Dear Roger:Slips and Slides, Sins and Atonement

Stress is getting to me. I have been losing words more often lately, stammering more often, and the twitch in my left eyelid never leaves. If I sleep over 3 hours in a night, uninterrupted, then I awaken feeling shocked that I managed a miracle. Its due to my ex large in part, and the mess he has made of my account and the lasting repercussions it will have on me for this next month, but I am really not as angry as I would have been in the past. I think that the old, wrathful me has pretty much gone by the wayside. I do get angry about some things, but I have become a very forgiving person. I tend to consider the motivations behind actions before I go getting all wound up and angry. If the motivations were deliberate and malignant, then I tend to be less forgiving and more likely for focus my energies on bringing down wrath upon their world, but if its due to ignorance or youth or just simply weakness of character, then I am less likely to expend my own energy on burning them down. My ex is a weak man. He is simply a product of his environment. He is incapable of change at this point in his life and no good will come of trying to compel him to change or by punishing him further than I already have. He is a burden that much be borne for the sake of my children, who unfortunately, love him.

I swear, some months it just feels like one damn thing after another. Bills constantly seem to add up and if the smell of sons shoes are any indication, he needs a new pair and badly! He came home,(on time) after track practice yesterday and took them off. The smell was hideous! It was worse than my gnarliest pair of boots that have to live in the closet away from everyone else with baking soda in them. He seemed to not even notice the odor and that is disturbing in itself.

I dont know what we are going to end up doing this summer. The job market around here is grim. I know so many people who have been looking for so long and there is just nothing.

The bright side of things is that its starting to get more Springlike and I have actually taken to venturing outside in a hoodie instead of the full winter regalia. I will be nice to show off the fact that while I may be middle aged, I lack the middle aged spread and my ass is actually in pretty decent shape. I will be able to wear my Volcome slacks that fit and show off the fact I am skinny. I plan to start running again pretty soon and I have been keeping up with my Isometrics and such so hopefully getting toned back up and hitting the gym will eventually happen and I will be able to at least feel like getting out and socializing.

Son has decided to pursue the AP/College prep/NCAA program at his school. I am damn proud of him because it means a lot more work for him academically, but it offers a brighter future.He has gotten more serious about school lately and has even said that he doesn't want to go to Texas this summer. He told me that it seems like everyone he was friends with back there has either quit school or has gotten into trouble for smoking dope or other stupidity. He was running around with a bunch of rich kids that all had vehicles and waay to much free, unsupervised time on their hands, so I was glad that he decided he didn't want to go back for the summer. A few of those boys had already gotten into trouble for truck surfing and running over one of their buddies. He wants to go to OSU and he is even looking into Summer programs where he can either go to music camps and work on that, or even drama camps! He is supposed to audition for concert choir in the next couple of weeks so he has been practicing and focusing on that as well as making a positive impression on the director. It seems like my son is growing up and I hope it sticks for awhile. He has a track meet tonight and he was carb loading as well as nagging at me about buying him some healthier drink choices. He reads labels on stuff,(we always do), and he had commented on the fact that his favorite energy drink had too much sugar in it. I had already told him that weeks ago, but he finally heard it from his coach and decided to listen. So now I am supposed to buy him some kind of high dollar, natural, organic, drink?! I told him to try water, its the drink of champions. He has been curious about alcohol for quite a while and I am very open about it and the effects it has on people. He knows the first boy I ever loved was murdered by a drunk driver and that drunk driving a an unforgivable sin to me that makes me want to beat down whomever I catch doing it, so I have told him that when he is of age, we will sort through it together. I show him videos of how different people are when they are obviously drunk and how it makes things that perhaps they wouldn't say, slip out or behaviors emerge that in the light of day are mortifying.

He knows I drink on occasion and about the "Drunk Dialing" incident that cost me so much. I was very, very honest and open with him about that. Sharing my pain and humiliation with him was eye opening to him and he cringed for me. He has seen me with a hangover, once. He was not merciful. He made fun of me, and he asked a lot of questions about it. I dont think he is all that eager to try whiskey and now perhaps considers that the major leagues of drinking and masochism. He thinks beer smells a bit nasty, so I hope he keeps that opinion, though I dont really expect him to. When it comes to drugs I am not as worried because he grew up around a drug addict and he hates drugs. He wrinkles his nose in disgust at the weed reek that comes from our neighbors house and he knows I can spot when someone is using. He has heard me make comments like,"Hmm, guess crank or coke is just a rock star rite of passage."and when he asked me what I meant, I pointed out all the classic signs of drug usage on the person which while disappointed me, did not shock me. He knows I would spot it in a heartbeat and that I would not hesitate use any means necessary to put a stop to it right there. I have watched too many people eaten up by drugs to allow it to happen to a loved one, so its not a negotiable issue.

We made it through December. We have made it though so much and even though my stress gets heavy at times, it could always be worse. We are alive, and I am making up for the things I have done in the past by trying to fix the future.

Dear Rogers:Bubbling To The Surface

I would have to say that yesterday was a pretty rough day for me. I tend to not get to far off into the the state that I was into by the dinner hour, but there is one thing that can send me into a full on, gut-wrenching, heart-sick panic faster than anything...one of my children being missing or in harms way.

Though I consider myself to be a failure as a mother, it is a vocation that I take very seriously and to heart and it is my mission to achieve the raising of my sons with these goals achieved: 1. They will be go from point A. to point B. with as little physical or emotional damage as possible. That means that NO ONE HURTS MY BABIES. Even if I have to threaten to throw down against a truck load of idiots in the middle of Burnside and Powell, on my own because some jackass shouted "Faggot" at my son, I will stomp a mudhole in someones ass to achieve it. 2. None of my children will ever be A. Arrested or go to jail for any reason. I have so far managed to achieve that by knowing my kids friends, knowing what they are up to , maintaining rules and discipline, and instilling respect in my kids and fear of just what the hell would happen to them if they ever were arrested, in them. 3. They will all graduate from high school and then college. Even my special needs child, even if that means I am sitting there right beside him in class. I dont care if its art school but they are not going to be without means.

I may be a little strict, but I have seen what becomes of kids who have overly indulgent parents or parents who dont pay attention or who just dont have the knowledge to ask the right questions. I may be nearly 42 years old, but I damn well remember being 15 years old and I remember all the fuckery I got up to running wild in East Texas, and I will be damned if my son is going to end up as much of a screw up as I am, so yesterday when he was over 2 hours late, and he didn't call or text or otherwise check in to let me know WHY? I could only assume that something bad had happened to him.

We live in a big city. A big city where we dont really know anybody. He is a very pretty boy. Yes, he is as big as a moose and fast as hell, but he is a pretty boy and not the most streetwise and hes a bit cocky. The closer to dark it got, the more times I was getting up and looking out the window, checking the door, checking my phone, looking out the window, picking up the phone to call his coach. I sat here with that sense of dread building in my gut, remembering all the times I had gone as a cop to tell parents that their sons had been in accidents or had done something stupid and had been hurt. I listened to each person going up and down the stairs outside my apartment for the familiar sound of his shoes, waiting...and just as I was telling his sister to get her coat and I was pulling my boots back on with my heart already racing and my gut twisting in fear, I heard a knock a the door. He was there, soaked to the bone wondering why I was grabbing him and yelling at him and hugging him and crying for forgetting his key.

He accused me of,"Freaking out" and yeah, I was. He is a teen boy, they live lives of alley cats. More likely to die by violence than by any other means. He is infuriating and stress making and smelly and messy, but like I explained to him,(repeatedly), he is MY BABY. He may do stupid stuff like set his pants on fire, and he may have questionable fashion choices, but it is my mission to achieve my objectives and I am a very objective driven person. He will survive to grow up, stay out of handcuffs,(at least wielded by law enforcement, and the other I dont want to know about and it better be when he is an adult)graduate hopefully with honors from both high school and college, and he will hopefully go out into the world and find someone to love who will drive him crazy.

He was afraid he was going to get grounded or punished in some way, but I told him he had the choice that I used to give quite a few of the people I stopped when I was a cop, "Citation or Lecture?" When I was a cop I missed teaching, so those that chose lecture got the 5 minute educational version of why they were a fuck up and why they shouldn't have been doing what they were doing and sent on their way, or they could simply get a ticket that took me the same amount of time to write and they had to pay a fine on top of it. Weirdly, mostly California folks took the ticket. Southerners often took the lecture, I think because we just liked to talk.He took the lecture, and it was during the lecture, it dawned on the boy that I had been scared. When he realized it he said,"Mom, you were scared?" Duh! That is the one thing that scares me. I dont care what happens to me. Its the thought that what could happen to those that I love and care about that scares me. I jumped in the middle of my psycho ex-brother in law one night in the parking lot of the Orange Blossom Ballroom because I thought he was going to hurt my sis. He was more than twice my size and 10 times the crazy and he was armed, but I didn't care, he was going to hurt my sister. To this day he still wonders if I really woulda chewed his throat out if that bouncer hadn't caught me in a bear hug and held me with my boots off the ground until he could get away, or if my daddy hadn't punched me out when I went to the house and got the pistol so I could go hunt him down and shoot him after they set me loose. I would probably still be in the pen in Texas, but my sis wouldn't have gotten hurt that night. Some folks may say that they would end someone who hurt their loved ones, I follow through. My ex knows this. he knows he was lucky to live to go to prison. He knows that my rage and my standing up in court and facing him to ensure he got the maximum was my way to put an end to him and that the only reason he exists, is because I did not want my children ending up in the system if I went to prison.

My son knows I live for them, heart and soul. There is nothing else for me, no other reason. I would be lost without them. He tried to tell me that when he was in Texas that my parents didn't care if he wandered in whenever, and I told him," I am not now, nor have I ever been, MY parents. I give a damn. I care. I love you. If you ever do that to me again, Your sister and I will be at your school, waiting on you each and every day. I will walk you to school each and every day. I will call your coach next time when you are an hour late instead of sitting here worrying. It is COURTESY to let your family and loved ones know when you are going to be late."

He is allowed freedom to a great extent, and he is indulged, but I will not have him running the streets like no one gives a damn, and I will not have him getting into all kinds of stupidity that I know boys get into when they are allowed to roam freely. He curses the day I was ever a cop, but its nothing to do with me being a cop, its everything to do with me growing up around a bunch of guys who got into all kinds of crazy shit when they were 15-19, and with me attending 6 funerals from 1984-1987,all of young guys I called my friends, and with watching a half dozen more of them end up in the State pen in Texas for everything from Oilfield theft to drug dealing and possession to attempted murder, not to mention all of the assault and minor consumption charges. How the hell I managed to avoid ever getting cuffed up still baffles the hell out of me, because I pulled a scrawny, buck toothed boy out of the back of a Trans Am one night up on a parking lot by his ears and beat the hell out of him for calling me a bitch. I then stuffed his ass back in the back of the car and proceeded to kick the quarter panels until his buddies hauled ass back to Dallas, convinced that us small town crazies just weren't worth messing with.That was observed by local cops. I think that maybe they were just too stunned to react at the time, but I do remember that later, one of the officers that was the father of a friend of mine pulled me aside and had a heart to heart talk with me about how my anger was eating me and that if I let it keep eating me, pretty soon, all that was going to be left was the anger and that they were going to have to deal with. He suggested that I leave town for a while and go see my grandma and find some peace and quiet, to see if I could lose some of the anger and maybe find what was left of me. He was right, there wasn't too much left of me, but the threads of that conversation helped me to hang on until I was able to get gone for good. Tommy was a good guy and his son was a good friend as well.

My son may not have father that gave him anything beyond genetic code, but he has me and I am to blame for everything that is wrong or right with him. I try really hard to lead him properly and if nothing else to be a good cautionary tale. I dont expect him to act totally sane, after all he is young and male and hes musically inclined and dramatic and artistic and scary freaking intelligent, but I expect him to be a good man,and so far, from what I have been hearing, I may have succeeded there. I hear stories about him from people who I bump into around town or when I call the school and they tell me things," He is such a well-mannered and kind young man", "He is so polite and sweet and good-hearted".Hearing these things makes me feel that I may have succeeded. My neighbors and my apartment manager have stopped me to compliment me on my son, because he has done things like stopped and offered to help them when they needed it, or he is unfailingly polite and says,"Ma'am and Sir". I cant help but to feel smug when people compliment me on that, that snooty prep school principal told my kids in front of me,"You dont have to say,"Ma'am and Sir here, this isn't the South." I said, "I told them they have to say it because its the mark of good home training and good manners and I say they have to say it." We may not be rich, but honor, integrity, dignity and pride, cost nothing to instill and I think I may be succeeding.

As for his lack of courtesy yesterday, the crushing guilt that he felt and the amount of apologizing he did, left me no doubt that he got the point I was making. It was a learning moment for both of us. We sat up pretty late last night talking about things, and Rog, we even talked about you for quite a while. He saw the raw pain I feel from missing you, and no boy likes to see their momma cry like that. I told him, that is how I feel over losing my uncle, who was like my father, imagine what losing my child would do to me? He got it.

Dear Roger: Spots, Scars and Conversations With My 7 Year Old

So this was a typical Spring Break for us. My ex has my bank account so fouled up that it will probably still be a disaster around the first of the month, even though he keeps promising that he will right it by Monday. I am less than hopeful. At least my son go to get the hell out of Dodge. He was invited to go to Long Beach with some friends for the entire week, so he packed up my gym bag, the guitar and what money he could scrounge, and he bailed on us. I dont blame him and I am glad he was able to go, because a week of him moping around the apartment because we have no money and no car, would have been hell on all of us.

My daughter was a little easier to deal with. We walked down to Kmart one day and went wandering around. Its not my favorite store. Its a bit grimy inside and the typical clientel is not of the most upstanding of people,but we bought some Red Vines and some Sour Patch kids, and walked back home. That was the height of our Spring Break excitement. It has rained quite a bit, but at least it starting to warm up a little. Daughter enjoyed seeing the rainbows that formed outside our windows and watching her try to draw them before they vanished, while her cat attacked her was pretty entertaining.

She asked me over a million questions this week. I swear, a million questions. I had to look up facts about the Eiffel Tower, and French translations for a bunch of phrases like, "Sit down, be quiet, where is the money?" and so on. I asked her why she needed to know all of those phrases, and with her best,"Oh my gosh you are soo old and dumb" exasperated eye roll and sigh, she told me that when she marries Jackson they are going to France for 6 months and since he is a boy and a rock star, she really doesn't think that he knows how to speak French, so she is going to be prepared. I keep telling folks that the lil chick is scary. I just hope that boy realizes he has about a 10-12 year head start on finding a place to hide. I have her convinced for now, that she has to have a Masters degree because his career choice isn't that stable, and she has to be the responsible one. Shes ball parking that to take her 10-12 years, and let me tell you, I dont doubt her.

She was contemplating her hair after a shower the other day and debating having it cut,(it now reached the top of her jeans)and as she was combing it out she noticed the mole on her scalp. "What the hell is this! Why do I have a huge brown mark on my head! Have the monkeys been coloring on my head? Do I have a tick? Just what is this!?" She was really offended that there was a mark on her head and when I explained to her that it was just a large freckle, she then started looking for more freckles and demanding to know what could be done about them and who was to blame for them in her background. I had to laugh because that is all her fathers fault, much like the curly hair. She really doesn't have that many freckles, her brother Sticky(nickname) has waaay more and he has his fathers olive skin tone to match, but daughter and my son Stubby,(also nickname) both have my skin tone of cave-dwelling vampire white, with a few freckles here and there.

She was eye-balling me pretty closely and she started pointing out little skin flaws and asking questions that I tend to dodge most of the time, but I figured what the heck, she is getting to the age where she is more careful about her appearance , maybe I can get her to be more careful about taking care of her body than I was. A few words from her wonder boy already have her brushing her teeth,(the few that she hasn't pulled for the tooth fairy) 3 times a day like it is a religious rite. So when she asked about the scar on my throat I said,"Got that from walking into a power drill when I was your age." Seeing her speechless for the first time in a week was pretty impressive, but it didn't last. I explained to her that when I was 6 or 7 years old, I actually lived in a very nice neighborhood in a small town in East Texas. My friends were the kids of surgeons and bankers and minor politicians and I went swimming at the Country Club and was well on my way to becoming a upper-middle class snobby kid. My folks decided to have a huge chain link fence installed around our property in this neighborhood because they decided that they wanted to have horses. The guys from the fence company were hanging the gates which meant drilling through the large brick entry ways, and being a nosy kid, I wanted to see what was going on. I was playing around and I guess I came running up behind the guy doing the drilling just as he pulled the drill out of the column. He didn't see me standing beside him and as he flipped the drill out to the side, it went in the base of my throat. Having a thoracic surgeon as a neighbor was in my favor. That poor guy who was doing the drilling screamed like a girl, I remember that. I didn't go to the emergency room, in fact, many of my scars and injuries never saw the inside of an emergency room, and I dont know why. My parents didn't stay in that property for very long. They found out that horses weren't allowed in that area so instead of leasing land out in the country or stabling them, they decided to move us out into the middle of nowhere and I went from Country Club brat to Poor White trash reject in one short summer. Back then it was that easy, you were judged by your neighborhood.

I pointed out the scars that run across that one from being slid under barbed wire fence after getting sling shotted while sledding behind a 3 wheeler, the other scars that she saw on my neck I didn't tell her about came from her father, but she doesn't need to know about those right now.

She noticed I have a few freckles, and I explained that you dont live a life in the sun without getting a few of them. I spent all told 20 years in the Arizona sun working outside in a variety of capacities including as a cop in Western Arizona where I got sunburned so bad that the tops of my ears turned purple, though that might be an after effect of them being burned when I was a firefighter in Southern Arizona and flame front caught me at the peak of a ridge in the Nogales Mountains. I showed her the neatly aligned scars on my back where I have had 5 sets of facet injections to control the pain in my back, the scar on my shoulder from where I had surgery to rebuild it, the scar on my knee from the botched surgery to fix it, the scar on my head from my mother, the scars on my hands from my temper when I was younger, the scars on my arms that just are. I explained that scars, marks and freckles all tell a story about who we are and where we come from.The tattoos I have are my attempt to tell my story in my way, and they work in a small way to give me some control over my story. She seemed to grasp that concept, and that turned into a conversation about why she cant get a tattoo until she is older because she doesn't have enough of a story to warrant one. It was quite a long an involved conversation to have with a 7 year old, but conversations with her are never typical. We had a debate the other night about Harry Potter that had even my son looking at her like she was some kind of mutant child. She has watched the movies with me and we have talked about them quite a bit, and she wants to read the books, and as my son and I were sitting there talking, she piped up and said,"Harry is like Jesus, he was willing to sacrifice himself to save everyone even though being evil would have been easier." Son and I just looked at each other with our mouths hanging open, nodding at her as she hopped up, grabbed her monkey and skipped into my room so she could watch cartoons. He looked me and said,"You know, shes kinda annoying at times. Its bad enough I have I have an older sister that is a freaking genius that I have to try to measure up to, but now I have a little sister that is kicking my ass all over the place as well? What the hell mom?" I have to wonder.

Dear Roger: Sex- Its On My Mind...ALOT

I guess its because its Spring, or maybe its because all the fic I have been reading lately is just chock a block full of all kinds of sex, (some that is just...whoa), but I'll tell you, I really need to figure something out. My last venture into getting lucky was not so enjoyable. In fact, I have to wonder, just when did guys begin to believe that speed equals quality? I am not into the whole 'Jackrabbity" kinda thing, I tend to prefer the more slow and deep and make the most of what you got kinda thing. And really, I am not a cuddler. I dont like to talk or what not. But jeesh. Its really difficult to find a guy who fills the bill nowadays.

I tried the whole online dating thing. I met a couple of "interesting" guys and I went on a couple of dates, but I am just not into the whole game playing thing. Guys my age have issues like I have. Kids, ex's, weird schedules and hobbies and health issues and preferences. I swear, you tell one guy that if you were interested in some one with, "fantastic oral skills" you would go lesbian, that really puts them off their game and kinda freaks them out, but seriously?! Why have a guy around with all their irksome issues if that was what I was after? I want a decent pecker with a tolerable man attached to it! A man that has a sense of humor and that isn't out of shape or fugly.

Im not too wrapped up in the whole racial issue, but I know myself and there are just some cultural issues that wouldn't jive with me. Guys my age tend to bore me, and they often have issues that make them difficult to deal with, or they are in their second childhood and driving the substa-penis and chasing 20'somethings and popping viagra and trash talking women my age. Its cool. I understand it. I like the younger meat too. I went to a concert a while back and all I could think about was all the dirty things I would like to do to the pretty young man being such a tease on stage. I got over it, but damn! Being 40 is hard. You go though this weird like second puberty where you are horny all the time. Its distracting, especially when its hard to get out and meet guys and when your body is doing all kinds of funky things like adult onset acne and weird hairs and migraines. Never mind the fact your period decides to drop in for a visit at odd times, and you have mood swings that make Charlie Manson look normal. My poor kids dont know what to do. My son is in the throes of puberty and he is moody as well and he tries to stay out of my way, but there are days that we butt heads like a couple of mountain goats and the tension is epic. We both know its because hormones are out of whack and because my bastard of an ex is constantly fucking up the bank account and screwing us over financially, but I swear there are days I feel lucky that he hasnt killed me in my sleep, because I know I have deserved it.

The constant rain is a real pain in the ass for all of us. I dont mind the wet, but the cold really sucks. I get out occasionally and I enjoy that, but being cold really sucks and kinda ruins the fun. Went out with a friend last week and I was hoping I might meet a guy, but fuck. my. life...she met a guy. A really cute guy. Dammit, dammit, dammit. Good for her, but why not me? What the hell is it that scares guys off? I was dressed nice, I smiled, and thhpt...

I have considered a new B.O.B., but the bad thing about that is finding a place to stash it and the time and privacy to use it. I never seem to have 10 minutes to myself without someone in the middle of my business, but I am beginning to wonder if lack of good quality sex can lead to insanity?

Dear Roger; Being A Good Bad Example May be Paying Off

I have had some time to observe my kids that I have up here with me, and I have come to an interesting conclusion about the pair of them. The main conclusion is that they have paid close attention to what has gone on in my life and they have learned from it.

My son left a love letter he wrote his girlfriend laying on his desk the other day, and being the nosy mom I am, you know I read it. Yeah, yeah, yeah,...I KNOW! Its an invasion of his privacy, but I was WORRIED! I cannot afford to be a grand mother right now and he is very wrapped up in this girl he has been dating, but what I read really surprised me, my son is quite the old fashioned romantic! There was not one crude word or sexual innuendo, it was all about how he wanted to be a good man for her and how she inspired him to try to rise above his circumstances and try harder, because he wanted to give her the world. He compared her to the beauty of the stars and it just went on from there. I have never had anyone write me a letter like that! He called her,"Princess" told her she was perfect and that they should,'Take things slow so that they didn't make mistakes." I had to sit the hell down. The boy wants to wait, he honestly meant what he told me! Hell YEAH! Score one for the mom getting through to him!!

We had a long talk the other night about condoms and safe sex and all the risks, and how having a kid changes everything. He actually knew quite a bit and we had a very calm and engaging talk. He has plans for college and his, "Rockstar/actor" career, but he also has a back up plan for college and a trade that will pay for college. He wants to be and apprentice machinist and learn how to make things out of metal because he knows that is a reliable trade that requires a brain and that will pay the bills in the lean times. He is even planning on going union so he will have health insurance! Holy hell...he has paid attention to things.

Sometimes he does worry me because he does pay attention to some of the lesser desirable male role models, and he mimics their behavior, such as Gerard Butlers characters from his movies, or even NPH's character of Barney that my son considers to be a,"genius". I know he emulates young Rathbone quite a bit though, and that is interesting. At least he is dressing better, working harder on keeping his direction and keeping up his grooming and being more respectful, those I consider all pluses, but the backlash of all of this positive male influence is that girls are really noticing him now and its getting insane for him at times. He is getting notes shoves in his backpack, girls coming up to him and wanting his number and then getting angry when he says hes ,"Involved", he s been groped and accused of being gay,and generally stalked by a group of girls. I told him to stop wearing the nice clothes and go back to being a slouch for a bit, but he tells me that he,"has an image to uphold". Lock up your daughters, mothers, wives, sisters, brothers, whatever because Houston, we may have a problem.

Lil sis is really kinda funny. She has interesting taste in fellas to say the least. When I was her age, I idolized John Wayne. He was my hero and I had a picture of him on my wall. I watched all his movies and I knew everything about him. I loved him heart and soul. He was a rough and tough manly man that kicked ass and took names and influenced my entire life. Outside of you and Granpa, he was the major male influence in my life. Lil sis feels this way about young Mr. Rathbone, very much so. She also tends to like Chris Cofer and NPH. I noticed a trend in the fellas she tends to be really fond of, in fact her best buddy at school is a little boy that hangs out with the girls and likes pink as his favorite color and is just a delicate kinda kid. My lil girl tends to prefer the fellas that are..."Non-threatening?" I think that is a good thing. She was born into a house that had the type of , "Alpha Male/Biker Badass" man and all she ever saw was meanness and terrorism. Those boys dont scare her and that is a good thing. I dont blame her. She is a tough little critter on her own, and I see her as the type to be like me and to be telling some fool when she is older, "Hold my holster" like I did , as she goes out to take care of business.

Its Spring Break around here, and thanks to the ex being a bonehead as usual, my account is so far screwed up and overdrawn it will take most of next months income to fix it. I wish I could kick him off the account, but chase doesn't make it easy and as long as he has my boys, I have to leave him a way to get to some funds.I can only hope he gets it fixed in the next few weeks,though knowing him it will be weeks and weeks.

Dear Roger: Passive Aggressive

Still not writing much, though I have been working on some editing of a few things. Its frustrating, but I have been getting some runs of cluster migraines and with my left eye twitching almost non-stop for the last 2 weeks, I figure its not surprising that I haven't been able to write very much. I did get out and go running around with a friend of mine yesterday. We went down to the Hawthorne District here in Portland and went wandering in and out of some of the funky vintage resale shops and some of the music shops that they have down there.

I could spend days just wandering around down there, and probably thousands of dollars if I had them to spend. I found all kinds of cool old furniture that would look great in my house and that would go with the whole 30's Blues club theme I was trying to go for, and there were so many old guitars and other musical instruments, I thought I was in a museum in one store. If I hadn't had to come back and get daughter off the bus, I would probably still be down there wandering around in either a book store or this really cool acoustic instrument store that I found.

I wish my hands weren't so messed up. I have tried playing guitar again, but with all the damage over the years to my hands from broken fingers and such, the arthritis has made it really difficult, plus whatever weird neuro thing I have going on, makes my left hand really uncooperative when it comes to translating what my brain is telling it into action, so the more difficult chords and transitions, just do not happen, but I enjoy watching someone who knows what they are doing, play, and I plunk around when there is nobody to make fun of my clumsy attempts.

One shop we went in was really interesting. It had a 70's theme going on and the guy running it was fully embracing that whole vibe because the odor of weed hit us the minute we walked through the door. Its soo strange to me to be in a city where you can get a buzz while shopping, but it was funny and I got the giggles. It was a really cool shop and in there I found my perfect hat. Its a vintage Italian wool hat that beyond cool. I knew the minute I saw it that I had to have it, and I did something that I rarely do; I asked the guy if he would barter with me, and he did! I swapped my old wedding ring for it. I was so happy to get it, I even wore it out of the store and home. I got a compliment on it from a random stranger and it just fit me and my whole personality.

When I got a call from the ex later in the day, I told him about the hat and of course his comment was," So you are just embracing that whole dyke lifestyle now, aren't you?" He is such a charming bastard. I wasn't surprised he made such a nice comment. He was always like that. I actually hate talking to him, but I have to and I have to be nice about it for my boys. Its called appeasement. Playing nice so that I get to talk to my sons on a regular basis. Its miserable, but if I vented on him and let him know whats really in my heart and mind, then I would lose my tenuous connection to my sons and I would have to try and fight him in court to get them and I just cannot afford that financially. I would probably win, but then what? I have no car with which to go get them. So I play nice with a man who constantly makes hateful little remarks about me and my sexuality and looks and whatever else, who has for the last 10 years, cut me down both physically, mentally and emotionally, its just the price and the penance I pay.

My parents sent birthday cards to my daughter and my son. The one to my son was a month late, but they sent it. I dont know why, I haven't spoken to them since before Valentines day. I just cant. My issues with them run deep and twisty Rog, and I wish you were here to help me sort through them. I have a lot of anger at my father and at my mother and my insecurity about who I am stems from things that went on as I grew up. My father making fun of me and my physical appearance and what I ate, my mother discussing with her friend whether or not I was gay because I had pictures of a few female movie stars on my walls when I was 12. There are so many things that fucked me up when I was a kid that I dont even want to get into all of it, but my counselor is insisting that getting it out and talking about it, will help me deal with it. I think it just pisses me off further. Its hard to be a parent. We all make mistakes and I have not been a perfect parent by a long shot, but I have done my level best to never play favorites, and never let my kids doubt for one minute that I love them. I dont know if im fixable, but I know that I am trying hard to be a good parent and I damn sure intend to be a better grandparent for any grand kids I may have than my parents have been. My kids think that my folks hate kids. They dont even know their other grandmother, so they essentially have no relatives outside of me and their half-assed father and their crazy aunt. I wish that they could have had grandparents like I had. It seems so unfair that they dont have a loving grandfather and grandmother that teach them things and never make them feel unwanted or unloved or that yell at them. I remember the spanking that grandpa gave me for disobeying that one time outside of Chicago, but I also remember it was deserved and I remember that he really didn't want to do it and I remember that he hugged me later and that he still loved me. All my kids know of their grandfather is that he yells a lot and doesn't like kids. I dont know how to change that.

Dear Roger: What to say?

Rog, my heart hurts. I know if you were here you would be in agony right now. The country that you spent 7 years of your life exploring and loving, the culture that welcomed you and that you immersed yourself in, is bleeding. I have watched horrified as Japan has been torn apart by first the horror of the earthquake and then a tsunami of Hiroshiga proportions and I wondered about your friends and the women that were at your memorial service. I dont remember any of their names, and I am sure my mother doesn't have any of them, but I pray they are safe, after all, they cared for you and that makes them precious to me. The pain and suffering that has gone on all over the world has been hideous to behold, but Japan...that was close to home, not only because of you, but because my eldest daughter had planned to go study over there before she allowed a couple of albatrosses to weigh her down. I had hoped she would break free and go after all, but now, now I am glad she is safe. I hope your friends are safe. I wish I had gotten to meet some of them. I heard it was quite an interesting event, your memorial service. There were women from all over the world, but Japan was quite well represented for some reason. I guess the time you spent there was happy for you, and I know you loved that country as much as you loved this one. I still am quite adept at eating with chop sticks, and the tea ceremony, and I have actually attempted to pass that knowledge on to my own kids, but I lack your teaching ability, and they are more interested in the possibility of using things as weapons over eating, though all my kids love Asian food and they all know at least greetings in multiple languages, that is because of you and your influence.

My kids have been praying hard for the people in Japan, that is their way of coping and trying to help. I wish I could do more, and maybe by getting back into EMS, I will be able to get into international rescue. I hope the worst is over and that thing will begin to heal, and soon.

I reconnected with a friend from my past today. Another one of the old command staff from my days as a deputy passed away, and nobody bothered to notify me. That is low. Even if things are on the outs between me and the guy that I loved, he always sent me death notifications of my friends, but this time there was nothing. I hadn't heard from the young boyfriend that I had dated for a few years and that had always been a friend, so I got pissed off and I texted him and chewed him out for abandoning me as well. he texted me back and we talked for a couple of hours and all is well. Hes good for an ass kicking and for getting me back into my cop mindset and helping me get back into my routines when I am being a slouch. He used to be a pretty good friend and its nice to know that hes still around. I can count on him to make sure the right music is played at my wake and stuff like that, things that my parents would screw up or just not bother with at all.

I wrote a little this week, not as much as I would like, but then there has been a lot of heavy crap going on around me and that tends to slow the flow down quite a bit. I managed to put up chapters of both of my stories, but I let folks know I was probably going to put the longer one on hiatus for a bit, just until I find the voices again. I got a lot of really good reviews that were written by folks that seem to be more adult than the typical reviewer and that is interesting, but I still need a break from it. I want to write some lighter and funnier stuff, but I have to find it.

I enjoyed teasing my friend today by leading him to believe that I was considering switching teams because I was having such rotten luck with men. He was still pretty freaked out when I quit texting him. LOL!