SJ's comment about my Christmas post made me realize just how depressing it was.  I had absolutely wonderful Christmases when my children were growing up.  I became like a little kid myself, and always spent way too much money.  I wanted them to have everything they wanted, but of course there were times when we just didn't have the resources, we'll say. 

I remember when Travis was five, the anticipation of Christmas became too much for him.  He came up to me while I was washing dishes, and said, "I know what you got for Christmas."  I said something like well, what did I get?  And he told me a toaster, a food processor, and a big fry pan.  Now if  he had said cookies and candy and GI joes, I probably wouldn't have thought much about it.  But these were things I had bitch asked for.  So, I went over to the tree and examined the gifts, and sure enough, each one had a tiny little tear in it.  This reminded me so much of something my mother would have done,  I started laughing, and took him aside and told him not to tell anyone else what they got.  It would be our secret until Christmas.  Then we got tape and fixed the packages.  Travis was so cute at four years old, nobody could get mad at that 'youngun.'

When they were older, we lived in a house in the country, and had moved up the socio-economic ladder.  I had gone into work at 3:00 am to feed up and power wash a nursery room at the swine production farm, and got home around 7:30am.  By then the kids were up, my husband was watching TV, and we started opening our presents.  This time, we made a video of the whole thing.  Everything went beautifully until my husband was opening one of his gifts, and EJ, God love him, lifted one leg and farted one of the loudest, longest farts I have ever heard.  At first, we tried to ignore it..but, damn, you can't, can you? We fell out of our chairs laughing.  I think we wore the VCR out watching that tape and fast-forwarding to the part where the farting began.

Every Christmas I wanted to read "Twas the Night Before Christmas" to the boys.  I had loved it so much as a child, and I guess I wanted them to love it too.  And every year they whined, "Mama, can I go watch TV?"  "Mama, we already heard it!" "Mama, Santa Claus is way too fat to get down our chimney..." and it finally occured to me they didn't want to hear it.  So, I read to myself out loud.  Hah! 

As the boys aged, the routine changed.  They would go deer hunting with their father.  I had gone to the hunter safety course with them, which my husband loved, because I got all into guns.  I went out and got a Remington semi-automatic 12 guage shotgun, which, after I shot it a few times, decided hunting wasn't for me.  Anyway, the new routine was getting up early, opening gifts, the boys and their dad leaving to go hunting, me cooking my ass off, them coming home at noon to eat, then going back hunting, and me putting stuff away, washing dishes, and then sleeping in a turkey induced stupor until they came back.   I think one winter we lived on deer meat.  It took me two years to learn how to prepare it, and cook it where you could actually eat it.  One year I made so much stuff, I forgot the mashed potatoes in the oven, where I had left them to stay warm.

These are just a very few memories I have of my kids growing up and the wonderful holidays we spent together.  They are like precious gifts you take out every so often to touch, savor, relive.

But back to the farts for one minute.  One day when my kids were 3 and 4, we were watching a movie called Saturday the 14th, which was funny, and had monsters, but was basically a comedy.  Someone, probably EJ, let loose with a silent but deadly noxious vapor, and we teased Travis, sitting in a chair with his blanket, thumb in mouth, saying Travis farted,  until he became very indignant.  He took his thumb out of his mouth, and said, "If I had of farted, I would have heard it!"

It does make sense in a way, doesn't it?

I stole this from Stephen

What Book are you?

You're The Good Earth!

by Pearl S. Buck


While claiming to be more sophisticated than most, you yearn for simpler times out on the farm. You like a good familial drama as much as the next person, but mostly believe in the value of a hard day's labor. There are some serious questions about your ability to accurately judge others and some believe your perspective on others is quaint at best and grossly inaccurate at worst. Still, you talk about folks that no one else around you is, so that's important.

If you were a type of estate, it would be real.










Take the Book Quiz II




at the Blue Pyramid.

What's wierd about this is that Pearl S. Buck
was born in WV.  (Well, she lived there about two months..) And there's nothing hillbillies like better than fending for themselves.  "What, you got a third degree burn?  Well, put this lin root on it and it will draw out the fire.." 

And the cure all for everything when I was growing up was some God-awful concoctions called Pepsin.  Just thinking of it makes me want to puke.

West Virginian's love their vegatable gardens, too.  It's like a contest of who can grow the biggest, juiciest, tastiest whatever.  My dad was the king of potatoes.   My mom would roast them in the oven,  and they were so good.  I always ate the skin on mine.  Loved it.  Still do.

Anyway, this sort of makes sense to me.

Stephen, of course, was the Bible!

Ah, it's Christmas Eve

And all is well,
Or as well as can be I guess
Right now I feel
I need to get moving and clean up this  awful mess!

I keep trying to think of what to write about Christmas.  The Christmases I remember as a child were filled with such magic.  We were so poor, but somehow my mother managed to get us something for Christmas.  She usually ordered from the Speigel calalog on credit, and sometimes her order was approved, and sometimes it wasn't.  I remember waiting in the cold at the end of our old dirt driveway for the mailman, hoping against hope, that he brought the boxes that contained our Christmas wishes. 

I remember my father coming in, after being gone for a few weeks, and, having been paid, he always brought home oranges, apples, walnuts, and hard Christmas candy.  It was marvelous, the anticipation, the waiting to hear his car pull up in the yard.

Our trees were always fresh cut, found somewhere around the hill where we lived.   We decorated them with ornaments that were old, but extremely precious to us.  Daddy always went and got the tree, and when my brother's were young, they most likely went with him.  It was man's work to get the tree. 

We usually managed to have something good to eat on Christmas Day.  And it usually was a turkey.  Of course Daddy didn't care that much for turkey, but he would eat the dark meat.  Some times we had company, and that was special because it was so rare.

I remember one Christmas when my sister-in-law, Nancy, all of 17, stayed with us on Christmas.  Her mother, Margaret, came to bring some gifts for everyone, and I thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world.  She smelled so wonderful, and she wore makeup, something I longed to do.  She brought me perfume called April Showers, and I think it was my favorite gift that year.  It made me feel like a little girl, which of course that is what I was, but my hair was always chopped off, and I was an unabashed tomboy.  That perfume reminded me that maybe one day I could look as beautiful as Nancy's mother.

My sister Geraldine, who had moved out of the house and had a good job at Carbide, always brought everyone something nice.  She was glamorous, too, but a very forceful figure to me.  Growing up, we fought back and forth, and before she died, when we talked to each other by phone, we always ended the calls with "I love you".   I am so very grateful for that.

My mother is gone, and my so is my father.  Margaret died in her late 30's or early 40's of stomach cancer.  Geraldine passed away almost a year after my son Travis did.  I never see my sisters and brothers anymore.  The old house, where we celebrated so many Christmases, has been torn down.  I feel sometimes my home is gone.   But then I have to remind myself that my home is where I am.

I miss those Christmases so much.  I long to wake up on Christmas morning with that wonderful, exciting sense of anticipation, and with the special glow I felt just because it was Christmas.

tagged and funny pictures for you

Well, I finally answered my "Debra, please check out your matches!!" email fromTagged, and picked out some interesting gentlemen.

I like to call this one The Man About Town.  Clearly he has had some modeling experience, as you note the casual way he slings his jacket over his shoulder.  Understated elegance but still approachable....

 

This nice man has cleverly cut his girlfriend out of his photo.  You see a lot of these.  ("I look damn good in this one, so I'll just cut her ass out of it!") Personally, it's hard for me cut, throw away, or otherwise damage a photo.  Makes me think of bad karma or some such....

Damn, ain't that David Crosby, from Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young?  I love their song "Wooden Ships", well, it's about wooden ships on the water, sailing free....wow, I just got this craving for doritos, wtf??

Now this guy is putting all of his assets out there. I imagine he is looking for a serious relationship with that one special woman. (You know, if you look real close you can almost see his thingy! Dear me, I'm blushing!)

You know, I like to think I am modern, open-minded, and not adverse to thinking outside the box, but when it comes to beastiality, well, it just disgusts me.  Shame on you, little poodle dog, for tempting unwary females out there.  Fer shame, fer shame, fer shame!*

This one I fondly refer to as "What the fuck are you doing here?? You didn't see me, ok?  OK?  Don't make me get medieval on your ass!"

******************************************************************************

Do you see a girl's butt in this photo??

No, you don't.  What you see is the crease caused by the blond girl's shoulder. 

*Gomer Pyle

some funnies from anarchitek

 

I GOT THIS NEW DEODORANT TODAY.

THE INSTRUCTIONS SAID REMOVE CAP AND PUSH UP BOTTOM.

I CAN BARELY WALK, BUT WHENEVER I FART, THE ROOM SMELLS AWESOME!

And then . . .

The Golden Years???

        

Blog Neglect

I have sorely neglected this blog, this little blog that has served me well in the past for expressing my views, good or bad, and expressing the thoughts that cloud my mind.  My life lately has been one of turmoil.  I have went through many changes with my bipolar-meds, which you can probably deduce from the things I have written.  I think things are back on track again.

Roger and I are no longer knocking boots.  I feel it is wrong.  Don't ask me why, it just is.  It's one of those gut feelings.

My son is desperately trying to get his life back together.  God willing he will. 

I know that Hunter, Travis' son has a birthday toward the end of November.  I want to say it is the 26, but, I am not completely positive.  It is one of the birthdays that I have trouble remembering the date.  I don't know why.  It is such an important date.  My oldest sister's was the same way.  It was sometime in March, but for some reason, I always had trouble remembering which day.  I wish I could send this boy everything he wants, but I can't.  I am such a fuckup.

I have been going through that, looking at my life and at all the times I have fucked up...but I can't change it, can I?  Just try to do better, but I'm still getting a lot of negative feedback from just about everyone.  I spend too much time in my room, which is my sanctuary, my space, my sacred place if you will. 

*CAMPBELL: This is an absolute necessity for anybody today. You must have a room, or a certain hour or so a day, where you don’t know what was in the newspapers that morning, you don’t know who your friends are, you don’t know what you owe anybody, you don’t know what anybody owes to you. This is a place where you can simply experience and bring forth what you are and what you might be, This is the place of creative incubation. At first you may find that nothing happens there. But if you have a sacred place and use it, something eventually will happen.

I'm waiting.


*http://www.whidbey.com/parrott/moyers.htm [Excerpts from the Power of Myth, by Joseph Campbell]

This is a picture of my sister Geraldine, Linda, and me, circa 2001. This is how I think of us. Geraldine passed away in July of 2006. We all miss her very much. We never could figure out which "Golden Girl" we were. I think I figured it out...but, there was a little Blanch in each of us.

On a different note, I dreamed last night that I was talking to Ronald Reagan, who had been elected governor of Virginia, and I was cussing him out...now where in the hell did that come from??

Tag, your it!

These are some of my matches from the popular site Tagged.  Gentlemen, don't pick out your own profile pictures.  Get a woman to help you out with this part of the procedure.
Wait, maybe I do have a match....

No, I know what I'll do, I post a picture of my car....That'll get em...and, it probably will.  I said no cause if you love your car that much, it probably takes up all your time and conversation.  (I'm gonna get slammed for this!)

This gentlemen has found something online that he is either in awe of or is immensely frightened of....either way, it is just a little scarey....

This guy looks like he's trying to sell the car behind him.  "Now this beauty right here, I can make you an offer right now you can't refuse...no money down!"

This guy looks as if he's really twisting around so you can catch a glimpse of that carefully cultivated tiny bit of chest hair he has....

This one I fondly think of as "All dressed up and no place to go".....

He's either very bored, or someone needs to turn off that damn fan before his hat blows away....

Now what lady wouldn't want to ride in the Hooters car??

"So I work in the prison laundry...you got a problem with that...bitch???"

This is my personal favorite.  I do love our men in uniform, but something in this picture screams "I've got issues with my equipment!"

Gee, so many men, so little time....Of course my profile picture sucks balls so much that my computer has hidden it from me so I can't upload it anymore...Damn!  Oh, I just found it...I try to cut down my time visiting those sites..but evidently, not enough!!

Happy Birthday Emma

Just a note to wish my granddaughter, Emma, a very Happy Birthday. She will be four years old, and a magical age that is. Though we have never met, I love her, and wish all her dreams to come true.

This is a picture I found on the internet, and it is a sad one, but shows how very beautiful she is. God bless you, Emma.


She is standing at the memorial for The Lima Company 3rd Battalion 25th Marines at Rickenbacker Air National Guard Base; Marine and Navy Reserve Center in Obetz.

We will miss you Patrick Swayze....

I'm back, again...

I rolled out of bed this morning, and, I literally rolled out of bed. One minute I was dreaming, and the next I had my face in the carpet. When I realized what I had done, I started laughing like a loon. Its just so me...!! Of course this woke Roger up....yes, me and Roger have been knocking boots now and then. And he's still one of my best friends. Go figure...

I made my first ebay purchase recently. I was sorely disappointed. I thought I was getting this great deal on a digital camera. Boy, was I wrong. I should have known that the "You get what you pay for" rule applies everywhere.

I just added this neat gadget from Photo bucket. I think its tres cool.

Well, more later. Blessings!!

Happy Birthday Linda Jean

Today is my sister Linda's birthday. I can't remember how old she is, and she probably can't either!! Ha! A little funny there. The older you get though the harder it is to remember your age. Really. If someone asks you how old you are for some reason you have to stop and think a second or two. If I could I would give the flowers above to Linda Jean, but she lives in California, which is a good distance from Hamtown.

The last time I saw Linda was, oh, Lord, let me think...it must have been in 2000, I think. We had a good time, I know that, and I got to meet her husband, Hank, who is, I swear, I'm not making it up, an Indian Chief.

Whenever you are around Linda, you are going to laugh. She just has this wonderful way about her that magnifies the humor in any given situation. I wish I lived next door to her. But I don't, so I'll just say Happy Birthday and hello to all the children and grandchildren.

It's been an amazingly crappy summer, thus far. I haven't really felt like writing about all the crap that has been happening. I had a young man arrested at my home, one who I thought was a friend, but wasn't. My son lost his job, but then got another one working for the same company. A good friend's young 7 year old son is Children's Hospital of the King's Daughters, (CHKD) here in Norfolk after suffering a brain aneurysm. My heart and prayers go out to them.

I lost my best friend, Judith Samples Collins, on August 13, 2009. She was my friend and neighbor, Roger's mother, and a wonderful, wonderful woman. The world is a little darker with her passing, and the heavens are little brighter. One day, if I ever get the urge to write in this thing again, I will tell you all about it. But right now, I don't see the point.

I haven't visited my favorite blogs in a good while and for that I am sorry.

The best news we have had all summer is that Amber is home, and still the same old Amber, just a bit weak, and missing a chunk of her skull. It is on ice until they re-attach it. This young woman has been through so much in her short life, it is unbelieveable. And yet, she laughs. She still finds joy and laughter in life. And that is a blessing.

Amber

Amber is awake now and talking. Her visitors are still restricted to the immediate family, so, not being an actual blood relative, EJ and I are relying on her brother and grandfather to keep us updated. But don't stop praying. She has a long way to go.

The scallop boat man is back. He calls me "Miss Debi". Is that pathetic or what? Someone get me an apron, I guess its time for me to bake cookies.

Roger is finally home from the hospital, and its so nice to have him back. It was like old times yesterday, having him come over and hang out.

Tomorrow will be four years since Travis was wounded in Hit, Iraq. I think about what it must have been like for him, and a little part of me seems to die inside. My brave young son. And yes, though many seem to think it would be better otherwise, he was my son. My son. And no one, no matter what they say or think of me, can take that away.

This comment was left when I was bitching about John McCain having a bracelet with Travis' name on it on his desk. I said that many people loved Travis, not just me, and I acknowledged that. I said I wanted that bracelet. Just like any parent who has lost a child, anything that represents that child is precious, and you are greedy about it, you want it, its hard to share. But somehow this comment hurt me so much. It bothered me for days. Perhaps its because it came from someone who loved Travis, and he loved as well.

There are many of them. I respect you mam, but to say "That one" is yours is not really fair either. Why? because Senator McCain has it? I would be honored by such a gesture, no matter how he got it. You can have one made, I don't know the link off hand but if I find it I will surely send it to you. I just get a lil frusrated with people that say things because that is what you want to hear...not just you, I mean anybody. You know who this is, the same man that named his son after yours...I love and miss him to DY. I hope you know I say all this out of respect, sometimes it's good to hear other opinions.

Would this hurt you? Anybody? Am I over-reacting? It still hurts to read it. A lot. I why the "DY"? What's wrong with Mrs. Youngblood, or just plain old Debi? Somebody help me out here...

Amber

If you believe in a higher power I ask you to pray for my little adopted granddaughter. She was in car wreck, and is at MCV, where she is reportedly in a coma after suffering a brain injury. She has been through so much in her short life, and she is a beautiful young woman, just beginning her life.

EJ met Liz in 1997, and they became a couple. EJ became the father to 15 month old Amber, and she became the light in his eyes. Liz, god love her, was not the easiest person to live with, but they stayed together, and EJ helped her raise two more children. For ten years they made a life together, until Travis died. EJ moved out, but for whatever reasons, they were always in close contact with each other, by phone, or visits. EJ had wanted to marry her, but Liz refused. Liz wanted the world, wanted so many things for herself and her children. Ultimately, she lost custody of her two daughters, and on January 2, 2007 she died of an overdose.

EJ was devasted, and blamed himself for a long time. He felt he had lost everything, and still does to some degree. He is trying desperately to rebuild his life, but now, he is terrified that Amber will not recover. She means as much to him as Travis meant to me. She is his daughter, whether he is her real father or not.

I love Amber as I would my granddaughter, and the last time I saw her, we hung out, watched a movie together and talked about many things. She is mature for her age, but I guess that is natural, as she has been through so many changes.

Please pray for this child. And pray for my son, that God should grant him strength to face whatever he must face.

A new friend, or a new fiend???

I met this guy. Through mutual friends. He works on a scallop boat. I'll admit it. I really, really liked this guy. He was not only very nice looking, but incredibly talkative....we talked for hours! I thought he liked me, and I was looking forward to getting laid.

Now, that sounds pretty crass, I know. But, I do have needs, sometimes, and this guy really reminded me of just how strong those needs can be. But, alas, as time passed, I became aware of the fact that he didn't really want me like that. He borrowed $70 from me, and EJ got mad at him, and ran him off.

EJ later told me he spent most of his money on cocaine. I said I wish I had known that from the git-go. Before I gave him $70 which I was sure he was going give back to me. But, I learned a great deal from this whole experience.

I learned that I am not 30 or even 40 years old anymore. I am in my mid-fifties, and I look like I'm in my mid-fifties. The time when a man looks at me with desire is coming quickly to an end. And that knowledge, not so much the guy himself, really hurt me. Actually it hit me in the face like a ton of bricks.

Ok, I can say he was a jerk, but that's really not fair, because I let myself be used. I take responsibility for that. I am too trusting, or too hopeful, or maybe I don't want to admit I'm wrong about certain people. But, then again, I don't want to be distrustful of everyone I meet. Yes, some people will use me, but then I will get a real opportunity to help someone who actually needs it. Maybe that cancels out all the rest.

I guess the biggest thing I realized is just how much I miss having a special someone to share things with, the good, the bad, the ugly, the fun, and those wonderful moments that happen between a man and woman who really care for one another. This could also apply to a man and a man who care about each other, or a woman and woman who care about each other, its all the same. We all want someone to care about us, and for us to care for.

Deep inside I know I may spend the rest of my life alone. I can do that. And I can be happy doing that. But it sure would be nice to have someone to laugh with, wouldn't it?

Micheal Jackson

Micheal Jackson - Billie Jean

We watched him grow up, we loved him, we praised him, we ridiculed him, we made fun of him, and now we mourn his loss. A truly magic man. God bless you Micheal Jackson.

My friend Roger is out of the ICU and in a private room now. He is getting better because he's getting more whiney. Even though he can't talk right now because of his tracheotomy, he can write, and he sure can point! He is not supposed to have anything by mouth, (NPO)but he continually points to you and asks you to get water for him. I won't and he hates me for it, but I would rather he hate me and come home sooner, than he love me, and get pneumonia again.

I haven't seen him in two days, but I'm going tomorrow for sure. I really miss him. A lot. I tell the staff I am his girlfriend so they think I'm like family. Of course, I probably have about 50 lbs. more...ah...muscle will call it, than Roger, so we look like those typical trailer park couples you see every where. Nothing against trailer parks, I live in one, and I like it, but I know you've seen them at the Walmart or somewhere. The great big wife, and the little bitty husband, and you start wondering how in the world they...well...you know..

I have made some new friends, but its hard for me to trust people straight off, so I guess they are on probation. Like the lady I met. She keeps bringing me fat clothes knowing full well that I am trying my damnedest to lose all this extra weight. What's up with that? I just say thank you, cause I am polite. But it makes me wonder. I guess I should just be grateful she thinks enough of me to bring me anything.

Oh, well, time will tell I guess. Actually, since I've starting my bike riding I've met a lot of people. I'm one of those people that can strike up a conversation with just about anyone. That doesn't mean I say much about me, I mostly just listen. I'll tell you this much, there are a lot of lonely people in this world. A lot.

This time of year always makes me think of my Father and Mother. Daddy always had a huge garden, growing rows and rows of corn, tomatoes , and pole beans. We had onions, potatoes, sweet pototoes, cucumbers, and green bell peppers. After living all winter on canned goods, the fresh vegetables were a welcome and wonderful treat for us. We couldn't wait for the corn and tomatoes to "come in"...

Sometimes my Mother would fix pinto beans, cornbread, fried potatoes, sliced fresh red ripe tomatoes, green onions, and hot corn on the cob with loads of butter. We always sliced cucumbers and placed them in vinegar, salt and pepper, and it made a very tangy addition to our meal. I think I lived on corn and tomatoes during those wonderful summers. And as the watermelons and muskmellons (cantaloupes) ripened we had those as well.


I miss so much wandering through the rows of corn, looking for the ears with dark silk at the top and feeling them to see how full they were. I would pretend I was in a jungle, and sometimes I would pull an ear of corn and eat it raw. The creamy sweetness would burst in your mouth, and it was delicious. I always felt guilty for eating it raw and never told anyone. Outside playing, we would just run to the garden and pick a big juicy tomato, rub it on our shirts to clean it off, and chow down.

We had big blackberry bushes, and though my mother warned us about copperheads, we would run barefoot all around them, watching for briars, and eat our fill. I really miss those blackberries. Every so often Mother would make a blackberry cobbler, and, God, was that good.

Our neighbor, Tennis Lee, who has long since passed on, lived down the hill from us. He had an unusual suspicion that people were stealing his corn. It was nothing for him to shoot out into his cornfield at night with a high-powered rifle. Everyone knew that walking past his house at night during the summer was pretty much putting your life on the line.

One time he offered to shoot up the hill toward our cornfield to keep people away, but Mother wisely told him she didn't think that was necessary. We had enough going on at home without having to start dodging bullets every night!

I miss West Virginia this time of year, and I miss the carefree summers, full of sunshine, country suppers full of fresh fruits and vegetables. I miss my Mother and Father. But, at least I have this memory. I learned a lot about growing things from my Father. I learned a lot about dedication, hard work, and patience. Happy Father's day, Daddy.

And, of course, Happy Father's Day to all the fathers out there, working their butts off to take care of their kids and provide for their families. God bless you all. Hope your "maters and corn" is gettin' ripe.

"Your horoscope for June 18, 2009

Today you could be feeling especially adventurous, Debra, and you might be tempted to take part in risky pastimes such as deep-sea diving, river rafting or hiking in the wilderness. This is not a good day to do this! If you want, plan such a trip for the near future, but today it might be best to sublimate your adventurous nature by reading thrillers, watching James Bond movies, or by exploring places close to home where you've never been before."*

Damn! Why did I read this?? If I hadn't read this I would probably be in an inner tube right now fighting the mighty rapids of the James River.....well, some other river. Or I could be about to wrestle with a great white shark! Oh, well, I guess I better check my social calender again! Does this mean, I wonder, if I have to turn down that invite to dinner with the Obamas as well!? I am never reading my horoscope again. Well, not today anyway. It's just too tempting, isn't it?

I don't think I really believe everything my horroscope says. I mean its just an across the board reading, isn't it? But it is kind of hard to resist thinking that maybe there is a reason why my life seems so fucked up, and damn it all, if it ain't written in the stars! It wasn't anything I did, or didn't do, it was freaking Jupiter and Saturn that did it... We can all take some measure of comfort in that I guess. "Yeah, see, it wasn't because you was drinking that the cop stopped you...Looky here, see how Nepturne and Saturn are all screwed around up there?" "Nepturne! Damn, you're good at this! I didn't know there was a Nepturne!"

I actually took a test the other day to see if I had psychic abilities. Turns out I'm about as psychic as a bag of rocks. I do have a little precognition, like when I come up to a green light and automatically stop. See, I know that its about to turn red. Unfortunately, not all the other drivers behind me have this ability, so sometimes they become frustrated and begin tooting there horns and yelling out their windows: "What the fuck, are you stupid? Move your ass! You stupid shit, what is your problem!!" But, I just smile, because I know I have this ability.

It said I have a sixth sense about some people. I know that when someone doesn't bath or use deodorant for a few days, I don't want to be around them for any length of time. Or when they are obviously foaming at the mouth and trying to stuff their shoe laces up their ass, its probably good that I take my leave. Its like I know that certain people I have met before are only stopping by to see me so they can borrow the phone, cigarrettes, a beer, money, or anything else I might have. Its that sixth sense working again. Oh, they usually say, "Hey girl, you are looking fine today! Have you lost weight? I've missed you so much, give me a hug....hey, since I'm here, could I borrow....." You can fill in the blanks.

You probably have a little of it too. I bet if you read my mind, just concentrate a little, you can probably figure out what I'm thinking....go ahead, give it shot!





*astrocenter.com

Perhaps good news for some, but most probably didn’t know I was gone. Things have been hairy here lately. First, I lost my internet connection. That was no big deal, really, I’ve just became a whiz at BookWorm! I’ve spelled words I didn’t know were words.

Seems like a year has passed since I last posted here. I thought about just ending it, but then realized this little blog has helped me a lot. The positive and negative feedback I have gotten has also been supportive and made me think twice about some of the shit I have written.

The past few weeks I have spent going to the hospital to see my friend Roger. His lung collapsed and he went to the emergency room, then to Norfolk General Hospital. He was operated on by a surgical resident, who, ultimately left a hole about two inches in diameter in his left chest. He was home for about three days when he checked himself into Sentara CarePlex in Hampton. They immediately did surgery to clean out the massive infection that had developed, and now he lays in ICU, heavily sedated, with breathing and feeding tubes down his throat. He has had two dialysis treatments, but his kidneys are functioning a little. His status now is unchanged. He was already septic when got there. “Sepsis is a severe illness caused by overwhelming infection of the bloodstream by toxin-producing bacteria.”*

We have prayed for him, and keep our spirits up as best we can, but it is frightening to see him as he is. I go with his mother, who I am privileged to call friend, every day to see him.

His care at Norfolk General left much to be desired. When he was discharged from the hospital he had pneumonia, which means he should not have been discharged. Though Sentara CarePlex is part of the Norfolk General Hospital franchise, (I guess is the best word), the care there is wonderful. He now has a surgeon, lung, and kidney doctor, and a social worker on his care team. I’m hoping and praying for the best. For his last operation, he was given a 50/50 chance to survive. And he is still struggling. Without the sedation, he constantly pulls out his breathing tube, and is extremely agitated, as I probably would be myself. I miss my Roger, my friend, who has become more like a brother to me than a friend, though he seems to have an “incestuous ideation” about our relationship. Then, again, he may be trying to make an old lady feel good about herself.

God bless you Roger. God grant you recovery, health, and many more years to be the special person you are.

P.S. A special shout out to Linda Jean, Kellie, Jennifer, Bubba and Hank!! Love you all. And a big thank you to S. A. for the beautiful picture of his baby boy, Travis.

*RightHealth.com

A bit of Silliness from friends.....

It takes your food seven seconds to get from your mouth to your stomach.

One human hair can support 3 kg (6.6 lb).

The average man's penis is twice the length of his thumb.

Human thighbones are stronger than concrete.

A woman's heart beats faster than a man's.

There are about one trillion bacteria on each of your feet.

Women blink twice as often as men.

The average person's skin weighs twice as much as the brain.

Your body uses 300 muscles to balance itself when you are standing still.

If saliva cannot dissolve something, you cannot taste it.

Women reading this will be finished now.

Men are still busy checking their thumbs.

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Meet Marvin, Men's answer to Maxine!!!



Men strike back!

How many men does it take to open a beer?
None. It should be open when she brings it.
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Why is a Laundromat a really bad place to pick up a woman?
Because a woman who can't even afford a washing machine will probably never be able to support you.
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Why do women have smaller feet than men?
It's one of those 'evolutionary things' that allows
them to stand closer to the kitchen sink.
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How do you know when a woman is about to say something smart?
When she starts a sentence with 'A man once told me....'
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How do you fix a woman's watch?
You don't. There is a clock on the oven.
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If your dog is barking at the back door and your wife is yelling at the front door, who do you let in first?
The dog, of course. He'll shut up once you let him in.
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Scientists have discovered a food that diminishes a woman's sex drive by 90%.
It's called a Wedding Cake.
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Why do men die before their wives?
They want to.
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Women will never be equal to men
until they can walk down the street with a bald head
and a beer gut, and still think they are sexy.
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Send this to a few good men who need a laugh and
to the select few women who can handle it!

AND MAXINE SAYS............'MARVIN'...

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