- S. Rose
- Lyndonville, Vermont, United States
- Hi there and welcome to my blog. I am a married 60 year old woman who still has the mind of a twenty year old. I have three children and two grandsons. I've been to hell and back each time stronger than the time before. If I can help you then it was all worth it.
Wednesday, July 31, 2019
Hi there and welcome to my blog. I am a married 60 year old woman who still has the mind of a twenty year old. I have three children and two grandsons. I've been to hell and back each time stronger than the time before. If I can help you then it was all worth it.
Tuesday, July 30, 2019
Days, months, then years passed as time does, My pain faded into the past. I never forgot about my green-eyed, dark-skinned boy at the local swimming pool. I sat dreamily gazing out the window. It was the day after Valentines. In my mind's eye, I was that young girl of fifteen sitting at the edge of the local pool sunbathing.
The Californian sky was a vivid dark blue, a slight breeze was gently moving my long brown, sun-bleached hair. One day in January I went to visit some old friends I had gone to school with. They were two sisters having been married living side by side in an apartment complex downtown in Palm Springs.
They all had to go to work leaving me with instructions to turn off the oven when the timer went off. I was sitting waiting when the door opened and in came Ricky, My first love was right here in front of me. we started to see each other again. January turned to February turning into Valentine's Day. I stared at the phone deciding to give Rick a call at his place of employment to wish him a Happy Valentine's day.
Heres the call I remember making. I was twenty-two: "Hello, I'd like to speak to Rick if he's available to please"? My heart sped up with excitement at the anticipated sound of his voice. I never knew what that saying, "time stopped" truly meant until I heard what came out of the phone's receiver, "I'm sorry, he died". I hung up in disbelief dialing my mother wailing, "He's dead".
He had died in a car collision coming from a place called Shakey's Pizza. Some boys had gone out to Shakeys Pizza and were coming to the crossroads that had no traffic light and smashed into the car he and his brother were driving in. I was in shock for days.
Hi there and welcome to my blog. I am a married 60 year old woman who still has the mind of a twenty year old. I have three children and two grandsons. I've been to hell and back each time stronger than the time before. If I can help you then it was all worth it.
Monday, July 29, 2019
I loved Art, Cooking, and Choir I remember the first time I got kicked out of a class. Some kid behind me from laughing had farted which sent me into peals of laughter. So I got kicked out. As I was heading down the hallway I heard a voice behind me to wait up. The rest of my class were behind me and we all went to my music class. That did not impress my teacher at all as I explained I had never been kicked out of class before. I innocently told him I didn't know I had to go to the principles office. Oops.
The kids, as a rule, were pretty cool. The boys were so immature. I remember this one tall Afro-American boy who in between walking down the hall to classes liked to jump over a girl's head or stick someone with a pin. He stuck a pin in me once. I was not impressed so when I got home the next day I brought my mother's darning needles to school brandishing them in front of this kid's face. He left me alone after that.
Another boy would punch me in the arm as he walked by me. He thought he was cool carrying this pocket knife around. I had had enough of this kid so one day he had his knife out at lunch and running by I grabbed it with him in hot pursuit. It ended with me running down one of the grassy hilly areas suddenly ducking down into almost a ball cracking up when he flew over me tumbling the rest of the way down the hill. I tossed his knife into a trash can. He left me alone after that. Junior High wasn't all about embarrassments. I did have two escapes, my love of art and music.
The rest of Jr. High is pretty much of a blur. I was so relieved when it was all done. Another summer was here with camping, swimming, Sea World, Magic Mountain, The San Deigo Zoo, Knotsberry Farm, The Wax Museum were just a few of the places our family would go too.
I remember the first time I wanted to shave. I was a young girl and I had very hairy legs which of course made me feel very self-conscious. So one day I sneaked into my parent's master bathroom borrowing my father's very sharp razor which I had been warned never to touch. I snuck the razor into my bathroom excited, I was going to have beautifully smooth shaved legs. I sure could have used Google back then for at least I knew to lather up my legs first. I start at the top of my foot and draw the razor along the top of my leg to my knee.
Have you ever cut yourself with a very sharp razor? If you have then you know at first you don't feel anything at all but you know there's something wrong. Next is this awful stinging sensation with blood flowing out of five or six little chunks of shin skin up the length of my poor leg. I managed to finish shaving only much more carefully around the little holes in my leg. I got better at shaving after learning the hard way which was mostly the only way I learned about life. I wore pants for a week. Now I know where the phrase growing up can painful comes from. I heard my Dad your hollering from his bathroom. When you use a mans razor it dulls very quickly.
Images are flashing by for I had some very good times despite the fact I was still a loner belonging to no group of kids but trying to fit in. Nothing like I am now that’s for sure! Having to wear, yes my mother kept on buying youngish clothing, what she picked out was embarrassing. We would go to Sears and/or J.C. Pennys my mother armed with a credit card. For some reason, my father came along and it's he that I went to with my 'clothing issues'. I would make my argument over whatever I was being forced to wear, he would issue his verdict. I would win. It usually was about wearing outdated stuff. Going to Jr. High I knew you had to change in front of other girls in Physical Education. No way was I going to wear cotton brief panties with little flowers on them! We settled on cotton crouch solid print bikinis. Now I needed bras.
Saturday, July 27, 2019
My very first job. My dad working as a carpenter knew lots of people. The pay was $1.20 an hour. The register was one of that big clunky machine that using it I broke a nail. I worked on the weekends getting my first check was awesome. Now I could buy my clothes. I liked being at the mall. I'm a people watcher which I did on my breaks. I would get to work to the smell of freshly baked donuts. You would take the tray out of the oven lowering them into a glaze. They were so good melting in your mouth. A person who battled weight gain had no business working at a donut shop. I stayed with it for a while eventually moving on to a new store.
Oh boy, another store with lots of great food. I got to cut up samples trying each different cheese or sausage. The store itself was very rustic. I loved working there. I was taught how to make cheese balls. There is a long steel metal rod that you slide down this smelly block of cheese. I would fashion the cut-out cheese into a ball rolling it in nuts. Know I knew where and how cheeseballs were made. I also was taught how to make up the boxes of food that were sent all over the United States. You laid down that fake green grass-like you use for easter baskets. Whatever that particular box called for is what you laid in the box, sprinkle strawberry wrapped candies that had a chewy middle. Lastly, you would print out a label, stick it on the box and off it. I had that job a few months. I liked getting a check. The Palm Springs mall which today is all closed down. There was this little record shop I loved going into. I didn't buy albums. I like 45's. Little by little my records built up. I would get bored at home, close my bedroom door, sit cross-legged in front of my record player, flipping over the 45's finding some more good music. Later on, I would borrow the living room stereo for the record playing part. My parents finally bought a new one giving me the old one. I was addicted to the almighty dollar.
Now we are getting to one of many “Happy Places” in my life. I will write what I see in my mind's eye for to this day which I am now 60 years old I can still see that part of my life as clearly as if it was just yesterday.
It was the normal hot sunny day in Palm Springs, California at the local High School pool. The pool water was a nice clear blue itself, nice and cool. I had on my first bikini that my father had given the OK for me to wear which had flowers and ties on the top and sides. These were promptly tied tight the minute I left sight of my house.
I close my eyes and I can see and almost feel the warm tile beneath me which I had splashed with pool water to cool it down so I could sit. I would sit next to the lifeguard tower which I thought was the perfect job in the whole world to get a good tan.
As I tilted my face towards the sun closing my eyes through the gate came a couple of boys armed with a big black plastic inner tube throwing it into the pool making the water shift slightly, a loud noise of plastic hitting the water rang out. One boy was dark-skinned, the other I recognized lived in my neighborhood. I went to school with his sister. My mother wouldn't let me be friends with them because her mother had two many "uncles" aka boyfriends. When I finally did get to meet their mother I loved her.
Taking a running jump, they both cannon-balled into the pool making a huge splash jostling each other for the inner tube. Meanwhile, I would glance over when the boys were submerged then looking away as they came up shouting, continuing to nonchalantly sunbath. After a few more minutes of horseplay, the boy Matt from my neighborhood came swimming over to the side where I was sitting telling me as I blushed slightly, his friend would like to meet me. Thus began my first love affair.
We dated for the rest of the summer meeting at the High School pool. There was this unfamiliar butterfly fluttering in my stomach. I was in love with this handsome, dark-skinned, slanted green-eyed boy.
We had been seeing each other and wanted me to meet his cousins. The next day in through the pool's gate comes three teenage girls. Two were sisters, the other girl was from my neighborhood sister of the boy who had introduced me to my Rick. I was invited over to his cousin's house and fell in love. It was the kind of life I had dreamed of. We became the best of friends and I miss them all dearly. I have tried to find them on Facebook with no success. I suppose I could try harder but would not be sure of the meeting so I don't. There were Karen and Diane who were sisters. Ann and later on Rita. We became very close, I slept over every chance I got. Their parents were like parents to me, they were Italian. Well, half, Josie the mother was.
I remember big tall shining pots of bubbling homemade spaghetti sauce with homemade bread dipping a piece into the pot and being scolded told to stay out of it; a smokey kitchen at night while the adults played cards and smoked cigarettes. Trips to Cherry Valley to visit their relatives who were 100% Italian to the point of a stone wall oven in this huge kitchen with the delicious smells of baking bread coming out. I loved it. I often regret the path that took me away from them but all those memories are priceless.
Anyways back to the cutest guy in the whole wide world who has since passed may he R.I.P but that’s a whole different story.
I remember talking my parents into letting me go on my first date at almost sixteen. It was to the movies and hell if I can remember the movie, but it was me, Ricky, and his cousins. So holding my breath until he asked me to “go steady” with him we were right into each other. He paid me a lot of attention. He introduced me to Led Zeppelin's Stairway To Heaven which I learned every word. I felt so loved.
We would have long make-out sessions to which was what teenagers did, but that was as far as that went. It was all and good, but my mother had to ruin it by insisting that he came over to my house and that was never a good idea. We would meet up at the mall but my mom made it harder and harder to see him and he finally broke up with me which broke my teenage heart. God the tears flowed and flowed and I blamed my mother. She had no trust in me at all. Maybe because she got pregnant with me, but she should have trusted me more.
Finally, the summer came to an end. I was in my senior year finally having friends to hang out with. I had my choir class which I loved. We were a class of sixty-four singers. We were so good we traveled all over for singing contests which we would always win. I loved it. The other activity I enjoyed was joining the all-girls league of softball. We all became really good going out playing games and winning most of them. I played third base. I could also when up to bat could hit a perfect third-line drive which usually went through the girl's third-base man's legs. It was a hell of a good time.
My mother wanted me to enjoy my Senior year insisting I take all eight classes when I only needed a couple of credits to graduate. I ended up taking all the extra classes; Art, Home Economics, Softball, Choir and working in the Office.
This memory just came to me: I smile when telling this story about one of two times I snuck a boy into my room. This is never a good idea. Of course, my parents came home early and if anyone outside the house was looking they would have seen a teenage boy jumping out my window! Here's what happened.
Me: "I can't believe it, my parents came home early"!
As I'm shoving Ricky into my closet I cranked up my music.
When my parents got in the house my mother hollered for me to turn down my music.
Me and Ricky freaking out saying "Oh crap"...a lot.
Me: Opening my window pushing the screen out telling Ricki to jump out helping him by pushing his legs.
I have told this story a few times and when I told him which fences to jump over, he jumped over the wrong fence coming face to face with my backyard neighbor's Doberman. Needless to say, he yelled at me when he got home. I told him it was his fault!
I look back at it today and can't help grinning at the craziness of that day. Anyways I and his cousins remained friends all through my 12th year and they were all in their 11th year and that’s when at the ending of my 12th year I and the girls went looking for a boy to take me to the Prom which I didn't want to go to. Again my mother insisted.
Thursday, July 25, 2019
My best favorite memories of my childhood were visiting my cousins and my grandparents who all lived in San Diego, California who was on my father's side. My Aunt Stella and Uncle Dan, my dad's brother, lived in San Diego. My parents decided to move there.
I remember a trailer park and a very cold trailer. I fed squirrels peanuts by hand. In my new school, I had made one new friend so far and went over to her house listening to music being silly with music wearing a banana peel for a hat. My old school sent me a Valentines Day Card signed with everyone's name from my third-grade class on it. My mom was pregnant with my brother at that time and I barely remember a house we had moved into and squishing my finger in a doorway. Funny the stuff you remember.
I loved San Diego. My Aunt and Uncle had a two-story drafty house which us kids trampled through when we traveled the three hours to visit them. There were one older brother and two sisters and later to come to another boy. I remember lots and lots of green shrubberies, the cool air that warmed up around noontime, plants, and trees everywhere and about eight blocks down was the beach which I practically lived on. I Almost drowned once but that’s pretty good after a lifetime of swimming in the ocean. I got caught in a rip-tide which are very dangerous. I was under long enough to see sparks.
I always thought it was so neat to be able to see the ocean from my cousin's house. Getting down to the beach was the ultimate rush tho! My Uncle had taken skateboards and built them into scooters and we all had one. Our shoes were our brakes much to my mother's dismay. We all wore the bottoms off!
I sure wish I had that kind of energy again running up and down that hill and stomping through the neighbor's yards playing a night game of tag. It was non-stop fun. Then we would all go upstairs and blankets were laid out for us all to sleep on in that attic with the slanted walls that I occasionally bumped into. I had my first coffee from my Aunt Stella. Lots of creamer and sugar and I loved it! My mother was totally against it so it was our little secret.
Next, would come running in and out and all around the neighborhood until it became time for strawberry homemade ice cream that never failed to give me brain freeze it was so good. Later on, we would have a watermelon seed spitting contest. Watermelon seeds everywhere which made the critters happy. I loved it there.
My Aunt read Tarot Cards which my mother was also totally against but I'm sorry to say my mother didn't like much. Her way was the right way. Aunt Stella read my cards one day. They said I was going to meet a tall dark and handsome man. I was still too young to be thinking about that.
I liked the inside of Aunt Stella's house with the beaded curtains which us kids would go swishing through and brightly colored decorations all over. My mother found it “tacky”. I loved it. I would dream of how this was my real life and thank God for dreams for they are free.
So we would stay the weekend and then the dreaded three-hour drive home with my parents bickering and arguing all the way with my father driving like a maniac passing cars on hills that I would have a nice upset stomach by the time we got home.
I remember the year my family went to visit my mother's sister in Kansas. My dad drove all the way there. I was a teenager wanting nothing to do with the whole trip. But I had had to go anyways. Sometimes I wonder whatever happened to my cousins. If I should have kept in touch. Oh well too late now. After a string of Motel 6's and Denny restaurants we finally made it to Kansas City, Kansas.
I still remember going out in the front yard catching fireflies. I and my cousins filled a jar with these tiny flies that lite up. I thought that was so cool. My Aunt had this garden in her backyard. I loved that. One night my Uncle Gordon and my dad had decided to go frog hunting. We all went out back where the earthworms were snatching at them buried in the dirt which they would occasionally break in half. When we had enough my dad and uncle drove my uncle's car pulling the rowboat behind it to a pond nearby. I was told you baited the frogs with the worms smacking the frogs on the head to kill them. I firmly told my mom and aunt there was no way I was going to eat frog legs. So the men came home victoriously dumping a bucketful of frogs into my aunt's kitchen sink. Of course, the legs, once they were cut off from the frog's main body, started jumping in the sink. I was grossed out as I got a lesson in biology about a frogs muscle spasms.
With my mom and my aunt in the kitchen, dinner served in huge steaming bowls of corn on the cob, baby potatoes, green beans, and salad fixings. This was all from my aunts garden. The soil in Kansas is perfect for growing produce. I looked down at my plate at those frog legs tentatively taking a tiny bite. Sure enough, those gross little twitchy frog legs did taste like chicken. My Aunt, later on, started sculpting starting in her oven at home. She would take her craft to the various stores selling, building up her reputation until she was able to buy her store. Looking back now I wish I had kept in touch but the only thing I can do is try to impress the importance of staying in touch with family. As long as they are worth it and not abusive. The week was over it was time to say good-bye. I was sad to leave but glad to get back home.
I had the coolest dream last night. The main theme was a tidal wave. More accurately a Tsunami. I have always been fascinated by the power of Mother Nature. She can be so warm, loving, and comfort you to sleep or she can be a royal bitch! Either way, nature's disasters are as deadly as they are fascinating which leads me to my dream.
My husband and I have been waiting for some lifestyle changes that hopefully will come sooner than later. Of course, all the anticipation and impatience can seep deep into your subconscious causing you to dream out your frustrations and give you signs if you know what you are looking for.
I have always been a vivid dreamer in bright colors remembering my dreams in every detail. I have been this way as far back as I can remember. There are those dreams that you revisit the same in every detail, the dreams that you travel to unknown places, the dreams where you are watching yourself from overhead.
I have dreamed of Tsunami's before and this one last night was a little different. If you are interested I will walk you through my dream.
I remember being in a town that was built on a hill surrounded by cliffs. The houses were whitewashed with trees, shrubbery, and flowers all around. It's a bright sunny day, not too hot, people are bustling around. The main pathway led up to the cliffs that surrounded this cute, quaint little town.
I and the other villagers were walking about down at the bottom of this town built on a hill, I remember stopping to hear clearly what was coming up behind me. It sounded like a low dull roar and I heard run for your life! I start to run looking over my shoulder I see this huge crystal clear tidal wave coming up behind me.
I'm thinking to get to the top of this tree and you know dreams, I was magically at the top of this huge tree watching as this tidal wave washed harmlessly under me then residing back down the hill again.I'm back down to the ground again and another wave starts to roar coming up behind me so now I'm frantically climbing up to the town's bell tower but I knew I wasn't high enough as this wave took me under.
As I was spinning around and around I could see the top coming to a stop being placed gently on the side of the cliff only it was covered with bright flowers and little lambs. It was so beautiful as I looked around I wanted to stay there. Then I woke up.
I have been on dream sites before. When my son in his teenage years was setting up my first email address he asked me what username I wanted. I wasn't sure so he named me Dreamlady. Both my children have heard stories of my dreams and were always fascinated.
The most significant part of my dream was, of course, the Tsunami. Water and lots of it. The second was crystal clear water. Let's go see what these symbols mean.
To see water in your dream symbolizes your subconscious and your emotional state of mind. Water is the living essence of the psyche and the flow of life energy. It is also symbolic of spirituality, knowledge, healing, and refreshment. To dream that water is boiling suggests that you are expressing some emotional turmoil. Feelings from your subconscious are surfacing and ready to be acknowledged. You need to let out some steam. To dream that a wall of water is coming towards you implies that your emotions are welling up and can potentially close you off to others.
To see a tidal wave in your dream represents an overwhelming emotional issue that demands your attention. You may have been keeping your feelings and negative emotions bottled up inside for too long. On a positive note, the tidal wave symbolizes the clearing away of old habits. If you are carried away by the tidal wave, then it means that you are ready to make a brand new start in a new place. To dream that you can create a tidal wave with your mind is analogous to your ability to control your emotions and keep them in line.
This is very true to what is going on in my life and it's okay to run on instinct as well.
What do you dream about?
Wednesday, July 24, 2019
Mexico is also the best place in the world. My family and I must have gone there at least twenty times. As an adult now I know why “one piece of baloney” and “one glass of milk at night with dinner” etc. was for going on vacations. It would have been nice to be told this! But again that’s why I insisted on any kids I had we would communicate. Sometimes loudly but communicating either way!
Going through customs at the border you are already getting the feel of Mexico flavor. You look across the border seeing and hearing the people, the noise. We actually had our car stripped once which I watched with great interest. Took our car seats out, tires off. The border police were looking for contraband.
You drive through dusty streets with vendors selling giant powdery treats for a quarter which were very yummy. Little dirty-faced kids surrounding you yelling “por favor” please in Spanish with their little dirty brown hands stretched out pleading for money.
I had been warned about three things...DON'T DRINK THE WATER...DON'T GIVE CHANGE TO THE LITTLE BEGGERS...and whatever you do DON'T EAT TACOS from a street vendor it could be a ~shudder~ dog. Which of course to the teenage lover of dogs grossed me right out.
I loved the shops with the smiling vendors, it was like a covered Flea Market with Mexican shawls, shoes, toys, etc all hanging around you. I loved it. Even as frugal as mom was I still got a toy for a quarter which I played with the whole trip. I vaguely remember staying in a hotel once and it wasn't very good experience with a broken A.C. and the room was filthy.
When we went the next time we had a camper. I loved riding on the top bunk in that camper. I would always pass out and later when my little brother Christopher came along when he got older we would ride up bunk bouncing a the same time together giggling and laughing.
I remember meeting a young girl my age and her introducing me to my first papaya walking along the beach line not being able to speak each other's language but still laughing and smiling. It was so pretty with blue skies and the water was so warm like bathwater. I would run in and out of the water at will.
Snorkeling was a lot of fun. I remember one time my cousins came with us. I and my cousin decided to snorkel. It was a gorgeous day with a blue sky and warm water. Wetting my mask I put the plastic mouthpiece to breathe in my mouth, looking at my cousin doing the same, we sunk into the water and started swimming wearing the fins my parents had bought.
I loved those pushing me through the water so much faster than bare feet. We swam up to a giant coral hill and started circling it and a bunch of small colorful fish came swimming by which I thought was just amazing. I went to touch the coral and felt stinging on my fingers then they started bleeding. My daredevil cousin made me get out of the water and onto the beach so the blood wouldn't attract sharks. I sure miss him. That's when my cousin was alive may he ~Rip~
Mexico Mexico/United States Border
Monday, July 22, 2019
My little baby is fast asleep in her tote. I had to think of somewhere to put her while she heals the rest of the way. I don't want to step on her or rollover her with one of our computer chairs. She is very underweight hence the rename Q-Tip which I thought was funny-sad. She will be back to our bouncy little Cottonball soon enough. But the little darling is eating her wet food, crunching on a nugget or two of her dry food. She is drinking water and milk. She's getting better at getting to her litter box which I rejoice that she has and still is using it. She still lists to the right having since her accident of being crushed under my chair, a swans neck. Or really any kind of bird that can tuck its head under its wing. So I'm very proud of myself for bringing her back to the land of the living but basically, she's the one who pulled it off.
Sunday, July 21, 2019
Now that I've reached the age of sixty looking back at all my relationships which I do less and less of now. I've realized not all domestic violence comes with a black eye. Throw in a chemical imbalance. Anger to cover any emotion you may have of a negative nature, flare-ups of huge fights with your other half are bound to happen if the other half isn't that understanding, or, doesn't give a shit about you. I didn't even realize I had a chemical imbalance until I starting seeing a Doctor who is now deceased. He prescribed Zolaf and my world became a lot less angry. But before that, we will start with my first husband.
I married my first husband on a rebound which was one of the many mistakes I would make. He was a big fat liar. He lied about every and anything. I researched it and found he was what is called a chronic liar. Someone who can't help themselves like shoplifters. I tried like hell to make a go of it. The best thing that came out of being married to him we got hired on a Sportsfishing boat. That will be on my Traveling page.
The mental abuse never stopped. When I was pregnant with my first child, my mother would stop by and visit me in my tiny studio apartment. Don was off at his job, I was home alone. She discovered there was no food in my fridge by asking for ice cubes. I would tell her we were fine. Then she told me she has seen my husband at Burger King eating a big hamburger. I had a pkg. of bologna. I didn't believe her thinking maybe she saw someone who looked like him. I was 8 months pregnant.
It went on like that. I would yell and scream, after all, I grew up with yelling and screaming. We would have a huge fight with him denying everything. I had no choice but to believe his lies. I mean how could he do that to me? I was pregnant for god's sake. My mom had gone out and brought back a bag of groceries which I silently wished he would choke on it.
Another time he went out coming home telling me he had a job stocking at this department store. I would pack him lunches kissing him goodbye thinking finally he was doing the right thing. I was happy again. I was nine months pregnant. My mother came over as usual and knowing I wouldn't believe anything she told me asked if I would like to surprise my husband at his work and go out for lunch. We get there only to find out he had worked one day and quit. What the hell was he doing for those two weeks? Anger diffently wasn't good for my pregnancy.
You think that's bad. Besides living in our little Ford with two friends of his, then graduating to a tent and being taken in by strangers which I'm sure people out there can relate to. I had got hired at a restaurant. We were living in a navy based apts. I had had my baby by then. My husband went out and didn't come home. This happened for two weeks. Then one day my old captain of the sports fishing boat came to my job. He had news of where my husband was.
He had been working on another boat. My jaw dropped and I saw red. So I called my mother getting a transfer to where I was born. I was going home. my parents made the three-hour trip to take me and my baby back home. My mom helped me get an apartment, I was done with my husband. Life was about to get all fucked up.
Labels: Domestic Abuse
Saturday, July 20, 2019
Today is the second day of my kitten's fight for survival. The day before yesterday 7/18/2019 I was sat down in my recliner. Pulling the lever handle I made the foot of it come up. Like all curious kittens, Cotton was into everything and went everywhere that she could. As I was sitting there I started hearing this faint grunty cooing noise. I thought some pigeons were on our window sill like they sometimes do. No pigeons were there. Then it hit me. Cotton! With great tribulation, I pushed the lever to let the footstool down hoping and praying it wouldn't cut her in two.
Now both my husband and I have joint pain especially in our knees but my husband went down on his looking under my recliner as I held it up and sobbed Cottons name. Pulling her out her legs were bent in an unnatural position. And the noises she was making no longer sounded like normal meowing. Her head was at an unnatural angle we were stunned she still was alive.
To give her comfort we held her close while she slept from noon that day until 10pm at night she finally woke up. Since she couldn't make it to her kitty litter box I fashioned a small bed out of a paper egg cartoon the large one with a maxi pad attached to it. She's still small so she fit perfectly.
So up to date, she doesn't like to swallow which makes feeding her worrisome. She has used her litterbox twice with help once to pee once to poop. She's sleeping less and less. I have been taking her into the kitchen for exercise which she kept on going sideways to the left but today she took five steps, can sit up, and move all over her box. We set up a Go Fund Me which my daughter donated some money but that's it. We are keeping our fingers crossed she will become the healthy little kitten we already love dearly.
Friday, July 19, 2019
My 3-year-old grandson name is Barrett, Bear for short. I can't post his picture respecting his mother's wishes.
For a while now I have been meaning to connect with other long-distance grandma bloggers. I am easily distracted though so I sat down one day and told myself when I started a project keep going at it. Basically, I have made my husband look at me funny asking me what? He lives under headphones for peacekeeping reasons. Evidently, my inside voice was becoming my outside voice turning into a running dialogue. Since our computers are side by side, he got used to it turning up his volume. On one of the blog, I landed on jarred my memory of my grandson Barrett. He is almost four come August which is right now two months away. Here is the link long-distance grandma.
In this article like the blogs I've already been reading is talking about how to stay close to your grandkids who live across the country. In it was the usual Skype, Facechat which is becoming more and more popular, telephones, etc.
That jogged my memory when face chatting little Barrett was given the phone by his daddy with my okay started running around the house babbling away showing off their new house in Texas. Grandpa and I got to see the fan, the floor, the dining room, the curtains, the outside, and the bathroom which prompted little Bear, his nickname, to have to go pee.
So I got to cheer for the fourth time, grandpa's first for he has no children, on Bear hitting the toilet bowl grinning away while grandma and grandpa cheered.
Moments like that I will never forget although it just right this minute occurred to me we should have taken pictures. I'll have to check on that I know you can take pictures on Skype. Well back to reading these blogs which I hope to befriend at least one of these grandmas.
My 2-year-old grandson's name is Ace. I can't post his picture respecting his mother's wishes.
Thursday, July 18, 2019
Being a long-distance Grandma is a term I never thought would be applied to myself. Since I had a childhood with Aunts, Uncles, Cousins, Grandparents only a stone's throw away I thought when I grew up that would be my life. Here I thought a three-hour drive was a long way to go to see my cousins. Little did I know having grandkids would boil down to watching them on Facebook, Facechat, Instagram and all the other social media as a rule.
Now don't get me wrong. I did raise my son and daughter to be strong independent people. Waving to each of them as their turn came to take flight into this wide world of wonders.
I didn't give it a second thought migrating from California where I was born and raised ending up in Vermont. What adventures I have had. I defiantly want that for my kids and their kids. I wasn't ready for the soul-sucking sadness I would experience from the parting of thousands of miles.
Now I did get to go and visit my son and his wife when my first grandson was born. (My son bought the plane ticket) Then again for the second grandson taking tons of photos along the way. Having a daughter in Florida and my son in Texas my husband and I have two vacation choices saving from spending money for a Hotel room. That's the good part. The not so good part is the price of Airline tickets. As I get older traveling gets harder.
So here I was battling all these mixed emotions feeling guilty about most of them. I knew one thing for sure. My father could cut himself off from family like snapping your fingers. He distanced himself from his parents. His mother had a drinking problem. More like a full-blown alcoholic. Now that can be rough.
I think the only part of his family he kept in contact with is his only brother. Since I had been cut off way back in 1990 when my daughter was born. Thanks, Grandpa. It's been thirty-five years now. So I diffently wasn't going to do that. My son found it important enough for me to be there for he flew me out to Florida.
So here I was wishing, dreaming of a life with grandchildren growing up around you. My son's friend's kids growing up around me. Any teenage person that I had welcomed into my home their kids growing up around me. I would still be able to maintain the sound of children running through the house happily laughing.
It's no one's fault though. If I want to place any blame it would be the state of Maine. When you turn 50 you are considered a senior ~WHAT?~ riding the public bus for a quarter instead of fifty cents. The other side is you get a letter shortly after your birthday from the State declaring no more Medicaid for you. ~WHAT?~ Now there's a bummer. After the initial shock, my life did take another road but that's a different story.
If you are a long-distance grandma that's sad or not, I totally understand.
Tuesday, July 16, 2019
Going to stay at my Aunt and Step-Uncle's was fun. Note: They were my mom's Aunt and Step-Uncle. It got me away from all the fighting and arguing at home. On those weekends I was taken to a restaurant called Black Angus. They are famous for their steaks., homemade bread I would get to eat Angus steak, a baked potato loaded with real butter, sour cream and bacon bits. I never ate that at home for mom liked to save money for vacations. Then my Step-Uncle would order me a Shirley temple. Boy was that good. I never had room for dessert.
*Again, sounds normal enough.
On the outside, all was well and good. I was twelve and loved staying with my Aunt and Step-Uncle. We would all go swimming after eating a homemade sundae with all the works. My Aunt worked at a Fargo Bank, my Step-Uncle was a bug exterminator.
*They had money.
One day was it was my Aunt going to get her hair done day. My Step-Uncle had drunk a lot of vodka and Diet Tabs. He also liked looking at Playboy Magazines. In their bathroom, he had put up mirrors facing each other. He got me in there to show me how the images of me looked like it went on forever. I thought that was so cool.
*Funny what seems normal if it's family.
I remember my Step-Uncle casually asking me if he could wash my hair. I had long brown hair almost to my rear end. I thought about it and then agreed. Little by little he introduced me to see and do sexual things which I thought was perfectly normal in a secret way.
*Remember, I'm twelve.
So this went on for a couple of years and I started to tire of the sex games. I told my Step-Uncle this, he was sad. When I went into the bedroom where I slept I spotted a twenty-dollar bill laying on the dresser. That happened again, the same thing.
*Now I knew not only sexual things I learned sex equaled power.
I turned fifteen. I was interested in boys. When I met my first boyfriend I told my Step-Uncle absolutely no more. Oh boy, another twenty. Although he wanted to keep it up I stuck to my guns. I finally told my mom I was too old to go over there.
*It was finally done.
Needless to say, it was a clear case of child abuse. True to my word I said nothing until I had a daughter of my own. My mother would take her for the weekend freeing me up to do whatever I wanted. When she turned three mom asked me about taking my daughter over to my Aunt's which I replied more forcibly then I meant a resounding no!!!
*Truth is about to come out.
My mother has a way of nagging and arguing you into a frenzy which she started to do. Asking me why not blah blah blah. Finally, I blurted out what I and my Step-Uncle had done all those years. I'll never forget the look that came over her face. Shock, Disbelief, turning into pure rage.
*Despite the fact I was the victim I felt bad for telling my mom.
I was twenty-one by then living in a small town twenty minutes away. Mom had come to collect Amy. She briefed me on what happened when she went to my Aunt and Step-Uncle with the information I told her. My Aunt accused me of wearing a bikini around the house, it was my fault. My Step-Uncle promised to stop drinking.
*There were no more Thanksgiving dinners over there.
So you see how that played out. The abuser starts out slow. Showing you a magazine like Playboy. Your already comfortable because I had been going over since I was really little. Getting you naked, getting used to his touch. All the time talking and talking about what he wants to do. You agree. My mother suffered, she blamed herself. How could she have missed what I was engaging in? I felt horrible because she was hurt. All those years I was protecting my family from all those bad feelings.
*It wasn't her fault.
I hope this story which is continued from Seems Normal Enough, helps anyone who read my story. I didn't get pregnant until I was married and turned twenty-one so I came out of it okay except for some resentment of being introduced to sex at such a young age.
*Basically my childhood had been stolen.
Here are some links to get help. If anyone sees any inkling of a child predator or even a regular looking adult male OR female interacting with any child, say or do something.
Saturday, July 13, 2019
Our family used to go visit my mom's Aunt and Step Uncle. We all lived in the same town making it easy to cross town to visit every day if we wanted. One of their neighbors down the street had a pool giving us permission to go swimming when we went over there. We went over there a lot bringing our towels often staying the whole day.
I remember my Aunt's dad being this tall man with really gnarled knuckles. When I asked him about it he told me they were full of arthritis. I was around eight years old when he took to his death bed. The family was all there circling him around his bed. I remember giving him a kiss on his withered old cheek telling him good-bye. He didn't last too long after that.
Grandpa had willed his house to my mom's Aunt whom I also called Aunt. It was a large 2-bedroom home with a spare room which held this large piano. I had learned to play chopsticks on it. Kitchen, dining room, hallway bathroom, and living room made up their home.
There was a door leading to an outdoor garage which my Aunt's cat would stop by to get fed taking off again as soon as it was done. Out in their backyard, my Uncle eventually planted lemon, grapefruit and tangerine trees. I was very interested in the growing process which my Step-Uncle taught me, later on, climbing the trees eating the fruit plucked right off the branch. Grapefruits for my endless diets. Lemons for that beautiful honey bleached long hair look. Tangerines to munch on.
Games of crochet, ping-pong, playing golf with those plastic golf balls which would often go sailing over their fence into their neighbor's yard was played on grass. The best thing was a big tortoise that slowly made its way around the backyard. It grew larger over the passing years. My Uncle actually did everything with a glass of Diet Tab and Vodka in his hand.
My Aunt liked to go get her hair done leaving for about a 2-hour hair session. She had the beehive look that was so popular back then. I thought it was an unnecessary amount of hairspray for just one hairdo. She loved it.
That would leave me and my Uncle alone. To Be Continued...
Friday, July 12, 2019
I got a call from my son who lives in Texas. He was on his way to work. He knows my husband and I have been saving money to buy 2 plane tickets to fly out to see his family. He also knew that I would love it if I could see Ariel at the same time thus killing two birds with one stone. I told his sister, she told my son. I love family grapevines.
He has this new job his childhood friend who now also lives in Texas helped him with they are sending him and my daughter-in-law to Mexico for a few days! I couldn't believe my ears. When my kids were growing up I would often tell the tale of my Mexico adventures. I was thrilled.
The plan is we all fly out to Texas visiting my son, daughter, and daughter-in-law. They leave for their Mexico trip. We all get to babysit the boys! I can't wait! I've been eyeing on Facebook the pool they swim in. Grandma wants to try those pool boys!
This time around I'm taking my dresses. Last year when I flew out to see my daughter my clothes were all too hot. I will be better prepared this time!
What makes you happy?
Looking back at my life I am amazed that I'm still here. I have read that being a Sagittarius; Jupiter pays special attention to his Sagittarius children protecting them from themselves. Kinda reminds me of a small child falling down and daddy dusting you off sending you on your way.
Then there is your Guardian Angel beaming down on you protectively. You can find out what your Spirit Animal is which mine is a Skunk. I found this out in a dream I had one night. All through it was skunks everywhere and when I went to look up the meaning I was well satisfied. The meaning was so like me I was so impressed. No one likes messing with a skunk!
Okay, you can joke now:)
Then there is the theory that God's not done with me yet and I have many more lives to touch and more people to touch mine.
I am Spiritual and am very sensitive to other people's emotions and have learned to protect myself from being overwhelmed by negative behavior.
I believe in Karma and Past Lives. I love Magic and Mystic.
I have had a ton of fun so far life hasn't been boring.
We will see if anyone can relate to my story and if you can't that's fine too. Just remember, its all in how you handle it.
Thursday, July 11, 2019
I grew up in California. I lived there until 1983. Carpenters and mechanics run on my side of the family. As I grew up my father added a porch, a brick bar-b-cue grill with flower planters on each side, a shed, a volleyball court, a clothesline, and oleanders to cut off our one-acre backyard. Behind them became a place for junk. My Dad loved grapes so we had a grapevine as well. I wish I had the pictures so I could show you but they were all lost. I was so sad. Memories mean everything to me.
*Sounds normal right?
My mother used to tell me all the time the story of how I came to be born: My mom had lost her Grandpa. She was very sad so my father consoled her. Nine months later I was born. My parents got married because that's what they did back in the '50s.
*So far so good right?
My earliest memory I have is when I was two or three years old. It was a very dark night. I was standing next to my mother who was driving in the front seat. She was yelling to my father to get in the car because they had just had a fight. He kept refusing and it was only when I cried out "daddy"! he finally got in the car.
*Things seem to be getting sketchy.
I remember laying in the back seat at night and watching the street lights fly by which I still love, which later on I figured out mom was out getting dad from the whatever bar he was at. He, later on, stopped going.
*One for Mom!
For all the years I was growing up there was non-stop screaming and yelling, doors slamming and windows rattling. Mom and dad were always fighting. Her way was the right way no matter what. Dad would get pissed off and I would go outside. It was embarrassing hearing their yelling voices even though I was outside.
It took me a long time to not be the same way learning how to talk things out without violence or screaming. But it was so ingrained and I was quick to anger.
As I grew older mom's mother, my grandma had to be committed. She had had a nervous breakdown. My grandpa had left her, she was 40 years old. She was finally released and put on medication.
*I loved my grandmother dearly.
Now, this isn't a "poor me" kind of story, rather it's about how my abuse unfolded. My mother wasn't all bad. If I needed her she was right there. One of the things she insisted on was plucking my eyebrows which she pinned me up against her bathroom armed with tweezers. It's weird but that's how I still maintain my eyebrows. At 12 years old she was still washing my hair deciding what kind of hairdo she wanted me to have.
*I didn't like that at all.
I loved my dad. He was my hero. I'd go outside and watch him work on this car or that car. If he was working on his car I would caution him to be careful. I heard lots of hollering when either a tool would stick taking off half of his knuckle. Or if building something he would hit his thumb with a hammer.
*I tried not to laugh.
I didn't have many friends. My mother didn't have hardly any friends. We would go shopping bought and made me wear these frilly dresses with lacy socks that made my feet sweat. One day me, dad and mom were in J.C. Pennys. My mother and I were, as usual, arguing about clothes. Barging into my dressing room she made me try on this scratchy dress. I told her I wouldn't wear it. All of a sudden she snapped pulling that dress violently over my head scratching my face. I came out of the dressing room, dad was not happy.
*Neither was I.
I wore white saddle shoes which I also hated mostly because no one else wore them. Finally, in the 6th grade, I would switch them out in our garage for tennis shoes which were way more comfortable. Being grounded was like a death sentence to me so I became very skilled at hiding the fact that this butterfly was coming out of her cocoon no matter what my poor mother did to smother it. I think because she had gotten pregnant with me is why she did what she smothered the crap out of me.
*I was learning to be sneaky.
Now we are getting down to the what the hell part of my story: Dad loved to fish. He would bring me to the Salton Sea with him setting up two poles in the sand sitting down in chairs. I loved it. he would explain the how-tos about fishing. I wouldn't touch the bait. Yuck! Smelly and slimy just wasn't my thing. That wasn't until later on.
I must have been seven or just eight because my brother hadn't been born yet.
We were driving the long drive home and dad is talking about being uncomfortable loosening his belt which I really thought nothing of. I really don't remember the exact stuff he said but the gist of it was he wanted me to see him play with himself. We had parked by then and as he talked he had taken himself out. He told me that mom wouldn't understand, it was our secret which made me feel important. Plus mom made me so mad all the time it made me feel close to my daddy.*A loved one can get away with it.
We went home, I didn't say a word until I had a baby girl of my own I asked my dad on the phone why he had done that. I started to cry. I'm now disowned it's been over thirty-five years.
*How dare me.
Get help here: Safe Helpline