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10月31日 Halloween (ugh!)uh-HA, uh-HA, uh-HA. If one more jackass comes in and tells me to take off my Halloween mask I'm gonna go ballistic. If one more person asks me if I got to work on my broom I'm gonna go ballistic. Halloween humor (?)...pffft. My costume is the same as it was last year...I'm dressing up like the mean old lady in the neighborhood who doesn't hand out candy. Ha! It worked for me in the past so if it ain't broke, don't fix it.
I've already brought Timber in for the evening. I never leave my pets outside on Halloween. Odd, isn't it? People let their kids go door to door to get candy from strangers but I won't leave my dog outside to get effed with by pranksters. Hmmmm... What's wrong with this picture? There are waaaaay too many wackos out there now for me to risk the house or the dog. I always stay home to protect my property and the pets are in the house.
I never have cared much for Halloween. I was a titty-baby so wouldn't go door to door without my mama, and she felt it her duty to make me independent by not going with me. So I didn't go. I knew I was gonna get candy anyway so why work for it? Ha!! Things in costumes have always made me nervous. I didn't have my picture made with Santa Claus until I was thirteen because he scared me. FORGET clowns. {shiver} Also factoring into my dislike of Halloween was that my parents were schoolteachers. That automatically put our house on the "list to be teepee'd" every Halloween. Which means their students threw rolls and rolls of toilet paper into our trees, across the house, over the fence. GRRRRRR... I guess the best Halloween I ever had was when my parents were teaching in middle school (Mother taught English & Art, Daddy taught Math) and I was a senior in high school. We lived about two miles outside of town. Next to the house was a small well-house built over the original water well for the homestead. The well-house was about 8 feet high. Not scary high but higher than kids' eye-levels. I climbed on top of the well-house and waited for the inevitable crew of toilet-paper totin' middle-schoolers. Oh, did I mention I had a shotgun with me? {mean giggle} After about an hour and a half wait, just when I was about to give up, two carloads of kids pulled to a stop about 30 yards down the road from our house. Ten or so whispering, giggling kids came sneaking down the road bearing rolls & rolls of toilet paper. Ahhhhhhh... I waited until I saw the first kid rear back with a roll of t-p waiting to hurl it across a tree, then I fired the shotgun into the air (nearly knocking my damn self off the well-house due to the kick on the old gun) and letting out the shrillest, loudest witch laugh I could muster. OH MY GOSH! Those kids scattered like chickens, screeching and crying all the way back to their parent's cars. Hahahahhaha. That was THE BEST. I don't know if those kids have recovered from the scare yet!
Today I went to the grocery store because I figured I better have SOMETHING on hand in case some brave little guys do come to my dark porch tonight. I came down one aisle and ran smack dab into a swashbuckler. I did a double-take because you just don't see that everyday in your local market. He wasn't exactly Captain Sparrow but he was so cute with his bald head, accountant-looking glasses, and pot belly. I just knew that if he spoke he would have a squeeky voice like Mr. Peabody. Remember Wally Cox, the character actor from the sixties? The guy coulda been his twin. The most HARMLESS looking pirate I've ever seen. It was great.
I hope you and your's have a safe and fun Halloween.
P.S. Thank you VERY MUCH to those of you who have sent messages and emails checking on me - knowing the emotion I experience every year during this week. You'll never know how much I appreciate you. And I'm fine. I actually laughed today and my face didn't crack and fall off. Love y'all!!
10月26日 Peaks & Valleys...Sorry I haven't been around much. I've been feelin' kinda blue, although it manifested itself in a fit of bitchy that is my own brand of shock & awe. I finally took a coupla days off from work to give my coworkers a break after my moodiness changed gears and went from harmlessly pouting quietly to biting off unsuspecting heads. My boss knows me well enough by now to know I needed the days off so he practically filled out the leave form for me. So I'm at home regrouping. Sometimes I just need to take a step back and remind myself how lucky and how blessed I am.
I've been so SAD for the family who lost their son (the baseball player). They had the accident, the [short] hospital stay, the death, the visitation, the funeral, and then jumped right into the championship awards, the annual intrasquad scrimmage, and the team family picnic. And we were there with them through it all, except for the part where they had to go home knowing their son would never come home again. I sat with the family last Saturday at the scrimmage. It was their last "event" to attend that would have involved their son. After two weeks of events that celebrated his life yet also mourned his death, the family was emotionally spent. There was an empty #18 jersey hanging on the dugout fence, there was PD18 painted on the field between home & the pitcher's mound. There were all those boys the same age as their son, full of life and potential just as their son had been less than two weeks ago with "18" written either on their cleats or their hats. It might sound cheesy to some but for these guys it was a way to honor their fallen comrade, their friend. The "18" may have been written on their shoes, but only because they hold the dead boy in their hearts. Friends of Payton's came to all of the events wearing t-shirts bearing his number and name. At the end of the scrimmage the guys lined up on the pitcher's mound for a photo-op. As cameras began clicking one of the guys said, "Wait!" and he ran to the dugout and retrieved Payton's empty jersey. The boys reverently held the jersey up in the middle of the group signifying that though not there in body, we all felt him there in spirit. That was the point where it became impossible to hold back the emotion. That was the point where reality finally hit that this young man was really, really gone from us. That was the point where we all finally said, "Goodbye."
After the scrimmage all of the players and their families, at least most of the families, gathered for a meal. In the south, when you want to get to know people and bond with them, you usually do it over a meal. Payton's family left. They wisely knew it would have been too much to attend a "family" gathering when it was so fresh that one of their's was missing. As I sat watching the guys meet up with their families, I felt such sadness for the one family, and anger at the families who did not show up to be with their sons. Don't they know how blessed they are? How lucky? Then I realized I was sitting there alone. And I felt...very...alone. I couldn't stay. I walked back to my truck and it felt like I had something very heavy on my back.
Sunday was good, though. It was just what I needed. I met my brother, sister-in-law, baby nephew, his wife, and great-nephew Lance at the Texas State Railroad in Rusk, TX. I had purchased tickets for Lance to ride Thomas the Train (his favorite toy). Lance is three and absolutely precious. He's in a whiney stage and very particular about who he hangs out with and what he does. We told him he was there to ride Thomas but he didn't understand because when we got there Thomas was out on a run. Lance played with the display toy trains but was just kinda cool to the whole thing. But then Thomas came back into the station. We were in a tent but we could hear the train chugging into the station. Lance looked up with wide eyes that clearly asked, "What's that?" And when the train whistle blew VERY LOUDLY it startled Lance. My brother said, "There's Thomas! Let's go see him!!" Lance's hands were shaking and his mouth was wide open in excitement. He could tell from the loud noise of the train and whistle that this was no small toy train. I've never seen a kid that excited about anything. After seeing Thomas he "got it" and realized he was there to do a really cool thing. As we waited for his scheduled time to ride the train he suddenly wanted to experience everything at the park. He had his picture made with Sir Topham Hatt, played in the bouncy house, petted the miniature horses, got a tattoo, and listened to the storyteller (for about 15 seconds). We were still a bit concerned that he would balk at actually getting on the train. It's a REAL train, not a mini-train. Pffft. Not to worry. He was the first one in line and as soon as the conductor let him he crawled up the steps. His mom & dad rode with him. The conductor came by and gave him a certificate saying he had ridden Thomas the Train and he wouldn't let anyone else hold it. The train pulled out of the station for their 30-minute ride with Lance grinning and waving, and when they pulled back in he was doing the same thing. It was fabulous and definitely worth the price of the ticket and the three hours my brother had to drive to bring them to the park. It was a great day and a perfect reminder that I am NOT alone, just not in the same place as my heart sometimes.
So, you know, peaks and valleys. Monday will be the 11th anniversary of my Mother's death. Although I miss her everyday, October 29th always brings it back as if it just happened yesterday. We buried Mother on Halloween (which has always been a ghoulish joke in my family). This year, however, I am trying my best not to concentrate on that but to focus on the fact that one year ago on this Halloween, CeeCee came home from the hospital! (Key the music from The Lion King.) Despite that, I had a meltdown this morning. Sitting in my own living room drinking a cup of coffee I became overcome with grief and cried my eyes out for a good thirty minutes. Mouth open, loud, hard crying like I did when I skinned my knee as a kid. It sounds pitiful but it was actually exactly what I needed! I'm already feeling better, as evidenced in the fact that I finally posted something. I can actually hear my Mother saying, "Stop being so maudlin! Get off your ass and stop feeling sorry for yourself!!" And, as usual, Mother is right. WHOA, I think the sun just started shining a little brighter...she loves being right... 10月18日 Dangit!This morning I was late as usual so I go flying into the parking lot, window down because the cool morning air feels so good, hair flying (I was also trying to dry my hair since I got up too late to do anything but wash-n-go), Snow Patrol BLARING on the cd player, and jumped outta my truck almost before it stopped rolling. There was a young man standing there grinning and as I got outta my truck his grin faded. I looked at him because he was looking at me like he knew me so I figure I've forgotten somebody I'm supposed to know so I say, "Hey. How are you?" His reply..."Oh. I thought you were a girl so I was gonna say hi." Me, "I am a girl." Kid, "I mean, uh, you know, not with gray hair, uh, sorry." As his little blushing butt walked away I said, "I'm a girl - I'm just a really OLD girl." We laughed. He was embarrassed. I felt old.
{sigh} Kinda makes me wanna slit my wrists. Ha!!! Maybe later - I have too much to do today... 10月17日 Family...I got an email from my niece yesterday telling me that CeeCee had eaten some bark mulch. If you'll recall, she deadheaded a mum earlier and ate that. I asked how the baby managed to get bark mulch. I also asked how their session at the gym went yesterday. Here's my niece's reply:
She was hanging around on the front "porch" while I unloaded the car and evidently snagged a piece of bark. I didn't notice it until later when I see her chowing down on something and covered w/dirt - I asked her to give it to mommy, so she spit it in my hand and it was a piece of bark, about an inch long! Not sure how much she digested but I'll prolly find out tomorrow.
At gym today we had circle time, then somersaults (sp?) with Mr. Pat, then free play, then swings, then rings w/Mr. Pat (think gymnastics rings), walking the plank with Miss Julia, then more free play, then rides on Thomas the Train (Tuffy would LOVE that), then bubbles, then circle time again. During free play she wanted to play in the ball pit, so I put her in there. Of course, she just wanted to put the balls in her mouth (hope that isn't a problem later in life) so I got her out. She had a little fit and then realized that she could stand up and reach the top of the side of the ball pit. She proceeded to pull herself up using her feet to climb up the side; it was utterly amazing. She's a MONKEY...with billy goat mixed in. As usual, everyone marveled over her and the instructors always want to do her first on the activities because she's fearless (and prolly very easy to maneuver due to small size). She's like Norm on Cheers because when we walk in everyone says, "CeeCee!" Her top teeth are coming in and she is MISERABLE alot of the time. We've had 2 very rough nights. Is that not a riot? My niece is so funny with CeeCee. In a previous email exchange I asked if CeeCee had started eating better. Wellll, yessss. It seems that when CeeCee is in the highchair she doesn't eat very well. She tries her best to knock everything onto the floor. When everything is off the tray and on the floor, she throws a fit to get down...then she'll eat stuff off the floor. She'll play a bit, then crawl over and grab a snack out from under her highchair. My niece was in a pickle because, well, it sounds awful to let your kid eat off the floor but the kid neeeeds to eat - she's a year old and still under 15 lbs!! So she eats off the floor. I mean, we're not talking about slurping gravy off the floor or anything like that - we're talkin' cheerios or chunks of fruit - stuff that obviously tastes a little better with some dirt & cat hair sprinkles. Ha! Carrie even puts snackies on the coffee table but, nope, gotta knock those babies onto the floor before they're any good. CeeCee decided she's grown and now refuses her bottle. She still wants her milk but it has to be in a sippy-cup. This kid has a mind of her own!! (I wonder from whom she gets that!) My Mother used to tell stories about my infancy. I talked at six months (and haven't shut up yet) and walked at ten months. Mother said it was creepy having a conversation with a baby layin' on a pallet. It seems I developed a mind of my own very early. By the time I was a year old I gave my Mother fits about what I would wear or how I would wear my hair. I can't tell you how many times I got whacked in the head with a hairbrush or had my ponytail yanked. Which kinda tells you how smart I wasn't since I knew what she would do if I pissed her off while she was in the process of brushing my hair. I still haven't learned that sometimes it's best NOT to give my opinion. Is it my imagination or does my niece write a lot like I do? It would only make sense, I guess, since our senses of humor are alike and we know the same phrases and sayings. I like that. I like that our family all has the same sense of humor. We can be in a room with a bunch of other non-family people and if something odd happens nobody has to say a word; we react pretty-much the same way. If it's a funny-odd thing we'll be the group with teary eyes and red faces because we're trying to keep from bustin' out laughing at someone else's expense. Or we can do a "did you see that?" or "can you believe that?" and then respond accordingly with a laugh or a headshake. It's so comfortable being among like-kind. Ha!!! The only problem with all that is if there is a family member who sees things differently or responds differently they quickly become the black sheep. Judging by how our black sheeped people are I would acknowledge that being the different one can be as lonely and painful as fitting in is comfortable. Families are so weird. We think we're civilized but we're not really much more than a pack of wild dogs. Oh God, is it just my family? Hahahhahaaha I'm always puzzled when I see a family so unlike my own. Families with no sense of humor, no imagination, no apparent affection. I'd like to be a fly on the wall so I could see how they interact when nobody's lookin'.
10月14日 Farewell...I just wanted to give my friends a fond farewell. I'm pretty sure I'm going to be struck by lightening until I'm just a little pile of ashes. Or a big pile of ashes. Whatever. I've recently gotten several emails instructing me to forward religious messages. Failure to do so would indicate to the world that I am a nonbeliever. I have failed God. I have, gulp, denied Him. So much for my good deeds! Poof...all my prayers, my meditations when I thought I was communicating with God, my love for my fellow man...right out the window because, well, I didn't realize my salvation and eternal life were hingeing on forwarding an email.
Forgive me, Lord, for I am a sinner.
I deleted an email just past dinner.
"What pretty words" I thought in my head,
But I didn't forward, now I figure I'm dead.
Who knew when I got an account on the hotmail
That I'd become a devil and grow a forked tail?
"Oh, FA" I don't even know 'leven people,
Who don't already worship under a steeple.
So I hit the delete and said fiddle-dee-dee,
I really, Lord, did not mean to smite Thee.
Oh, Lord, please take pity and continue to bless,
For you, of all beings, know I'm a mess!! Amen.
It's not just the religious ones that I "kill." I think I bought gas on the day I was supposed to boycott. I failed to forward umpteen recipes to the twenty or so friends who asked me not to break that chain. I've let down all the soldiers all over the world because after five or six times I stopped forwarding the prayer chain. I didn't send get well wishes to the little boy in England dying of cancer. (No wonder I have a hard time going to sleep at night!) I didn't send a message to the fifth grade class in wherever who were doing an experiment to see how far their email would go. I didn't forward a message to twenty friends so I could receive $50 from Microsoft. I DID, however, forward a message to ten friends so I could see the dancing chihuahua but, alas, it didn't work and instead I only got ten pissed off friends. Why do these things keep going around? Surely everyone in the world has seen them and would know just to delete them. My all-time favorite is when a really good friend sends me something with "this is really funny" or "this really works!" in the subject line and then I click on 20 forwards to find another version of that chihuahua thing. Grrrrr....
So shoot me. I'm an ebitch. And ibitch...about everything. My high-speed internet isn't fast enough. And it's too expensive. And I can't get my ipod to work. Or burn cd's from iTunes. And, oh my GOSH, how many things can overstock.com send out in a week??? And why on earth do I have to unplug and replug my modem every now and then to get the internet? And please, don't tell me how easy to do this and that and this to get the damn thing to do anything I want it to. Imagine me staring blankly at you, because that's what I would be doing. I'm not a frickin' programmer and I am very limited on what I can click on with confidence.
And the worst - the VERY WORST - is when I turn on the computer, sign on my account, and there are no messages from my friends!
Y'all have a good week. 10月11日 It's just not for me. I'm deactivated again. I don't know why I find it so irritating but I do. I don't "look down" on other people being on facebook - it's just not something I enjoy doing. So, those of you who have been encouraging me to get on facebook - forgive me - I just don't wanna... 10月10日 {sigh}My single friend and I went to the baseball player's visitation together. There were hundreds of people there and it was so incredibly sad. On the way home we were quiet and still a little weepy. I finally told her, "I don't know about you but I would rather be in my sometimes lonely state of barren old maid than to be going through what that woman [the kids' mom] is going through." She agreed. I gladly forego the miracle of childbirth and the joys of raising a baby in exchange for not ever feeling the pain of loss and the grief. Holy shit. I marveled at the mom's strength. So many people came to pay their respects, say goodbye, and/or give comfort to the family - yet so often it seemed to be the other way around. I also couldn't help but notice how differently the mom and the dad were experiencing their grief. He was barely able to go through the motions of shaking hands, hugging. He just seemed wrung out (who could blame him?). Mom was the one clinging to people, comforting and being comforted, trying to take care of the other members of her family. But every once in a while she would be overcome with such deep and painful emotion that she would wail like a wounded animal. It was one of the loneliest and most painful sounds I've ever heard.
Our baseball team attended their teammate's funeral today in full uniform as requested by the boy's family. The boy's mom spoke at her son's funeral. She placed a pair of baseball cleats on one side of the podium, and then placed a pair of baby shoes on the other side. "I want to talk about my son from here to here."
The 13 year old brother was breaking hearts. Before the services started he stood at the open casket staring at his brother for ages. Our baseball coach, who has six kids of his own, stood up and went to stand beside the little boy. (Mom and Dad had not entered the sanctuary yet so didn't know their youngest son was there struggling to be a man.) The little boy turned to Coach, grabbed him and held on for dear life. After the family entered the sanctuary they were being escorted to their seats when the little boy turned around and went back to the baseball team to sit right in the middle of all the guys. My guys were so fabulous. The scooted in and made room for the little guy. He didn't sit there without a big hand on his shoulder or on his head. I'm not sure who was comforting whom.
I confess - I didn't go to the funeral. I couldn't. It was selfish. I wasn't in a position to actually assist anyone. The team was together, the family was together with their close friends there. I just didn't want to witness that heartache anymore. I'm a chickenshit. My boss told me about the funeral and told me he was glad I hadn't gone. He knows how I am.
There's a woman at my work who is a licensed counselor. She's always there for kids to talk to about issues and concerns, and she's good with them. She came to the gym on Monday to be available for any of the athletes or kids who were close to the boy who died. As the boys gathered for their meeting with coach, etc, she would watch them as they came by [me] for a hug or a pat, or just a smile. Some would lay their chin on the top of my head (I'm short), some would hold hands with me, some would just walk by and give me "knuckles." She had come into the gym when the one guy was sobbing in my arms. She said, when the boys were with coach, that she didn't know why she was there because the guys seemed to prefer me. She sounded either perturbed or jealous, which I thought extremely odd. I said, "Well, they've seen me around and the sophomores know me. I'm not counseling them through their grief - I'm lovin' on 'em like a mama." I guess she thought about it because she was back today and was very nice. She set up a facebook page for kids to go to and post messages, pictures, memorials, etc. It was a great idea reaching out to kids through a medium they all use and which they are familiar.
Now that the funeral is over the healing will begin. Life goes on whether we're ready for it to or not...
10月8日 Perspective...For the last few weeks I've agonized over how poorly my Fightin' Texas Aggies have played football. I've been depressed that the football team where I work has been stinkin' it up worse than Farmer Brown's dairy barn. I've pouted because I have to get up early to get to work on time. I was more bowed up than a violin because the door handle on my truck got broken. Isn't it funny how life can slap you in the face and remind you what's really important and what is not? That's what happened today.
When I got to work this morning there was a news crew waiting for us. It was a fluke that I got there before my boss since I am the one who is alarm clock challenged. The reporter told me that one of our athletes had been killed in a car wreck. Wow. She might as well have taken a baseball bat and hit me smack in the face. The young man who died was a great kid, good athlete, good student, was close to his family, and was active in his church. He would have received his national championship ring in two weeks. He fought hard to stay alive but his body just couldn't take the trauma.
I saw a young man walking around in the lobby area outside my office today; he was an hour early for a team meeting. My boss told me that the kid who died had been his best friend. I watched the guy walk around some more and then I went out and asked him if was okay. He just looked at me with hollow eyes. He's a freshman and I had not met him before today. I looked back at him and just held out my arms. This 6' 5", 220 lb 18 year old cratered into my arms as sobs wracked his body. I held him tightly for more than five minutes until his sobbing began to fade. I whispered into his ear that in time he would feel better, then kissed him on the cheek and wiped his tears. He looked down at me and said, "Thank you." Thank you. In that moment I knew I was a substitute for his mama, and he realllly needed her. He was filled to the brim with emotions that he had never experienced before and didn't know how to handle.
It's gut-wrenching when tragedy happens to a young person. They believe they're bullet-proof and invincible. There's something so poignant when a big, strong athlete is suddenly so emotionally vulnerable. I can't help but cry with them and for them. It was all so raw today.
The Cowboys are getting beat. Oh, well... 10月5日 Let down...Marion Jones admitted she did steroids and lied about it to federal authorities. So much for sports pundits who talk about the purity of women's sports as opposed to the supposed rampant use of steroids and cheating found now in men's sports. As soon as money is attached to anything it becomes subject to scandal.
Before athletes made millions of dollars and when they participated in sports for love of the game and pride in self/team/school/country, it was all about the competition. It's very disheartening to see the sporting world in shambles. I mostly just watch college sports now (with the exception of the Cowboys) because they're "less" tainted than the pros. Probably not for long. College athletics is big business for the major Division I universities. I get tickled when a kid at my little college has attitude about not getting enough scholarship because "football is making so much money for the school." Pffft. Our ticket sales and state appropriations for each student don't come close to paying for any sport (except golf). There's a lot more cheating and dishonesty in college recruiting than people would imagine. I've seen recruiters that are just downright slimy. Think of the most stereotypically dishonest used car salesman and multiply that by infinity and you'll have some college recruiters.
Why have sports if they cost money? Lots of reasons. They attract other students. They get publicity for the school (hopefully good publicity!). Face it - sports has a whole section but you seldom see forensics competitions posted in the local newspaper. And, many of the student athletes would not be in school if they didn't have sports and it has been proven that the more education a person has the better off he/she will perform in jobs and life in general further down the line. Plus, they have to actually study to maintain academic eligibility to participate. Women who participate in athletics are less likely to become pregnant. People who participate in sports tend to maintain a more healthy lifestyle (due to the exercise factor). People who participate in sports/athletics tend to perform better in a job that requires them to work in a group (team). There's more but I don't want to think that hard.
So I'm disheartened tonight by Miz Jones' admission of guilt. I'm disheartened by the nut who is gonna brand Barry Bonds' record-setting homerun ball, and by he scandal surrounding Bond's alleged use of steroids. I'm disheartened by all of baseball and the steroid scandal. I'm disheartened by the selfishness of NFL and NBA players. I'm embarrassed for MLS for the amount of money they paid to Beckham when he's too injured to even play. Bleah.
The cure? Go to a little league baseball game. Watch the pure joy of a kid getting his first hit and making it to first base. Watch him turn around to the stands to make sure his family is celebrating with him. Watch the two teams line up at the end of the game to shake hands with each other. Listen to the silly little team cheer. See the two teams walk off the field leaving the competitiveness there to sip on juice boxes while replaying the game just finished. THAT is sports at its finest... 10月3日 Oh, MY!I have great respect for teachers. My parents were teachers as were/are aunts and uncles and several cousins. I know how hard they work. I've seen the concern and desire to help students understand and learn about things. But can anyone tell me what the hell the teacher in Grambling, Louisiana could have been thinking when she put chains and nooses around elementary kids' necks and shoulders? Holy crap! There are some things you can make a game of that will help children gain knowledge and experience - like making a tornado in a bottle or growing their own vegetables. But having them pretend to be shackled slaves? By having them pretend to be hung by racist white people? How many years have we been fighting racism in this country? White Southerners take a load of crap for perpetuating racial hatred - but what was this woman doing? "Here, children. Here's what the white man did to us and why we hate and distrust them." Maybe it's because I'm white...maybe it's because I'm in Texas...but what I see is a big, fat double standard here.
Now, my son and his [biological] family live within an hour of Grambling. Grambling State University has several thousand students, but the city of Grambling proper is barely a blip on the map. The city limits signs are back to back on the same tree. I can pretty-much guarantee that if there are any white kids living in Grambling (which is unlikely) they drive the five miles into Ruston to go to school with other white kids. I've written stories on this space about the racism and prejudice I've run into when visiting that entire area of Louisiana. It's pretty intense. I figure if it makes ME nervous, and I'm white, that my black family feels it even stronger. I know they're more used to it than I because my son and I have discussed it. Burning crosses are not a thing of the past in this area. It's not all THAT uncommon to find an empty noose hanging in a tree to send a threatening message. It's not as bad as it used to be, but things still happen there that would curl your hair. I've not heard of any hangings in a long, long time - but there are many stories of white men in the legal and/or justice system that have their own way of dealing with black people they want to suppress, which is what sounds like happened in Jena, Louisiana. I say all of that to point out that the teacher did NOT need to go to such an extreme at school to show these children about racism. They live it (as this teacher, also black, should have known). Mamas still warn their kids not to go certain places or "they'll get strung up in a tree." I'm not kidding - I've heard it. All mamas instill fears into their kids to keep them from doing certain things, and these types of warnings are sadly still in the black vocabulary.
I absolutely believe there are people in this world who are less prejudice than others, but that nobody is without his/her prejudices. The problem is not prejudice - it's intolerance. Whether it's intolerance of race, religion, social status, or whatever. Less educated people are the most intolerant because they've never learned there are other ways but theirs to live and work. The really frustrating prejudiced people are the ones you assume or hope would know better, especially when they're in a position to either influence or mistreat others. (i.e., preachers, teachers, politicians, public officials, lawmen...)
Hell's bells. I've given myself a headache.
Speaking of my precious son, he's in the police academy and will soon be a cop in his hometown. He has officially retired from playing professional basketball in Belgium. I'll worry for his safety, but I think it's fabulous that he will be such a positive role model to the young people in his town. At 6'7", 240 lbs he's not likely to get much argument from miscreants. He's so well-liked and respected by everyone. I'll take credit for that. Ha!! Naaaa, I have to give his birth mama her props. She raised 11 loving kids, by herself for many years. She shared "our" son with me and I am very grateful for that.
I'm done with my rant. Thank you for your indulgence.
10月2日 If it seems too good to be true, it probably is...I got my little Tracker back on Thursday. My happiness was short-lived when I discovered a broken door handle on the interior driver's side. Somebody had to have yanked the shit outta the door handle to make it come outta the door panel like that. The instructor at the automotive class said he would be glad to fix it if I would get the part. What? So I have to pay to fix what they admit they broke? I don't think so. At this point I'm afraid that if I take it back they'll mess somethin' else up. I prefer to quit while I'm [almost] ahead. I did get new brakes. As far as I know they're good. Unfortunately I won't find out if they're NOT okay unless I run up somebody's butt during a quick stop. I'm trying to avoid the need for quick stops. I'll get my nephew the mechanic to repair the door and check the brakes. I wish that nephew lived in my town. Crap. He lives in Waco which is about a two hour drive from here. So, let's evaluate... I got new brakes and a repaired axle leak for about $200 in parts as opposed to the $1,300 quoted at the Chevrolet dealership. Work would have been competed in two days by Chevy, it took two weeks at the automotive class. Chevy wouldn't have broken the door, and if they had they would have repaired it. The auto class told me to screw myself (basically). I couldn't decide whether I was pleased or pissed about my service until I got a reply on an email I sent to the instructor about paying for the door part. He was so patronizing that my blood began to boil. Now I'm pissed. So much for a good deal.
I'm off work this week using days so I won't lose them. I love being at home. I laid around all day yesterday, didn't shower, although I did end up brushing my teeth when my own mouth started tasting like dooky. This morning I woke up at 8:00 feeling like death warmed over. Now Timber and I are showered and shampooed and we both feel so much better! Sheets are in the wash, kitchen is cleaned - I'm a fireball this morning. Ha! I decided I would make myself a cuppa tea and check my email. I laid the teabag on a box beside the computer and forgot about it. Two minutes later I heard Timber trying to hark something up. Yep. Tea bag. {sigh} Crazy dog. He has food in his bowl, I just gave him a treat, but he got a cracker wrapper outta the garbage and then ate the tea bag. Sometimes I think he's part goat.
I'm going to Waco on Saturday for my great-nephew's third birthday party. The only thing he says that I can halfway understand is "banana." His daddy was the same way. I could understand Jeb a little better but only because I spent more time with him when he was a baby. I seldom get to see Lance. One day, when Jeb was around two or three, he was trying to tell my mom what he wanted for lunch. She couldn't understand him. He came to me and said, "Aynee, mewantumtautich." Me, "What?" Jeb, "Mewantumtautich." Me, "You want some sausage?" Jeb, "Yeah. 'mere." And he led me into my mom's room, pointed at her, and said, "Tell huh." He was sooo cute with his huge blue eyes, blond hair, and dimples. I'm a sucker for some dimples. He was bow-legged as a baby. I liked to put his tiny bluejeans on him and watch him walk around because he looked like a chimpanzee. I know - that's awful - but it was really funny. I was much younger then. I was only, um, well, 27. {giggle}
I finally got someone to mow my yard. I was trying to hold out for the hot soccer player but he never could find time. A guy was mowing my neighbor's yard yesterday so I went out and asked him how much he would charge to do my front yard. Ten bucks!!! Sweet. And he even trimmed it and stuff. He's my new favorite yard guy. If he ever takes his shirt off like Jose did, though, I'm gonna charge HIM $10! He's no Jose.
CeeCee had an appointment with her developmental specialist last week. She is right on track for a one-year-old developmentally, and is even ahead in some things. This doctor has been amazed by my baby girl. He told my niece on their second visit that he got the impression that CeeCee listened to what he said she should be doing by the next visit and so would be ready for her tests. She would stare intently at him while he spoke and he got t'where he would speak directly to her. Funny. I'm tellin' y'all - there's something about her...
OOP. Dryer buzzed. If I sit here any longer I'm liable to lose my momentum and I still have lots t'do today. I hope y'all are havin' a good week so far!
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