tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34887277006246881842024-02-20T21:30:58.627-08:00Ramblings and Other NonsenseJust another crazy loudmouthed working mother on a rantAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15059869706100434297noreply@blogger.comBlogger37125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3488727700624688184.post-40011230094088756662012-10-10T15:59:00.000-07:002012-10-10T15:59:06.148-07:0030 Days 50K Words<span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">Last year I tried to NaNoBloMo and didn't make it very far in to the month before petering out. This year, spurred on by a friend's great success, I am going to attempt the NaNoWriMo challenge. </span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" /><b style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">Do you have a great novel in you?</b><br style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">I don't expect to reach 50K, but applying free time to writing for 30 days (give or take, haha) instead of kibitzing around Google+ will be a more productive use of my time (I can only hope). </span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">Blog writing is short spurts of ideas. Sprints, not marathons. Eclectic ideas, single-serving reading. To sit and attempt a novel is something completely different. I have a vague idea for a story, now to plot it out and cut it into manageable chunks as to not have it be overwhelming.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15059869706100434297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3488727700624688184.post-82748626308139432752012-09-24T15:01:00.000-07:002012-09-24T15:01:48.928-07:00Happiness starts with what you see in the mirror<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cKPdWTN3YVk/UFiAeaJpnCI/AAAAAAAAK-0/kHyNWaWnfiQ/s1600/challenge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cKPdWTN3YVk/UFiAeaJpnCI/AAAAAAAAK-0/kHyNWaWnfiQ/s320/challenge.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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If you aren't happy with what you see in the mirror, you are the only one that can change it. The outer shell is what too many people focus on and find fault with that, but forget to work on the inside. <br />
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When you look in the mirror, what is in the eyes, the heart, that stares back at you?<br />
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Can you honestly say that you are the best you, you can be? Do you know what is <i>bait</i>? Can you rise above it? Do you know which cheek to turn, when turning <i>the other cheek</i>?<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15059869706100434297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3488727700624688184.post-64428956553976482452012-09-24T14:56:00.001-07:002012-09-24T14:56:32.301-07:00Up there, in the sky!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7ei7KaMeU_p7YnI7KxDCS313IUwW4eQfef3VcqR-zoJg6T2nVn7Z5Ja_mHLE-spHpqQ9DEr3gzFCYxrWsxTM6xOfaoCECQupIpeDQbg5dbbM4rEO4LzeJG2P_GFRfX0mRAPscXFPB8Bk/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7ei7KaMeU_p7YnI7KxDCS313IUwW4eQfef3VcqR-zoJg6T2nVn7Z5Ja_mHLE-spHpqQ9DEr3gzFCYxrWsxTM6xOfaoCECQupIpeDQbg5dbbM4rEO4LzeJG2P_GFRfX0mRAPscXFPB8Bk/s320/photo.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">Space Shuttle Endeavor fly-over in Hayward California on Friday, September 21, 2012. Took too long for my iPhone3GS to open the camera app, so this is all I got for a picture.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">The ground shakes, you look up and see this enormous plane flying so close to the ground, you think you can touch it. Next to it flies a fighter jet escort. Once in a lifetime! </span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15059869706100434297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3488727700624688184.post-64561479582091559272012-07-01T10:57:00.000-07:002012-07-01T10:57:15.932-07:00Laughing in the face of adversity<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">How you handle adversity says more about you than you
realize.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">There are millions of different sayings. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“If life gives you lemons, make lemonade.” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“When the going gets tough, the tough get going.” </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“True adversity brings out the best in people.” </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Are you a man or a mouse?”
</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I rant, I bitch and moan and I make jokes. I find, or at least try to find, humor in
most situations. It isn’t due to irreverence
to the seriousness of issues presented, it is a coping mechanism. It is how I get through a tough day, week,
month, or year. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">A long time ago, I learned that if you can’t laugh you have
nothing. Growing up in our house, humor
was all around. It was trial by flaming
arrows of laughter, all aimed at you.
You learned to have a thick skin.
You either laughed at the joke being made at your expense or you
cried. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">At the time it seemed mean to me. Why in the world would my dad laugh at me and
make jokes when, insert your childhood-teenage angst-filled moment here,
happened?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Turns out, it taught us to find humor in all things, and
what the <i>little things</i> actually
were. There was reverence for the real,
the meaningful life situations, but for all others, laughter. We didn’t need a book to learn about our “cheese”. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">So
now, whether it is a little thing or a big thing, I laugh. Life is too short to cry at things that don’t
deserve my tears. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">It is better to die of side-splitting laughter, than to
drown in a pool of one’s own tears.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiioCA7kqjJz4pH1xayI0qbMW5kM_nnTDX2HP-96k6blq9HA0MsmI4bWAk27tBbLJGa6FN_QCO-lbjuGF1WhNEJidTLq33mY5ALfGWsBjsuExeXBVMpopzgts3Uw6qRGWs7Q9R_bwqtP1k/s1600/black+hills+L.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiioCA7kqjJz4pH1xayI0qbMW5kM_nnTDX2HP-96k6blq9HA0MsmI4bWAk27tBbLJGa6FN_QCO-lbjuGF1WhNEJidTLq33mY5ALfGWsBjsuExeXBVMpopzgts3Uw6qRGWs7Q9R_bwqtP1k/s320/black+hills+L.JPG" width="312" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15059869706100434297noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3488727700624688184.post-16551591386476520992012-06-28T19:42:00.000-07:002012-06-28T19:42:49.524-07:00I'll be right back, I promise<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggHjTjqtivrIikKQjd30HCOXatMdmUTy-VJssFMD0joyq9PwuT5wNexwXpmneKsscRzIJ-AF9AbGCYB4YzguwWtdtbgnLKjkFiS0i_xQ62WtiDb7DO4FqVF4TMfQssFxx8YwgyPZlDImU/s1600/need+a+break.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggHjTjqtivrIikKQjd30HCOXatMdmUTy-VJssFMD0joyq9PwuT5wNexwXpmneKsscRzIJ-AF9AbGCYB4YzguwWtdtbgnLKjkFiS0i_xQ62WtiDb7DO4FqVF4TMfQssFxx8YwgyPZlDImU/s1600/need+a+break.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I saw this picture on Facebook and laughed. These days if a mother did that, well, can you say Division of Child and Family Services?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">What parent hasn't had that thought run through their brain at least once (or 3,000 times)? Even as a mother of an only child I can say with absolute certainty, I have and at least once a day. </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">That is usually when I have just carved out 10 whole minutes to myself, or so I thought.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">You know the drill. The image staring back at you in the mirror is a reminder to make that waxing appointment soon or you will have an official uni-brow. The doctor said after your last physical <i>6 months ago</i> to come back in a month for a follow-up. Your best friend has started to think you lost her phone number as you haven't called her back the last 4 times she called.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">You just need 5 minutes to yourself.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">So, why is this not okay to do? Yeah yeah, I know, they could wiggle the clothes-pins loose and they would fall to the ground. And? It only hurts for a moment, right? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I have it, Mommy-Multitasking! Fully clothed baths then hang them on the clothes line! The clothes get dry and the kids stay clean for 5 whole minutes! </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><doorbell chime> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><knocking sounds></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Me: Who is it?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Voice from other side of the door: Ma'am it is the police. Did you know there is a child hanging from your clothesline while singing the new Lady Gaga song? Your neighbors would like to know if he knows any Madonna, they prefer the original?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I make jokes, heck, my son doesn't even like Lady Gaga! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Okay, so really, who would it hurt to get a few minutes of sanity in an otherwise hectic day? As long as I teach him how to carry a tune, even the neighbors won't mind.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15059869706100434297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3488727700624688184.post-75153671405671059442012-06-27T15:57:00.001-07:002012-06-27T15:57:54.471-07:00Everything is a teaching moment when it comes to our kids<br />
<span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">Last week when the story broke of the bullied school bus monitor, I was working from home. While I made a post on Google+, I never posted here. I have to be more diligent about cross posting. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">From June 21, 2012:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-19JikFZ4LrE/T-M4rxDOoRI/AAAAAAAAFHY/CyP5jfkatag/w497-h373/303692_10151037440156350_723632327_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-19JikFZ4LrE/T-M4rxDOoRI/AAAAAAAAFHY/CyP5jfkatag/w497-h373/303692_10151037440156350_723632327_n.jpg" border="0" height="241" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-19JikFZ4LrE/T-M4rxDOoRI/AAAAAAAAFHY/CyP5jfkatag/w497-h373/303692_10151037440156350_723632327_n.jpg" title="Bullied School Bus Monitor" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Image courtesy of Today.com</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span><br />
<b style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></b><br />
<b style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">Everything is a teaching moment when it comes to our kids</b><br style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" /><br style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">I was lucky enough to be working from home this morning, so I was able to grab the kiddo so we could watch together. An interesting discussion followed about the kinds of bullying they don't teach in school. To say he was angry about how those kids treated a lady who could have been his grandmother, is putting it mildly. </span><br style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" /><br style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">Once that point was made, we turned it toward teachers and how he and his classmates speak to their teachers. Well, what do you know, suddenly we were hanging our head, saying we had to do a better job in being respectful ALL the time when dealing with teachers and teacher's aides.</span><br style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" /><br style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">Lesson learned.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15059869706100434297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3488727700624688184.post-28185711663302718862012-06-17T00:16:00.000-07:002012-06-17T00:16:09.617-07:00Dear Dad<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-uhlqDNuqYxk/TyzPc1980PI/AAAAAAAAC8w/T2pxGKRERsM/s1600/scan+4+%25281024x717%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="224" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-uhlqDNuqYxk/TyzPc1980PI/AAAAAAAAC8w/T2pxGKRERsM/s320/scan+4+%25281024x717%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Dad, when you died 25 years ago, I thought it was the worst day of my life. For a few years, it was. Then I realized that while your life ended, mine needed to continue down a better path.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Since you left, you missed a lot, and while I like to believe you can look down and share in our big events, I should catch you up anyway. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I met a guy. You would have liked him. Then you would have beaten the crap out of him, but then you would have liked him again. You weren't there to approve, so I had to rely on the Ruthie seal of approval. She liked him and I am sure she told you all about him when she got there. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Your brother stood in your place the day I got married. You absence was noticed by everyone, and we all cried a bit harder because of it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">We bought our first house, and started doing all the holidays at our house. It was too depressing to do them at your house without the patriarch to lead us, so I told Mommy that she had done them for all those years and it was my turn now. She either bought it, or understood and acquiesced, she is sly that way.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Hey dad, we had a baby. He looks just like I did in my baby pictures. Mommy & Derek were there at the hospital to welcome the new arrival. You were missed, but good old Uncle Derek made sure to get the baby his first football for his bassinet. While we didn't give him your English name, when we all stood in the Temple, it was your name that was spoken in Hebrew. Mazel Tov, you are a Zayde!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">In time we moved away, and moved away again. We are in California of all places now, and while it hasn't fallen in to the ocean yet, it may any day now. You would appreciate the relaxed, laid back atmosphere. There have been many times I have looked around over the years, and been sad you could not experience it with us. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">What I realize now is that you are. There is a part of you that lives on in me. I take no crap and can smell b.s. a mile away, due to the lessons you taught. I can appreciate a good joke from the sense of humor you passed down. My love of football and baseball and hockey and basketball come from the many hours watching and/or playing them with you. I love politics and good debate because you got us involved in local campaigns when we were young. I can throw sarcasm as far as the eye can see thanks to running the daily gauntlet in our house, known as family discussion time.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I am so many things, but most of all, I am my father's daughter.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15059869706100434297noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3488727700624688184.post-53220974711015447622012-06-13T14:32:00.000-07:002012-06-13T14:32:26.088-07:00Habit or Habitual - Day 2<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JU7WdWLM-8w/T9dW7X09THI/AAAAAAAAHYg/ExdLYW0hzPY/s1600/stubbie+butt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JU7WdWLM-8w/T9dW7X09THI/AAAAAAAAHYg/ExdLYW0hzPY/s1600/stubbie+butt.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Yesterday was day 2 of not smoking. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I found the morning routine was getting a bit easier, but only when armed with the celery sticks and water. Seeing how they aren't the worst things in the world to be using as a crutch, I am going with it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The extra bitchy comes and goes, depending on the accompanying external stress. I can feel when it is coming on, and have learned to just breathe through it. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I kept away from the computer on Day 1. I didn't want to make things harder than they had to be. For me, I find that sitting down to the computer to let off some steam playing games, is a smoking trigger. So I didn't do it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Day 2 I took the plunge. I went in to a hangout. It was like a Jimmy Buffet song. I had smokers to my left, and smokers to my right.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">We had fun with it, I had people blow smoke at me and pretended to sniff & savor. Truth is, I made the jokes, but after the initial "hey they are smoking and I can't" thought, the feeling went away.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The rest of the night was uneventful as I just kept busy and didn't think about it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">If they aren't here, I won't smoke, simple as. I am not going to die because I can't have one, I couldn't say that a month ago, I can now. A journey of a thousand miles is made up of millions of steps. Oh, and it doesn't hurt to have supportive friends and family.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Two steps down, millions more to go.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15059869706100434297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3488727700624688184.post-27254463377488336232012-06-12T21:14:00.000-07:002012-06-12T21:14:59.474-07:00Habit or Habitual?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
Yesterday was Day 1. First day with no nicotine. Well, that isn't quite right, it was the first day I didn't put more nicotine in to my system. <br />
<br />
The Chantix pills make some people nuts-O crazy. That is what had my doctor most worried about putting me on the pills. I told him, "doc, you can't make crazy, worse. I'll be fine." <br />
<br />
HA! They need to put a HUGE label on the box about the nauseousness! The reason you don't smoke isn't because you don't crave one, it is because it is hard to light a cigarette when your head is in the toilet bowl!<br />
<br />
Flick, flick...why won't this damn thing light?!?!?!<br />
<br />
I kid. When the 7th night came, I smoked my last one and went up to bed. No matter how much that first day got to me, I didn't light one up, didn't have one, didn't try and mooch one, didn't go to the corner store and buy any.<br />
<br />
This despite the database having one of its usual snafus and leaving unpaid duplicates all throughout my data. This despite the fact that one of the managers took the day off and left his department in the hands of a trainee only 3 weeks in to the job and still not up to speed. This despite the fact that they had left the paperwork from last week and utter disaster for me to find on a bright and cheery Monday morning.<br />
<br />
People who are quitting smoking should not be left to their own devices around heavy equipment. I contemplated welding his drawers shut as a thank you, but stopped short when I realized his desk was made of wood. I contemplated playing keyboard character shuffle, but thought better of it, I hate to hear men whine. <br />
<br />
I kid a lot, but I made it through that first day armed with bottles of water & iced tea, lots of fresh veggies to gnaw on, packs of gum to crackle and pop, and oodles of patience. Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15059869706100434297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3488727700624688184.post-53858971789300126852012-06-11T18:09:00.000-07:002012-06-11T18:09:50.614-07:00Stuff My Son Says<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5t7W0WBqPjFCH6RILug44m7dHkrgHJsT7xk6qS4wlf-kQ0PYC6rp_q_NgLLocBhwFxKzT8UjXcG1O5McrNbw-b2nzfyAiuWWG5TfoMO0eTWXugxYG8qldyDUHF28Rke7SnfCHNx7qyF0/s1600/Cam-ism.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="183" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5t7W0WBqPjFCH6RILug44m7dHkrgHJsT7xk6qS4wlf-kQ0PYC6rp_q_NgLLocBhwFxKzT8UjXcG1O5McrNbw-b2nzfyAiuWWG5TfoMO0eTWXugxYG8qldyDUHF28Rke7SnfCHNx7qyF0/s320/Cam-ism.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Out of the mouths of babes. How can the young be so much smarter than their years? I know that I do know the answer to that, and it is usually the result of having to endure what they should not have to at an early age.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">We were out, doing our usual errands and chatting away in the car. He asks, "Mom, do you want to hear a saying I made up?" How do I not want to hear this? "Of course I do", I answer. With that, he utters the phrase above, "Those who insult, are weak themselves." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">We talk about what he means by this, and he tells me had figured out that bullies and mean people are just mean to make people stop looking at them. He goes on and gives me examples of bullying statements and how to counter act them with one liners to end it right then and there. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">It is my fervent hope he doesn't have to put this in to practice any time soon. I fear for him, that entering Junior High School next year, will have more than its fair share of pitfalls. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15059869706100434297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3488727700624688184.post-69246436161117759002012-05-23T20:12:00.001-07:002012-05-23T20:12:30.074-07:00Adventures in Parenting - The Shots<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbqciMPuqk4MKKchYzZ_x_R-G8etRdjrJpPyO0_MH6YatHSZwNBwawDvf-n1tqhQLV49VLAGEj1nuGcD2qNLdd8X_dpNl3MvJk4pc_DKUepDxNrveI-nWYxTp24KFfkBpyk1ZcADPWR2c/s1600/shots.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbqciMPuqk4MKKchYzZ_x_R-G8etRdjrJpPyO0_MH6YatHSZwNBwawDvf-n1tqhQLV49VLAGEj1nuGcD2qNLdd8X_dpNl3MvJk4pc_DKUepDxNrveI-nWYxTp24KFfkBpyk1ZcADPWR2c/s200/shots.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<b>How many adults does it take to give an immunization?</b></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
I love my son, unconditionally. He has irrational fears that are part of his
condition and as a mother it is heartbreaking.
Spiders, clowns, insects with wings, and getting shots. When it is time to get shots, we have to
plan, for weeks.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Today was our yearly physicals and we knew that there were
going to be shots today. So we have been
planning. They say plan your work and
work your plan. That works when dealing
rationally.</div>
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<br /></div>
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For a month we have been talking about how we needed to get
shots to be prepared for 7<sup>th</sup> grade.
Breakfast table talk this morning was about <i>manning-up</i>. I picked him up
from school today and the talk in the car on the way over was in preparation
and repeating our <i>manning-up</i> mantra.</div>
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Preparation is for fools.</div>
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My appointment is over, I go in to his exam room, and he is
already shaking in his paper shorts. As
the exam wears on he is vibrating. I
leave the room for the <i>personal</i> part
of the exam. I barge back in when he
starts screaming. The doctor mentioned <i>the shots</i>.</div>
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<br /></div>
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As an hour woefully passed, I tried the soft touch, the mean
mommy, the reasoning parent, the <i>I’m
going to call your father</i> threats, all to no avail. At points he was so loud and wailed so badly,
other doctors and nurses came in, worried I was abusing a child in their
building.</div>
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In the end, it took me and a very large, strong nurse to
hold him down in my lap, while our nurse gave him three shots in his arm. Once done, he was calm, stopped crying, and
picked up his things to leave as if nothing happened.</div>
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<i>I’m sorry Mrs.
Friedrich, we really don’t know why you have severe G.E.R.D. issues. No, we can’t up your medication any
higher. </i></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15059869706100434297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3488727700624688184.post-26978370246501493992012-05-19T12:23:00.001-07:002012-05-19T12:23:24.512-07:00Viewpoint<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5uiZSSv1uGUFM5IuKMCX_QeLxWpwBYexiEQqySiCM3aY6flaHMKEH_gSHNR0kDTH7jpIwyJ08Bdm3Q_17LuIiq52TRLSAaoQSaRPfXwLZFefQNDT0GNPVj65XWg2dC1xdj8Nk8T8y8HM/s1600/illusion.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="102" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5uiZSSv1uGUFM5IuKMCX_QeLxWpwBYexiEQqySiCM3aY6flaHMKEH_gSHNR0kDTH7jpIwyJ08Bdm3Q_17LuIiq52TRLSAaoQSaRPfXwLZFefQNDT0GNPVj65XWg2dC1xdj8Nk8T8y8HM/s400/illusion.gif" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>Do you see what you think
you see?</b></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; text-align: -webkit-auto;">This one contains no hidden meanings. If you
see one word vs. another it doesn't mean you are left brain/right brain, it doesn't mean you have a <i>tumor</i>, it doesn't mean you aren't of a <i>genius</i> i.q.
We all see things differently. </span></div>
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<br style="text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><i>Sometimes, all it takes is another person for us to appreciate what was once hidden from our view.</i></span></span></div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15059869706100434297noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3488727700624688184.post-67053152531156312192012-05-09T19:42:00.000-07:002012-05-09T19:44:34.365-07:00Life Is A Stage<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTFDLZxaDF6Q0iXl4iaeh_MhUPTdVCKg042jAtpBdY7P_VZ7EqbvP0H1sHSNLdgFciQ-LIh5y1BScNXPP6-hnaM5_E9sWoj1pvlMXPo3FDmsYyk7oh3t-WMtcpDRVOqGFCCLooHJsFiEE/s1600/human+development.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTFDLZxaDF6Q0iXl4iaeh_MhUPTdVCKg042jAtpBdY7P_VZ7EqbvP0H1sHSNLdgFciQ-LIh5y1BScNXPP6-hnaM5_E9sWoj1pvlMXPo3FDmsYyk7oh3t-WMtcpDRVOqGFCCLooHJsFiEE/s320/human+development.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">It is not an easy subject, our own mortality. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Those who know me, know I have a best friend who lives back in Jersey. We have been friends since we were in the 6th grade. We have lived in each others's lives for almost as long as we can remember. Neither of us were blessed with sisters, which God rectified by giving us each other. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">We have walked a long path together. Teenage trials and tribulations, growing in to womanhood, finding our soul mates, finding ourselves, marriages, the birth of children, separations, divorces, the death of her parents, the death of my dad, my scare with cancer, my moving away, and then moving away again.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Although our boys are 6 years apart, they are friends. They are both exceptional needs, so both the boys and she & I have followed similar paths.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">We can not talk for months and pick right back up where we left off, it is what sisters do. So when my cell phone rang tonight and I saw it was her, it was no surprise. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Last we had talked, she was going for another series of test. She has been battling something unknown for the better part of 3 years now. It started as annoyances, grew to agitation, and now finally doctors are paying attention. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">It may be too late.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">We won't know more until after the next series of tests this Friday, and then the inevitable nail-biting week long wait until results are determined. What is for sure is it is incurable. What is not known is the stage. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Stage is a funny word. It has so many meanings. Stage is a place where the spotlight is lit and mere mortals can transport you to far off worlds. Take you back in time, tell you a story for a little while, and then leave you feeling better than before they started.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">If only stage meant that now. Now, it is a means to determine the end of mortality. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">She is by no means taking this lightly, nor is she resolved that it is the end.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />Her parting words before hanging up were, "What are you sad for? I'm not going anywhere, I've got kids to live for. 'm going to fight this and if it means getting a transplant, then that is what I will do."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I love my sister.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15059869706100434297noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3488727700624688184.post-3290466633848565582012-05-08T18:18:00.002-07:002012-05-08T18:18:39.426-07:00Word Clouds and You<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-abnvQULZ8kY/T6hAp4Z4iBI/AAAAAAAAGRk/cbdLghwdOM0/s1600/wordcloud.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="224" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-abnvQULZ8kY/T6hAp4Z4iBI/AAAAAAAAGRk/cbdLghwdOM0/s320/wordcloud.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">You, are all important to me! </span></h4>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Although I may not say it often, and even if I forget to post frequently, know that I do appreciate the friendships, the laughter, and the support.</span></div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15059869706100434297noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3488727700624688184.post-62447067811512526482012-05-02T21:09:00.000-07:002012-05-02T21:09:09.616-07:00Another Adventure on the Short Bus<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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A while back I wrote about the adventures we experienced when the regular morning driver had to take a leave of absence and they couldn't seem to back fill the spot without making the kids miss the first hour of school.</div>
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Today's adventure was with the new morning driver. I don't think we will be seeing him much longer. It takes a special kind of patience to work with kids with extra-ordinary needs. He doesn't have it, or at least, enough of it.</div>
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At 12:10 today I get a phone call from kiddo's school therapist. During today's scheduled session he related a story to her about this morning's bus ride in to school and he has told her the story. He wants to speak to me directly, because he has been upset all morning, has had trouble concentrating, and no one has listened to the story. </div>
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Seems that an altercation erupted between his seat-mate and the younger girl sitting behind them. She was hitting the other boy with a Barbie, a piece fell in to his lap, he retaliated by throwing the broken piece to the back of the bus and she whacked him with her hand. It was at this point the bus driver finally noticed.</div>
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This may have been the bus driver's first time handling something like this, who knows. In any case, he took sides instead of diffusing and allowing teachers to settle when they arrived at school. </div>
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My son, not one to see an injustice be done, chimes in with his observations on what the girl did. At this point the bus driver made a critical error in judgement. </div>
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He turned to my son and said, "shut up, I'm not talking to you!" <i>I'll take "Can I have my pink slip now?" for 200, Alex.</i></div>
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The driver proceeds to keep arguing with the other boy. My son chimes in again. Driver tells him to butt out and why was he still talking? The other boy answers, "well, you told him to shut up and that was wrong!"</div>
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Did I mention this is all going on while he is still driving down the street, not pulled over to the side of the road? </div>
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Driver turns to the other kid and says, "I'm the bus driver, I can do anything I want!" <i>Game, set, match.</i></div>
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Therapist gets back on the phone, says she is on it, will question the driver when he returns for afternoon pick-up, but that a classroom aide has offered to drive both boys home today until we can get all the facts. We agree to have the aide drive him home and we will speak again once she gets more information.</div>
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She calls me back to relate his side of the story, which to his credit, matches the boys' story. </div>
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I wish I could call the bus company just <i>one</i> time for a good reason. Today wasn't it. </div>
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I get a call back from the supervisor after he gets all the facts and has a meeting with the driver. We agree everyone is human and makes mistakes. Driver will be giving the whole bus an apology, has reprimand in file, and there are no third strikes in their system.</div>
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Everyone is human, everyone makes mistakes, but <i>no one</i> talks to my son that way. A lesson we teach in our house, and reinforce all the time is that we all have a right to be mad, but we don't have a right to be angry. We all have a right to respect, and that we all have a responsibility for our actions and our words. If he has to abide by them, so does the driver.</div>
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I don't think the driver realizes he has to face me tomorrow morning. I promise not to say one word. There is no need for words when you possess <i>the look.</i></div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15059869706100434297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3488727700624688184.post-34312031545432007902012-05-02T20:06:00.000-07:002012-05-02T20:06:33.940-07:00Life As A Silly Parent<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmhO-pAmVvYFcdOO5LgbJd_F3gMY9wSWQfpCcplNne0FJsv64OVIiVUT1iu1RlK7nDJN2nNGCgXCsQpT3XBv5oyd_9rekcrskzQ2DsgV6FPS-jn6EPtnZte7RPtR-yOgsanXc9pMrbaSA/s1600/Kotter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmhO-pAmVvYFcdOO5LgbJd_F3gMY9wSWQfpCcplNne0FJsv64OVIiVUT1iu1RlK7nDJN2nNGCgXCsQpT3XBv5oyd_9rekcrskzQ2DsgV6FPS-jn6EPtnZte7RPtR-yOgsanXc9pMrbaSA/s200/Kotter.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
I love being silly, cutting up, and just letting loose. This is especially true when the kiddo is in the same kind of mood. A most endearing quality is that he has inherited my quirky sense of what is funny. We enjoy watching old Marx Brothers movies together and Three Stooges episodes. Anything that will make us have the kinds of giggles that turn in to belly laughs.<br />
<br />
Tonight, little man and I had errands to run and while in the car, from the backseat I hear "excuzzzze meeeee, who ahrrre you please?", in the worst French accent imaginable. <br />
<br />
One glance in the rear view mirror and I can see the silly has started and I better catch-up quickly.<br />
<br />
I try my best Russian accent, aka Boris and Natasha mashed up in to one person. "Vy, hello dere. I deed not zee you zitting dere." <br />
<br />
We proceed to converse in our horrible broken accents, barely understanding each other for a few blocks, until I am informed that my Russian is starting to sound like French and he is "the onlyeee Freunch per-sonne in za carrre."<br />
<br />
So, I break out my Brooklyn. <br />
<br />
"Zo, jus who do uze tink you iz, huh? Who let uze into my cah? You ain't Americunn, where you from anywayze?" <br />
<br />
"Me, oh well my par-ents are from Frannnce and ze brought me heeeere when I was young-er, so I am an Americannnnne."<br />
<br />
"Yeah, well I don't know no body who talks like dat from America. You must be one of dem French Fries!" <br />
<br />
We are giggling and mimicking bad accents all over the East Bay. I am throwing my best Brooklyn/Jersey at him, and he is trying his best to keep up the French accent. He makes false bravado threats in the French kid voice about how he is "ze best American who speaks ze Freunch he knows." <br />
<br />
"Oh yeah! Up ya nose wit a rubba hose!"<br />
<br />
I was lucky to keep the car on the road with the guffaws coming from both the front seat and the back seat. He had no clue what it meant, but it was enough of a vivid statement, that his mental picture put him into fits of laughter.<br />
<br />
At the dinner table we explained where the phrase originated, but by then it had lost its shine. <br />
<br />
<i>Ya hadda be dere ta unnnastand</i>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15059869706100434297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3488727700624688184.post-38673806977019764342012-04-29T09:11:00.000-07:002012-04-29T09:11:09.678-07:00Pretty in Pink<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-I1agdshcQqM/T51e7hhWHuI/AAAAAAAAGAc/azUQsKNa1NE/s1600/4-29-12.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-I1agdshcQqM/T51e7hhWHuI/AAAAAAAAGAc/azUQsKNa1NE/s400/4-29-12.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<b style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></b><br />
<b style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></b><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">My favorite rose bush bloomed. </span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">One of the things I was going to miss when we moved from Virginia to California was tending to my rose bushes. Luckily, the new house has 4 rose bushes. Two have dusty purple blooms, one has an orange-y red bloom (nicknamed the firecracker rose) and the last has hot pink ones. </span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">I am all about the bright pink roses. There is something so vibrant and fun about them. They have always been my favorite rose, and I have used pictures of them, in some variant, as an online avatar for many years. I always think of</span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">Steel Magnolias</i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"> and the Shelby character. "Pink is mah signature color."</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15059869706100434297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3488727700624688184.post-86246286976927365422012-04-22T21:11:00.000-07:002012-04-22T21:11:14.463-07:00Lost & Found<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">The really close friends I have, I made in childhood, the
closest of which, I met in 6<sup>th</sup> grade. Funny when you think of things like that, as
my son is now in 6<sup>th</sup> grade, and I know he won’t have those same
kinds of close friends.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">This particular friend and I got into all sorts of mischief growing
up. Nothing criminal, just the kinds of
things that get you grounded. Sometimes
I got caught and grounded, sometimes it was her turn, and sometimes we would
screw up so badly that we were both grounded at the same time. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">We were in high school, probably senior year if my memory
serves me well enough. There was a guy
she on-again, off-again dated during high school. Her parents did not approve of him, and when
she saw him, whether I was with her or not, they thought she was with me. I was the forbidden relationship beard.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">This particular night, I was with her, playing able-bodied
assistant as the other gal on a double-date.
As the evening wore on, the guys had said they needed to check something
out, but didn’t say what town we were going to.
So we drove. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">These guys were dumb, but not quite as dumb as they
looked. At some point they finally
decide to fess up that we are lost. This
point comes as we realize that I am late for curfew. I do
not break curfew. If you knew my dad,
you would understand that statement.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">That being said, I grew up in a house where communication
was key. My parents brought us up to be
independent, but with the knowledge that if we need them, just ask. They were always supportive that way. Go out and make your own mistakes, but never
hesitate to ask for help when needed.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">We see a sign that says we are in Butler, but this does not
help as we all proclaim, “Where the hell is Butler?” So a
freaking out chick in the backseat finally overtakes the testosterone and they
stop at a Burger King on the highway so I can call home. Thankfully, my Mom picks up and tell her what
has been going on and that we are lost.
She asks me where I am, which I reply “somewhere called Butler in a
Burger King off the highway.” God bless
her soul, she knows exactly where I am. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">From the telephone receiver I hear, “Turn around, see that
highway in front of you? It is Route
23. Get back in the car; make a left on
to the highway. Take that to Route 46
east, and take that to the Parkway South.
Get your butt home as soon as you can, your Dad is asleep, doesn’t know you
aren’t home yet and if you are lucky it can stay that way!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Guys come out of men’s room, we all pile in to the car and
off we go. We follow my Mom’s directions
and get home in no time. I arrive to
still sleeping Dad, and keep the skin on my butt as a reward. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">My friend, well, the whole ride she was saying “don’t worry,
you won’t get in trouble it will be fine. “ She gets home, and gets grounded.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">To this day, we still say, “Where the hell is Butler?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGqcExlLhnylGWZjyGUpBaFJvTe-werzzJM6o2KWRqxPw2F6qulchhk4kvSvS_zk1hHXaXcnaa3q7pgbRhy1QlZehpnO7zgAO3eO8KJl-jTBxoedZ0h8kXUKE3hwVc26zVfMlfY53eaRc/s1600/butler+nj.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGqcExlLhnylGWZjyGUpBaFJvTe-werzzJM6o2KWRqxPw2F6qulchhk4kvSvS_zk1hHXaXcnaa3q7pgbRhy1QlZehpnO7zgAO3eO8KJl-jTBxoedZ0h8kXUKE3hwVc26zVfMlfY53eaRc/s400/butler+nj.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><br /></span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15059869706100434297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3488727700624688184.post-40976146056551723182012-04-22T10:10:00.000-07:002012-04-22T10:10:49.199-07:0021 Suggestions For Success<h3 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I found this on the internet years ago, and it still rings true.</span></h3>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZkF3TOxZW69Md5IINiZEcd2UWZSv0fEnlW-uubpLuEafrGmOppIov_QKvOTOLcrMv_YsqbX7FRAtLLm7GLpViCozKXBznXZgShwP5aW9CkySuuZGCZI3yu9jIx2KXtdweQTu3_njo58k/s1600/rt+21+sign.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZkF3TOxZW69Md5IINiZEcd2UWZSv0fEnlW-uubpLuEafrGmOppIov_QKvOTOLcrMv_YsqbX7FRAtLLm7GLpViCozKXBznXZgShwP5aW9CkySuuZGCZI3yu9jIx2KXtdweQTu3_njo58k/s200/rt+21+sign.png" width="200" /></a></div>
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<h3 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b><span style="color: #15222b;">21 SUGGESTIONS FOR
SUCCESS</span></b></span></h3>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b><span style="color: #15222b;"><br /></span></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #15222b;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">1. Marry the right person. This one decision will
determine 90% of your happiness or misery.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #15222b;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #15222b;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">2. Work at something you enjoy and that’s worthy of your
time and talent.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #15222b;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #15222b;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">3. Give people more than they expect and do it
cheerfully.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #15222b;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #15222b;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">4. Become the most positive and enthusiastic person you
know.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #15222b;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #15222b;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">5. Be forgiving of yourself and others.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #15222b;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #15222b;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">6. Be generous.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #15222b;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #15222b;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">7. Have a grateful heart.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #15222b;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #15222b;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">8. Persistence . . . persistence . . . persistence.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #15222b;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #15222b;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">9. Discipline yourself to save money on even the most
modest salary.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #15222b;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #15222b;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">10. Treat everyone you meet like you want to be treated.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #15222b;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #15222b;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">11. Commit yourself to constant improvement.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #15222b;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #15222b;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">12. Commit yourself to quality.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #15222b;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #15222b;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">13. Understand that happiness is not based on
possessions, power, or prestige, but on relationships with people you love and
respect.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #15222b;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #15222b;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">14. Be loyal.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #15222b;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #15222b;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">15. Be honest.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #15222b;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #15222b;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">16. Be a self-starter.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #15222b;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #15222b;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">17. Be decisive even if it means you’ll sometimes be
wrong.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #15222b;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #15222b;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">18. Stop blaming others. Take responsibility for every
aspect of your life.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #15222b;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #15222b;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">19. Be bold and courageous. When you look back on your
life, you’ll regret the things you <span class="blsp-spelling-error">didn</span>’t
do more than the ones you did.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #15222b;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #15222b;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">20. Take good care of those you love.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #15222b;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #15222b;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">21. Don't do anything that wouldn't make your Mom proud.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15059869706100434297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3488727700624688184.post-20078916649921038912012-04-21T08:02:00.000-07:002012-04-21T08:02:48.910-07:00I Stumbled<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhja_oX1XZjD7xRxdnkA2dJlv4MPQ2nV0_6col17hyphenhyphenyi375QZ9Za_g96JEqpqnsiDNrMWak_YiU5yMArZFVuFiRm8c1yWVxgYQNsbYBatX3LOsN5_rCOX5Kwks_Ls1DiEDQoxWnatkMToQ/s1600/wheat+field+with+crows.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="153" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhja_oX1XZjD7xRxdnkA2dJlv4MPQ2nV0_6col17hyphenhyphenyi375QZ9Za_g96JEqpqnsiDNrMWak_YiU5yMArZFVuFiRm8c1yWVxgYQNsbYBatX3LOsN5_rCOX5Kwks_Ls1DiEDQoxWnatkMToQ/s320/wheat+field+with+crows.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Picture ref:
<a href="http://www.vggallery.com/painting/p_0779.htm">http://www.vggallery.com/painting/p_0779.htm </a> <span style="text-align: left;"> </span></td></tr>
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I stumbled, and fell.</div>
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When I got up and looked around, </div>
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there was no one in sight.</div>
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I thought I saw you in the distance, </div>
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but it was only your shadow,</div>
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walking into the night.</div>
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I have felt this feeling before, I thought.</div>
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Time has not erased what some happiness bought.</div>
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Fleeting glimpses of what could have been.</div>
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If only I remembered, what I know now, what I knew then.</div>
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So now, in the still, the quiet, the alone,</div>
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I have found what was lost, my heart, my soul.</div>
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Little pieces of them scattered, tattered and torn,</div>
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Some looking brand new, some showing signs of being worn.</div>
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With pail in hand, I walk through the field,</div>
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picking up the pieces, old and new, til my task is through.</div>
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Longest of walks, loves labor lost in hand,</div>
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back to regain a sense of who I am.</div>
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For as a woman, strong, true and proud,</div>
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the hardest task is yet to unfold,</div>
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to regain the sense of one’s own soul,</div>
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to find what was lost a long time ago.</div>
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To know who we are, what we think, where we go.</div>
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The journey is long, prepared well as we are,</div>
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From this step, I go, quite unsure but aware,</div>
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That once was lost, will be found, should I be willing to
share.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15059869706100434297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3488727700624688184.post-91511534311635586392012-04-20T20:40:00.000-07:002012-04-20T20:40:05.507-07:00You From Jersey? Me Too!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-8xKv7hH-L_VVfoeZFTZ42_HaiGbQZEWrrmfb2mIyk19bx3eyoUX3UZCGpPpoxS4TCKBrSLhumWCAzalYgxcvNOzkb0wJhO6BLYfws6UsOjiYRXBSc3iRQgsF1NHL2F-XbXgCa0LD2vs/s1600/jersey+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-8xKv7hH-L_VVfoeZFTZ42_HaiGbQZEWrrmfb2mIyk19bx3eyoUX3UZCGpPpoxS4TCKBrSLhumWCAzalYgxcvNOzkb0wJhO6BLYfws6UsOjiYRXBSc3iRQgsF1NHL2F-XbXgCa0LD2vs/s200/jersey+1.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">Say what you will about people from Jersey, but there is a bond that can bridge even the roughest of times. It is even a touchstone during difficult business negotiations.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">Today, I was able to diffuse a potential problem at work, between a coworker and a customer in a decision making role, by playing the Jersey card. I had a customer call in with a legitimate complaint. I asked for an appropriate amount of time to research the problem and return her call with a viable solution.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">Upon learning I could not improve the situation, I called the customer back to relay the information. Prior to delivering what I knew to be unpalatable, I was able to find some common background and deliver the negative news to more receptive ears.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">Sometimes, a little Jersey, goes a long way. </span></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15059869706100434297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3488727700624688184.post-46895812045376229212012-04-20T20:36:00.001-07:002012-04-20T20:36:54.807-07:00Stuff My Son Says<span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">Him: Mom, why do some women wear so much make-up?</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">Me: Some women wear it to feel better about themselves, but some really need it.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">Him: Hmmm, how do you know the difference?</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">Me: Whether they use a brush or a spatula.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">Him: Huh?</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">Me: If it looks like them, just better, then it's a brush. If they look, well, scary, then it's a spatula.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">Him: Clowns are scary. Do they use spatulas?</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">Me: Oy vey!</span>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-v6uARsQG1Kk/T5IoGlpuy6I/AAAAAAAAFy8/_qb8aqxFTi4/s1600/natural+beauty.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-v6uARsQG1Kk/T5IoGlpuy6I/AAAAAAAAFy8/_qb8aqxFTi4/s320/natural+beauty.jpg" width="207" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG-LFheHV9m_6dybtphyphenhyphendeaJwMz_x-Ipc4pnfdM9aBJ5t5Cuv1oZSGvE-7sthwvT1UfUsVDnYpw_QqQTFrJkWlqVlWF8d6JDWHvY1YI0AdA7jA4eLt9UgItQsRfd6aKwLEv6GxEDCBUbI/s1600/just+ignore.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG-LFheHV9m_6dybtphyphenhyphendeaJwMz_x-Ipc4pnfdM9aBJ5t5Cuv1oZSGvE-7sthwvT1UfUsVDnYpw_QqQTFrJkWlqVlWF8d6JDWHvY1YI0AdA7jA4eLt9UgItQsRfd6aKwLEv6GxEDCBUbI/s1600/just+ignore.png" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Sometimes I post things that make me giggle.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Sometimes I post things that make me gasp.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Sometimes I post things that make me shake my head.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Sometimes I post things that are uplifting, have a positive message, and are meant as support. When I post those types of things, there are always some people who have to come rain on the parade. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">One person in particular always seems to swoop down with his negativity. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I post those types of things with the hope that maybe just <b>one</b> person will read them, and decide <b>today</b> is the day they <b>can</b> change their situation in life. We have all been down in life, we have all been at crossroads, and while we already know what the answers are, sometimes what we needed was a push.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">So, to the gentleman (and I use that term quite broadly), I see the comments you make on these posts. I do not block you, as I suspect that may be just what you are trying to achieve. Instead, I choose to just ignore you. Why? Because when it comes to negative people, <b>ignore is my friend.</b></span></div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15059869706100434297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3488727700624688184.post-7009796322296039512012-04-09T12:57:00.000-07:002012-04-09T12:57:03.013-07:00The Frayed End of the Knot (Part two - the end of a tragic tale)<br />
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<a data-mce-href="http://camzmom.files.wordpress.com/2012/01/why.png" href="http://camzmom.files.wordpress.com/2012/01/why.png" style="color: #743399; line-height: 1.5;"><img alt="" class="aligncenter size-full wp-image-321" data-mce-src="http://camzmom.files.wordpress.com/2012/01/why.png" height="243" src="http://camzmom.files.wordpress.com/2012/01/why.png" style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-image: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; clear: both; color: #444444; display: block; height: auto; line-height: 1.5; margin-bottom: 12px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0px; max-width: 100%;" title="why" width="320" /></a></div>
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Why do people take their own lives? What point of desperation must you come, that the belief there is no other alternative becomes plausible? Why do people turn away when help is offered and then believe there is nothing and no one that can help them out of their situation?</div>
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There are such people, we read about them every day, sometimes we even know them. Today is such a day for me, and it is a first. One, which I would have been happy to put off for eternity.</div>
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Here was a guy who, yes, had screwed up a good portion of his adult life. He had moments of absolute brilliance, and moments of utter chaos. In the short time I knew him he was arrogant, offensive, obtuse, profane, disgusting, and all things one would associate with someone fighting a battle with addiction. He was also kind, understanding, a good listener, generous, and had a huge soft spot for animals and children; his cute little daughter was the light of his life.</div>
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When I met him, he was arrogant and now looking back was between low points of addiction episodes. It was not that he wasn’t abusing but quite the opposite; he was highly functioning at the time. That was probably the source of the arrogance. He knew everything, no one knew better than he when it came to anything concerning the daily running of the business. He resented my presence, daily. He didn’t want anyone watching over him at least that is what I was doing in his eyes.</div>
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We went through the first cycle of ups and downs when he threw out vendors (who it turns out later he was trying to extort), tried to get back together with an ex with whom he has a daughter, and came to its first of many climaxes, with a car accident. No one knows if the story he told of his side of the accident was true or not, and it is irrelevant as we know now, almost everything was a lie.</div>
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Almost a month to the day, he had another accident, but this time, he said that they took him to the hospital. Come to find out months later, he was arrested on suspicion of DUI. This time he came away with back pain, and started taking who knows what pills. Things escalated and he became barely functional. We all tried to help in various ways, but to no avail, this was a downward spiral that could only hit bottom before an ascent could be made.</div>
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It culminated in hysterical rants and unfounded accusations of coworkers stealing his pills that the doctor had prescribed for his back pain. Wild phone calls and texts to the entire staff and owner, and a final meltdown in which he showed up for work so incapacitated he rammed into the building with his car. When we had the largest and strongest of our staff try to take his keys from him and get him to hospital for help, he fought them off and drove away, only to return screaming and yelling, quitting his job in the process.</div>
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He had sobered up enough to land another position in our industry and subsequently started calling not only the owner but staff members, including myself, begging for his old job back. He wound up coming back, being gone only 3 weeks. In my opinion, it was bad judgment to bring him back after what had transpired and what we had learned, but it not my business and therefore I do not get to make that decision.</div>
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He came back a reformed man, or so he said. Saw the error of his ways, vowed he was clean, not only for himself, but for his baby daughter whom he loved more than anything else in the world. This part is true; he did love her more than anything else in the world. It was my honest to goodness hope that the strength of that love would make him better, make him keep his word, make him realize that there were more important things in life than getting high to forget the crappy parts of his life.</div>
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He really did make an effort to be a better person. At least the person he showed everyone. I think that was a good part of the problem. He learned to be a better functioning addict.</div>
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He made it his goal to be a good dad and a better coworker. He showed a sense of humility and a human side he had not previously. Right up until the time he screwed up publicly, again.</div>
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He tried to extort money from a customer. I do not make allegations against the dead lightly. The customer documented it and when questioned repeated his story verbatim. There was no choice once presented with further evidence of pocketing other proceeds than to let him go, again. This time there would be no third times’ a charm. In what was a very humane gesture by the owner, he was only fired, no charges were ever brought. I have to say, I agreed with that 100%, you never kick a man when he is already down and bleeding.</div>
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Then things got bad. Not bad as in hey he was already some sort of addict, but bad as in false claims of having been injured on the job and filing workmen’s comp after the fact, bad. Things must have turned ugly for him after that, I do not know as he did not take anyone’s call.</div>
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One of the guys got a Happy Thanksgiving text from him. Just one line, no reply when wished the same in return. No one knew where he was or what he was doing for work, just that he no longer worked in the industry.</div>
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Then today came. I walked in to work, to have one of my coworkers walk up to me and tell me he was dead. He knew scant details only. I immediately went in search of more information. What others knew was also sketchy. He was dead, 2 or 3 gunshots, he was home, and an autopsy was being performed as they weren’t sure if it was homicide or suicide.</div>
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Tonight we find out the final chapter in a sad and all too common story. Someone at the end of their rope, facing foreclosure and no source of income, decides that there is no solution but to end their misery by performing life’s most selfish act. No one knows what the other details were about offers of help, offers of employment, status of addiction, and status of love life, as they are not important.</div>
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What is important, and what is the lesson and the takeaway is that, that baby will never remember her Daddy. She will never know the good side some of us got to see. She will not have that Daddy’s girl bond with her father. She will grow up with questions, questions that no one can ever answer to the satisfaction of making her whole again. If there is one answer I could give her, it would be yes, your Daddy loved you with all his heart and you were the light of his life.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15059869706100434297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3488727700624688184.post-11921432878269158012012-04-09T12:16:00.000-07:002012-04-09T12:23:10.245-07:00Catch and Release (Part one of a tragic tale)<br />
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<a data-mce-href="http://camzmom.files.wordpress.com/2011/04/net.jpg" href="http://camzmom.files.wordpress.com/2011/04/net.jpg" style="color: #743399; line-height: 1.5;"><img alt="" class="aligncenter size-medium wp-image-87" data-mce-src="http://camzmom.files.wordpress.com/2011/04/net.jpg?w=300" height="300" src="http://camzmom.files.wordpress.com/2011/04/net.jpg?w=300" style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-image: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; clear: both; color: #444444; cursor: default; display: block; height: auto; line-height: 1.5; margin-bottom: 12px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0px; max-width: 100%;" title="net" width="300" /></a></div>
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In life there are those that sit on the sidelines and those that get in for the big play. I have been having a moral dilemma for a while now in dealing with a co-worker who is having personal issues that have spilled in to the workplace.</div>
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On the surface it looks very cut and dry. They broke up with their ex that they had been 2<sup style="bottom: 1ex; font-size: 10px; height: 0px; line-height: 1; position: relative; vertical-align: baseline;">nd</sup> flinging it with, had two subsequent car accidents a month apart, and now had a problem with pain and pain management pills.</div>
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Unfortunately being embroiled in the situation, it goes deeper I think and that is the dilemma. There are anger management issues that have arisen in their dealings with customers, reaching an apex when the police had to be called in after a customer assaulted him and he had to restrain the customer until authorities arrived. There are issues with coming to work in an altered state while on prescription pain management medications that have impaired their judgment.</div>
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There are conflicting stories around every bend with this person and credible evidence is becoming harder and harder to find. An underlying issue of the lasting effects of a concussion cloud matters as we are not sure if the violent mood swings are a lasting after effect or signs of an addiction.</div>
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There are lost days, lost parcels of time in memory, wildly inaccurate stories that are easily verifiable, and now culminating with accusations of co-workers stealing pain management medications from their desk. I have no proof either way as to whether they were stolen from the desk or in an altered state, either lost or taken in an abusive pattern.</div>
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To compound the situation further, the owner of our business is an absentee owner and has to rely on our observations and facts gathered to make judgment calls. I don’t have a knowledge base to understand properly what I am seeing play out on a daily basis. I know what an impaired person looks and sounds like and that is what I have to base daily decisions on. I know this person in a rational state and that is what I have to base opinion on. What I do not know is are these lasting effects, are these signs of a personality disorder, do I think this person can become violent and put co-workers or customers in danger?</div>
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This person is an ex law enforcement professional, owns weapons, knows jujitsu, and scares the crap out of me when I have witnessed the outbursts. Yes, I have felt threatened by their behavior, and yes, I have contemplated just walking away from the whole situation.</div>
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What I have done on days that this person was obviously impaired, is to try to step-in in a non-confrontational way. I have sought out assistance from larger male co-workers and the owner to get this person safely home and off the road. This has not helped. This person refuses assistance, and is stuck in a spiral which becomes obvious when anyone tries to step in.</div>
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I have tried to get in the game and help in various ways; I have sat on the sidelines trying to be a cheerleader to those who are in for the big plays. Neither has worked. What I know is that only when this person is ready to accept the help, will they finally take it. Until then the best we can all do is stay close with the fireman’s net and catch them when they fall.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15059869706100434297noreply@blogger.com2