The Second Day Of The End Of My Life

part two of a series of events that changed my life forever...

Having caused a great deal of upheaval at work by not being able to be ordered in for an open shift on the morning on January 31, 2009, I returned home from my sleep study already dreading going into work that night. I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that whoever ended up working the shift I could not take would be a total bitch to me, and that egotistical asshole sergeant who had the audacity to come to my house would be a force to be reckoned with. Plus, within the department there is not one iota of confidentiality, but that did not necessarily mean all the behind my back chit chat was going to be factual and the rumor mill had a 24 hour head start on me.

I planned after the sleep study to sleep most of the day and then suck it up as I had a thousand other times and report in to work that night. Before I went to bed I checked my email, and this is what I found: Jaye: Grandma passed away early this evening, I am forwarding you a note I sent to my cousins (that I have email addresses for). I will not tell Haley, but leave that up to you, I don't want to do anything to have him upset while he is at the Academy. We all know how close he was to his "Grandma" when we lived in Texas and the year she spent with us in Maine. She was a great lady and loved you all very, very much and was very proud of all your accomplishments.
Love Mom and Dad

This was one heck of a way to get news like this but with Mom and Dad being in three other time zones than I am, they never know when it is OK to call due to work schedules and so forth. Of course I called them right away and started the process of discussing the next few days. It was my grandmother wish not to have a funeral and to be buried at Fort Sam Houston in Texas, and I very much wanted to either go to Virginia to see her off, or go to San Antonio for her burial.

I was pained over the death of my grandmother. She had been living in Virgina for the last several years but when we all lived in Texas her and I and Haley were very close. Of course I knew that at 98 years old her days were numbered, she had been in a nursing home for the last couple of years suffering from dementia (just like my maternal grandmother had a decade earlier) but I just wasn't prepared for that email, especially when I was still literally sick from the asshole sergeant being at my house the night before.

I knew that before I could make any plans to see Gramma one last time, I would need to brave up and make that dreaded phone call to work asking for my 3 days of bereavement leave and one day of vacation time off for the rest of the week. I don't recall if I reached my supervisor on the first try or if I had to leave a message and wait for him to call, but I do remember that tone of skepticism in his voice when I did finally get through to him. He never came right out and called me a liar, but he definitely hinged on asking me to produce a death certificate. I was beside myself.

Remember previously I said I had worked at Waterville for 11 years? I had never taken bereavement leave before or ever faked a way to get time off. I was a good employee. I was never in trouble (except for the hallucinogenic moods of the supervisors) I had never been written up, suspended, or had any serious talking to's that I didn't generate. I wasn't like T who was brand new and took bereavement leave 3 or 4 times before his probation was up (6 months) or M who took bereavement leave 3 times for the same dead grandfather- I was just targeted because of the complaints I had filed about the big headed egotistical sergeant and destined for a career of misery there after.

I was finally granted my bereavement leave but due to finances and the fact that airlines DO NOT offer reduced fares for funerals and emergencies like people think they do, I was forced to spend my mourning time right here at home. I say that with a bit of sarcasm because I knew that if work found out that I did not actually go anywhere for my official grieving, that I would be held with further skepticism and questioned legitimacy of my grandmothers death. I tried to tell myself that what work was thinking and doing right now should be the least of my worries and that the hurt of loosing my grandmother should be all that was on my mind, but by the end of the week all I felt was guilt over letting work overshadow my grief. I was a complete mental waste and almost none of it had to do with loosing someone who had once been so important to me.

As if my week had not been bad enough, I received a call from the sleep lab confirming the suspicion that I did have sleep apnea and they needed to schedule another appointment for me as soon as possible to do further tests. Naturally, the first availability was the first day that I was due back to work which would be February 9, 2009. I faxed the paperwork to my supervisor to eliminate any doubt as to whether or not I was making this up, by now I was getting more of a whatever attitude than anything else.

Mere words, can not even begin to describe the stress that I was under during these days. 24/7 I was worried about what would happen when I returned to work. I began hiding in my house so that I would not accidentally be seen in Waterville and subsequently have to answer the "I thought you were at your grandmothers funeral" question. And I was pissed off. Our department had a fund for things like funerals and illnesses and child births and they always sent a card signed by everyone and flowers for these occasions but not for me. Nope. Zilch. My sole comfort was in emailing Rebecca and knowing that she was dodging bullets for me. I was definitely breaking down, and the worst by far, was yet to come.

This will be continued on February 10.

Today Was The First Day Of The End Of My Life

This is going to be a series over the next few ays. It begins with an introduction and then part one ends with the events of January 30, 2009. Finally, I am breaking the silence.

I worked dispatching for Waterville Police for 11 years. That is pretty much what I did every where I lived for most of my life, it was my career and I was good at it.

I started dispatching in Kittery in 1983. I also dispatched for a police department (3 different times) and Sheriff's Department and an ambulance company while I was in Texas. When I moved back to Maine I started dispatching in Skowhegan and eventually was hired at Waterville. I took a pay cut to come to Waterville, but it was better hours and closer to home, so it was worth the smaller pay check.

Right away I knew that Waterville dispatch was an exceptionally hard job. I had even been warned by people in the business before I resigned from Skowhegan that I may ought to rethink my choice. However, the appeal of the distance and hours won me over and I took the job. Working in at Waterville did present challenges. The dispatch department was understaffed, we were supervised by patrol sergeants who not only didn't know how to do our job if we had a question, but to them we were just a pain in the ass. We were a liability. We often worked alone answering an infinite amount of phone calls, dispatching police for three cities, fire departments for countless others and at the time the ambulance. But we were not cops, and as civilians were not respected.

The Waterville administration was hell bent on making our jobs harder by adding more and more departments for us to dispatch to make them self look better and had not a care in the world about anything other than budgets (the city made money off of soliciting more agencies for us to dispatch for). Still we had antiquated equipment, broken chairs, no ventilation, poor lighting, no contingency plans for evacuations, NO SOP and everything else that a good OSHA inspection could have written a book on. Years later the city did a half ass cosmetic remodel of our office and we finally did get our own dispatch supervisor. Essentially he was a patrol sergeant that wanted better hours, and a lackadaisical man whose main concern every day was to make certain he had somewhere to be other than at his desk. Needless to say, we went through a lot of personnel.

The thing was, I liked the job. It was what I did. I was my career. I liked the people I worked with, and I liked the excitement and gratification of the job. What I did not like was the bickering and bull shit from within. I never understood the enjoyment someone got out of being demeaning, and making our hard job harder, just because they had the power to do so according to their rank, and there was a lot of that going on. We had patrol sergeants who would come in to our office yelling and screaming and veins in their foreheads about to burst, often over nothing or a misunderstanding- one time one of them actually made me throw up. Yes really. We were always on edge. Did I mention we went through a lot of personnel?

I did not tolerate this bullying behavior very well but I was too meek to fight back and too sensitive to let it go so in roughly 2007 when an egotistical runt of an asshole officer with a head so big he could barely fit it in the cruiser got promoted to sergeant, it promised to be a very, very worrisome thing. For his first few months as sergeant he was tolerable, I even told him I thought he was doing a great job in hopes of it continuing. In retrospect I think, him doing a good job lasted exactly as long as his probation because as soon as that was up, he let his true colors show again. Then the torment we had been expecting came at us like pus finally bursting through and squirting from an engorged zit.

He was horrible, and even though I am very shy and afraid of retaliation it got to the point where I had to file complaints against him. I felt an injustice to myself to go home crying and miserable and nursing my ulcer yet doing nothing to protest his behavior. I started with oral complaints, then written complaints, then a meeting with his supervisor- I can not even begin to describe how horrible it was. I panicked every time I suspected I would be alone with this guy and finally one night it happened. He confronted me about the complaints. I just sat there with a look of sheer terror on my face, he sat there with a look of superiority on his and I knew that no matter what, I was insignificant and he had won.

Eventually, for a couple of reasons, I changed shifts. A large factor in my decision was that the new hours would mean that I did not have to work with him as often. I did not like the new hours though, they were weird and it meant being at the station at the exact time I had been used to sleeping for a decade. It was a major adjustment. Plus, I was not working with Rebecca as much anymore and we were each others rock. However, as expected, it did get him to back off for a few months, so I tried to make it work. I always knew though that he was just waiting for an opportunity to strike again. He would do underhanded things that wouldn't warrant a complaint, but would insure that you knew that he was still in charge and there was nothing you could to about it (I use a plural because I was not singled out).

This particular asshole sergeants shining glory opportunity to assert his superiority came on the evening of January 30, 2009 in which he drove to my house, in another county, in a Waterville cruiser, while I was off duty to tell me that he was ordering me into work the next morning. I had known there was an open shift due to someone calling in sick but no one had even called me to see if I wanted it. He just took it upon himself to come to my house for a confrontation. Well, being ordered in goes by seniority and I was second to the top with 6 dispatchers under me- plus I had already worked overtime the night before! Still, he got in my face belittling me about how I wasn't a team player and he didn't care about seniority or keeping score as to who worked when etc. I just stood there frozen, speechless and trembling. My son and daughter in law sat in my living room listening to his outrage. After my initial stun over him being there wore off, I remembered that the reason I had not taken the shift voluntarily was that I was already excused from work the day in question because I was having a sleep study done. Sleep studies are booked quite a bit in advance and I had submitted paperwork to my supervisor, it was approved and I couldn't just cancel it. When I told him that he got sarcastic, demeaning and was just out of control. He said "just so I know the facts, you are disobeying a direct order to work because you claim to have medical reason and documentation?" I offered to let him see it, he declined instead berating me for my supervisor for not making him aware of it. I was so upset that I wanted to burn down the room he had stood in. The incident ruined my whole night and as it would turn out... much, much more than just one night.

To be continued....

A California Raisin... On Wheels.

So I did it! Last night I got my skate on! For 2.5 grueling hours I managed to stay vertical, which in the beginning, wasn't looking or feeling too promising.

Now remember, my last blog said it had been 10 years... and my skates are about a size too small, but even with that to overcome I started out sucking worse than I expected to. Finally I asked Heidi if she knew if they ground wheels at this rink and she quickly went to find out.

She talked to an adorable man about half my age but obviously smitten with me :) who said that yes, he would grind my wheels for me and it wouldn't cost anything. Once I took my skates off though he had a slight change of confidence and asked me if these particular wheels had been done before. I assured him they had, probably before he was born, but none the less, yes. He made a disclaimer that he may mess them up, I said fine, and he returned with them a few minutes later all done.

He seemed pleased with the results, I was too- I could tell instantly that the grinding was going to make a world of difference. Then I talked to him a little bit about maybe making some replacements to my skates if I were to get back into going regularly. While he did look at the bearings with a ghastly expression, he said he would not replace the wheels. His exact words were "These are Kryptos wheels, they were revolutionary in their day, I have never even seen them before!" With that I took to the floor doing a 1000% better than I had been doing. I was so relieved! He even came to check on me and make sure I was satisfied with his work. Really I know he just found me hot and was trying to make conversation !!

Skating took a lot out of me though! The lights and the music took me mentally back in time but physically I was way past my prime. I watched kids whipping around the rink, some skating really well and it was overly apparent that time and the shift in my center of gravity had taken its toll on my gracefulness. I had to stop for breaks pretty often but I did not fall down, not even once and I even recovered from a couple of collisions without smacking into the wall. I broke no bones and no teeth and I was starting to regain some level of skill, momentum and confidence!

During my next break I found the cutie that had grinded my wheels (I knew it would make his day) and asked him about fixing up my skates- we looked through a catalog for new bearings and new boots. As I have mentioned, mine are tight, but also the leather is 30+ years old and its not would you would call supple anymore. He showed me some middle of the road ones, and the same with bearings. It will be about $200. I could get a whole new pair of skates for a third of that, but I want to keep my Douglass Snyder plates. (And for anyone interested, or not, there is a pair of Snyders all put together in this catalog and they are... $1,052 !! So really $200 to make mine like new is a bargain :) )

Of course in my world $200 may as well be $2000 BUT... my dad just emailed and said if it would get me out of the house and doing something fun with a friend that he would help me with the cost! So yippee! I am excited about that and hopefully in a few weeks I will be able to keep up with Heidi!

In the meantime I am going to be buying lots of Tony's pizzas because on the package there is a coupon to get in free to RSA approved rinks (the Bangor rink accepts it Sunday through Thursday) http://www.tonys.com/tonys-free-roller-skating.aspx and the pizzas are a fraction of the cost to skate! Maybe next time, I will even be able to treat Heidi!

Now if only I can get my feet and my legs to function, I am going to limp up the stairs, take a hot bath and go to bed!

Douglass Snyder and I (this is a long one!)

Douglass Snyder and I go back a long, long way. He was not my first though. I had been through a few others before Douglass and I took up our 30+ year commitment.

It all started in 1969 or so when my family was living in Hawaii and I participated in just about every single after school activity that existed in Honolulu. I took Hula lessons, Tahitian lessons, Ukulele lessons, I wanted to take Maori, but I also had skating lessons three times a week and there were only so many days my mom could drive me to event after event. Plus, I did not just take skating lessons... no. I took dance skating lessons, and freestyle skating lessons and basic skating lessons. I was busy.

I can only barely remember recitals for dance and ukulele, but I definitely remember skating performances because they were not recitals, they were competitions and you won RSRA (Roller Skating Rinks of America) pins for your accomplishments.

When I first started skating I had the typical rental skates. Then mom bought me my own pair. They weren't overly fancy but they got the job done. Of course I outgrew them in no time but the rink had one pair of rentals that were good skates so I started using those, exclusively. When my mom was able, she bought me my own pair of good skates and I had them for what now seems like eternity. I skated a lot.

Before competitions my grandmother would make me a new skating dress from silk my dad had sent from Hong Kong (he was on a ship in the Orient during the Vietnam war) and my mom would take me to get my hair professionally done (except for one time she had bought me a fall which was what they called a finger curled partial clip on sorta of wig). We would have a couple of rehearsals and then the judges would arrive and one by one everyone did their routine. I remember one year they got the music mixed up and I had to skate a freestyle piece to the theme song from "Love Story". It wasn't my music and I was afraid I would fail, but I made it work I guess. I still have the dresses, the fall, and all of my medals :)

When we left Hawaii in 1972 and moved to Maine there were no roller rinks to speak of. There was one in Haverhill, Massachusetts that my mom would take me too occasionally and in Wells there was a cement slab outside that was called a skating rink. We went there sometimes, but it was certainly not anywhere with instructors and competitions. It wasn't until 1977 that "Happy Wheels Skate Center" opened in Portsmouth, NH and that became my second home. There were two problems with "Happy Wheels Skate Center" though, one was that my feet hurt all of the time because I had again outgrown my skates and two, no one was allowed to do anything but skate around in circles! No one knew how to do the "Progressive Tango" , "Gliding Waltz" or the "Collegiate" and absolutely no one was allowed to do jumps and spins or any of the other stuff I had learned to do!

Happy Wheels hadn't been open too long before I started working there. I worked for tips in the coat check room but it meant I got in for free and after the session ended the employees could go out and skate to their hearts content and no one made us go slow or keep our feet on the ground! After I had earned enough tips for a deposit, I traded my childhood skates in on a new pair and worked to pay them off. The were good skates. Precison bearings, Zephyr wheels- I think they probably cost me about $75 and in 1977 earning only tips from the coat room it probably took me a year to pay them off! (I just remembered, a friend of mine hooked diodes up to the plates and a battery in front of the heel and I was the first one stylin' on lit up skates. I have always been ahead of my time!)

By 1978 I had a real paying job at the skating rink. I was the person at the window you gave your money too. I don't remember what I made but it was enough to....... upgrade my skates. My best friend Patti bought my old ones, and that's when I met "Douglass Snyder". Having Douglass Snyder skates was like coming to the rink in a Lambo when everyone else was coming in a Pinto. Even the guy who owned the rink was jealous.

Now one doesn't just buy Douglass Snyder skates. No. One has them custom built. Mine were built with Hyde boots and Rinnali wheels and they cost half of what my first car did that I also bought around the same time. My skates were worth SO MUCH that until I had them paid off I was not allowed to let them leave the rink unless I was going to another Happy Wheels! Was it worth the investment? Well, that was 32 years ago and they were on my feet when I took the attached picture a little while ago, so... yeah!

These skates have not led an easy life either. When they closed Happy Wheels to put in "The Speakeasy" I was left with no where to skate and took to the great outdoors. Of course my best friend Patti who had bought my old skates also had no where to skate so we would roller skate around downtown Portsmouth. Somewhere in Market Square there is a lamp post responsible for chipping my front tooth and knocking me out cold. Patti had to skate back to where ever we had parked, by her self, get my car and come back for me as I was slightly dysfunctional after that! The point is, I have put about a million miles on these skates and with the exception of changing out the wheels and laces in 1987 or so (while on vacation in Maine and attending the Sanford Happy Wheels) and polishing them once, they are the same as they were when I bought them, just tighter on my feet. (Ha! I just remember when I lived in Portsmouth some time later, my car was broken into and the thieves took my stereo, all of my cassettes, and who knows what else, but not my skates. I remember telling the police "Thank God they didn't take the skates". The cop was like, "yeah, they aren't interested in stuff like that". Joke was on them, by that time the skates were worth not only more than the contents of the car, but the car itself!)

When I moved to Texas in 1984 again there was no skating rink. I would see signs in San Antonio on old buildings that indicated a skating rink had existed there, at one time, but it had long ago closed. At the city park in Kerrville there was a huge cement slab that people could rent for parties and such, and I took to going there to skate sometimes. I tried to get my friends into it, a couple of them made an effort but mostly it was just me. I taught Haley how to skate there though, but Haleys idea of anything he did was always to go as fast as possible and not to worry about the finesse. He got frustrated, so mostly I skated alone.

When we moved back to Maine in 1997 I was so excited to find a skating rink in Augusta! I think it had been a Happy Wheels but I don't think it was in 1997. Haley and I started going there quite a bit though. By now in line skates were the thing to have and Haley had them. He also had some little girl come up to me and say "is that your son? He is sooooooo cute" They were each about 12, Haley just about had a heart attack, I had my first panic attack... another time when we were there an older guy (well my age) skated up to me and said "Oh my God, are those Douglass Snyder skates?" I said they were in fact Douglass Snyder skates and he called some other people over to marvel at them. The Douglas Snyder company had been out of business for a long time, now so is that rink in Augusta. They closed it a few years later and it is now the all you can eat Chinese buffet.

I haven't really skated since then. To tell you the truth I have been a little scared. I had knee surgery, I am not a kid or even a teen or young anything anymore and I can't afford to break a hip or anything else. Plus, I had no where to go and no one to go with until... enter Heidi.

I didn't even like Heidi when I first met her, (which means nothing as I don't like anyone when I first meet them) but she turned out to be OK (wink wink) and one day she emailed me something and it had something about roller skating on it and it turns out she is a fanatic skater! We made plans to go sometime, I have turned her down more than a few times but now here it is about a year and a half later, we are actually friends, and going skating. Tomorrow. In Bangor.

That is what has brought me and Douglass Snyder back together. To say we are both vintage is an understatement. The skates are dusty and there was a spider web in one of the boots. The bearings need to be repacked, eventually. I was going to buy new laces but decided to keep the old ones the way they have been for so long. I am going to clean them up tomorrow, tonight I just wanted to make sure I could still get them on my feet. I loosened the laces, I did a few spins in the kitchen, practiced a couple of moves and other than the circulation being cut off on my right foot (skate shrunk obviously) I think I can make it through tomorrow night.

I am not planning on trying any death defying jumps, or to break a speed skating record. I am not even planning on lasting the whole session without having to sit out some of the skate time. What I am planning is to not stand Heidi up (that in itself is phenomenal for me) I am planning to have a good time, I am hoping not to leave by ambulance and if some old dude (my age) comes up to me and says "Oh my God, are those Douglass Snyder skates?" It is going to make my whole night!


I want to mention that my BFF Patti, got married on skates at the Happy Wheels in Portsmouth, NH. It was the first wedding ever in NH on skates and was in the paper, I still have the clipping. 10 years later, in 1990 an elderly driver hit her and her 7 year old daughter and her daughter was killed instantly. Patti succumbed to her injuries several years later having never regained consciousness. Patti and her daughter are buried in Augusta and I visit them often. A couple of years ago a long defunct skating rink here in Norridgewock was giving away their inventory. I took a few pair of skates and thought I would put flowers in a pair and and leave them at my friends grave. They have been there for almost 2 years, undisturbed. RIP Patti. There is rarely a day that I don't think of you and even fewer that I don't miss you.

http://www.findagrave.com/cgi-bin/fg.cgi?page=gr&GRid=10186027

Audrey's Blog

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I Need Income

I have finally come up with the perfect solution to all of my money woes. Plus, it is not only good for me, it is good for taxpayers too, and to think, I owe it all to Governor LePage and his campaign donor er, choice, for head of The Department Of Corrections.

Here is my idea. I want to adopt a prisoner. Well OK, not adopt in the legal sense of the word but more as in when an organization adopts a highway, or how Governor LePage adopted his Jamaican son, you know, just an expression.

I researched (poorly) the cost of housing a prisoner in Maine and it is about $100 a day. I am proposing to do it for $75 a day. Just think of the money this will save the state if everyone took home a prisoner! Of course there will have to be some modifications made to the prisoners lifestyle, for instance: they will only be as warm as I am during the winter and as cool as I am during the summer. I am not offering a perfectly climate controlled atmosphere! Also, my prisoner will only have access to the basic television package that I have, I am not planning to upgrade. I also do not own an XBox, a PS3 or a Wii, so that will be a big adjustment I am sure.

The biggest problem I can see is meals and health care. I can not afford to eat three healthy balanced meals per day so my prisoner will have to make do, as I do. As far as health care goes, well, I don't have any so neither will my prisoner. Since I have to be knocking on deaths door to convince myself to go to the doctor, I will expect my prisoner to be in a similar state of deterioration.

I think all I really have left to cover is exercise. I know prisoners are entitled to a certain amount of this and they usually receive it via playing basketball with their buddies or some form of weight training but my prisoner will get exercise the old fashioned way by snow shoveling and lawn mowing.

Of course we will have visitors day, since I plan on only housing a female it would be cruel to not let her children come and see her once a week or so. There will be no conjugal visits though, well with the possible exception of when her lawyer comes to visit. I won't be allowed to monitor that so it's really out of my hands. (Funny, if I needed a lawyer I would not know where to start to find one, but criminals seem to have them on speed dial... moving on)

I have put some thought into how I will reward my prisoner for good behavior and decided to go with a trustee type program. As long as they abide by my rules they will be let out of their room for an hour a day to dust and vacuum the rest of the house. If they are an excellent prisoner I will let them use my WiFi to take some online courses, preferably in legal defense. I happen to know that prisoners like to think of themselves as lawyers. NOTE: No offense is meant toward any prisoners or lawyers who may be reading this.

I don't see any problem with security, I rarely leave the house and it is a long fall from the room my prisoner will be staying in so I doubt she will try to escape. Oh darn- a phone. I don't have a phone in the intended cell... I know! I will get my prisoner a Tracfone with about 30 minutes a month of time on it, it's only fair that she have what I have.

The only thing I seem to have trouble figuring out is what to do for punishment if my prisoner misbehaves. Ah! Cleaning out my garage. That will keep her in line, no one wants to clean out my garage!

One other thing, I don't want some damn long term skanky hardened criminal or thief for my prisoner. I am looking for more of the Martha Stewart type, or even Paris Hilton. I want to house my prisoner for a month or so, get enough money to take the family (mine) to Disney World, then come back and get a new prisoner. I am not into these long term commitments things, and I don't want to be bonding with anyone. I don't want my prisoner to be going all Patty Hearst on me. Forget that!

I am going to wrap this up now and submit my idea to Joseph Ponte. I don't know why I didn't think of this earlier, life is about to get a whole lot easier.

Help I've Fallen and I Can't Get Up!

No, I haven't fallen on the floor or fallen in the tub or fallen in the snow (well, OK I have but that's not the point). I haven't fallen off my rocker or wagon, or fallen too far behind or fallen in love, nor did I fall off of my Segway. What I have fallen into, is a rut.

My ruts run deep and sometimes it is quite a climb to get out of one of them. The one I am in now is like that. Sure, some times I manage to scale the wall of rut and I always appreciate when I am out of it, but I never seem to get more than one footstep away, so one step backwards and I am right back in it.

Once in the rut I usually stay there for a few days, sometimes longer. It depends on whether I have to build up the strength to claw my way out, or whether someone throws me a rope. Right now I am just contemplating what put me here.

Usually it is crystal clear what brought me to my rut, broken heart, loss of job, issues with family, stuff like that- but none of that is happening right now. I'm poor, but I am always poor. I am lonely, but I am always lonely. I have stuff to do that I don't feel like doing but I always have stuff to do that I don't feel like doing. Really, I can't think of any reason for my current rut except.......

I have not had a winter vacation this year! That has to be it. The photo above of Haley, Casey and I on the Segway tour at EPCOT, was in January 2009. In January 2010 I was in California for two weeks and in March 2010 I was in Texas for 7 days or so, but 2011 I have no sunny surprises waiting for me and looking out the window and not seeing white, makes all the difference.

Yes, I have Jenny and Xavier coming next month and Audrey's first birthday which will keep me rutless for a while and in April we are going to Disney for 9 days but that does not help the right here right now rut or the in between rut which is slated to run the entire month of March.

I need something thrilling! I need something inspiring! I at least need a fantasy! I need something/anything other than shoveling and watching it snow. Winter is just boring for me and boredom = rut, even though I have plenty I should be doing I am just too blah.

Eh. I think that is it for now. I am too unmotivated to continue. I think I am going to go snuggle Sid, watch some TV, maybe later wash my hair and tomorrow I may go to the dump! Yeah! Yeah......

Turning The LePage

It's official. I can't stand it anymore. I am seriously thinking of unjoining all of my anti LePage Facebook sites because of the level of frustration they bring me every single day when I see yet another immoral, unethical, repulsive, arrogant, idiotic blurb or comment that has come from this mans mouth.

I spent a good chunk of last summer and half of the fall developing my bleeding ulcer at the mere thought that LePage could be elected Governor. After November 3rd, I had 2 months of at least not having to see or hear about him every single day, but not anymore. Now it's everyday, often more than once a day that I am taunted by his utter ridiculousness and what seems to be some sort of power he has over one third of Mainers that think he is God's gift to the Blaine House.

It grinds at me the way he is constantly being defended. "So what if he hired his 22 year old daughter (who has never done anything but wait tables) to a 41K a year job with his regime and lets her live of the tax payers in the Governors Mansion with him and the rest of his klan" OK, klan should not been part of the " " , but still... and "who cares if he is appointing people to his cabinet who donated buckets of money to his campaign, what's wrong with that" and "I admire a guy who will tell our president to go to hell and the NAACP to kiss his butt, so long as he follows it up with reminding us that he has a black son" (New definition of black son is "to temporarily house a 17 year old from Jamaica and who is not a US citizen")

Now don't get me wrong, if the guy can reduce taxes and bring jobs to the state then I am all for it. Of course I am, who wouldn't be? But does he have to do it by making the State of Maine look like a melting pot for hot tempered, vulgar liars?

So as you can see I seriously can't stand it anymore. I realized last summer/fall that any opposition to this man is a useless endeavor and that it only serves to waste my time and raise my blood pressure. He will do what he wants to do and the two thirds of us who think he is inept can just kiss his butt and go to hell.

My new motto, "if there is nothing that I can do about it, then I chose to be ignorantly blissful" . It may not be very pro active but it may keep my future aneurysm on hold for a little while longer.

PS: Who I am kidding?

In Valor There Is Hope

Last year, 2010, there were 162 police officers killed in the line of duty. That averages one every 2.25 days.

So far in 2011, there have been 14 officers killed in the line of duty, that averages one every 1.85 days. At this current rate, 2011 will see 198 officers killed.

With the exception of officers lost as a result of 9/11/01, the last time a death toll above 198 was reached was in 1981, where 201 officers lost their lives.

In addition to the 14 killed over the last 24 days, there have also been 11 who have been shot but have so far survived.

These staggering numbers worry me.

While I may be more pro police than just the average person, even I will admit that not all police deserve to wear their uniform. I have known some dirty ones, some corrupt ones, some who lack morality, some who would be better suited to training junk yard dogs and some who are just plain assholes. Luckily, these are the minority, but none of them, no matter what, deserve to be gunned down simply because of the job they do.

For every officer killed on duty there is someone left behind that will never get over the loss. My greatest hope is that no one in my family will ever have to experience this. That's all I have to say today.

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/41235743/ns/us_news-crime_and_courts/

Reblogging From The Days Of Yore...

No new blog today, just reposting one that I wrote in May/2000. Yeap, that long ago, really.

A lot of people have read this before but it is one of my favorites so here goes...




"The Next Time You Are Having A Bad Day"

This is dedicated to all of the people in my life that occasionally have 'one of those days'. Next time you are, read this and maybe it will cheer you up or at least remind you that you are not alone!

Anxious to initiate the feel of summer, I decided to put up my new pool today. Now keep in mind that the pool has been in the back of my car for three weeks since it made it's way out of Wal-Mart so there was a sense of urgency! I could not begin to put it up though until I got the new tank on my well (so I could fill it), and well, the well got fixed on Tuesday, I am off today and just had to get this pool done!

It is not a big pool, 12 foot around and three feet deep and it says assembles in 10 minutes.. Yeah, it is raining outside, but I figure the pool is going to get wet anyway, so what the heck?

So I am outside in the rain, struggling to put up this easy to assemble pool. It has a part on the top that needs to be inflated. Appearing to be more than I could blow up with my own lungs, I needed an air compressor. My van has one built into it, so I go get the van and drive it into the back yard. It's working pretty well, and about 30 minutes later the top of the (assembles in 10 minutes) pool is inflated.

Next step, start filling the pool with water and chemicals. (That was about 3 hours ago, and it is still filling) I get the pump connected, and I am thinking that my work here is almost done and I should start getting ready to call it a day. It is still raining outside and I decide that I need to get the van moved from the back yard. What do you think happened??? I put it into reverse, the tires spun and now it is buried in the mud. I said a few profanities, got some boards to put under the tires and tried again. Van sinks further, then stalls. At this moment I discover that leaving it running for 30 minutes to inflate the pool, has drained it of fuel. So it is buried in the mud and out of gas. I say a few more profanities.

I then go get our brand new gas can, and walk across the street for gas (where most likely people had been watching this fiasco and laughing at me already). I got a couple of gallons of gas, walked home and tried to transfer can of gas into tank of van. It was then I noticed that the brand new never before used gas can, has a vent on it that needed to be opened before the gas would flow properly. Armed with a carpenter knife, I sawed through the plastic vent, and attempt the gasoline transfer.

Now I have the gas can in one hand, the knife (which incidentally is not retractable) in the other, and no hands free to unscrew the gas cap from the van. Without paying much attention I put the knife in my front pants pocket. So, as I am pouring gas into the van, (and all over my hands) all of a sudden a sharp pain stabs me in the upper leg. Realizing the knife in my pocket was now slicing my thigh open, I jerk the gas can out of the van, and hurl it down to nurse my wound.

Now I am not sure which part of what happened next is worse... the fact that as I was checking out the gash in my leg I remembered that my hands were covered with gasoline... or the fact that when I jerked the can away from the van, the gas that slung out of it went directly into.... the pool.

After a few more profanities, I came to the conclusion that my van will stay in my back yard until such time as I turn the pump on to this pool, and it ignites the gasoline skimming the three hours worth of water I pumped into it, where by blowing the van, the pool and most of my back yard out of the town limits of Albion.

I am off to take a nice hot shower. Hope you are having a better day today than I am!

May 2000.

--------------------

So, now it's January 2011 and I am vividly remembering this day so many years ago, and also the fun we ended up having with this pool! I still have this mini van, though I have not driven it since 2004, except around the yard. I can't stand the the thought of parting with it- someday, I want to drive it again, for real! Oh, and let's see, winter of 2009 I bought another pool- much, much bigger and intended to set it up at my current house last summer. Never quite got it accomplished as too many things needed to be done prior to the actual installation of the thing that I couldn't do alone. Oh well, at least the new pool is in my basement and not still in the back of my current car. Maybe this summer.... :)

I Feel Like Such An Old Hag!

Yesterday while I was out shoveling a path to the car a kid approached me about using my yard as a snowmobile trail from the river to town. I said "no".

The kid was probably about 12 and polite enough for his age though he questioned why I wouldn't let people go through my yard and I tried to explain.

I told him that I had been taken advantage of in years past and just didn't allow it anymore. I told him a snowmobile had run over stuff in my yard, they upset my dog who is tied outside, and I got tired of picking up trash left behind. He said "but I am just a kid", I said "yes, but once there is a trail, everyone thinks they can use it."

We debated a little bit more, he tried very hard to make me see it his way, I tried very hard to make him see it my way, finally I just had to end it by saying, 'I'm sorry, but no."

I spent the rest of the afternoon thinking about how my son had been treated in Albion riding his ATV and snowmobile ON OUR OWN PROPERTY. We had a little over an acre and my son made a figure 8 track, some jumps, stuff like that and the neighbors bitched and moaned about it seasonally. I always felt thankful that he was home, behaving, riding on his own property not hurting anyone but the neighbors didn't see it that way.

In the summer they bitched about the dust and one particular neighbor who was a selectman, came to my house and told me they were going to make a town ordinance that no ATV's could be ridden in town. (This was an abuse of his power as my father attended the next selectman's meeting and not only was this not on the agenda, no one else knew anything about it.)

In the winter the neighbor on the other side of me bitched if my son even appeared to have crossed onto his property on a snowmobile and I remember watching quite a scene go down from my kitchen window one evening. I saw two snowmobilers go through the back end of my property and onto the neighbors. Then I saw my lunatic neighbor, in his pajamas running through 4 feet of snow, arms flailing and even from a distance I could see he was screaming. The people of the snowmobiles stopped for a minute then continued down the property line toward my house. They stopped in my yard to regroup (they were lost) so I went outside and asked them what the neighbor had said. They told me he was screaming at them and then said he thought they were "that kid next door". Once he realized they weren't, he told them to continue on. That's how life was for us in Albion.

So after thinking yesterday that I am now the crotchety old ass that I always thought of my old neighbors as, I decided that maybe I would tell the kid it was OK to occasionally cut through my yard, provided that I had a note from his parents. Before I did that though I wanted to brush up on my snowmobile laws.

This is what I found out:

• Anyone who allows a person under 18 years of age to operate a snowmobile is liable (jointly with the minor's parent or guardian) for any damages caused in the operation of that snowmobile).
  

I read a lot more on underage riders and I have decided that I just don't want this responsibility. I was almost willing to cave in on the general nuisance of it, but now I just can't.

How do I deal with this year after year after year? I don't want to be known as the town bitch and I don't like thinking of myself the way I felt about my psycho Albion neighbors. I just don't know what to do.

BTW, it should be noted that I don't hate snowmobiles (except for the one I ran over). I even own one and find it very pleasant to be out on the trails in the woods where it is pretty and quite. I just don't want strangers driving them through my yard. Le sigh.

Happy Birthday, Grams.

She was born January 21, 1896 in Butler, Kentucky as Carolyn Annette Kidwell. In the 28 years that I knew her she was always Grams, or Carrie.

The story goes that she despised Carolyn Annette with such passion that she would not even answer to it, not even as a child I suppose. She was Carrie, always. In those days I doubt you had to go through the red tape that you do now to change your name for even on her application for a Social Security number she listed her name as Carrie.

Carrie had 7 brothers and sisters, Walter, Charles, Ethel, Mabel, Hetty, Cora and Ralph. Her family must have been ahead of their time for Hetty and Cora never even married and that was virtually unheard of in the early 1900's in rural Kentucky. Girls got married at 16 or so and started producing new farm hands. But not Carrie.

My grandmother graduated high school in a class of 3 in approximately 1913. She went on to Browns Business School and also Normal University both in Illinois. She first took secretarial courses and then went on to be a teacher. She had to have been an amazing woman in that day and age to live the life she had chosen and be self sufficient. At times Carrie shared and apartment with girl friends and did house sitting with her sisters, it all sounds so normal for this day and age, but it wasn't then.

I am not sure when she married my grandfather, Jessie Warren Beamer Wright, "Warnie" but it was quite a bit later in her life as my mother, Dora, their only child was not born until my grandmother was 38 years old. To put that in perspective, my mom was 12 when my grandmother was the age I am now, and I am already a grandmother. Sort of boggles the mind to think of it that way.

Maybe it was because my grandmother was 64 years old when I came along, that I remember her being so grandmotherly. She was a short thing, always had gray hair and I don't think I ever saw her wear slacks until she was in her eighties. She shared a Victorian house with my grandfather in Southgate, Kentucky that had been given to them by his family. My mother was born in that house. I remember it always smelling of antiques and cookies and my grandfathers cigarettes. The place seemed huge and when my brother and I were able to visit we ran in one door and out another screaming and playing and leaving a trail of toys and crumbs behind us, and it was OK. There was never a harsh word uttered.

I don't remember ever living in that house until about 1967. My father was in the Navy so we moved often and it must have just killed my grand parents to have us all be so far away. I remember many many visits, but it wasn't until my fathers first extended sea duty that my mom, brother and I actually moved in with my grandparents. We had full run of the house and the back yard which seemed enormous. We had a swing set, I got my first Yellow Jacket sting there. We had a fence between us and the neighbors that was covered in vines of some sort, and sweet peas. There was an alley that ran behind the houses and each had a garage. Their garage housed my grandparents 195? Dodge something. It was two tone green and the only car I ever knew them to have.

My grandparents had a color TV which was unheard of. My grandmother had won it on the "Ruth Lyons Show" and the neighbors were green with envy. I don't remember watching it though, I remember spending all of my time in Grams' dining room/sewing room. After her days of being a bookkeeper, she had become a seamstress and she could sew anything. People hired her to make them elegant dresses and spring colored coats for Easter. She of course made me adorable outfits and clothes galore for my Barbie dolls. I would sit on her lap as she sewed in her corner of the dining room and I know that's where I got my talent from as I too, can sew anything.

My mom, brother and I moved to Hawaii in 1968 where my father had become stationed. I can't imagine the pain that brought my grandparents. My grandfathers health declined and when it was obvious he had little time left, my mother, brother and I flew back to Kentucky to see him. He died the day after we arrived. Everyone said he just waited to know we were OK. It was my first experience with death. I was 8.

After my grandfathers affairs were settled we brought Grams to Hawaii with us. I remember a time or two being peeved that I had to share my room with her but mostly I remember life being better for her, and my mom as my dad was out to sea most of the time we lived there. When we left in 1972 Grams moved to Maine with us. Except for a short return to Illinois to stay with one of her sisters, and then living in senior citizens housing in New Hampshire for awhile, she remained living with us even when we all moved to Texas in 1984.

By 1984 though Grams was experiencing the hardship of Alzheimer disease. How sad it was to watch this woman who a few years earlier could have spoke Latin and recited "The Raven" (and many, many other poems and quotes and rhymes) reduced to days of not recognizing her only daughter. By 1985 I'd say, she was moved to a nursing home in Kerrville where she spent her remaining years.

During that time I lead the very busy life of a wife, full time employee, and by 1986, mother. I didn't go to the nursing home as often as I wish now. My mother did pick Grams up quite often though and bring her on outings with the family. Grams did meet Haley several times and for that I am forever thankful.

In 1989 shortly before Haley's third birthday we drove past the nursing home in a rush to be somewhere else and Haley pointed out the window and said "Grams". Thank God that I decided that what ever else we had to do could wait because I turned around and we went to visit Grams. By now she was bed ridden and her mind was completely incapacitated, but Haley didn't know that and we stayed and visited and he told her all of his wonderful accomplishments and adventures, and that was the last time we saw her alive. People tell me little kids just "know" - I think they do.

It was but a week or so later, I was dispatching at the Sheriff's Department wearing a hideous brown and khaki uniform when my father called and said that Grams had passed away. I immediately met my parents at the nursing home, Grams looked very peaceful, we said what we needed to say in private and then went to the funeral home to make arduous arrangements for sending my Grams back home, back to Kentucky.

I wanted so much to make the dress she was to be buried in. I wanted to give back to her some of the gift that she had given me. There wasn't time though. In a just over a day my parents left for Kentucky driving. I stayed behind a couple of days (due to work naturally) and then flew to Cincinnati where my parents picked me up.

Grams' funeral was in Grants Lick, Kentucky, a place that is, just as it sounds. Many many people came and after the funeral many of them hung around and shared stories of her life and what she had meant to them. The funeral lasted into the late evening with old family members and friends who may as well been family sitting around telling jokes and old hillbilly stories and remembering the best of the life that Carrie Kidwell Wright had lived. And yes she was present both physically, spiritually and watching over us with my grandfather, her beloved Warnie, who she had outlived for 21 years.

I think about Grams a lot now that I am a grandmother. I will never be that old fashioned cookie baking grandmotherly type like she was, but I do have most of her antiques and I do make Audrey clothes. Mostly I love my family unconditionally, like she did. I will teach Audrey to sew if she is interested, but I will never really fill my grandmothers shoes. At best, I can say that she lives on through the descendants that I have helped to create, and for that I am proud.

Love and miss you forever Grams.

http://www.findagrave.com/cgi-bin/fg.cgi?page=gr&GSln=wright&GSfn=carrie&GSmn=kidwell&GSbyrel=in&GSdyrel=in&GSob=n&GRid=10190223&df=all&

No Blueberries, No Red Wine, No Espresso....

"Eyes! Hair! Mouth! Figure! Dress! Voice! Style! Movement! Hands! Magic! Rings! Glamour! Face! Diamonds! Excitement! Image!"

Lately I have been pondering, do the models they use in advertisements such as the one to the left, really need to improve their smile? Aren't their teeth just about as good as it gets in the first place? Also, why are they always women who can't get a date, can't get married, can't get a job interview until they have whitened their teeth?? If Crest Whitestrips or any of the other top teeth whitening companies really want us to see a miracle, how about a 2 week time lapse commercial on Jeremy Clarkson's teeth? Yeah, that's what I thought!

All of this perfection is just part of an ongoing gimmick hell bent on preying on women's insecurities for the purpose of greed. May I also mention that we got these insecurities from the damn media in the first place? What a viscous cycle.

At 50, I am a mess of non perfection. I have lived my whole life fixated on weight, but it seems the older I get, the less control I have over it, and sadder still, is that I have even less control over myself accepting it and the inner battle rages on.

My deformities are plenty. I also have a wrinkle. There is probably not a picture of me known to exist where I don't have bangs. That's all because of the wrinkle. I tried once to embrace my wrinkle, trying to tell myself it was like a badge I had earned for living this long but I quickly cut my hair back to having bangs again. Speaking of hair, I have colored it for 34 years! Granted, it was fun and I have had it every color known to Sallys but one day I began to wonder exactly what its natural color was and decided to let it grow out... now people just look at me like I am unkept.

Yeap, I am a 50 year old, non skinny, wrinkled woman with a hair color yet to be completely identified on the color wheel. Do I have a good self image? HELL NO! I haven't for most of my life, there has always been something I felt I lacked and now I have my non brilliantly white teeth mocking me!

My mother is a teeth person. She could have had a great career in forensics and identifying dead bodies by their teeth. She would not have even needed dental records to get the job done, she can, and will, recognize anyone by their teeth. Good or bad, it doesn't matter that's what she sees when she looks at a person. Needless to say she has always nagged me about my teeth- I could be dressed to the nines with my makeup flawless and hair styled to perfection and all she would say is "let me see your teeth". The proudest she has ever been of me was one day when I excused myself after dinner to go floss. She beamed like I had just won the Nobel Teeth Prize.

Now comes the question, why am I ranting about this and if I don't want to whiten my teeth who the hell cares? Well, lets have a show of hands of who reading this actually knows me and knows that in the last few years I have spent so much on dental work that I could have bought a new car! (and it's not over yet) So naturally I take the teeth whitening commercials as a personal mockery. These girls already have perfect teeth! STFU with the 'my wedding is in 2 weeks and my teeth aren't white enough" crapola! They may as well all be my mother getting as close to my face as she possibly can and peering at me through her trifocals as she says for the millionth time "let me see your teeth" AAAAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!

Ok, deep breath and I am better now. You know, for my New Years resolution I thought about resuming an obsession about my weight and dieting until I was sick, going back to coloring my hair, maybe getting botox for my wrinkle, and even whitening my teeth. But..... I decided that I needed to learn to accept that I am not a kid of 30 anymore and that I should not put myself through all of that grueling trouble to try to have a perfect image. (Its not like I am a skank in the first place!) Thing is, it's still January and it would have been less work to diet and color and de wrinkle and whiten, than it is to accept who I have become. I really find that quite sad.

Oops, gotta go, my mom just logged on and wants me to send her a picture of my teeth.

(I would like it noted that my mom is a sweet and wonderful woman and I meant no disrespect by referencing her. I would also like it noted that I adore Jeremy Clarkson and could not care less what shade his teeth are, in fact, I often wish I was British as they seem so less self absorbed with this stuff!

Oh For The Love Of GRRRR - Corn!

I have had a bag of cracked corn sitting in my garage for 2 and a half years. I bought it for the spring ducks when I first moved here and I still have about 8 pounds of the 10 pound bag.

To my surprise, nothing that it was not intended for has ever tried to eat it. Frankly I found that odd, but it certainly pleases me.

Last fall I decided to start making corn bags again. I had made some in years past for gifts and thought that perhaps I could sell them at a consignment store my friend owns in downtown Waterville.

I made up 20 or so, had a cute little display barrel to house them and we sold enough of them for me to make back my investment, which was $14 for a fresh bag of corn, uncracked. I don't know how many are left in the store, I stop in once and awhile to collect my 70% and other than that I don't worry about it. Until today.

I almost didn't answer the phone because I didn't recognize the number, but I took a chance that it could be good news... it wasn't. It was the woman who owns the store very politely and apologetically asking me to come and pick up the corn bags. Why, you ask? Because there is a freakin' mouse in them. Or at least we hope it is a mouse- it has not actually been seen, there has just been a gnawing noise going on that was traced over to my barrel of corn bags.

I can't win. Here was something actually simple enough to make a profit on that was a great use for the tons of fabric scraps I hoard, and they had to go and become a feeding frenzy for vermin. (And no I can't sell them on ebay- the shipping cost is more than the product!)

So tomorrow I will go to Waterville to pick up the corn bags and I am damn sure gonna take a cat with me just in case one of the mice gets loose in the car.

Stupid mice. Stupid corn. Stupid cats. Stupid today.

PS: All of my Christmas shopping is done for 2011 now!

Oh My Space !

I never use MySpace anymore. Never.

The closest I have been to using it was talking to someone the other day about how we don't use it. Ever.

Today though, in my regular email box I had a friend request from someone on MySpace. It was from a guy named Chris Scott and I actually know a Chris Scott through friends from a former job, but I could not imagine why he would be attempting to friend me. My curiosity got the best of me though and so I read the request and accompanying letter. It was not from the Chris Scott I know, but it is so well written and heartfelt that I just have to share it.

hello

Chris Scott says

To: J-Lo (jaye580@myspace.com)

Hi Gorgeous one.How are you doing today ? hope you receive this message and it finds you well. My name is Christopher and am Originally from New Maryland,MD.When I saw your profile I decided to respond with the hope of corresponding. I guess the first thing that came into my mind when I saw your photo was "WOW!!!". You are GORGEOUS!!! . It seems you are that rare women who has just as much (or more) going for herself on the inside as the outside. I would consider it an honor to get to know you. I’m EXTREMELY busy with my construction job in (WEST AFRICA NIGERIA) and wount be back to the state not until the ending of this mouth. so I’m not looking to move too fast or for anything serious at this pint, but if sparks fly then so be it about me…I don’t have much time for or interest in the "traditional singles scene" so I decided to give this a try. Besides, I have a few friends who have had good time in the scene of internet dating so i decided to give it a trial. I find that many women I encounter don't call lately, my business has kept me from getting out much, but in general I don't have a problem meeting women. However, meeting the right woman has been somewhat challenging. I guess I'm seeking the proverbial "entire package"-beauty, brains, pleasant disposition, morals, compassionate heart and ethics. You certainly appear to fit that mold.Nothing speaks my interest more than a woman who has a great deal going for himself, yet carries herself as if she is oblivious to that fact. First and foremost I’m looking for a woman with the potential and desire to become my "best friend" because I believe that is the foundation for a lasting relationship.I’m sorry for the lengthy note, but my hope is to give you an accurate snapshot of who I am, especially since I dont have much about me in my profile. I don't know what else to tell you, but consider this: To laugh is to risk appearing a fool. To weep is to risk appearing sentimental. To reach out for another is to risk involvement. To expose feelings is to risk exposing of yourself. To play your ideas, your dreams, before the crowd, is to risk your loses. To love is to risk not being loved in return. To live is to risk dying. To hope is to risk despair. To try is to risk failure. But risk must be taken because the greatest hazard in life is risking nothing. And people who risk nothing, do nothing, have nothing, buy nothing. You may avoid suffering and sorrow, but you simply cannot learn if u have a yahoo messenger. u can have a chat with me on yahoo mine screen name is (christopherscott04) or send me an email to my Direct email account for Quick Response (christopherscott04@Yahoo.com) will send you a recent pics of me as soon as i hear back from you Yours faithfully Christopher scott.

Oh my heart. I can't tell you the last time a man has spoken to me with so much heartfelt determination and passion. It doesn't even matter to me that he "wount be back to the state not until the ending of this mouth" as "I’m not looking to move too fast or for anything serious at this pint" either. I would wait forever for the man who thinks I am the "entire package"-beauty, brains, pleasant disposition, morals, compassionate heart and ethics.

Of course what really hooked me was when he identified me as "a woman who has a lot going for himself" and then with such a poetic ending to his note, well, it simply swept me off my feet: "You may avoid suffering and sorrow, but you simply cannot learn if u have a yahoo messenger" Wow. That is deep stuff right there!

I am going to wrap this up so I can write to my beloved, Christopher scott, and try to tell him how madly in love with him I am. I can only hope to match his wit, intimacy and punctuation. Later, I may even pop out and pick up a Western Union money order to send him, just to seal the deal. I don't want him to have to ask. That's the kind of "rare women who has just as much (or more) going for herself on the inside as the outside." that I am.

Yours sarcastically,
XOXO

Directors and Builders and Negotiators, Oh My!

Everyday in my mailbox I have something notifying me of a potential if not guaranteed, once in a lifetime soul mate love match. Zoosk, Match.Com, Plentyoffish, E-Harmony, Christian-Military-Seniors-With-Dogs-That-Like-Disney-World, whatever- At least once a week I get something from each of them. I don't even look at the emails, they go straight to the trash.

Way, way, way back in the day I did try some internet dating sites, back when they were free anyway, but I myself have not had an active profile for at least 7 years. At least. Yet the notifications keep coming and the most bizarre part is that most of these sites I have never had a profile on, there-fore they can not possibly be matching me with anyone based on anything other than age and location. Again, whatever-

Now I am not going to say that no one ever finds their Prince Charming or whatever is appropriate via the internet. I know several friends that have met some great people and formed enduring relationships via online dating sites. I am just going to say that I have not been one of them and instead ended up with, oh, lets just say, some people who were not what I expected.

Lets take for instance the acclaimed poet who wrote a whole book on his deranged and psychotic pursuit of a woman who had a restraining order against him. My favorite part of the book was "I used to drink a beer, when I shed a tear, but now that you are here, I don't need no beer". Turned out the book was self published, he gave me an autographed copy, I changed my phone number.

Then there was another who I drove 250 miles to meet and when I arrived at the designated place he was on the phone with his wife, that sort of hurt. He explained that they were "separated" but the thing is, separated turned out to mean that she was at work and he was meeting me for lunch.

Another one of my favorites was a man who I was meeting at the Olive Garden and we exchanged vehicle information and were to be on the lookout for each other in the parking lot. I parked where I could be easily seen, yet he didn't even get out of his car to meet me. I had to walk over to him and say "Are you Mike?" at which he replied "Well, YAH........"

Then there was a guy I actually liked except for that after 2 consecutive dates he was emailing me completely broken that I had not called him on day 3. It didn't matter that I was working all night and parenting all day. Oh, he also lied about his age on his profile by 10 years!

The last one was a guy who only emailed, chatted or called me at certain times of the day. He was very friendly and nice to talk with but when I questioned him about his predictable communication schedule he freaked out and accused me of accusing him of being married, well, yah.........

Oh but my co-worker did stay amused trying to match up pictures on the dating sites with pictures in the sex offender registry. That was pretty scary- should be a law against not disclosing that sort of information! Anyway, that's why I don't bother anymore, it's just too much effort for too much let down. Give me something conventional (gasp did I just say that?) like meeting someone by random in the laundry mat or being hooked up by a mutual friend, those things worked pre internet, right?

Oh and as for the directors, builders, negotiators and explorers pictured, I am pretty sure none of them live in 04957 anyway.





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