Energy, wherefore art thou?

I have been dragging my butt for weeks now. Not necessarily feeling bad, but not feeling good either. I ached all over and the idea of getting out of bed each morning has been an Herculean effort.

Today, after crying about it, again, my daughter asks if I would like to try a 5 hour energy shot. I've never consumed this concoction before, and quite frankly was afraid to try it. However, since I've started punching up my vitamin intake and it still was having virtually no effect, I thought, "Sure, why not."

So, Brit gets one from her "stash" and says that maybe I should start by taking only half. I drank said half and followed it with an apple juice chaser. (it doesn't taste very good) Within about 20 minutes, I started feeling a LOT better.

Maybe I could paint the house by nightfall.



This post brought to you by 5 hour energy, Extra Strength.

April 19th

It's April 19th. But then, you already know that. I've been watching with great interest on the news how cities are losing money and cutting services to near nothingness. Makes me wonder what the rest of the world thinks of the mighty USA, but that's a blogpost for another day.

So, it's April 19th, four days past the dreaded April 15th, or four days past my charitable donation to the federal government. Why do I call it a charitable donation, might you ask? I call it that simply because I expect to receive absolutely nothing in return for it. When giving to charitable causes, we do not want for ourselves, we want for others.

This month I have been giving money hand over fist to anyone or anything that came along, it would seem. There was the aforementioned donation to the government, (and that hurt like a mother!), I paid $400 to my friendly neighborhood landscaper to remove my giant 30+ foot Chilean mesquite (before it fell into my house from all the rain!), and my home warranty was due (and you can bet I'm gonna pay that because I don't want a second mortgage should my AC decide to die, ever!).

That's not all. My tags are due on my car, paying a vet to vaccinate and medicate two beagles, a windshield replacement, my quarterly HOA fee (yes I know the good, bad and the ugly of it, I work for a company that manages them, remember?), and a bill complete with deductible for an urgent care visit I had two months ago.

All of this in addition to my regular monthly bills. Did I mention my mortgage payment went up by $11.00 per month because, in their estimation, my escrow account would be short? Perhaps they have not noticed that my home value has gone so extremely low that they will, in my estimation, be cutting me a check later this year because there is too much money in said escrow account! Give me back my 85 cents I tell you!

It may sound like I'm whining. Really, I'm probably not. I wish to extend my gratitude at this point to the illustrious and gregarious El Presidente Obama. Thank you for allowing me to fund your uber ridiculous economic stimulus plan, and self titled Obamacare. Thank you for bailing out the banks, we know what would happen if they were allowed to fail. (Duh, they'd have to learn from their mistakes and start square one, like the rest of America).

I digress. It's April 19th, the birds are singing and it's supposed to rain today.

To be or not to be, that IS the question

It's an interesting existence we live. In school we are taught about basic human needs; food, water, shelter, and love. Yes, I said love. That love yearns for us to have some semblance of acceptance from others. We look to our parents for that acceptance in our very early years. What if that acceptance is withheld?

Where is it to be found, then?

Some will look for it in others, substitutes perhaps. Some look for it in the form of addictive behaviours. Sometimes it is placed in the wrong hands. To quote a song, "I'd rather hurt, than feel nothing at all."

The Saviour taught that we are to love others as ourselves. I'm never more reminded of this principle as when the Easter season is upon us. A reminder of how we are to conduct ourselves with our fellow men or women. He loved the very least of us, and the scorned among us.

So, when we aren't accepted by others, or they place conditions on that acceptance, we have a decision to make. Are the conditions acceptable to ourselves? Do we place those same conditions on them? Is the price too high?

We need to examine our intent with each one of our relationships. It isn't very fun to feel that no matter what we do or what our intent is, we can't make someone accept us. Acceptance of this very fact can allow us to move forward without regret.

Life is short. "Some people come into our lives and quickly go. Others stay a while, make footprints on our hearts, and we are never, ever the same."

Girl World

I was having a very candid conversation with a young woman that I care for more than my own life last night. I was left feeling pretty angry. No, she didn't make me angry, but, every other girl that she ever knew did.

Okay, not every girl. Just the ones who, through their own Machvellian machinations, made her feel less than. The ones who couldn't just quietly go about their existence without making her feel bad about who she was.

The movie "Mean Girls" was based on a book by Rosalind Wiseman entitled "Queen Bees and Wannabes". I own this book and have been enlightened to the phenomenon of Girl World yet, at the same time, infuriated by it. I had always thought that as a fellow sufferer, I could somehow change my own daughter's experience in the world because I was so aware of it.

Turns out, I couldn't and I didn't. Those same girls found their way to make my own daughter's life a living hell and change everything that I had tried to teach her about who she was and is. I HATE those girls!!! Yes, I said hate. I mean it.

I was made fun of for just about everything you can imagine from a very young age. It is easy to see where if you hear this daily, you would come to believe that it somehow must be true. ie..."Mom tells me I'm beautiful, but all of these girls say I'm ugly and make fun of me, so Mom must be lying."

I know that my daughter has gone through some very ugly experiences in her short life. I, too, have gone through very ugly experiences. The question is, how do you reconcile what has happened and still come out okay? How do you get to the other side when people judge you when your response isn't what they would have chosen? Or they think you should just "get over it"?

Please pause while I step up on my soapbox. To all of you who escaped a childhood unmarked by trauma, goodie for you!!! I'm sure there is a medal in it for you somewhere. To the rest of you, shame on you. SHAME on you! Moms, stay plugged in. You may think as your children get older that they need you less, they don't. It's a pack of rabid, wild dogs out there and if you're not careful, someone's going to get hurt.

A jury of your peers

I received a jury summons last month. I was all set to go and do my civic duty, but, at last minute it was decided I was not needed after all.

I got to thinking about this. What if the jury was made up of family members?

Let's just say, you, for instance was the respondant in the case. The defendant was, say, your spouse. If that jury was made up of the defendant's family, they would get off scott free every time.

You would know at the beginning of the trial that you were doomed. This is probably where the phrase, "jury of your peers" came from. It's not jury of your family, or jury of your friends. Peers are just random people with driver's licenses who win the luck of the draw.

Wicked Witch of the West

Yes, this would be me.

I have a certain philosophy that I have carried with me throughout my life. Call me tainted by my upbringing or slightly odd, but there is no grey. I see things as black or white. There is no grey area. For instance, for the next three days, they are slurry sealing the streets in my neighborhood. Everyone in the 'hood had a notice placed upon our door informing us not to park on the street between the hours of 7:00am to 5:00pm on these three days, or we would be towed at our expense.

The big ole slurry seal machine just went down the side of the street that my house is on. Guess what? Three doors down, there are not one, but two cars sitting there unmoved! Further, guess what!? The machine went around them!!! Is it bad that I want those cars towed, and towed NOW? Is it bad that I want to be standing right there as your cars are being towed and laughing maniacally?

See what I mean? What is grey about being told that if you didn't move your vehicle, it would be moved for you? Am I the ONLY person who has to suffer consequences when I choose the wrong thing?



I'll get you, my pretty, and your little dog too!

My funny girl.

I'm tormenting my daughter. I do this lovingly, of course. You know how when girls are little they pretend to be the bride and put towels on their heads for a veil? Most little girls have been planning their wedding day from the time they could walk and talk. The only detail left is who the prospective groom might be.

Enter Brittany.

Since she is engaged to be engaged, I decided to pull up some web sites with wedding dresses for her to look at so that she would formulate some idea of what she might like for the big day. "Isn't this a little soon, mom?" she asked. No, dear darling daughter, it isn't. So, she looked.

I have a friend from high school who does the most beautiful cakes that I have ever seen with my own eyes. I pulled up her photos of some of her cakes. "Isn't it a little soon, mom?" No, my dear darling daughter, it isn't. She is so good that she gets booked up. So, she looked.

She brought home an invitation from a co-worker who is getting married next month. "Do you like this invitation, or do you want something else?" I asked. "Isn't it a little soon, mom?" No, my dear darling daughter, it isn't. Would you like homemade invitations or something more formal? So, she'll look.

I love this young woman with my whole heart. She gets more beautiful to me each passing day. I think I've gotten her thinking about what her once-in-a-lifetime day will be. Now, if I can keep her from feeling dread everytime I say, "Brittany, come here and look at this."