setting our kids up to die before we do.
You know, we are a very poor family when it comes to money. My middle girl likes to say we are rich in our hearts and poor in our pockets. And I like that. But you know what we spend money on? Food. About $170 bucks a week. We choose to drive two towns over to go to the health food store instead of walmart. We choose fruits and veggies over snack cakes. We choose healthy meat and eggs over crap you have no idea where it came from or what is pumped into the animal it is made from. We choose to read labels. Maybe we would save a bit of money if we shopped without having our health in mind, but we wont. Period.
So to each and every one of you parents that hands your kids a little debbie when they walk in the door from school instead of an apple, shame on you. If you are mad at me and my words, good, get mad, then calm yourself down and think about what you are doing to your kids. I am not telling you to cut your junk food out. That is just a lifestyle we have chosen that works for our family. I am not telling you to only shop at the health food store, another choice that works for us. I am just telling you to be aware of what you are giving/doing to your kids. Everything in moderation. Give your kids a fighting chance to live to be old people. Thanks for listening.
Oh, and before you call me out on it! I smoke. I know, shame on ME! SHAME SHAME SHAME! But not in my house, not in my car with the kids and only additive free cigs. I know, justifications...yes. But one day at a time, right?
But I have never seen so many fat kids! I swear every other girls belly was hanging over their jeans. It was sad. When I was a kid, we had the regular 3-4 fat kids in school. That was about the norm. Now they are everywhere!
And I place all the blame on their parents.
SHAME ON YOU, PARENTS!
What do you feed your kids? What do you let them put in their bodies? Do you think they want to be fat? Do you take them out and play with them or do you let them occupy their time in front of the T.V., internet, video games, or just laying around on their cell phones? Do you keep your fridge filled with soda? Do you shove happy meals down their throats because it is easier for you? Wake up, America! We are doing this to our children! We are one of the most over weight nations in the WORLD and it is by choice.
Sorry for the rant. It just makes me sad. So many of these kids are going to get sick, diseases, have low self confidence and it is all because of the lifestyle their parents let them lead.
I know certain children may have problems with things like their thyroid and what not...but not all of them. It is laziness on the part of the parents. And it is crap. We are buying less and less swing sets and trampolines and more and more x-boxes and laptops. We are setting these kids up for a line of health problems for the rest of their lives. We are setting our kids up to die before we do.
You know, we are a very poor family when it comes to money. My middle girl likes to say we are rich in our hearts and poor in our pockets. And I like that. But you know what we spend money on? Food. About $170 bucks a week. We choose to drive two towns over to go to the health food store instead of walmart. We choose fruits and veggies over snack cakes. We choose healthy meat and eggs over crap you have no idea where it came from or what is pumped into the animal it is made from. We choose to read labels. Maybe we would save a bit of money if we shopped without having our health in mind, but we wont. Period.
So to each and every one of you parents that hands your kids a little debbie when they walk in the door from school instead of an apple, shame on you. If you are mad at me and my words, good, get mad, then calm yourself down and think about what you are doing to your kids. I am not telling you to cut your junk food out. That is just a lifestyle we have chosen that works for our family. I am not telling you to only shop at the health food store, another choice that works for us. I am just telling you to be aware of what you are giving/doing to your kids. Everything in moderation. Give your kids a fighting chance to live to be old people. Thanks for listening.
Oh, and before you call me out on it! I smoke. I know, shame on ME! SHAME SHAME SHAME! But not in my house, not in my car with the kids and only additive free cigs. I know, justifications...yes. But one day at a time, right?
Saturday, December 4, 2010
This is War/ So say thank you very much...
In modern war... you will die like a dog for no good reason.
Ernest Hemingway
I kind of don't want to write this. I don't want to be mistaken for glorifying myself in any sort of a way. But I do want to tell you a story. About thanking a veteran not on veterans day.
When I was back home for a visit over the thanksgiving holiday, I took my girls to get glasses. After the appointment, and picking up the glasses which took FOREVER, it was finally over. We all headed out to the car, the big girls had already exited the building, and the babe and me were not far behind. The babe fell down, right by the door. As I bent to pick her up, an old man bent to help me with her. When I looked at him I noticed he was wearing a Vietnam Veteran hat.
Bang
Boom
Bam!
So many emotions flooded my brain immediately.
Oh my god. What did this man do? What did he have to do? How many did he kill? How many of his brothers did he watch die? Who welcomed him home? Who helped him once he was here? What does he do with all of these thoughts that are in his head?
So many think that Vietnam was bullshit. I don't know. It probably was.
War is bullshit.
But it is real.
We do it over and over again.
I hate war. I see no need for it, but it MUST be human nature. It just has to be. That must be why we do it over and over again. Kill each other to solve our problems.
But who takes the time to think of the boys and now days girls we send to do our killings?
Did they want to? Were their fathers military men? Did they just want a good and cheap education? Did they feel a sense of patriotism? Or was there just nothing else they could do?
When you take the human emotion out of war, it just seems a whole lot easier. If you put your self in the place of these people who are actually doing it, in the midst of it, it is scary as can be. and totally heart breaking.
I don't know what came over me. I grabbed his hand.
Looking back, I bet that was hell'a awkward. Although I am a touchy feely kind of gal, I don't make it a point to grab strangers hand in the middle of eye-mart.
With all these thoughts that were flooding my brain, I stood there holding his hand, and said "thank you".
He said something along the line of "Oh I'll always help cute baby girls when they fall"
I said, "No, I see your hat. Thank you for what you did for us."
(I don't even know what that means!!!)
And then I cried. Like a fucking baby.
In the middle of eye-mart.
And then he did too.
And I will never forget it.
I don't know that man. I don't know what he did. I will never see him again. Probably. He was old. I just know we shared a beautiful moment. I know it felt good, crying or not. I know I went home and felt like a total jack ass for grabbing a strangers hand and crying in the middle of the sand springs eye-mart. But after a while of thinking of it, I am glad it happened.
Point is, if you support the war, or you hate the war, you should support your fellow human beings. Give them love. It feels good. It felt good to him, too. He told ME thank you. He told me I had no idea what that meant to him. He cried too. And it was beautiful. So say thank you. When you see a man in a hat that says veteran, just do it. You, I, we will never know the difference it makes.
The end.
All wars are civil wars, because all men are brothers.
Francois Fenelon
Ernest Hemingway
I kind of don't want to write this. I don't want to be mistaken for glorifying myself in any sort of a way. But I do want to tell you a story. About thanking a veteran not on veterans day.
When I was back home for a visit over the thanksgiving holiday, I took my girls to get glasses. After the appointment, and picking up the glasses which took FOREVER, it was finally over. We all headed out to the car, the big girls had already exited the building, and the babe and me were not far behind. The babe fell down, right by the door. As I bent to pick her up, an old man bent to help me with her. When I looked at him I noticed he was wearing a Vietnam Veteran hat.
Bang
Boom
Bam!
So many emotions flooded my brain immediately.
Oh my god. What did this man do? What did he have to do? How many did he kill? How many of his brothers did he watch die? Who welcomed him home? Who helped him once he was here? What does he do with all of these thoughts that are in his head?
So many think that Vietnam was bullshit. I don't know. It probably was.
War is bullshit.
But it is real.
We do it over and over again.
I hate war. I see no need for it, but it MUST be human nature. It just has to be. That must be why we do it over and over again. Kill each other to solve our problems.
But who takes the time to think of the boys and now days girls we send to do our killings?
Did they want to? Were their fathers military men? Did they just want a good and cheap education? Did they feel a sense of patriotism? Or was there just nothing else they could do?
When you take the human emotion out of war, it just seems a whole lot easier. If you put your self in the place of these people who are actually doing it, in the midst of it, it is scary as can be. and totally heart breaking.
I don't know what came over me. I grabbed his hand.
Looking back, I bet that was hell'a awkward. Although I am a touchy feely kind of gal, I don't make it a point to grab strangers hand in the middle of eye-mart.
With all these thoughts that were flooding my brain, I stood there holding his hand, and said "thank you".
He said something along the line of "Oh I'll always help cute baby girls when they fall"
I said, "No, I see your hat. Thank you for what you did for us."
(I don't even know what that means!!!)
And then I cried. Like a fucking baby.
In the middle of eye-mart.
And then he did too.
And I will never forget it.
I don't know that man. I don't know what he did. I will never see him again. Probably. He was old. I just know we shared a beautiful moment. I know it felt good, crying or not. I know I went home and felt like a total jack ass for grabbing a strangers hand and crying in the middle of the sand springs eye-mart. But after a while of thinking of it, I am glad it happened.
Point is, if you support the war, or you hate the war, you should support your fellow human beings. Give them love. It feels good. It felt good to him, too. He told ME thank you. He told me I had no idea what that meant to him. He cried too. And it was beautiful. So say thank you. When you see a man in a hat that says veteran, just do it. You, I, we will never know the difference it makes.
The end.
All wars are civil wars, because all men are brothers.
Francois Fenelon
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
the lunatics are on my grass
Thought I'd tell you a little story about my neighbors. My Texas neighbors. Is there a lesson to be learned here? Probably, if you try.
Neighbor number one.
I shall call her poopface.
I was oh so lonely when we first moved here. I met ol' poopface pretty quick. She has two daughters the same age as mine so we were together at the bus stop every morning. I, eager to make a friend, did, and ended up becoming the free babysitter.
I soon found out that these kids had no rules and lots of issues. Entering my house at all hours of the day and night and never knocking. Taking my kids toys out of the yard to their house ALL THE TIME. Never going home. But there was a bit more to these kids. I know they are children, but there was something sinister. I remember lots of mornings waking up to find them staring in my back bedroom door at me. Weird. It was causing stress on my family and relationship, and finally, I hit my breaking point around 7 months pregnant with the babe. I could take it no more!
One evening I was discussing with poopface how I would no longer be the free and anytime child care for her offspring. During this conversation, her two snuck in my back door to where the baby kitties were. This was not allowed. The kids were mean and I feared for the kittens life when they were around. I rallied them out of the house and the mother sent them home. I thought. I end the conversation with poopface and enter my home to find her kids. Who once again, snuck in my back door. I grabbed them up and rushed them to my front porch to give them to the mother. I am standing there trying to make a point when I heard some muffled "meow" sounds. Where is that coming from? Am I crazy? I think it is coming from their crotch! And it is! Those kids got our baby kitties and shoved them in their panties, zipped up their pants and were making their get away. I literally lost my mind. Probably was foaming at the mouth a bit. I pull down their pants, ol' poopface is just standing there. I grab the kitties and they were pretty much dead. The kids then proceeded to get one of the dead ones and make it dance around. I am in horror. The mom says lets go girls, she is a little upset now and proceeds to leave. And my giganto prego self is standing there screaming god knows what to this woman and her kids as they go, holding my dead and near dead baby kitties. And that is it.
Lesson here? I don't know. Don't put baby kitties in your panties? Maybe. Don't latch on to the first human you meet no matter how lonely you are? Maybe.
Some people can just be fucked up and I happened to befriend one of these people? Most likely
Neighbor number two.
I'll call her crazy.
You could call me crazy. Guess where I met her. The bus stop. With her two kids the same age as mine. Should known. Guess I deserved it.
You know the thing about history repeating its self? Well, I do. But I must have forgot that day. I remember the day she ask me to watch her kids. I remember telling her I had just met a woman (poopface) with two girls and how that whole thing ended up. Crazy reassured me that there was no crazy stuff going on here. She just needed a sitter.
And I was still lonely.
You know it really is the perfect situation. I stay home with my kids, so why not keep someone else's kids. Someone for mine to play with, help someone else out, sometimes make a bit of cash. Why not?
And so it began again. These little ones were a whole different kind of messed up.The young one particularly. Do not tell her no or you can bet someone is going to bite your breast till it bleeds, kick you in the shins while pulling out chunks of your hair before they end up running out of your door screaming down the street. Having learned the first lesson with he first ones, I,after a good long while, told Crazy that this was not working out. This two ended in disaster. I can't pick just one crazy story to tell you about the way things ended with crazy, so I wont. But know, it was crazy. Nasty facebook messages, stare downs, middle fingers, school involvement, threat of police involvement, and scars are just a few ways it ended.
Lesson here? Obviously.
Which one? Quit watching your neighbors kids.
If they tell you they are normal they are not.
Don't forget stuff you have already went through and learned, dummy!
Who freaking knows?!
Neighbor number three.
Mr. x
I will call him that because we called him Mr.(his name)
He was oh so good. He is an older man whose wife is sick like my papa is sick. Bad.
In a nursing home, knows no one. You know the drill.
We kind of bonded on this subject having similar situations regarding our loved ones loosing their minds. My family would take him dinner occasionally. My husband would do work for him, take him a six pack and shoot the shit.
Finally a normal neighbor! Someone we are in no way obligated to and has no kids. Say hi, sometimes wave, sometimes visit, go in your house and that's it. Perfect. And really dug the old guy. We had some pretty awesome conversations.
And then one day Mr. x left a threatening letter in the mailbox that said "Get rid of your barking dogs or else"
Which the girls got since they check the mail and all.
And he never spoke to me again, or even made eye contact for that matter.
Needless to say, we bought one of those bark collars for the little barker. I hate those things, I feel they are cruel and unusual punishment for doing what is natural to do as a dog. But it was that or wait for him to end up poisoned.
What the hell happened there?
What is my lesson?
As you may or may not know, our little dog died recently. I wanted to leave him a note that said he is dead now, wanna talk? But instead I guess we will just go on not looking at each other when we pass.
So three strikes you are out, right?
I should have learned.
Well I did. I don't talk to any neighbors EVER. If someone says hi, I will say it back, but that is it. Or so I thought.
When my husband was out of town my car broke down. I don't know anyone here. Really. No one to call other than a tow truck. So I knocked on a door.
There is a man down the street. We have always called him the cussing man. He cusses at everything, and loud. He cusses at his plants. He cusses at his car. He cusses at his garden hose. He cusses at his flag pole. He cusses a lot.
But also smiles and waves when he and his wife drive by, and we trick or treat there, have been to yard sales and such, so I felt comfortable knocking on the door to ask for a jump.
He came and helped us out. Saved the day really. And came back the next day and charged my battery. I developed a new opinion on the cussing man. Just because he is going to kill his motherfucking garden hose, doesn't mean he won't help out a lady and her kids in need.
So to now. I guess the reason I even started writing this down. Yesterday there was a fire in my neighborhood. I went outside to see the commotion. The cussing man was across the street and walked over to me. He made a bit of small talk about the fire, and so did I. He said thank you for the thank you card we left them for helping us out. I again thanked him for helping us out.
I was standing on the steps, as you can see in my photo over there. He was about six inches below me on the sidewalk right in front of me.
He says, "Well this is the perfect height"
I say "Huh?"
Really, what is he talking about. Perfect height???
He then proceeds to pretend he is sucking on my tits. You know how Jim Carey does to that lady in Me, Myself and Irene? I know you can do it right now. Just stick your lips out like a duck and do that suck face thing. WTF. For real.
I am just standing there looking at this guy, and so is another neighbor. And just when I thought the cussing man was kind of good. I now can think of a million things to say to him in that moment, but in the shock of it all, I just said "whatever" and turned my body away from him. He immediately walked back to the other side of the street and that was it.
Later when I tell my husband, who nearly is "ROTFL", I ask him if there is any way he would ever do this to a woman. He says "Hell no, but I hope when I am that age I do."
Lesson?
I don't know but that is some funny/disgusting/degrading/ass stuff there! I can't think of a more bizarre moment in my life ever. Standing there while a grown up man pretends to suck on my boob.
No wonder I am lonely in this neighborhood. I tell some people sometimes about my Texas neighbors. They tell me no one would believe this crazy story. But its true.
So there. The end. This is the sad saga of my neighbors thus far in Texas. Hope you got a laugh out of it. I got a few and a little bit more than that.
Neighbor number one.
I shall call her poopface.
I was oh so lonely when we first moved here. I met ol' poopface pretty quick. She has two daughters the same age as mine so we were together at the bus stop every morning. I, eager to make a friend, did, and ended up becoming the free babysitter.
I soon found out that these kids had no rules and lots of issues. Entering my house at all hours of the day and night and never knocking. Taking my kids toys out of the yard to their house ALL THE TIME. Never going home. But there was a bit more to these kids. I know they are children, but there was something sinister. I remember lots of mornings waking up to find them staring in my back bedroom door at me. Weird. It was causing stress on my family and relationship, and finally, I hit my breaking point around 7 months pregnant with the babe. I could take it no more!
One evening I was discussing with poopface how I would no longer be the free and anytime child care for her offspring. During this conversation, her two snuck in my back door to where the baby kitties were. This was not allowed. The kids were mean and I feared for the kittens life when they were around. I rallied them out of the house and the mother sent them home. I thought. I end the conversation with poopface and enter my home to find her kids. Who once again, snuck in my back door. I grabbed them up and rushed them to my front porch to give them to the mother. I am standing there trying to make a point when I heard some muffled "meow" sounds. Where is that coming from? Am I crazy? I think it is coming from their crotch! And it is! Those kids got our baby kitties and shoved them in their panties, zipped up their pants and were making their get away. I literally lost my mind. Probably was foaming at the mouth a bit. I pull down their pants, ol' poopface is just standing there. I grab the kitties and they were pretty much dead. The kids then proceeded to get one of the dead ones and make it dance around. I am in horror. The mom says lets go girls, she is a little upset now and proceeds to leave. And my giganto prego self is standing there screaming god knows what to this woman and her kids as they go, holding my dead and near dead baby kitties. And that is it.
Lesson here? I don't know. Don't put baby kitties in your panties? Maybe. Don't latch on to the first human you meet no matter how lonely you are? Maybe.
Some people can just be fucked up and I happened to befriend one of these people? Most likely
Neighbor number two.
I'll call her crazy.
You could call me crazy. Guess where I met her. The bus stop. With her two kids the same age as mine. Should known. Guess I deserved it.
You know the thing about history repeating its self? Well, I do. But I must have forgot that day. I remember the day she ask me to watch her kids. I remember telling her I had just met a woman (poopface) with two girls and how that whole thing ended up. Crazy reassured me that there was no crazy stuff going on here. She just needed a sitter.
And I was still lonely.
You know it really is the perfect situation. I stay home with my kids, so why not keep someone else's kids. Someone for mine to play with, help someone else out, sometimes make a bit of cash. Why not?
And so it began again. These little ones were a whole different kind of messed up.The young one particularly. Do not tell her no or you can bet someone is going to bite your breast till it bleeds, kick you in the shins while pulling out chunks of your hair before they end up running out of your door screaming down the street. Having learned the first lesson with he first ones, I,after a good long while, told Crazy that this was not working out. This two ended in disaster. I can't pick just one crazy story to tell you about the way things ended with crazy, so I wont. But know, it was crazy. Nasty facebook messages, stare downs, middle fingers, school involvement, threat of police involvement, and scars are just a few ways it ended.
Lesson here? Obviously.
Which one? Quit watching your neighbors kids.
If they tell you they are normal they are not.
Don't forget stuff you have already went through and learned, dummy!
Who freaking knows?!
Neighbor number three.
Mr. x
I will call him that because we called him Mr.(his name)
He was oh so good. He is an older man whose wife is sick like my papa is sick. Bad.
In a nursing home, knows no one. You know the drill.
We kind of bonded on this subject having similar situations regarding our loved ones loosing their minds. My family would take him dinner occasionally. My husband would do work for him, take him a six pack and shoot the shit.
Finally a normal neighbor! Someone we are in no way obligated to and has no kids. Say hi, sometimes wave, sometimes visit, go in your house and that's it. Perfect. And really dug the old guy. We had some pretty awesome conversations.
And then one day Mr. x left a threatening letter in the mailbox that said "Get rid of your barking dogs or else"
Which the girls got since they check the mail and all.
And he never spoke to me again, or even made eye contact for that matter.
Needless to say, we bought one of those bark collars for the little barker. I hate those things, I feel they are cruel and unusual punishment for doing what is natural to do as a dog. But it was that or wait for him to end up poisoned.
What the hell happened there?
What is my lesson?
As you may or may not know, our little dog died recently. I wanted to leave him a note that said he is dead now, wanna talk? But instead I guess we will just go on not looking at each other when we pass.
So three strikes you are out, right?
I should have learned.
Well I did. I don't talk to any neighbors EVER. If someone says hi, I will say it back, but that is it. Or so I thought.
When my husband was out of town my car broke down. I don't know anyone here. Really. No one to call other than a tow truck. So I knocked on a door.
There is a man down the street. We have always called him the cussing man. He cusses at everything, and loud. He cusses at his plants. He cusses at his car. He cusses at his garden hose. He cusses at his flag pole. He cusses a lot.
But also smiles and waves when he and his wife drive by, and we trick or treat there, have been to yard sales and such, so I felt comfortable knocking on the door to ask for a jump.
He came and helped us out. Saved the day really. And came back the next day and charged my battery. I developed a new opinion on the cussing man. Just because he is going to kill his motherfucking garden hose, doesn't mean he won't help out a lady and her kids in need.
So to now. I guess the reason I even started writing this down. Yesterday there was a fire in my neighborhood. I went outside to see the commotion. The cussing man was across the street and walked over to me. He made a bit of small talk about the fire, and so did I. He said thank you for the thank you card we left them for helping us out. I again thanked him for helping us out.
I was standing on the steps, as you can see in my photo over there. He was about six inches below me on the sidewalk right in front of me.
He says, "Well this is the perfect height"
I say "Huh?"
Really, what is he talking about. Perfect height???
He then proceeds to pretend he is sucking on my tits. You know how Jim Carey does to that lady in Me, Myself and Irene? I know you can do it right now. Just stick your lips out like a duck and do that suck face thing. WTF. For real.
I am just standing there looking at this guy, and so is another neighbor. And just when I thought the cussing man was kind of good. I now can think of a million things to say to him in that moment, but in the shock of it all, I just said "whatever" and turned my body away from him. He immediately walked back to the other side of the street and that was it.
Later when I tell my husband, who nearly is "ROTFL", I ask him if there is any way he would ever do this to a woman. He says "Hell no, but I hope when I am that age I do."
Lesson?
I don't know but that is some funny/disgusting/degrading/ass stuff there! I can't think of a more bizarre moment in my life ever. Standing there while a grown up man pretends to suck on my boob.
No wonder I am lonely in this neighborhood. I tell some people sometimes about my Texas neighbors. They tell me no one would believe this crazy story. But its true.
So there. The end. This is the sad saga of my neighbors thus far in Texas. Hope you got a laugh out of it. I got a few and a little bit more than that.
World AIDS Day
Today is World AIDS Day. I felt like I should do a small post in remembrance of those we have personally lost.
Mickey Diedra Rice Jones
Jerry Ray Jones
My oldest two share their names.
Those are my kids grandparents that they will never know. That is my in-laws I will never have. Those were my husbands parents.
Unfortunately they became sick with AIDS in the late 80's early 90's when the diagnosis was pretty much hopeless. People were scared. I was. I remember my mom taking food over to their house and me being scared to go in. I remember stories my husband has told about never telling anyone what was going on. When they did find out, they were scared of him, scared he had it too and would give it to them, from a touch, from a breath.
I wish I knew more about them. I don't want to remember them because of the way they died, but I do. I can not imagine looking at my children's face and knowing that soon, I would be leaving them.
I know that AIDS is rampant in third world countries. I know the technology and medicines we have now days could really change the statistics. I know that fear of condoms because of ancient beliefs helps AIDS to thrive. I wish I knew it would get better. I wish I knew there would be a cure. I wish I could pick up the phone and call my mother in law and talk about my husband. I wish his dad could take my kids camping. I wish...I wish....And I won't ever forget.
Mickey Diedra Rice Jones
Jerry Ray Jones
My oldest two share their names.
Those are my kids grandparents that they will never know. That is my in-laws I will never have. Those were my husbands parents.
Unfortunately they became sick with AIDS in the late 80's early 90's when the diagnosis was pretty much hopeless. People were scared. I was. I remember my mom taking food over to their house and me being scared to go in. I remember stories my husband has told about never telling anyone what was going on. When they did find out, they were scared of him, scared he had it too and would give it to them, from a touch, from a breath.
I wish I knew more about them. I don't want to remember them because of the way they died, but I do. I can not imagine looking at my children's face and knowing that soon, I would be leaving them.
I know that AIDS is rampant in third world countries. I know the technology and medicines we have now days could really change the statistics. I know that fear of condoms because of ancient beliefs helps AIDS to thrive. I wish I knew it would get better. I wish I knew there would be a cure. I wish I could pick up the phone and call my mother in law and talk about my husband. I wish his dad could take my kids camping. I wish...I wish....And I won't ever forget.
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