Nov 28, 2007

The Bridge

She was running a little late as she got in the car. "Damn," she thought, "I have to get gas somewhere." She looked in her bulky, black purse and found four lonely dollars.  Well, she thought, that will get me there and back.

She was going to see  a new therapist.  She had had her initial consult, and felt comfortable talking to the nice lady with the short blonde hair, and gentle, kind smile.  She was almost at ease from the beginning.  A difficult feat to accomplish in the best of times, she knew.

Cranking the car, she backed out, and headed for the bridge.  She liked the bridge now.  Once, long ago, she had developed a fear of bridges, but she had overcome that, and now found pleasure watching the waves and small boats, as she crossed the James River.

As the bridge came up, she accelerated to keep up with the traffic. 

She looked in her rear view mirror, and found a large truck riding her bumper. She hated that.  She felt like he could run over her. 

Out of nowhere, she suddenly began to feel an uneasy feeling, like she might wreck.  That's absurd, she thought.  The steering wheel seemed to take on a life of its on.  She felt her pulse begin to race, and sweat broke out and dampened her back.  She turned the heater down, and looked worriedly around, feeling trapped.  She began to frantically check the rearview and side mirrors.

I feel like I'm going to faint, she thought, horrified.  Just the idea of it sent her panic out of control.  Her heart racing, she desperately wanted to pull over and stop, but there was no place to stop.  Nothing to do but go forward. 

She kept tapping the brake, and worried how the other drivers would keep from running into her.  She felt deeply afraid, and felt tears of frustration and anger fill her eyes.

The road before her seemed to be getting longer rather than shorter.  The bridge seemed to be growing and she wondered if she would ever get to the end.  She clutched the steering wheel with sweaty palms, slowing her speed, hoping the other drivers would race ahead of her.

She knew she might wreck, she could feel it coursing through her system, like electrical volts. God, she thought, what the hell is going on!! 

Frantically capturing her racing thoughts, she focused now on one objective.  Keeping the car and herself in control.  She could see the drawbridge ahead.  After that it was a short distance to Jefferson.  "Oh, God, she cried aloud, please don't let me die."




That's me on the bridge today.  Having a panic attack that I haven't had in two years.  Not since my first visit to Arlington by myself.  When I did reach my therapist's office, I felt so charged up with adrenalin, and fear, I wanted to avoid everyone in the waiting room.  I felt they could see the fear on me, smell the fear like wild animals.

My therapist managed to calm me down, but recommended I call my doctor, to see about my medication.  He never returned my call, and I don't expect him to.  So, now I wait, and know that when I cross the bridge again, it won't be the blue waters of the Chesapeake bay I'm concentrating on.  I will be locked inside myself, taking inventory of every little change in my behavior, valiantly trying to stave off the beast that is panic.

Nov 27, 2007


My friend, well, my son's ne'er do well friend, A, called me the other night.

He said, "Hey, I'm just giving you a head's up." No, it had nothing to do with the stock market. I've been called a lot of things, but never have I been called Martha.

"Amb just called me, saying that a kid named "this or that" called her and told her that EJ went crazy and punched holes in the walls, and made you have a heart attack, and that you and me were having an affair." Amb is my son's daughter, who for reasons that would take two years to explain, lives with her maternal grandmother, the she-wolf. (Now that wasn't nice!) The she wolf hates my guts, by the way.

I am proud of myself that I didn't bust out into guffaws of laughter when he said affair. A is an unusual person. Unique in his view of life. in that he is always right, and everyone else is an idiot. And he is like a long, lost son to me. One that could have stayed lost.

Of course, none of this is accurate, as the 'official' story is that I was having severe chest pains, and went to the hospital. And I did have chest pains, but that's another story, maybe I will share later. No holes were punched. I do not plan to ever have an affair with A. Oh, he's a handsome young man, but I fear I would be in prison should we become too close for too long.

I know how this rumor was started. I know where the kid got his twisted info, and it was unfortunate, yet innocent. So, after my first inclination that I should hunt him down and give him the world's biggest ass whooping (and his Daddy too), I have come to the conclusion that I will do nothing.

People love a good tragedy. Ole Will Shakespeare knew that one, didn't he? And people love to gossip. My mother always said, "Well, if they're talking about then at least they're leaving everyone else alone....."

I think that was wisdom.

I am learning that many people hate my guts. (See above)

And, frankly, gentle readers, I don't give a damn.

Nov 26, 2007

I went to the dentist this morning. I know, my life just keeps turning into one whirlwind adventure after another. I needed to have a tooth pulled. With the diabetes, and medications that cause dry mouth, my teeth are suffering a great deal. Anyhoo, the wonderful young dentist named Jennifer, said she could not treat my teeth as my insurance wouldn't cover fillings, but only extractions. Ok, that's all I wanted, anyway, an end to pain and torment. She referred me to an oral surgeon, who doesn't take my insurance. WTF?! I'm beginning to believe its a scam, or something, because she told three other patients the same thing before she saw me. (Yes, we were all old farts.)

The scam is the fact that she can charge my insurance for xrays, an office visit, and a consultation, without doing a damn thing. She was wearing high heels, for God's sake. My favorite dentist of all time jingled when he walked, a round tubby little man, that I loved dearly. He carried a key ring with about a million keys on it, so that is why he jingled. I often wondered if he was Santa working a second job.

So, right now, I have a dry mouth, a lot of pain, (she can't call in pain medicine because the insurance won't pay for it, or some such bullshit) and two teeth that are practically falling out of my mouth. I can't muster enough spit to drown a wimpy looking flea.

Ah, frustration, the game I hate to play. I guess I will have to go through the whole rigmarole again.


My good friend Cee, who, for whatever reason loves to irritate the crap out of his girlfriend, said he thought he was going to cut his balls off, then his girlfriend might want to lie with him in the biblical sense. I said I would be glad to help, but he would have to be careful when he took off is drawers. She might just think his nose had gotten a little longer. And then she would really be able to tell when he was lying, as it would get longer.

Nothing like good, solid, intellectual conversations to start the week, eh?

Nov 23, 2007

PeoplePC - News (Friday Funnies)

PeoplePC - News

Evidently a man in Michigan needs to undergo behavior modification. He has trouble distinguishing Cows from Coyotes.

The 42 year old man went out to shoot a coyote but he shot a cow instead. Yes, a common mistake, I'm sure. I mean they both have pointy ears, don't they?


The authorities were "skeptical" when they heard the man had shot Hannah, the runaway cow of a local farmer.

"My husband thought that he should go through some therapy looking at repeated pictures of cows and coyotes, because they look nothing alike," said owner Deanna Mosher. "It didn't make any sense to me."

It didn't make any sense to me either.



My good friend Cee evidently got his drawers mixed up with his girlfriends, as he went hunting today wearing his girlfriends thong. My advice, 1. Turn on the light when you dress each morning, 2. If it feels tight, it probably is, and 3. Don't tell the guys you hunted with about it unless you know them really, really well.


Life really is funnier than any joke you can find.

Do we Need Walls?

What is it about neighbors that makes them so curious about each other?  Why do we need to know what goes on in someone else's house? Oh, I can understand someone not wanting a meth lab next door, but day to day comings and goings, personal details, what is the reason for that?  Have we always been like this?

For some reason, it always blows me away when I find that someone has made some comment about me.  Why? I am surely no one special. It makes me think of this:

Mending Wall

by Robert Frost

Something there is that doesn't love a wall,

That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it,

And spills the upper boulders in the sun;

And makes gaps even two can pass abreast.

The work of hunters is another thing:

I have come after them and made repair

Where they have left not one stone on a stone,

But they would have the rabbit out of hiding,

To please the yelping dogs. The gaps I mean,

No one has seen them made or heard them made,

But at spring mending-time we find them there.

I let my neighbor know beyond the hill;

And on a day we meet to walk the line

And set the wall between us once again.

We keep the wall between us as we go.

To each the boulders that have fallen to each.

And some are loaves and some so nearly balls

We have to use a spell to make them balance:

'Stay where you are until our backs are turned!'

We wear our fingers rough with handling them.

Oh, just another kind of outdoor game,

One on a side. It comes to little more:

There where it is we do not need the wall:

He is all pine and I am apple orchard.

My apple trees will never get across

And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him.

He only says, 'Good fences make good neighbors.'

Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder

If I could put a notion in his head:

'Why do they make good neighbors? Isn't it

Where there are cows? But here there are no cows.

Before I built a wall I'd ask to know

What I was walling in or walling out,

And to whom I was like to give offense.

Something there is that doesn't love a wall,

That wants it down.' I could say 'Elves' to him,

But it's not elves exactly, and I'd rather

He said it for himself. I see him there

Bringing a stone grasped firmly by the top

In each hand, like an old-stone savage armed.

He moves in darkness as it seems to me,

Not of woods only and the shade of trees.

He will not go behind his father's saying,

And he likes having thought of it so well

He says again, 'Good fences make good neighbors.'

From The Poetry of Robert Frost by Robert Frost, edited by Edward Connery Lathem. Copyright 1916, 1923, 1928, 1930, 1934, 1939, 1947, 1949, © 1969 by Holt Rinehart and Winston, Inc. Copyright 1936, 1942, 1944, 1945, 1947, 1948, 1951, 1953, 1954, © 1956, 1958, 1959, 1961, 1962 by Robert Frost. Copyright © 1962, 1967, 1970 by Leslie Frost Ballantine.


One of my favorite poems. Who do you think is right? The one who wants to tear it down, or the one who thinks it is necessary for good neighbors?

Nov 21, 2007

To all My Blogging Friends and Foes

Wishing all my fellow blogger's and blog readers a most excellent Thanksgiving Day.

I will tell you what I am thankful for.

I am thankful to be alive, not entirely sure yet why, but I am.

I am thankful for my son, EJ.

I am thankful for my friends and neighbors.

I am thankful for the food I eat, and the shelter I have.

I am thankful for the car I drive.

I am thankful that I have my faith, which seems to be getting stronger all the time.

I am thankful for my enemies, for without them, I would not know how wonderful my friends are.

I am thankful that I can breathe, and walk, and speak.

I am thankful for every living thing that grows.

I am even thankful for spiders, as they eat flies.

I am thankful for the ability to express my ideas, and to feel all the emotions that ramble through my heart.

I am thankful for all of you.

I am thankful for the humor in the world.

I am thankful that one day I will be reunited with all those who have gone before me. "And a blessed day that will be."

I am thankful that I can laugh at myself. And, I do so, quite often.

I could probably write a thousand more things, and I am thankful for that, because there was a time I was thankful for nothing. Let the dark waters not close over you and may the world you know be full of sun and cloudless skies.

(Unless you need the rain)

Thanksgiving is here

Its time to pray

Please Lord help me

Get through this day!

The kids are home

The school is closed

They're spraying each other

With the garden hose

The turkey bird

Is still half frozen

And, look, Oh God!

It's dear Aunt Rose and

Uncle Larry

And cousin Tim

My brother and sister

And all their kin

How will I cook up

All this stuff

And still look as soft

As a powder puff

I feel like a soldier

going into battle

I walk the perimeter

But no word rhymes with battle.....

That I can think of.

At all.


Now we must pause for a brief intermission:

Nov 20, 2007

Just me and Norman

I erased the post I left here. Those who read it know. Those who didn't won't. I did it for personal reasons, but I learned a valuable lesson. Those I thought were friends were not. I wish sometimes that I could be wrong about people. Or certain people. I've been denied access to a blog I have read for 2 years, and it hurts. I guess that's what it was meant to do. Hurt.

Well, not that much, as it wasn't that interesting anyway. But I won't forget this. I have learned just who is real, and who isn't. Who gives a damn, and who just wants to be caught up in their own drama. Maybe they think the same of me. Perhaps they're right. Hell if I know anymore. And I wonder why I care so much.

I am one of those bleeding heart liberals that seem to be the bane of society. I feel things. But I also take action. I sign petitions. I stir people up. I bring up topics no one else does. That's something, right? You know what would be nice? To take all the judgmental people in the world and drop them off the shore of Greenland.

"All I can say, is that my life is pretty plain,
I like watching the puddles gather rain.
And all I can do is pour some tea for two,
And speak my point of view,
But it's not sane...

All I can say is my life is pretty plain,
You don't like my point of view,
Cause its insane, Its insane."
No Rain, by Blind Mellon
Mmmmmm, mmmmmm,
the Crash Test Dummies

Once there was this girl who
Who wouldn't go and change with the
Girls in the change room.
And when they finally made her
They saw birthmarks all over her body,
She couldn't quite explain it
They had all always just been there....

Nov 16, 2007

Friday Funnies

Ok, this day is already starting out to be a class-A suck day. So, to get us laughing for the weekend, I hereby launch a new Friday feature. I have come up with the absolutely original title of Friday Funnies. I know, I know, how do I do it? I guess its in my genes. Wish Bruce Willis was in my jeans, I mean genes. Anyway, if you have a funny you want to share, please do, by all means, and just leave it in the comments section. Perhaps I'll pick the funniest one and award the winner a detailed tell-all about their lives, complete with scandals, and police record.

And so we're off!!! (Off is normal for me.)

*********************************************************************************** ***********************************************************************************
An elderly woman walked into the Bank of Canada one morning with a purse full of money. She wanted to open a savings account and insisted on talking to the president of the Bank because, she said, she had a lot of money. After many lengthy discussions (after all, the client is always right) an employee took the elderly woman to the president's office.
The president of the Bank asked her how much she wanted to deposit.
She placed her purse on his desk and replied, "$165,000". The president was curious and asked her how she had been able to save so much money.

The elderly woman replied that she made bets.
The president was surprised and asked, "What kind of bets?"
The elderly woman replied, "Well, I bet you $25,000 that your testicles are square."
The president started to laugh and told the woman that it was impossible to win a bet like that.

The woman never batted an eye. She just looked at the president and said, "Would you like to take my bet?"
"Certainly", replied the president. "I bet you $25,000 that my testicles are not square."
"Done", the elderly woman answered. "But given the amount of money involved, if you don't mind I would like to come back at 10 o'clock tomorrow morning with my lawyer as a witness."
"No problem", said the president of the Bank confidently.

That night, the president became very nervous about the bet and spent a long time in front of the mirror examining his testicles, turning them this way and that, checking them over again and again until he was positive that no one could consider his testicles as square and reassuring himself that there was no way he could lose the bet.

The next morning at exactly 10 o'clock the elderly woman arrived at the president's office with her lawyer and acknowledged the $25,000 bet made the day before that the president's testicles were square.

The president confirmed that the bet was the same as the one made the day before. Then the elderly woman asked him to drop his pants so that she and her lawyer could see clearly.
The president was happy to oblige.

The elderly woman came closer so she could see better and asked the president if she could touch them. "Of course", said the president.

"Given the amount of money involved, you should be 100% sure."
The elderly woman did so with a little smile. Suddenly the president noticed that the lawyer was banging his head against the wall. He asked the elderly woman why he was doing that and she replied, "Oh, it's probably because I bet him $100,000 that around 10 o'clock in the morning I would be holding the balls of the President of the Bank of Canada!"

* * * * * * * * * *

Morris, an 82 year-old man, went to the doctor to get a physical. A few days
later, the doctor saw Morris walking down the street with a gorgeous young
woman on his arm. A couple of days later, the doctor spoke to Morris and
said, "You're really doing great, aren't you?"
Morris replied, "Just doing what you said, Doc: 'Get a hot mamma and be
The doctor said, "I didn't say that. I said, 'You've got a heart murmur; be

* * * * * * * *

An 85-year-old man was requested by his doctor for a sperm count
as part of his physical exam. The doctor gave the man a jar and said,
"Take this jar home and bring back a semen sample tomorrow."
The next day the 85-year-old man reappeared at the doctor's
office and gave him the jar, which was as clean and empty as on
the previous day.

The doctor asked what happened and the man explained,
"Well, doc, it's like this - first I tried with my right hand,
but nothing. Then I tried with my left hand, but still nothing.
Then I asked my wife for help. She tried with her right hand, t
hen with her left, still nothing. She tried with her mouth, first
with the teeth in, then with her teeth out, still nothing.
We even called up Arlene, the lady next door and she tried too, first
with both hands, then an armpit, and she even tried squeezin' it between
her knees, but still nothing.

The doctor was shocked! "You asked your neighbor?"
The old man replied, "Yep, none of us could get the JAR OPEN."
* * * * * * * * * *




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Nov 14, 2007

Ramblings on Thanksgiving

Greetings from southeast Virginia, where it hasn't made up its mind whether its winter or not. Today is a lovely day outside, but this weekend is supposed to be cold. Why is it always the weekend?

I've been getting ready for the Thanksgiving feast, and getting myself into more shit as usual.

Remember Butt girl? Well, she has pretty much pissed everyone off around here. Especially EJ, the child from my womb. Oh, how he would cringe to read that! Anywho, I ran into her at the thrift store yesterday. (Do not any larger women ever donate their clothing to the thrift store? I'm not saying I'm a size 50, but a good fitting 16 would be nice. And I'm tall, very tall...and big-boned, very big-boned! If I were a size 6, I could have cleaned up. I love thrift stores. The bargains you can find are fantastic. Especially on jeans.)

I got to talking with Butt girl, oh hell, let's call her Judy. Butt girl is very disrespectful, now isn't it? She calls me the Devil, but that sounds better than Butt girl, I think... I know she is estranged from her family, (who would have guessed?) and it looks like she and the demon child will be spending Thanksgiving alone, so, me and my dumb ass invited her over to eat with us. Now, I did this, 1. knowing we had already been invited to eat with friends, who hate Judy with a passion. And, 2. knowing that my son has some very strong feelings regarding Judy, as they used to be an item. I have also heard rumors that she occasionally smokes the ole crack pipe. I have occasionally heard rumors that Bush does too, which would explain a lot.

I just hate to see someone spending the holidays alone. I have done so, but, I just watched my Christmas movies, ate candy, talked on the phone, and laid around with my cats. Had a lot more then. Barney, Clyde, LuLu, and young Roscoe. Actually, Roscoe has two names. Roscoe- Cedrick. My dad called him Cedrick, and I called him Roscoe. As my father did not hear that well, I just let Roscoe have two names. He didn't care, anyway.

That reminds me of the Thanksgiving I spent with Daddy, and how he gave half of the turkey to his beagle JoJo, who was in ecstasy! Then my sister got frantic because of the turkey bones, so I had to chase him around for what seemed like hours trying to get the turkey back. Do you know how hard it is to get half of a roast turkey back from a mean Beagle dog who has decided he wants to keep it? It ain't easy.

But, I digress. Now, I'm not sure what to do. I went ahead and got a turkey because EJ can eat some turkey. Even if we eat somewhere else, he's kinda like JoJo in that he wants his own turkey.

Seems it was easier when Thanksgiving involved cooking for three days while the boys and their Daddy went hunting. They would come in and eat, then take off for the wilds of nature again. I think one time they actually killed a deer.

This year for some reason I feel more positive about the holidays. This was Travis' favorite time of year. I feel he would want us to celebrate it, and he will be here too, of course, in spirit and love.

I can hear him now. "Mama, that was pretty stupid, you know that, right?" So, any suggestions on my

Any good lies out there that I could use not to hurt anyone's feelings? Come on. I know somebody's got an idea or two.

Warning! Warning!


It's afraid, be very afraid.....

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Nov 11, 2007

Thoughts on Veteran's Day

It used to be that Veteran's Day was a day that I thought of as one set aside to remember all those who died and served in WWI and WWII. After Viet Nam, it seemed the country was loathe to include all who served and died in the Viet Nam Conflict. (Conflict my ass, it was a war to those who were there.) Then I remembered all who served in the Korean conflict, mostly after becoming friends with a man who drank like a fish, and talked about how he had never been so cold as when he was in Korea. We who have not served can never know what sights our veterans have witnessed. We can never understand the quiet courage with which they meet each day, as they try to reconcile memories and the action they have faced. Now we have a new crop of Veterans, again our youngest and bravest.

To all those who have served our country, through peace and war, I thank you, as a citizen and as a Gold Star Mother. Whether we have supported our countries involvement in wars and conflicts, we must give our humble thanks to those who spent time in service to our nation. Let us be proud of our servicemen and women, always.

On April 2, 2007, the issue of Newsweek Magazine featured an article called "Voices of the Fallen". On the front cover you see words written in a serviceman's handwriting.

As Jon Meacham writes,

"The handwriting on this week's cover belongs to Navy Petty Officer 3rd Class Travis L. Youngblood, who was deployed to Iraq in March 2005. The full sentence, from a letter Youngblood wrote his wife, Laura, reads: "I have accepted the fact that any day I'm here could be the day I die"--words that reflect a courageous fatalism about his mission and its possible price. And the day he had contemplated did come, on Thursday, July 21, 2005, when he was killed in action. He was 26 years old."

This Veteran's Day, I remember my son, at rest in Arlington National Cemetary. He did not write such letters to me. I have been told he did leave a last letter to me that he hadn't mailed, but I was never given the letter, as I was not the next of kin. I try to understand why he did not voice these thoughts to me, but then I remember perhaps it was something he would not share with his mother. Perhaps such deep-felt honesty and revelations are more suited to the most important person in his life, his wife. I cherish our last conversation, about three weeks before he died. That I will always have.

I wish more fervently, than anyone who has not lost a child can imagine, it had been me instead. But, I thank you Travis, for your courage, convictions, and humanity, as you fought to save lives, those of your beloved Marines, Iraqi citizens, and even enemy soldiers. Though my tears will not bring you back, I know that some day I will touch your most precious face again. Perhaps I did not fully agree with your reasons for going to Iraq, but I will never undermine your strong beliefs and convictions. God bless you, my son.

Please let us all take time this day to honor our Veterans. For they are worthy.

Nov 9, 2007

I'm back and the move is complete.

I'm back. Who said it best? I think catmoves said there is no such thing as a short move. Well, he was absolutely right. I cried, I laughed, I got mad, I got sad, I worked my tail off, and everyone else's I could find, but I'm glad to report there were no casualties associated with the move. I almost strangled my neighbor Roger, but my son took me aside, and said, "Mom, chill out! Now!" Amazingly, I did.

What is it about moving, or weddings, or funerals, or any major event that brings out the very best and the very worst in ourselves? God only knows, I expect, and he's not talking. At least not to me. Anybody have Bush's cell phone number? Maybe God told him.

No, Babzy I am not a college kid with a fake blog. If I were, trust me, this blog would be more outrageous than it already is. If it is outrageous. I don't know.

Dawn, bless your heart for checking up on me. It's nice to be missed. And, it's so good to see Queenie is back.

I spent yesterday crawling around under my new home hooking up a phone jack for this computer. I thought I'd go through some kind of withdrawal period, not being able to access the net or this blog, but I didn't. I did, however, forget to go to court about my traffic tickets. Yikes! Wonder if I can blog from prison? No, I don't think that will be the case, just a bunch of nasty-ass fines, and higher insurance. The story of my life, in technicolor, no less.

I met an older lady who has been interested in my son. She's in her late 50's, born in WV, but grew up in New York. Some how that seems illegal. Anyway, she stopped by one night, and stayed for quite some time. When I explained to her about my youngest son, after she commented on his picture, she launched into a political discussion that pretty much ran along the lines that this country was down the tubes and beyond saving. (Personally, I haven't reached that point yet.) She asked a lot of questions about Travis, while EJ tried to run interference, thinking it would upset me, and sometimes it is hard to talk about. But it was actually nice for someone to want to know about him. She may have her ways, but I think I like her. She is who she is. However, I am one of those people who, because of the way I was raised, will allow a guest to run on about anything. I find it rude to say, Gee, I wish you would shut the fuck up, so I don't say that. Rarely will I say, Could we talk about something else? So, when she went to the bathroom, I went to bed. It was, after all, 2:00 am.

I don't drink, but many of the people who come to visit do. I don't like to judge them. I mean I do have my Busch NA, just because I used to drink, and like the taste of beer. This usually shocks younger people, who, of course drink for the sole purpose of getting 'fucked up', as one explained to me. Anyway, after my departure, my son and his ne'er do well friend, A, were left to discuss the fate of our great nation. I fear they were not up to the task, either. EJ has no problem telling someone to 'shut the fuck up'. A came to help us move, but for the life of me, I don't recall him doing anything but eating.


I really like my new home. When I walk out on the back deck, there is nothing but trees and plants. A nice place. A sacred place. I'm going to like it here.