The New Addition

It's been said before, this is the year from hell when it comes to my pets.  I've had two cats die in one year and obtained two more. In the beginning of the year there was Oliver & Twist.  In between Twist came Lenore aka The Boob Crusher  then Oliver passed away and after a very long wait Milo has joined the French Compound.

Milo came to me a week ago from the same organization that I adopted Lenore from.  His foster mom said he was 12 weeks old but I think he's a little bit older.  You be the judge




Before I adopted him I had a few reservations.  His third eye in both eyes were sticking out a bit.  I explained that this is what tipped me off that Oliver was sick and I wanted him to be checked out for a heart murmur.  She was very understanding and took him to the vet a few days later.  The test results came back negative and on August 17, 2011, Milo arrived.    In the week I've had him, I've found Milo to be curious, mischievous, and determined.  He hates water (but what cat doesn't) yet insists on supervising when I'm brushing my teeth.  When he stands, his two front feet stick out sideways which makes him resemble a duck. 

It only took about a day and a half for he and Lenore to become friends.  Lenore still has a little bit of an attitude and insists on giving him regular smacks on the head to remind him who's boss.  Here's one picture I was able to get of both of them together.  The lighting is awful but I hope to get a better one soon.  Milo is the naughty one with his paw in the screen.   I'm still on tender-hooks about him and will be for a while.  I know I can't stop nature but still I find myself checking him and Lenore every chance I get to make sure they are breathing.  I'm glad Lenore has a friend to play with.  She deserves it!

Lesson #23

Tonight while I was looking up some art stuff something popped up.  Something, no, someone from my past showed up on a video.  I hadn't seen Robert since 1997 when the last thing we said to each other wasn't very nice.  I don't really remember what we fought about, I just know I never saw him again.  He goes by a new name now but I know that name and where it came from.  I was there the name was conceived and it warmed my heart to see that the name had stood the test of time.  It was good to see that he was doing something he enjoyed.  I have one of his original pieces and whenever I pull it out I think of him.    Robert and I were room mates from 1994 to 1995 then we ended up living just a few doors down from each other until the beginning of 1997.  I remember Robert as being quirky, vivacious, no-holds barred enthusiastic about life and most of all the loudest gay man I ever knew.  He taught me about unconditional love, something I had not known until then. 

When I first met Robert it wasn't your usual "Hi, how are you" he barged into my house wearing a kilt and pumpkin earrings and proudly proclaimed "Hi, I'm Robert and I'm gay!"...how do you respond to such a bold introduction?  When he decided to travel, I remember helping him sell his beloved Disney memorabilia. I remember hearing how upset he was because his car had stalled and a bunch of toys fell out the back of the truck and when he went to go retrieve them they were all ready gone.  I was also there, and I will never forget the phone call, when his mother passed away.  I was sitting at home watching T.V. when the phone rang and it was this voice, so small, yet so, forced "My mommy died" was all he said and the next thing I remember is we were sitting outside my apartment hugging each other. One Christmas he gave me a Winnie The Pooh book that I still reference every now and again.

When my father was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer, I tried to contact him to tell him, I was sorry for our fight, and I finally know what he was feeling when his mother passed but he was gone.  I didn't expect to ever hear or see from him again.  Until tonight..... I found him on Facebook and sent a quick note, I also tried to email him.  I'm hoping one of the two will get through...if not, I won't regret my time with Robert a.k.a vatruzula, he not only taught me about compassion for other people but to call people on their shit even when you know the shit is gonna get messy.

To Change Or Not To Change

I think David Bowie said it best in his song "Changes"..."...time may change me but I can't trace time...".  Did you ever think you are where you thought you'd be 10 years ago.  Do you feel like your decisions no matter how good or bad maybe might not have been the right or wrong decision?  The fact of the matter is what done is done and even if you could change anything that was said, done, or felt sins or accomplishments of the past have mold you into what and where you are today.  For those instances that you may want to change for the bad, they really don't serve well NOW, they are specs of what was.  You can't change it or recreate it to make it what you want it to be you can only change yourself in the NOW.  You can dream it and wish it but for it to actually happen, you'd have to get into your way-back machine and push the magic button that may change it for better, but also for worse.

I don't like some of the things I've said or done and am slowly making peace with my decisions.   But as for the here and now, those bad decisions don't have a place in my life.  Now, if I could only just take my own advice http://putlisterineonit.blogspot.com/2011/06/grudge.html

Cicatriz*

I have a lot of war scars that really I should be in awe for having but gross me out to no extent. The physical ones, they are like tattoos I never asked for.  I tried to get them erased once, a roommate saw them and said "looks like the pattern on Charlie Brown's sweater".  I laughed it off but inside I was embarrassed.   My love life is pretty much extinct.  Even the inkling of a relationship bring up fear and anxiety of having to explain these parasites.   I have other scars, one from being on the receiving end of someone not checking the window to see if someone was behind the swinging door before opening it, another from a fall I took after falling out of the car, I even have one conveniently placed on my jugular.  I had a complete stranger ask me once, "what's that from" I thought it was extremely rude so I told them I was stabbed with a knife and concocted this gruesome story...they quietly walked away. 

When I was born, I almost died.  The nurse told my mom I was a fighter.  She could tell because for that short time she did hold me she could feel it.  I wonder what she felt because I don't feel like much of a fighter.  I spend too much time alone and have perfected the skill of over analyzing things which in turn makes me socially awkward and left standing on the sidelines. It's funny how the one thing that does prove I'm a fighter makes me cower and resort to hiding myself from myself and others.  When I'm asked why I have low self esteem or great dislike for myself one word comes up and that it cicatriz.

I know I should just get over this "woe es me" feeling I also know I should be grateful I am alive, have a house, a car, and a job and I am. These scars are holding me back and just ONCE, I would like to know what it's like to just be thought of or have someone want to be with me just because they want to not because they are bored, trying to use me, get back at someone else or (and I cringe) feel obligated.   Honestly, it's been so long that I don't remember what another persons intimate touch feels like, physically or emotionally.  I'm just going through the motions of life watching everyone else "get it" metaphorically and literally. 

*Spanish for scar

The Grudge

Just as things are going smoothly the universe throws a curve ball at you just to test how you react.  I don't have a lot of family in the states and the family I do have, are not in my life.  My mom called me from England today to tell me that my cousins husband committed suicide in February.  He drove his car to the Golden Gate Bridge, put weights in his pockets and jumped.  I haven't seen my cousin in over 15 years.  She lives 45 minutes away from me.  I can't tell you what happened, no, wait, I can...when my father died, not one of my cousins called or came over to help.  Not one, I'm sorry, not one hug, not one small gesture that they, as family, were there to support my sister, my mother, or me.  And you know what, that just plain sucks.  As a result of this, my mom cut my aunt from her life.  History has repeated itself and I have, in order to keep my own sanity, had to cut my sister from my life.

So when is enough enough?  When do you throw down the gauntlet and hash it out to where there would be some sort of communication?  It's been so long now, do I really want to communicate?  I've tried to reach out in the past and received a luke warm reception.  On far and few occasions I have seen either my aunt or one of the cousins around the bay area.  Not a word is said not even a little glimmer of recognition.  It's surreal yet how we, as a family, have learned to deal with the ultimate rejection.

When it comes to people I'm not related to I have no problem helping someone that asks but now I'm torn, do I offer up help, do I just sit and wait, or do I just shrug it off and get on with my life until another curve ball is thrown?

The Boat, The Car, and YOU

2011 has been a really crappy year for me.  I'm tired of posting about death, sickness, and insecurities.  I lost a lot of my old postings but found this nugget:

_______________________________________________________________

 

We can see you! You blatant unyielding bold yet nasty little people we call nose pickers! Yes....we can see you directing your index finger in the northern direction to that orface of a nostril just waiting to connect and collect that well sought after juicy booger. We can see you looking at it and inspecting it for it's contents. We-can-see you!

Why is it that people on public transportation or in their cars think they are obsolete to the world when it comes to doing human basic functions that are generally reserved for the bathroom? This act of disregard for the public happened twice this week. Once while enjoying my much deserved Gin & Tonic I sink into my seat on the ferry and think Ahhhhhh....I'm done for the day, then you--Mr. I insist in sitting right in front of you and block your view of the city with my big melon shaped head and hair that hasn't been introduced to a comb in about a decade....it's bad enough I had to count the bits of dandruff floating upon your noggin, but when you proceed to park your finger in your nostril and move it about...that was the last straw! I quickly downed my drink and in disgust stared at the back of your head wondering to myself....how many boogers does a booger picker pick???

Then there's the quite handsome man next to me at the stop light going to town full throttle picking his nose and I'm almost positive if it was juicy enough, he would have eaten it! He was licking his chops and investigating the product that lay on the tip of his finger.....as I starred at you....you didn't notice until you were completely satisfied with the afternoon pickens, you gave me the deer in headlights look then in embarrassment, you stared straight ahead and I laughed uncontrollably.

You are not invisible. You can be seen, and unless it is one of your fetishes to be picking your nose in public, we can see you!

Thank you and good night

-Anti-public Nose Pickers of America

The Blue Dot

No, not the restaurant, the blue round stone that I found in my bag today. It has this question printed on it : "What would you attempt to do it you knew you could not fail"?  Here's a few things that come to mind:

-Get a job where I felt like I was contributing and growing
-Finish three books this week
-Go on a walk after work
-write more
-put myself out there more
-learn to let go
-finish cleaning out my garage

That's all I can think of right now. 

Being Human

There’s always that one moment where two people connect.  Not just for a superficial reason but for a deep, spiritual, emotional, understanding that they connect.  No words need to be exchanged.  It could be a glance, a stance, or just an unspoken knowing.  This is a gift that doesn’t come around very often and when it does, it should be embraced and not taken for granted.

For me this experience happened when I went to pick up the ashes of my six month old kitten.   I picked up Twist and behind me was a lady who I overheard telling the receptionist that she too was there to pick up her recently departed pet.  I walked out of the vet and she soon followed suit.  She was parked right next to me and in that one moment we both had a glance of understanding.  Our beloved pets were reduced to ashes in a box and sitting in the front seat of both our cars.  I got out of my car and went around to her car and we both just hugged each other and had a little cry. 

It was a beautiful rationalization of human perceptive and compassion.  In that one moment we didn’t need to explain ourselves, we were strangers, and yet we were feeling, thinking, and acting on the same thing.  Two strangers for just that one split second in our lives knew that instinctively, just a hug was all we needed at that time.

Sure we both went home and buried our sorrow but after picking up our pets the wound was just as fresh as the instant the doctor said “I’m sorry”.  That one moment is so surreal that it will forever remind me that human compassion is the most underappreciated and misunderstood emotion.  It also taught me, to follow my heart, when it’s obvious that someone is in pain, all they need is a hug, kind word, or just someone to stop and listen to what they have to say.  We are all so busy in our own little lives that our blinders have been infused to our heads that recognizing someone’s pain and need for human compassion is often ignored. 

The Boob Crusher

You know those kids in kindergarten that get labeled as the "glue or crayon eater"?  Well, In the midst of loosing one cat I adopted another cat and she is one of those except she prefers paper & computer cords.   Even though she is a paper/cord eater, Lenore has been my savior.  She saved Oliver from loneliness after Twist died and she saved me from hitting the bottom of the despair bucket when Oliver died.   I've had her for only two months but in those two months she's managed to eat almost all of the paper products, taken over as the alpha of the house, and managed to get herself stuck up the chimney which when she eventually did get out resulted in a dunk in the bathtub.  When Lenore runs, it's like that a cartoon because she tip toes on all four legs and scurries around.   Lenore likes to knead me.  I like it too but mostly because she does it in such a funny way.  Most cats just sit down and use the front two feet, Lenore uses all four feet at the same time.  It's like she's marching in place.

One thing that I'm trying to teach her not to do is to stand on my boobs!  She doesn't understand that it hurts!   She wants to snuggle which I don't mind but she wants to sit right on my chest.  Especially when I'm trying to catch up on my shows on Hulu, write an email, or just surf the net.  She wants to be right in front of the screen.  I've discovered that although hugs and pets are warmly received she doesn't take kindly to kissing so when she is sitting on my boobs all I have to say is "I guess you want kisses then?" and she hops off.  I'm hoping this is just a phase because I don't think my boobs or I can take it much longer. 

Oliver

Geeze, enough already universe!  Tuesday was yet again the day from hell.  It started out o.k. work was so so and I had my first client! Then IT happened...IT happened again!  I had been noticing for about a week that Oliver's third eyelid in each eye was protruding out.  Sunday night, I emailed the vet to ask about it.  Tuesday afternoon the vet called me and said to bring him in because it could be a sign he is sick.  After my session, I chased him around and finally got him into the carrying case....not before noticing that he was dragging his back legs.  "Oh no, he's sprained or torn something in his leg".  Got him to the vet where upon when they took him out of the case he had completely seized up.  Sound familiar? Twist

The vet technician whisked him away....that one moment is ingrained into my memory forever now.  10 min later the vet came in to explain that Oliver was sick.  My baby boy was VERY sick.  He had the feline equivalent of what happens to athletes when they are perfectly healthy one minute and drop dead due to heart failure the next.    She did xrays and found that his heart was enlarged and blood clots were in his legs (which would explain the dragging of the feet).  I could not believe this was happening AGAIN!  The vet was super nice and was very through in explaining to me what was happening but at the same time she was trying to tell me (without sounding cruel) that it's not good and he will most likely not make it.  WTF!  What is happening to my babies!!!! 

Shortly after she left she came back in and brought me to him.  He was on a table, tubes sticking in and out of him, they were doing CPR but his tongue was already purple.  One minute later, he was gone.  I'm stunned, dismayed, flabbergasted, and deeply deeply hurt by this....but you know what, at least I now know what happened to Twist.  They are together now, playing, running, wrestling, and most likely loving being together again. 

Goodbye my baby boy, you also left a big hole in my heart, and an even bigger one in my wallet, but mostly my heart.  I'm sorry you were sick, I'm sorry I didn't get you to the vet sooner but I'm glad you are no longer hurting.  I'm going to miss your flavorful remarks at meal times, your instance of shoving your balls (or there lack of) in my face, and the way you would hug my feet in the morning as if it say "GET UP MOMMA".  Thank you for letting me be your mommy.  Goodbye, Lovie.

Sickie Von Sickington

Two weeks ago I was the sickest I've ever been in years.  I couldn't move an inch without having problems breathing and had to sit down after walking one flight of stairs.  I hadn't eaten anything in seven days and when I would try, it would just come back up.  I had gone to the doctors and she suspected a kidney infection and left me with this piece of advice.  If I don't eat something in the next two hours, I needed to get myself to the emergency room.  Thus the sick adventure began. 

First up, projectile vomiting in the car...this happened on my way home from the doctors.  I was four blocks from home and I started getting this nauseous feeling and all of the sudden it just came up.  CRAP, I make a split decision and veer off onto a side street, screeching to a halt and opening the door at the same time I let it fly, all the while hoping no one drives past me and in line of vomit.  Once I was convinced the episode was over, I hightailed it back home and for the first time in 20 something years, I had to call my mom to come help me.

My mom came a few hours later and by then I was a disgrace.  The poor kitties had not been fed dinner, they were starving, and they were too scared to sit with me for fear of being puked upon.  My mom stayed with me for two fun filled, well, fun for her, days.  Yes, I said days, whereupon I found that she had gone on a shopping spree, somehow unprogrammed the washing machine, couldn't work the T.V. oh, and did I mention she lost the cat? 

I was starting to feel a bit better and was able to sit up for more than 2 minutes.  She came into my room and started bawling that she lost the cat:

Mom: I lost the cat
Me: Huh?
Mom: I can't find Lenore.  I've looked everywhere
Me:  She's gotta be around here somewhere.  You DID keep all the doors closed, right?
Mom: (now really starting to cry) Yes.  She's not anywhere.
Me: Mom, stop crying I can't handle it I say while wobbling around looking in nooks and crannies and an hour later it was discovered she was in the garage.

SOMEONE didn't keep the doors closed...  Oh, and while all of this is happening, my mom got in touch with her hippie self and decided to burn sage to get rid of the bad energy.  Now, if you've ever burned sage then you know it burns up like a Christmas tree.   So in the midst of me doing my best 95 year old lady impression, the cat on her own little adventure, my mother bawling while almost setting the house ablaze a moment of clarity happened. 

No, you don't choose your family, and sometimes it's the little quarks of family that can get you through the sickest of times.  If I haven't said it already, thanks mom. 

Spilling my guts

I've been feeling like a big fat failure the last few weeks. I don't know if it's because I have cut back on my "happy pills" or what but I just don't feel good about myself and how my personal and professional life are going.

First off, I spend way way waaaaay too much time alone.  It's gotten so bad that I'm beginning to have trouble articulating myself in such a way that I don't get flustered at the simplest thing like when someone asks me if I'm done using a shopping cart, I say "Umm, I have my groceries, thanks" why can't I just say "Yes, I am"?  Here's a better example, the other day I had to go to the Mac store to get a new power cord for my laptop.  I went in, didn't see the item I needed and when I asked one of the people working there I mine as well have been speaking alien because my question came out in such a way, and I started stuttering, that the guy just stared blankly at me

Me:"Hi, I need to get a new adapter for my laptop"
Guy: "What do you have"
Me: "Um it's the white lap top, it's about four years old, a Mac iBook I think"
Guy: Just stood there staring at me

I was so flustered.  Eventually he figured out what I was asking, but for fucks sake, Romny! 

I'd like to be in a relationship. But at any inkling of any guy remotely interested in me puts up red flags in my head and every fiber in my body screams "NO! HE DOESN'T REALLY LIKE YOU, YOU DON'T DESERVE IT". Everyone says "you are hilarious" I guess that's the equivalent to saying I have "personality", aka the compliment of doom.  I try to fight those demons and when I do show a little vulnerability I'm quickly shut down and thus proves my original thoughts that I wasn't worth it.  I'm encroaching the last year of my 30's and I'm still single and it's really really...did I say really starting to weigh on me.  I don't know if I can go through another death or health scare alone.  People that have had that person to lean on just don't get it.  When people say that they are impressed that I can handle situations like getting locked out of my car or having to change a tire well, ummm, what else am I supposed to do!?  There is no support system to call for help.  I'm it, dumb ass!


Anyone have a crystal ball?

The Name Game

Before I was born my parents had a bet. If I was a girl, my dad would name me, if I was a boy, my mom would....well, I'm a girl with what is more often than not mistaken for a boys name. Not sure if my dad was smoking something or he hit his head but he chose a name that has become more of a game than anything.

The original spelling of my name has an "e" before the "y" but my dad thought it was too pretentious so he dropped it. I wish he realized that about 90% of people end up spelling it with an "e" anyways so 90% of the time I have to correct people.

In highschool I had an English teacher that called me by the wrong name completely! She would get so mad at me for not responding to her when she called on me. She would call me "Aubrey". Where the hell she got that from, not sure, but it became a joke.

When I make a call to order a pizza or am at the coffee shop and they ask me my name the conversations would go like this:

"name"
"Romny"
"what"
"Romny"
"huh"
"R O M N Y"
"what's your first name"
"Romny"
"what"
"oh nevermind"

So now whenever I have to either ordersomething over the phone or am in line for coffee and they ask me my name, I say "Alice". I just need to remember to respond when I am called.

Twist

If I had to choose one lesson in life to share with the world it would be don't take anything for granted because you never know when it will be taken away. I know, sounds cliche but i had to be reminded, yet again, of this lesson last night.

Last night around 8:30 p.m. I lost my six month old kitten, Twist. I don't know what happened, and honestly, I'm comfortably numb about this. The vet had no answers and could not pin point cause of death. One minute he was running around and the next he completely seized up. When I got him to the emergency vet, within 5 min they reported that he stopped breathing and they were doing CPR. Within 10 min after getting him to the vet, they reported his heart stopped and he wasn't responding. My stubborn, instigator, troublemaker,black as night love bug was gone. Twist leaves behind his brother Oliver. Oliver is taking this rather elegantly. He slept most of this first day without his playmate, brother, and fellow bathroom buddy. He also spent a bit of time walking around the house looking for Twist. He knows something happened because he can feel it in the air and in me. I just hope he knows that I tried to save his brother but it was too late. Twist also leaves behind a few lessons:

-don't be afraid to poke the bear every once in a while. Especially if the bear overslept.
-Curiosity did not kill the cat.
-Live up to your name with more conviction than you could ever expect.
-Sometimes a hiss is just a hiss.

When other people would come over he would hide or hiss at them. But he was my love bug. He snuggled next to me, he purred in my ear, and sometimes he'd let me pet him. I'll miss you love bug. Thank you for letting me be your mommy. You left a big hole in my heart,and my wallet, but mostly my heart.

To Help or Not To Help

There's a lot of emphasis on being "NICE" and
"HELPFUL" these days but when it comes to asking for help, I'm the worst. I prefer to seek out answers or solutions to problems on my own and when (and only when) do I run into a snagg do I ask for a little direction. I don't ask for anyone to solve my problem for me, I just need to be pointed in the right direction and given a little shove. I've noticed more and more these days, and especially in adults my age, when they ask for help what they really mean is "you do it for me because I'm too lazy to figure it out on my own". This attitude doesn't bode well with me and my usual response to this is "I'll show you where to go but I'm not going to do it for you".

In college, I had a commute buddy. We would drive from Santa Rosa to San Rafael a few times a week. We were in the same major so we had the majority of our classes at the same time. We commuted pretty much everyday until one morning on our way to school he had forgotten to finish an assignment. I had already finished said assignment, turned it in, and gotten it back. He asked me to give him my work, he would "tweak" it and turn it in as his own...UMMMMMMM NO, was my answer.

"She'll never know"
"I'll know"
"Oh, comeon, I thought you were cool"
"I thought you were SMART"

Ever since that day, his attitude towards me changed and he really didn't talk to me anymore. I'm not surprised. He ended up dropping out citing finances but in all honesty, I think he just couldn't cut it. He was a nice guy, a great writer, but still a little stupid and you know, you can't fix that.

So why is it when people don't like your response to them asking for help they suddenly excommunicate you from their life or worse, go to someone else and sing their praises for "helping" them. When infact, they weren't being helped at all they were being coddled. Take a little initative, do the grunt work, and try to figure it out on your own. What is so bad about that.

Do I care if I'm not being nice? I think there is a fine line between pointing someone in the right direction and letting them finish the job on their own rather than doing it for them. The person asking for help will never understand what you did nor will they be able to replicate your methodology of "helping". I think by doing the work for someone or just givng the answer to them without any expalaination is a huge diservce.

I've tried the "Being Nice" route and it got me labeled as the pushover and taken for granted. I'm learning to stand up for myself so am I being a bitch, no, not in my opinion.

TMI for Facebook

I'm taking que from Jenn and commenting on the fact that sometimes, just sometimes, things are considered TMI even for Facebook.

Things I'd like to post but am too embarrassed to:

-just bought a new bra. My boobs look like midsized torpedos.
-Consitpated...again
-wishes it was socially acceptable to throw rocks at squirrels
-Damn this flappy booger
-it's pruning night!
-I'm out of batteries! FUCK!

For Reals?

A friend of mine forwarded a posting from another blog about perfection and the misguided attributes it portrays. How being real is the most purest form of perfection. I've been thinking about this blog over the last few days and some of it really hit home. Growing up I was never allowed to be real. My mother was always concerned about what other people thought and god forbid I be seen in public with a wrinkly shirt or piercings and tattoos. Now at the age of 38 I find myself having a second or maybe third adolencence where being real is the key focus. I now have five peircings (had six but one got infected), one tattoo, and regularly avoid the ironing board. Some might call it rebelling but I don't.

Sometimes I have to be reminded (thanks Peg) and other times I have to remind others. People think they know me which makes me laugh because I'm just getting to know myself. First, in order for me to be real, I need to face the ugly. Ugly can be fixed, stupid is forever and if I don't fix it now I never will. So what have I come to terms with in my quest to be real so far?

-I'm lonely
-I'm sad more often than people think
-I joke and am silly because I don't want to admit how sad and lonely I really am
-I've conceded to the fact I will never have children
-I've conceded to the fact I will never have a boyfriend or marry
-I don't think I deserve either one

I've started to take antidepressants, something that I should've started taking over 10 years ago. Are they helping? Yes, I think so, at least I don't feel like ripping someones head off due to PMS.

What a difference a year makes

This time last year I was burying my cat Cleo and hating my living situation. After 12 months, I've lifted the rocks from the river and have let the waters flow in order to make progress in my life.

A year later I've adopted two kitties, I've taken proactive measures and obtained my CHT and am starting to put the foundations of my own practice to work and I have also moved from said ghetto into a new house in a great neighborhood. So what have I learned over the last 12 months?

1)There are times to fight and times to concede; pick your battles
2)Sometimes letting go is the most humane thing to do
3)Best make changes before changes are made for you
4)Sometimes an all pink bathroom isn't the best choice
5)When you feel like you're slipping...sometimes it's better to fall then have someone pull you up by the ears with their teeth.

I'm anxious to see what 2011 teaches me.

I'm baaaack

Hello,

Not sure if anyone will read these or even care but I needed to start writing again. I am revamping my previous two blogs and starting a new. I usually don't have a whole lot to say that is profound and frankly, my life isn't that interesting to warrant hundreds of followers. But for me, it's my way of getting the mess that's in my head out and hopefully you, the reader, will find a little nugget of entertainment.