Thrusday Thirteen

This week's Thursday Thirteen was inspired by Oh, The Joy's and her reference to her & her husband's 'making chicken' playlist. Because, well, we have one too. And I thought it would be fun to share.

Thirteen Songs That Are Great For A Good Shag

1) "Here With Me" - Dido

2) "Turn Your Lights Down Low" - Bob Marley & the Wailers. And one of my personal favorites.

3) "Nice and Slow" - Usher

4) "Sunday Part II" - Cibo Matto

5) "Turn Me On" - Norah Jones

6) "Fade Into You" - Mazzy Star

7) "No Ordinary Love" - Sade

8) "Come Away With Me" - Norah Jones

9) "Heartbeats" - Jose Gonzalez

10) "Steady As We Go" - Dave Matthews Band

11) "This Years Love" - David Gray

12) The entire 'Parachutes" album by Coldplay

13) and of course....."Let's Get It On" - Marvin Gaye

Now I'm not saying these songs aren't cheesy or necessarily all that 'good'. But in a pinch, they get the mood set and the job done!

Happy Thursday!!

Hold Me Back

I'm hot. And I don't mean like, I'm a looker. I mean, I'm peeved. Beyond peeved. It all started two weeks ago. I was putting Connor on the bus - which picks him up at my doorstep basically. He had just gotten on the bus, when the impatient dickhead behind the bus, decides to, not only break the law and go around a bus w/ it's reds on, BUT, decided to pass the bus on THE PASSNENGER SIDE. Where I am standing & where my son was just standing. I stared him down as he was driving by & took his tag number. The bus pulls away & I immediately call this mo fo in. Ok. That was that.

Today.....I'm putting Connor on the bus. He climbs in, the bus aide is buckling him in. My huzzy, hoochie neighbor from across the street and a few doors down STARTS BEEPING THE HORN, then passes the bus. And yes, the lights are on, the Stop sign is extended. WTF?!?!?!?! The bus driver jots down the tag number & asks if I'm going to call it in. Yes. I sure as hell am going to call it in. I promptly do so.

The dispatcher is the same one I got with my last call. He asks me if it is the same car as before. I tell him no. That it is, in fact, my neighbor. He tells me they'll put a bulletin out. I said, "Thank you. But sir, if you don't mind telling me....what happens if the car is not caught from the bulletin? Does anything happen? Is a warning sent to the driver?" He said, "Unfortunately no. But you can go to the Justice of the Peace court and press charges." I thank him very much and hang up.

And now I sit here and stew. I don't want to be a bitch. HOWEVER, if I can't feel safe putting my child on the bus in front of my own house, then, where can I feel safe? And the law in our state is that passing a bus with the reds on is breaking the law. So, what is the point of the law existing if, you have a concerned parent call it in, but you can't even send a warning in the mail? I understand we're not talking about Capital Murder, but still. These are children & their safety should mean something.

What also bothers me is that, and I know she doesn't know this, but these are preschoolers who either have to be harnessed in or buckled into their 'car seat'. It's not like he hops on the bus & the bus driver takes off. It's a process. And the bottom-line is that it's a bus & they are children.

So, I called Bryan at work to rant & rave about this idiot today. And that I wanted to walk over to their house & have a come to Jesus talk. He told me I can't go over there by myself. The more he tells me I shouldn't go, the more it makes me want to walk over there. I'm not going to get all in her face. I just want to give her a lesson in awareness. I have not, as yet, walked over there. It's all I can do not to. I'm trying t be strong.

I'm left now, with the only other option of going into the Justice of the Peace Court and pressing charges. I'm not sure if I should. I mean, that makes me out to be a nutter, right? But I've been told that bus driver's don't want to call these cars in because if they're caught, they have to take unpaid time off of work to go to court. And obvioulsy, calling these people in means nothing. So, that is my option. To take legal action. I mean, I'm talking about the safety of children. And yes, my going to press charges isn't going to make this whole problem go away. But at least I'd know that I did my part when I was directly involved.

Am I crazy for wanting to do so? I could take the path of least resistance. And say, "I'll miss class, I'll wait forever in the Court. It'll probably be a waste of time." Not to mention, isn't it going against my whole philosophy of tolerance & being peaceful? Why am I making this so difficult? And refresh my memory...didn't I just say something about fighting for things that are worth fighting for? Is this one worth fighting for - or am I just looking for a fight?

Everything's Bigger In Texas - except our President's brain

Hey, dummy...I mean, President Bush. Try reading the definition, you idiot.


Civil war
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For other uses, see civil war (disambiguation). See list of civil wars for individual examples.
A civil war is a war in which parties within the same culture, society or nationality fight for political power or control of an area. Political scientists use two criteria: the warring groups must be from the same country and fighting for control of the political center, control over a separatist state or to force a major change in policy. The second criterion is that at least 1,000 people must have been killed in total, with at least 100 from each side.[1]
Some civil wars are also categorized as revolutions when major societal restructuring is a possible outcome of the conflict. An insurgency, whether successful or not, is likely to be classified as a civil war by some historians if, and only if, organized armies fight conventional battles. Other historians state the criterion for a civil war is that there must be prolonged violence between organized factions or defined regions of a country (conventionally fought or not).

Songbird

Last night, I was on the computer obsessing over my favorite blogs, my blog, my stats, etc. And I hear this sound. Almost siren-like. Followed by a quick, plunky strum of a guitar. I look over my shoulder to find my daughter standing on a diningroom chair, her daddy's guitar standing, upright next to her with the neck of the guitar in her hand. She quietly begins to sing....

"you're breakin' my heawt..."

little fat fingers, strum out a choppy chord

"you're breakin' my heawt...."

again, little fat fingers, strum out a choppy chord

"you're breakin' my heawt....mmm hmm mmm hmmm"

(then followed by a slew of incoherent verses)

She kept this up for about 2 minutes, I sat here laughing and crying at the same time. Then I realized that there isn't a song in our repetoir that has these lyrics. So, I begin to melt all over again at the realization that she has just written and composed her very own, original musical piece. Though her lyrics were a tad 'melancholy' her tone of voice was pure and happy. It truly was the prettiest thing I think I've ever heard.

Head Full of Lightning and A Hat Full of Rain

Lately I've been on a journey. As I've said before, I don't really know where I'm going. I don't know where the road is leading me. But I have this scary, awesome feeling that it's taking me somewhere thrilling. This blog, relaying some of my stories, returning to school - all of these things are part of this bigger picture that is being pieced together for the evolution - the metamorphosis, if you will. It's exciting and scary.
Today I got to thinking about how cowardly I had been for so long. About how strong I felt on the inside, but was too worried about others to really be myself. I still feel scared at times. Most people, I think, can't handle me or what I have to say. They see me, often times, as argumentative, intimidating (this one shocks me, but apparently, I am), negative, bitter, uptight, etc. But really all that it is, is that I feel strongly about things that mean something to me & I am animated. I enjoy a good debate. But what I don't enjoy is when you have to take a low-blow just so you can leave the debate feeling like you've accomplished something. If you can't stand on the merit of your own thoughts, leave the cheap shots out of it.
Anyway, I get passionate and feel passionately about women and women's issues. I feel passionate about being kind, human-to-human. I am not wired to feel passion in a quiet, demure way that is pleasing to everyone. I wish that I were wired that way. Instead, I'm wired to be loud and firm and steadfast.
It has taken me quite awhile to come to grips with this. Because I think people that are afraid to face their own ideas on norms and aren't willing to listen or be in a passionate discussion, aren't going to like me. People are afraid they're going to 'set me off' or get me 'riled up'. Who cares? I enjoy hearing where people are coming from & I enjoy in engaging them as well. I don't want to fight. But I just feel that it's ok to be passionate.
So, back to my cowardly ways. I got thinking about how I want my children to be passionate. To be aware and take part in making a difference. I want, my daughter especially, to be aware of what it means to be a woman. To see the double-standards and inequalities and stand up for them. Or scratch that, stand up for anything that she feels is right. I don't want her to be afraid to open her mouth, I don't want her to feel like she has to shed her personality like clothing and wear only certain articles of it for certain people. I hope that they can stay true to who they really are.
As I'm standing in front of my closet, dusting off the parts of my personality that I've long ago hung up and neatly put away, I'm no longer concerned about whether people are 'ok' with it. I'm on a mission to do the work and fight for things that need to be fought for. I'm ready to be scared and happy doing it. It'll be a wild ride. But I'm ready.
What better message can I send to my children? If I just do, then they will see and learn and be.
The other day, Bill Clinton was on Ellen. Ellen asked him about Hilary running for office. His response was, "Whatever she wants to do is fine with me. I'll suit up and play."
Bryan, Connor and Gracie.....suit up. Mommy's on a mission, come along for the ride.

Say Good Night, Gracie

My daughter is plaguing me. God love her, she's a sweetheart. She is so loving, affectionate, fiesty, silly, sweet, happy and caring. But she's killing me.

You know, I can remember what being pregnant was like. Hell, I remember what falling in love felt like. But I'll be damned if I remember what it is to have a two year old wreaking havoc on your house is like. I guess we block the worst from our minds. And boy did I ever.

She is into everything. Things are missing and/or in weird places. And before we walked out the door to go to preschool today, she spilled olive oil all over the diningroom table & chairs, she pulled numerous ornaments off of the tree, made a mess of her outfit with a clementine, and gave Ravioli a hard time while he was getting her dressed.

And getting her to go to school is a whole other story. She's all quiet and fine in the car on the way to school. We get ino the parking lot and she starts with the, "Let's get outta here!" crying bit. And those are her exact words. "Let's get outta here." Then, she clings to me like a baby koala, crying and having a fit. The teachers have to, literally, rip her off of me. And they take her screaming and crying into the classroom. The kicker is, she's fine when she's there. I'm totally convinced she does this just to make me feel bad.

Really, she's lucky she's so darn cute and of my own blood. As much as I've been complaining about her (internally or to Ravioli), she has her good moments. I love how snuggly she is and we enjoy a dance or two together everyday while Connor is at school. She's singing so many different songs and enjoys most of the music I play (and even singing along to some of those). Today was especially cool when she asked me to repeat The Eagles' song "Peaceful, Easy Feeling". I mean damn, she's 28 months. How friggin' cool is that?!?!
These pictures do good to remind me of the innocence and the peaceful times. The times when she is at her cutest - when she's asleep. And just being her little Gracie self.

Midnight Vultures

**Some family members may not want to read this. It's not really that bad. But just a little disclaimer.**
This weekend has left me beyond exhausted. So much to do, so little time & sleep. It all started with the Day itself - Turkey Day. I awoke at 7:00 a.m. to check out the Black Friday ads. I have this frenzy about sale ads. I enjoy them on Sunday mornings, as well. It's my version of window shopping. I hate actually going out to just 'window shop', so this is a good alternative. Anyway....we make our rounds to the families that we need to drop in on, Bry drops me off at my gal Pat's house. We stay awake all night & head out at 3 a.m. to see the sights. Our local mall was nuts and we head back to her house. We didn't beat anyone up for the latest gadget or video game - in fact, we bought nothing. My mom picked me up from Pat's house at about 8 a.m. I catch a twenty-minute nap and am up for the rest of the day. Until about 6 p.m. when I was cooked for the day & didn't awake until 7 a.m. the next day. The last time I stayed up for that length of time was when I was delivering Gracie.
Saturday left me fried from my mid-term exam. I think I did well. However, I still have not been functioning properly since my marathon of awakedness the previous days before. Bry & I were able to get the kids to bed at a reasonable time. I was looking forward to a little sumpin'-sumpin' as I was in the mood with two glasses of a good red in me. But I was just too.damn.tired. Poor Ravioli. I had to let him simma in his sauce for a day or so.
This morning I awoke a little bit more rested. I don't think I'll ever catch up on all of that missing sleep. The kids were busy playing, so I head upstairs to snuggle up to my man-meat, Ravioli. As he's approaching conciousness, I had flipped on the tele and was pleasantly surprised to find a Dave Matthews Band concert on. Bry snuggles up, I'm enjoying the music, Bry snuggles in a little closer, I snuggle in to him. He touches my skin, I rub his leg and well, I was able to get my little sumpin'-sumpin'. He claims that as soon as DMB started in on their provocative song, "Hunger for the Great Light" that I was off and running. But I beg to differ. And hey, beggars shouldn't be choosers. You get what you get.
Anyway.....
This evening Ravioli & I made a scrumptious meal, we decorated the X-mas tree with the wee ones & I'm looking forward to a nice, relaxing evening with my Ravioli.
I am plum, tuckered out.

Sunday Morning Song of The Moment - 'Bittersweet Memory' by: Blue Merle

Today's pick was a tough one. There were quite a few songs I wanted to pick from on this album. Last year, on XPN I heard a song by an up and coming band, Blue Merle. I was sucked in. I promptly purchased their CD and it was on repeat for a few months. I don't know that anything off of their album 'Burning In The Sun' made it on to mainstream radio (like mainstream radio is worth listening to - see I'm a music snob) or not. But they're worth a good, heartfelt listen. The entire album is a good one. So, without further ado here is the latest installment:

Well the morning was wrapped

In a blanket of clouds

And I've been out driving

Since quarter to two

My body is aching

And my feelings are numb

From the bittersweet memory

All tangled in you

There's cars that are cruising

With nowhere to go

And the rain in the streets

Makes 'em shine good as new

I wish I could ride one

Right out of this town

And away from the memory

That's tangled in you

The bittersweet memory

All tangled in you

There's friends I go out with

And friends that I know

But lately it feels

Like there's nothing to do

My best friend just packed up

And left with her lover

And left me alone

With a memory of you

A bittersweet memory

All tangled in you

So I'm packing my things

And I'm moving back home

This town aint' done nothing

But cripple my soul

And saying goodbye

Should be easy to do

But a bittersweet memory

Is tangled in you

A bittersweet memory's

All tangled in you

Well the morning was wrapped

In a blanket of clouds

And I've been out driving

Since quarter to two

So Kind and Generous

This Thanksgiving Morning, at 7:21 a.m., I trudged out of my house and ran across the street in the cold, to the store to get our local paper. I was chomping at the bit for the Black Friday ads. I get home and start picking over the paper like a vulture over the carrion of a carcass. Finally, after all of the sale ad perusing, I see the front page. The headline is: The Woman Under The Bridge: Homeless and abused for 40 years, a widow struggles to find her way.
The weathered face of the woman, with a church for a backdrop, is looking right at me. I begin to read the article, which is part 1 of a 5 part series. As I'm reading the beginning of her story, my mind drifts and then zeros in on Jen and her wonderful heart, her giving spirit, her passion. Things come into perspective.
I've cried over the fact that we live paycheck-to-paycheck. I've beaten myself up for staying home with the kids, instead of working, while Bryan works to support us - solely. I've cried over the fact that we've taken ourselves down to becoming a one-car family. I've bitched and complained that our house is too small, the carpets are dirty, the yard is too small, Connor's scooter was stolen and we don't have the money to just run out and spend on silly, material objects.
HOWEVER,
Reading this article - thinking of Jen and the work she does - reading the homeless statistics in my home state, I am humbled. Because we have a home, we have a paycheck, we have a yard, we have a carpet, we have heat, WE HAVE HEALTH INSURANCE. And so many don't. I am blessed with a table to eat meals on, I am blessed with two happy, healthy children who have shoes and coats. For all of the things I think we don't have, we really do have so much.
So, I begin my Thanksgiving by being in awe and complete gratitude for Jen and the work she does. I am thankful that I have the ability to visit her blog everyday - several times a day - to merely read of the good works she is doing. She is making a life of.
I also begin my Thanksgiving by stopping and being truly grateful for the bounties I do have. The good fortune of having a warm home- but ever aware that I could be one of those numbers.
Jen, thank you. You are my Thanksgiving blessing today and I go forward today with you and all those you work so hard for locked in a warm embrace around my humble heart.

Happy Thanksgiving to you all.

June Cleaver, Kiss My Arse

Many of you have probably seen this and laughed or gagged. It just plain makes me want to vomit.

If You Could Read My Mind

Sunday evening my mom & I went to dinner at Jessop's Tavern. A really cool Colonial pub with great food and great wine. She noticed a man in the pub who looked a lot like an ex-boyfriend. She began opening up about how she misses that Ex, as they are dear friends to this day. But do not get to see each other that often. She began talking about how he was the only one who really 'got' her. I nodded in understanding and said, "You know, we all need someone like that. I believe I have two of those people. Dad and my dear friend, Bob." They just know what makes me tick, they know the inner workings of my mind. And Bob, especially, gets my humor and knows from where I'm coming from. It's effortless and damn scary.
Ravioli & I were talking about this last night as I was relaying the conversation to him that my mom was having with me. And he looks at me with his rich, brown eyes and says, "So, you think I don't 'get' you?"
I think Bryan knows me, but doens't really get me. And vice versa. That's not a bad thing. I just believe that there are people, who don't necessarily have to be your spouse, that get you.
So, I ask all of you: Who 'gets' you? Is it your spouse? Is it a dear friend? Is it a relative?
Just curious......

Can't Complain

I wasn't planning on my 'Sunday Morning' song being a 'Monday Morning' song, as well. If I would have known that the song would be up for that long, I would've picked a better one. Oh well. The day got away from me. Days can be funny that way.

On the subject of music. I have a little project on the horizon that I'm pretty excited about. The last time my dad & stepmom were here with my brothers, my stepmom Eileen, was saying she's sick of the music that's on the radio (and Delaware does not have the greatest of choices). I instantly perked up when she said this. I quickly chirped in that I'd be happy to make her a CD....or two.....or three. She became very excited and said she would love it. I thought to myself, how cool is this? One of the two people who really fostered my love for music is interested in me compiling a CD for them. I'm stoked. Remember here. And here. And here. I chattered on and on about my love of all things musical. And Eileen's role in that. So, this is, needless to say, exciting for me. I hope that she'll enjoy the tracks I have to lay down for her. This is right up my alley.

On a complete and totally different subject.........I have a paper to write about something that has happened in US Contemporary History. Any suggestions? I'm exhaustified of the typical 'Nam, Watergate papers. I'm looking for something that is 'off the beaten path' so-to-speak.

Sunday Morning Song of The Moment

Just last weekend I was asked if I could pick a destination for my 'dream' vacation, where would I go? Without thought, I said: "Australia". Something calls me there. I can't explain it. I don't know what it is, but everything about Australia is appealing to me. You read here about how sad I was at the passing of Steve Irwin. (I still, am terribly sad about it.) Ravioli & I watched the televised memorial service on Animal Planet, shortly after his passing. And we bawled our eyes out. Both of us. He'll probably kill me for putting that out there. But anyway, it was heart-wrenching. During the memorial service John Williamson sang two songs that I instantly had to download because they left me with such feeling and longing. And one of those songs is my choice for today's song. And let me just add a disclaimer here that I don't know much about the subtle intricacies of Australian culture. So, for all I know, John Williamson could be the equivalent of........um.......'The Hooters' here in the States. But that being said, the following song left me with something I didn't have before I heard it. So, this may 'out' me as a completely silly American girl. But oh, well. This song was a beautiful choice for the memorial service and just a beautiful song. So, here goes:

True Blue

By: John Williamson

Hey True Blue, don't say you've gone

Say you've knocked off for a smoko

And you'll be back later on

Hey True Blue, Hey True Blue

Give it to me straight

Face to face

Are you really disappearing,

Just another dying race,

Hey True Blue

True Blue, is it me and you?

Is it Mum and Dad, is it a cockatoo?

Is it standing by your mate

When he's in a fight?

Or just vegemite?

True Blue, I'm asking you...

Hey True Blue, can you bear the load?

Will you tie it up with wire,

Just to keep the show on the road?

Hey True Blue, Hey True Blue, now be Fair Dinkum

Is your heart still there?

If they sell us out like sponge cake

Do you really care?

Hey True Blue.

True Blue, is it me and you?

Is it Mum and Dad, is it a cockatoo?

Is it standing by your mate

When she's in a fight?

Or just vegemite?

True Blue, I'm asking you....

True Blue, is it me and you?

Is it Mum and Dad, is it a cockatoo?

Is it standing by your mate

When he's in a fight?

Or just vegemite?

True Blue....True Blue

Silver Lining

**I want to apologize in advance for the scary picture of me. It's just the only picture I had of me with my Holly Hobbie doll**

There weren't many playthings that I was attached to when I was growing up. Frankly, I didn't play with toys. From the time I was one year old, I pretended to go to school. I'd carry books around & wave good-bye & say 'school'. I colored, sketched, cut paper, pretended to be a receptionist, a teacher, played house, and read. I wasn't in to Barbie. At all. She wasn't my scene. However, I did have a rag doll that I was particularly found of. It was a Holly Hobbie doll that I received for my 3rd birthday. The only 'frill' that doll had was, if you pulled the bow on her hat, her eyes would close. And if you pulled the bow in the other direction, they opened. I ADORED that Holly Hobbie doll.
After the divorce, we moved. A lot. And that doll, with all of the rest of my belongings, always seemed to get lost in the shuffle. With each move, more things were gone. Until the point where there was nothing left of my childhood. And I distinctly remember upon turning the ripe-old age of 8, that I told myself it was time to give up all of 'that kiddy' stuff. I guess so that when more things ended up missing, I could deal. The only artifacts of the so-called childhood I had were things that I managed to keep myself. Things like, a piece of driftwood that my dad found on a beach and drew a rainbow and pot of gold on for me. (Which today hangs above the doorway in my kitchen and has faded over the years to where you can barely make out the picture), the small, tan stone that he found & gave to me that just happened to be in the shape of a heart, an arrowhead that I found on the farm when Dad & I were walking the fields, small little trinket boxes that he gave me, etc. These are things that I hold on to as if they were the finest of fine artifacts. And well, they are.


It has occured to me, when looking around my home that, because there's nothing from the Golden Age of Tabitha's youth, that I hold onto everything that my kids have touched. I have every craft that Connor has done since he started preschool..two years ago. I keep almost every pair of shoes, baby blankets, their little baby towels, locks of hair, their hospital bracelets. You name it, I've saved it (I do draw the line at saving the umbilical cord...I can't handle that).
I feel that I've gone to the extreme, though. There are just some things I need to let go of. If I keep everything that pertains to my children, I'll need a house the size of.....well, Delaware (haha).
I wish that I didn't have this crazy need to over-compensate with my children, for all of the things I lacked. Case in point....remember that Holly Hobbie doll I mentioned? I just had to get that for Gracie. Yup. I'm sick. I found the exact same doll on ebay & bought it. And honestly, she could care two squats about it. Truth-be-told, I used her as a 'beard'. I say I bought it for her, but really bought it to reconcile something inside of me.


I guess it comes down to now that I have children of my own, I see how important it is to reconcile all of this crap. I need to let it go. There aren't many out there who know, the full extent of what has happened so many years ago. And many would say, it's old news, ancient history. It's long gone and done. Why are you still hanging on?? To which I'd have to say that it needs to be purged. The only way I can move forward in a healthy, productive way - for my children, for my husband, and for myself is to give it it's fair due. Finally. After all of these years. I ran from it all for so long. And today, I finally feel strong enough to take it on. And that only came about from being a mother.

Maybe I'll get strong enough to pitch some of the things I don't 'need' to hang on to. Maybe I won't. But tonight I think I can go to sleep for the first time, in two decades, knowing that I finally have found the strength within myself that I've been searching for. And I have found it by looking into my children's eyes.

We Love You, Miss Hannigan!

To Whom It May Concern:

My kids lead a hard-knock life. And I'm writing this to report myself. As I thought I saw an uncanny resemblance between myself and Miss Hannigan. I'm a bit concerned regarding my ability to properly care for my children. Here is an example of a typical day in our house:

I stagger out of bed and say no to the little girl with the button nose & the doe eyes who asks for "chocwate" at 8:15 a.m.
As well as, say no to the little boy, who is still a bit pigeon-toed and rambunctious, when he asks for 5 Oreo cookies at 9:01 a.m.

I trip over toys, I bumble around all of the various kid debris and yell, loudly, that "this place better shine like the top of the Chrysler building!!" I do not, however, refer to my baby girl and/or my baby boy as "my little pig droppings". Oh, and I don't know or am related to anyone named 'Rooster'. So, I've got that going for me.

Instead of the "chocwate" that my daughter craves for breakfast, I substitute it with mush(oatmeal).

I do not walk around all day half-naked in shoddy lingerie. Instead I walk around in PJ's and I am mostly, unshowered. Until about 11 a.m. Some days.

I wish that I was walking around with a big bottle of gin in my hand. Instead, my 'drug' of choice is the caffeine that is in my coffee. I would be happy to substitute the bottle of gin with the cup of coffee. However, I'm usually too busy to enjoy more than two sips of coffee. So, most of the time, the bottle that should be in my hand is replaced by cuppies of milk or juice.

Rather than yell at the kids for singing or for being happy, I yell at them that they're not singing loud enough. Because, well, I can hear myself singing. And I yell at them about not being happy when they're whining, crying, kicking, screaming, punching themselves, hitting each other, hitting the dog, pushing me, throwing things, slamming doors, scowling, or pouting.

I have not resorted to locking them in the closet. Yet. I do, however, lock them in a huge embrace when I get the chance.

I do not lay around listening to old radio programs, drinking the aforesaid booze. But I do blog incessantly, browse Amazon.com, read other blogs, talk on the phone, put Gracie's clothes on, prepare meals, fetch snacks, do laundry, put Gracie's clothes on again, wipe dirty butts, wipe dripping noses, clean up dog shit, clean boy pee dribbles off of the toilet seat, put her damned clothes on AGAIN, scrub the tub, scrub marker off of my walls, kiss boo-boos, read stories, put her clothes back ON!!, build with blocks, dress the kids (but barely dress myself), talk to myself, walk in circles, forget why I went upstairs, put Gracie's clothes back on - AGAIN!!!, refill cuppies, wipe the muddy dog prints off of my kitchen floor, pick up....(what is that?) off of the livingroom floor before the kids try to eat it, take...(what is that???) whatever that was out of Gracie's hand as she was trying to put it in her mouth.

They do have all of the toys they could want. But none of the ones they "need". And it is true that "Santa Clause they never see". Because we make the kids go to bed before he gets to our house (wink, wink).

Well, I think that's about it. If you notice too many similarities between myself & that wretched woman. Please, by all means - for the safety and well-being of my children, be sure to report me to the proper authorities. Because I do believe that I am Stretched to the Limit.

Thank You
Mrs. Tabba Incredible

Gravel In Ya Guts and That Spit In Ya Eye

Whenever I do a reflective post regarding my childhood and the wonderful affects my mother had on it, it's never too positive. Scratch that, it's never been positive. I feel bad about that. But that is what she made out of her time with me, shaping me, molding me. So, when I need to rip that old band-aid off, I will. She is my mom, yes. Did she do the best with what she knew? I suppose. But my mom was the Yin and my dad was the Yang. And when I can find something positive and uplifting to recall about my childhood with my mom, I will.
I'm still searching.
Anyway. This is leading somewhere. Last Thursday, I called my mom in the morning to check in. She called me back a few hours later, we spoke and hung up. I began my chores for the day of laundry, stripping beds, and well...you get the idea. I was upstairs, the phone was ringing & there were no phones upstairs with me - they were all downstairs. The answering machine picks up. And this is what I hear in a horribly monotone, horribly suspicious, horribly bland tone of voice: "Je-ss. Where are you? *sigh* I don't know where you go all of the time. All right. Callmeback." This annoyed me terribly. It doesn't sound like much. But you'd have to hear it. It had her 'tone'. The one I've heard my whole damned life. The one that makes insanely ridiculous accusations, the one that is Passive/aggressive, the one that makes my neck hairs stand on end, the one that sends me in a tailspin. After I huffed and puffed, ranted and raved about this message, I had a revelation.

I've lived with accusation after accusation, suspicion and guilt. And I lived this on a daily basis with my mother. So, no wonder I'm always so damned defensive. I constantly had to defend my actions, my thoughts, my desires to better myself. And I had to defend them to my mother. Granted, I'm not defensive all of the time. I am actually a pretty laid back person. However, the minute I feel I am being questioned, demoralized, put into a corner, condescended, scolded or bossed around. BAM!!! Out she comes....Mt. DefensiveBitchTabitha.

Yes, I am an adult. With my own mind. My own personality, my own views, morals and values. But at what point can we shed what has been, essentially, programmed? I know it's there. It's one of the things I like least about myself. But it's like the aftershocks of an earthquake. It's just going to happen. It's part of the process. Nature vs. Nurture, folks.

It's funny how something as trivial and stupid like, a little message on an answering machine, can open a whole can of worms. But that's the funny thing about life and our 'demons'. They're there. We're all walking around "carrying a bunch of ghouls" around with us. (You'd have to watch old episodes of 'The Soprano's' to get that one. Good old, Paulie.) Anyway........

Something has been working it's way out. I've been on a journey the past few months. Where that journey will lead, who knows. And my journey's never seem to make any sense until about 5 years, after the fact. I'm just hoping that I am able to walk away from the defensiveness that has been bred in me. I'm hoping to shed that last bit of that little girl that sits cowering in the corner, awash in shame and guilt, for no good reason. Other than her mother's need to keep her down in "the mud and the blood and the beer". Because that little girl has had a fire burning inside of her for quite sometime. It just has been grossly misdirected.

Pressure

Aaaaaaaahhhh! I.can't.take.the.pressure. There are so many new blogs to read! And.I.can't.find.the.time. Aaaaaaaaahhh! I've had some new traffic to my site. Which rocks. Completely. I want to reciprocate. But I'm finding myself worn thin. I can barely read the blogs that I stalk regularly. I can barely keep up with the reading I need to do for my classes. Plus the books I'm reading just for pleasure. And now all of these cool new blogs!!! Aaaaaaaahhhh!! All of you new visitors who have commented, I'll get 'round your way. You are a tease, sitting there in my comments, with that come hither stare. Don't you know how weak I am? You make me feel like my head will explode. Like I have.to.have.it.now. - or I'll die.

How do you find the time?? It seems like it should be pretty easy to figure out. I mean, I don't work full-time (other than working full-time at raising kids). But I already feel like I spend too much time in front of the computer. I guess I'm not good at organizing my time.

So, I ask you all....how do you make the rounds? How do you hit so many blogs and comment? My dear, bloggy babies. I want to cuddle you all!!

NYC - You Belong To Me, I Belong To You

So I mentioned with my last post that the Ravioli & I headed into The City. We've been planning this trip for awhile, with our friend, Jon. So, some tickets were purchased for a Broadway show, some plans were made....and voila! Into the city we headed. As I said, I used to make pretty regular pilgrimages into the city - years ago. In 1999-2000, I frequented that city more times than I can tell you. The last time I was there (before Saturday) was October of 2002. I was amazed at how much has changed, as well as, how much has stayed the same.

For instance, when you ride the subway, you can tell the true New Yorkers because they are falling asleep on the subway car and awake suddenly, when it is their stop. They just know. And true New Yorkers are always carrying bags. Big bags, small bags, 'Medium Brown Bags' from Bloomingdale's, plastic bags from various previously patroned shops, which now carry their subway reading material and other what-not. And the true New Yorker that amazed me the most was a barely two-year-old little girl. Sitting in her stroller in her eclectic outfit, chatting away with her mommy and, as she's sitting in her stroller, stretches out her legs, props them up on the subway seat & crosses her legs at her ankles....riding on the subway is old news for her.

Manhattan is just amazing. I fall deeply and helplessly in love each time I go back. I consider myself somewhat of a hippie, farm girl. But I'll tell ya what, I would live in NYC in a second if the opportunity presented itself. The endless culture - so vast, so varied - is amazing. The people watching is unparalleled - except for possibly Tokyo (I don't know from first-hand experience). And the fact that you can hop in a subway and be transported to another town - within a town - just amazing. I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE it.

Ravioli & Jon viewing the WTC sight

Our first stop after 'landing' in Penn Station was the subway to Downtown. We took in a quick look at the WTC sight. Ravioli & I did this in 2002, but were happy to take Jon to see it. We walked a bit along the platform, trying to see past the layers and layers of chain-link fence. As we were making our way down the platform, there in front of me were the peddlers of all things fake. Purses, watches, perfume, etc......I have no problem ignoring these people when walking around the rest of the city. However, I was particularly annoyed by their immediate presence at the WTC sight. I felt that it was highly disrespectful...but whateva. That's just my $.02.

The city was absolutely gorgeous yesterday. Central Park, in particular. I wish we had had more time to roam there. But time was of the essence as we had a date with a particular Phantom.






Good food was to be had in Koreatown. Not as great as Cow Town on Main St. in Flushing, Queens (man, I love the 7 train). But oh, well. Gotta take 'authentic' Korean food where you can get it. I have to say, though (and Ravioli will as well) that my homemade Bul Go Gi is right up there with that prepared in a Korean restaurant. I've always said that I was a cute little Korean girl in another lifetime.
I was sad to say goodbye to The City. I have such a hard time leaving. Parting is such sweet sorrow. She has me in her clutches. Inevitably. Forever.

Today, I bear the earmarks of my steamy love affair. My aching legs, the black/gray soot when I blow my nose, the calm, happiness that washes over my face and the spent feeling that envelopes my entire body. (I think I need a cigarette...haha).
Kidding.

Sunday Morning Song of the Moment

Ravioli & I headed into one of my favorite cities yesterday for a cool, little day trip. We headed into NYC. I used to frequent the city on a pretty regular basis. However, money & kids changed that. But it was great to be back on a beautiful fall day. So, in honor of my favorite city I thought I would post the following song as my Sunday Morning Song of the Moment. This song does rock my world & I inevitably think about my lovely NYC when listening to this song (or any Simon & Garfunkel, for that matter.)

The Only Living Boy in New York

By: Simon & Garfunkel

Tom, get your plane right on time.

I know you're part'll go fine.

Fly down to Mexico.

Da-n-da-da-n-da-da-n-da-da and here I am,

The only living boy in New York.

I get the news I need on the weather report.

I can gather all the news I need on the weather report.

Hey, I've got nothing to do today but smile.

Da-n-da-da-n-da-da-n-da-da here I am.

The only living boy in New York.

Half of the time we're gone but we don't know where.

And we don't know where.

Tom, get your plane right on time.

I know you've been eager to fly now.

Hey, let your honesty shine, shine, shine

Da-n-da-da-n-da-da-n-da-da

Like it shines on me

The only living boy in New York

The only living boy in New York

Sabotage

At the risk of sounding like a snob, I left my class last night shaking my head in disbelief. Let me first say, that my instructor is amazing. I love her & am looking through the course catalog to see if she is teaching any other classes that apply to my major. She is smart, funny, tough, insightful, forward-thinking, engaging & the list goes on and on. She is so wonderful to talk to, that when she dismisses us for break, no one wants to leave the room for fear of missing something. I digress. Last night we were discussing on early development (conception, DNA, etc.....in a two words: basic biology). It is amazing to me that I am in a room full of women in a college class that know little or nothing about basic, human biology. I mean to the point that they didn't know how long sperm live inside of the body, they didn't know what kegels are, they didn't know that you can tell, if you pay attention to your body, when they are ovulating. How can this be??? How can you be a woman in 2006 and not know some of these things? I mean, they've got to, at least, read Cosmo. I guess I'm assuming that all other women are like me & the ones I seem to travel with, and are enlightened women. And when I say enlightened women, I'm not trying to sound elitist, I'm saying women that revel in, well being women. And knowing a little bit more than which lip gloss matches with which handbag.
I remember being in 7th grade and learning about recessive and Dominant recessive genes. Many of these women didn't understand the XX & XY chromosome deal. WTF?!?! And as we were talking about XX and XY, the instructor was talking about how, in some cases with genetic 'defects', the women are the carriers, but only the male children are affected. And that is because we 'give' them one of our X's, so by nature men can be considered the weaker sex. I raised my hand and added my .02 and said how there have been studies done, for instance, on premature babies & that it has been noted that many premie deaths are boys as opposed to girls and they feel that the X factor is the reason why. The teacher ellaborated for a bit & my neighbor to my left leaned in to me and said in a whisper, "You're really smart." I smiled and turned red. I thanked her. I was thinking to myself, "Well, I'm not dumb. There are plenty smarter out there. But this class....is scary." I'm just amazed at, really, how simple we are. We have all of this technology, so many free resources to read from. We are a 'rich' nation, with many, many resources. And yet, we produce people who can barely think, barely read. What is happening here? It is disturbing. And how scary it must be for these instructors, who see this, semester in and semester out. The other thing I would like to add here is that the class is mixed from women in their late teens, early twenties...all the way up to mid to late 40's. So, I'm not using my 'base' as 20 year olds with a muffin top and year-round tan.

While Mommy's Away.......

The kids will go apeshit with markers.

Don't Let The Door Hit Ya In The Ass On The Way Out

What a day, huh???? Hope springs eternal.

And You All Thought I Was Done With Halloween.......

I feel bad because I posted umpteen million pictures of Gracie as Dorothy for Halloween, but none of Connor in his costume. So, here he is, in all of his Clone Trooper glory. And please, whatever you do, do not tell him he makes an awesome Stormtrooper. He knows the difference & is not afraid to correct you on this point.

Damn kid. He's just too smart for his own good.

The Newest Ravioli!!!!

Please join me in welcoming the newest Ravioli!! He was born today, November 7th...sometime this afternoon. This is baby Carter. He is the new baby boy to my brother-in-law, Craig...his lovely wife, Beth and big sister (our neice), Taylor. We are so happy! Connor is happy too, that a boy cousin has joined the ranks!

Ms. Post, Miss Manners....Where Are You?

The other night, our friend Jon & the lovely lady he is dating, came over for dinner. At the end of the meal, a 'debate' arose about proper table manners. I had stated that, if there were a pie on the table (or any food - pie was just the example) and everyone had pie, that it is rude to just take the last piece. I believe that, for example, if I wanted the pie I should say, "Does anybody else want some pie?" And if so, the proper thing to do is to share. I feel that it is rude to just take it without thought or consideration to anyone else. And this is where the debate began. It seems that I was minority. That everyone else thought that it was acceptable behavior.
I'm not trying to say that my way is 'right' or that in viewing someone as having bad manners means that they, in turn are bad, just that the 'behavior' itself is bad. I am just simply stating my personal view & the view that I was taught to believe as being 'proper'.
I've done some research on the 'net and have yet to find any clear-cut answer. I have found that Chinese custom dictates that it is considered extremely rude to just take the last serving and on an etiquette website it was stated that, "Courtesy should always be exerted when eating with others."
So, to you all, I pose the question: Is it rude to just take the last serving of something without asking others if they would like some??

It's Your Right

SO VOTE, DAMMIT! Here are some reasons why:

-Take responsibility to institute a change. We desperately need it.
-Because if you don't vote & then want to bitch.....I DON'T WANT TO HEAR IT!
-As said before 'it is your right'
-You're tired of taking things lying down
-You'd be setting a good example for your kids by being civically responsible

OK, that's all I have to say about that. It is important that you do, though. So, DO IT!

Sunday Morning Song of The Moment

As I am usually short on blogging material on the weekends and now I am bogged down with school work, I have decided to implement a recurring feature on Sundays.
It will highlight a song that has touched me so much that I need to share it. It may be a song I've heard millions of times before or one that I've just discovered. It's hard to say what genre it will be from, as I am all over the place in my musical tastes. But one thing will ring true with all of the songs-to-be-featured on Sundays: they have rocked my world in one way or another.

So, without further ado, here is the first feature for Week One of the Sunday Morning Song of The Moment:

"First Day of My Life" by Bright Eyes

This is the first day of my life

I swear I was born right in the doorway

I went out in the rain suddenly everything changed

They're spreading blankets on the beach

Yours is the first face that I saw

I think I was blind before I met you

Now I don't know where I am

I don't know where I've been

But I know where I want to go

And so I thought I'd let you know

That these things take forever

I especially am slow

But I realize that I need you

And I wondered if I could come home

Remember the time you drove all night

Just to meet me in the morning

And I thought it was strange you said everything changed

You felt as if you had just woke up

And you said, "this is the first day of my life

I'm glad I didn't die before I met you

But now I don't care I could go anywhere with you

And I'd probably be happy"

So if you want to be with me

With these things there's no telling

We just have to wait and see

But I'd rather be working for a paycheck

Than waiting to win the lottery

Besides maybe this time is different

I mean I really think you like me

For Those Of You Who Watch 'Lost'....

I was sitting in class last night & we were going over Philosophies of the Enlightenment (the 17th Century). And there were two philosophers they highlighted...... One being a man named John Locke - who viewed children as tabula rasa (blank slates). He believed in not bribing your children with material things, but rather praise. He was also opposed to physical punishment. And can I just add here that, Episode 3 of Season 1 was named 'Tabula Rasa'!?

The next philosopher highlighted was Jean Jacques Rousseau - a french philosopher. Who believed children were noble savages, meaning they were naturally endowed with a sense of right and wrong.

Anyway.....I was in class & saw these two names. I (almost) blurted out in the middle of lecture, "Does anyone here watch 'Lost'??" But was able to contain myself. Instead, I came home & showed Ravioli, who also, thought it was pretty cool.
Coincidence? Maybe.
Am I a Geek? No doubt.

Closer To Fine

2 nights of 2 new classes behind me! Wooohooo!
Tonight's class was great. It's going to be tough one. But the instructor is great & I'll get a lot out of this one.
I enjoyed getting involved in discussions & not instantly be taken for being 'argumentative', disruptive or riled-up. I didn't feel at all bad for putting my thoughts out there - even if, at times, I was just playing Devil's Advocate for the sake of interesting discussion. It feels good not be misunderstood.
For Once.

Thursday Thirteen Character Line-Up

My Thriteen Favorite Literary Characters

1) Atticus Finch - In my 'book' (no pun intended), there is no better character. He is the epitome of 'good' and justice. Just a simple, quiet, smart man.

2) Scout Finch - Hilarious, cheeky and smart.

3) Boo Radley - He always gives me chill at the end of the book. A character that is barely present as far as dialogue - but THERE the entire time.

Considering "To Kill A Mockingbird" is my favorite book, I had to put 3 characters from it on here.

4) Olivia the pig from the children's books by Ian Falconer

5) Ramona Quimby from the 'Ramona' series of books

I know, I know these two are from children's books, but they're both cheeky, precocious and funny. I can't argue with that.

6) Professor Dumbledore (this needs no explanation)

7) Scarlett O'Hara - I read the book before I saw the movie, thank goodness. Because I was totally disappointed in her character developement, or lack there-of, in the movie. People always have preconceived notions on this character - some are true. But you have to read the book to get a full appreciation of how courageous she was. A great character for young women to read about.

8) Hannibal Lecter - Again, reading the book allows you to dive deeper into the abyss of this character's mind. Macabre, yet amazing.

9) Chief Bromden from "One Flew Over The Cukoo's Nest"

10) David Sedaris as "Crumpet" in 'Holidays On Ice' -freaking hilarious, like all of his stuff.

11) Miss Havisham from 'Great Expectations' - I read this years and years ago and just remember being surprised and interested in this character. I need to give this book a re-read.

12) Elphaba from 'Wicked'. I'll be honest, I havent' finsished this book yet. However, I'm completely taken in by this character who is to become the Wicked Witch of The West.

13) Ruth from 'The Book of Ruth' - again, another book that deserves a re-read. I remember how down-trodden this character was and she just keeps plugging along. She could be so simple, yet smart. She just never trusted herself.


**Added On**
By-the-by, I mean "The Book of Ruth" by Jane Hamilton...not the biblical book. Just thought I'd clear that up.

Been Caught Stealin'

Connor's preschool has the AR reading program called Book-In-A-Bag. The school sends home a book in a big ziplock bag for the week. We're supposed to read it everyday and then ask questions. The books are given out on Monday and returned on Friday. The book he was given this week was "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star". So, when he comes home with another book (that is not in a bag) yesterday, I was a bit puzzled. And this is where the story begins.........

Connor comes home from school. He quickly sheds his backpack, opens it up and voila! out pops 'Corduroy goes to the Fire Station' book. Bryan & I look at each other like, "What the.....?" And we know this is trouble.

So, we begin the interrogation.

"Connor, Did Ms. L____ give you this book?" To which he replied, "Nooooo." So then we follow with, "Ok, well then how did you get this book in your backpack?" giggle, smirk....giggle, smirk.....giggle, smirk.... He says, "I sneaked it." Being the somber parents in situations like these, Ravioli & I begin to chuckle a bit. Have you ever watched Saturday Night Live epidsodes with Jimmy Fallon & Horatio Sanz? And they begin to lose it during a skit - they know they shouldn't laugh, they're trying to keep it reigned in, they're trying to regain composure, but just can't? Well, that was us. We're trying oh-so-hard to remain firm and stern. (I had to go in the basement to laugh because I just couldn't handle it anymore).

Anyhooo, I pull myself together & commence with the interrogation.

Connor tells this tale about how a boy in his class had this train book & Ms. M____ (the aide in the class) read this little boy's train book. And he wants her to read one of his. I explain to Connor that if he wants to share a book, we have A LOT of books that we can share. That taking something that doesn't belong to us, without permission is wrong. It's bad. I told him we need to call Ms. L_____ right away. (You should've seen the look on his face. I think he thought I was just threatening him.)
I call Ms. L______ and get her voicemail. (He's off the hook for now - sort of). I leave her a message and ask her to call me back.

Once again, we commence with the interrogation.......

"Connor, how did you get the book in your backpack? Did anyone see you do it?"
"Noooo."
At this point he begins mumbling and we can't really understand him, but we're getting the distinct impression he left the room by himself, walked to his locker, put it in his backpack and strolled back into class like nothing happened.
We let it go for the evening.

This Morning....
Connor is sitting with me on the sofa. I look at him and say, "Connor. Where was your backpack when you took the book? In your classroom or in your locker??" He replied, "In my locker. I walked to it right before Ms. L_____ called me to go get my backpack." Hmmmm......
A few minutes later, the phone rings & it's Ms. L_____. I explain to her the story & she says that the boy with the train book brought that in, that it was his book. He put it on the classroom bookshelf & then was asked to put the book in his backpack. And that it sounds like Connor snuck out during clean-up. To which I said, "Well, he really chose his moment then." She said, 'Yes, it's very busy during that time." So, she thanked me for calling & said they (Connor & her) would talk at school today & that today was a special assembly for Positive Behavior & that she thinks she'll make him miss some of it, as a punishment. To try to let him know what he did was wrong - on quite a few levels.
I know my baby did wrong....but my heart broke when she said this. I know that he must be accountable. But it pains me that he's probably going to have a crappy day at school today.
I have to remain strong. I could very easily keep him home. But I have to send him on that bus, where he'll sit happily. Not knowing what is coming in a few short minutes.
I have to keep telling myself that there is a HUGE lesson for him to be learned here. That the best lessons are always the toughest.
Yeah, we're not talking about Capital Murder, Grand Theft Auto or Kidnapping. But what is wrong is wrong. What is right is right. This hurts to know my baby is paying the piper today. But as it is, there aren't enough parents who hold their children accountable when they've done wrong. They want to protect them, make excuses and blame everyone else. That's my first reaction, as a parent. But we're not doing right by our kids or society in doing that.
I'm not trying to make a mountain out of a mole hill, by any means. But I'm just airing out my process in dealing with this. That this is my first 'big' lesson as a parent. That I'm learning right along side my little one.

I'm Taking A Luvah

In response to the Love Fest that is going on, I have to pay homage to my bloggy loves.

I first fell for Maigh by accident. I fell for her hard. She sucked me in with her humor, her straightforward writing, her fiestyness and her raw humanity. She has the courage to call things like she sees them and she stands for doing something good. Her humor and courage are inspiring to me. I leave her site always wanting more. Damn, she's good. I'm telling ya. She is.
I stalked and lurked. Lurked and stalked. And after reading for months, I finally got the courage to post a comment. And my hands were shaking as I plunked out my little thoughts to a beautiful post.
Truth-be-told, she inspired me to start my own blog. Which, obviously, I did. And the first time she commented, I was jumping up & down and waving my hands in front of my face like I had just come in contact with John Lennon or Bob Marley....or Janis Joplin (impossible, I know. But they are the only 'celebrities' that I have an interest in meeting...and telling about it). Very exciting for me.
I do have to spread the love to Maigh. She's awesome and beautiful and funny.

Next I would have to shout Crazy Love to SlackerMommy. She was the first blog I 'found' after I had started my own blog. I could relate to so many things she said. It was like reading my own writing & experiences. She made me feel like I was 'ok'. I took comfort in knowing someone else 'out there' was feeling the same way. I liked that she was 'keepin' it real'. That she wasn't going to sugar coat motherhood, wifehood or being a stay-at-home mom. She was exactly what I was looking for - at just the right moment.
The thing I love most about Slackermommy is her sense of humor. Her ability to laugh at herself and her kids. And at the same time she is loving and heartfelt.
SlackerMommy has kindness that is inspiring, as well as, creativity and talent that make me jealous.
SlackerMommy also deserves HUGE, HUGE credit for the new look on my blog. She spent A TON of time working on it, creating that awesome header, and so much more. She is AMAZING. And it blew me away that a 'stranger' would do something that nice for me.
See what I mean about SlackerMommy??
I adore her.

I lovey-dovey my Pippa. She was the next one I found after starting my own blog. Pippa is a big ball of sunshine. She has courage to put herself out there - about the good, the bad, the heart-wrenching. However, her humor and her optimism always peeks through. She always picks me up with her comments.
I love that I wake up, sign on, check out my blog & there she is. Like a little pixie that has sprinkled me with her special fairy dust while I was sleeping. Pippajo has left me a comment that picks me up & carries me through the rest of the day - with it's empathy, humor and sensitivity. She always seems to be there when I need someone the most.
She is Supreme Mugwump.

And lastly, Jen. Who has been a relatively new love. But a love just the same. There is so much to say about this brave beauty. But I fear I don't have the words.
She is courageous, exciting, humble, gracious and giving. Her comments are eloquent. And her blog is rich, poignant and lovely.
I feel that the stars did align in bringing her to my site. And that two wandering souls managed to wander to each other. How awesome is that????
I look forward to reading her everyday and feel better for knowing that there is someone out there to fight for those who can't always fight for themselves.
She is a warrior and I am in awe of her.