Yes, I am still alive.No, I haven't felt much like talking lately and thus I really haven't felt much like writing, in fact, mostly what I have been doing is sitting on my ass in my room or in my recliner in the living room, staring out the window at the fucking grey and tan world around my while the wind blows 100 miles an hour and ignoring everything and everyone except when they reach the point of pissing me the fuck off.I have been on auto-pilot, just doing the things that have to be done to keep the kids from living in filth and squalor and from eating their own boogers more than usual, and mostly I have just sat in the wee hours reading vaguely pornographic ,"Twilight" fan fiction and contemplating why things are soo screwed up in my life.
My ex got out, hes not being a pain in the ass, he doesnt want to kill me,(so far), and the kids are really glad that he is around and allowed to see them. Him being pretty sane about the whole situation was a bit of a relief, but that whole situation came about around the same time my oldest son let slip that my folks were now selling off more of my grandparents property to keep their asses out of the poor house, and when I heard that, on top of the fact that my folks have just pretty much taken to ignoring my son alltogether, I just kinda folded up inside and rather than venting my rage and frustration at them, I started doing what essentially killed my uncle, I have been internalizing it, and its not going well for me. I have never been a overly happy person, and dysfunction is my families middle name, but when you add up all the shit that has gone on over the last few years in my life, it really starts to make me want to go just a little crazy, and that is why I just shut off and withdrew.
My grandparents and my uncle are how I survived to become an adult.They were love and stability and kindness and they took the time to know ME.I was never told by my granparents that I was the ,"smart one" and my sister was the ,'Pretty" one", my grandparents never discussed doubts about my sexual orientation over the phone with their friends when I was within earshot mearly because I had pictures of some older female Hollywood stars on the walls of my room when I was 11, my grandparents never sang,'Fatty,Fatty 2x4" at me when I went through the akward pudgy stage or sang the Coke-Cola song and made fun of me for my chest size when I developed breasts at 12 that were larger than most 18 year olds,I never smelled like dog piss or cat piss or cigarette smoke or filth when I was at my grandparents house,my uncle TALKED to me and listened to me about my ideas on art and my dreams of going to UCLA, he didnt bully me into a low rent college that I was then guilt tripped into wanting to leave because even though I was always told I was to go to college, no one had ever bothered to inform me that no one had prepared for it. I married at 19 so I could qualify for federal finacial aid so I could stay in college, and it was not a great marriage resulting in a broken hand a couple of times and an intimate knowledge of Arabic curse words and death threats, and I now have loan debt of epic proportions.
I have always been told that I was,"difficult", "not easy to love", and ,"stubborn", but my grandparents never made me feel that way, and they spent their summers with me, often teaching me life lessons that sustained me for the rest of the year. I adored them,they were everything to me and its their voices that I can hear when I most need that calm, sane influence in my life to keep me from taking that final step over the brink. The smell of my grandmas house,the sound of the clocks as they ticked in the kitchen, the heavy front door as it opened and closed and the clang of the metal outer door, the smell of the front yard after the rain, our walks up to the shopping center in the afternoons where we talked about pretty much everything, all those memories sustaine me. I have pretty much every card, letter, note, picture and postcard they ever sent me,trinkets that are tiny links to who they were.
I hated when my parents moved into my grandmas house, it was like a desecration of a sacred place.I hated that my grandpa was gone and I was never allowed to say goodbye, I was robbed of my right to grieve him and I never got over that and it has fucked me up my entire life.I hate that when my uncle died,I was not allowed to attend his service either, I always believed that HE was more my father than anyone else and when I lost him, it tore my soul and I still cannot speak of him without sobbing like I am broken, and I feel broken. I hate that my grandma was pulled out of the rehab facility and taken back home to languish and feel like a burden, she should have been made to stay in therapy, she would have gotten better and then the shit would have been ON.I hate that she was taken clear back to East Texas and stuffed into a nursing home away from her family until the flu killed her because she hadnt gotten the shot that she got EVERY YEAR. I hate that everything that my grandparents saved and scrimped and worked so hard to save and collect over the decades, is being sold off to strangers to support worthless horses, bad habits and things that would crush them if they knew. I hate that some strangers have been pawing over my grandpas medals and my uncles things, and that things that MEAN something to me, are being sold for nothing and that I do not have the strength to stand up against it. I hate that I put children in that dysfunction to become twisted and hurt and as fucked up emotionally as I am.
I wish I had the guts to do something about it, my sister wishes she had the guts to do something about it, but we dont and we just cry to each other on the phone until we both decide we cannot speak of it anymore for fear of the pain becoming too much.
I want my son home, and once he is home, I am going to shut a door for my sanity, but until then, I am going to write letters to my uncle, and that is what this blog is going to be, "letters to Roger", because he was the best of us and WWRD? pulled me back more than once. I know that its normal to lose people you love, that death is part of life,lots of people have fucked up families, and lots of people get over it and drive on, but I have developed a problem shifting gears and I seem to be stuck in neutral. I dont have a job, or a boyfriend, I quit school and when I saw my ex the other day to let the kids see him, he was shocked at my appearence and told me that frankly he was suprised I was able to get around and he wasnt just being a dick, I know I look scary and that my clothes hang on me, some of that shit comes from not eating or sleeping, and dark circles under the eyes, pale skin and wearing black are supposed to be the,'Cool" thing now, Right?
Im a hurt and angry thing right now, tis best those who only want to hear kind hearted platitudes stay away, because the jaw that has been clinched to keep me from screaming is really starting to hurt.
About Me
- Calamity
- Portland, Oregon, United States
- Middle aged crazy, a little on the broken side,been to hell and back and still make side trips into Purgatory to indulge the masochistic side of my personality. I'm Texan,Southern,Over-educated,arrogant, temperamental,oversexed but under-indulged.Chasing after younger men and the happiness that has eluded me for most of my life.Music and literature are my passions.Finally living the dream in my idea of Heaven.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Tick,Tick, Tick
Time is short, in fact he will be loose Monday, and that has brought about many mixed emotions; resignation, anger, denial, acceptance, relief, but oddly, not fear. I have never feared the thought of death, and that is what most people are betting I am facing if he comes out the way most normal people who have been though what he has been through, would come out, but its just because I have always expected that death would take me early because I am not the type of person to age well or accept my bodies failure. I have never been one to tolerate being told what to do, or having people control me or tell me where I can or cant go and what I can and cant do, that is why my marriages failed and my jobs end and I am pretty much a loner, I am not an easy person to know or be around because I resist being managed. I was always the pain in the ass kid to my parents, the ,"Wild Thing" that made life such a misery that I never came home to the hot meal, I always wanted to stay on the island, and perhaps I have. My mom sent me to a shrink once to find out why I was so difficult to deal with and he said that I had,"an enormous chip on my shoulder that the world needed to knock off for my own good" and I guess its still trying. I have always thrown my body against the wall full force, loved as hard as anyone ever loved, only to be rejected in a way that left me an emotional cripple, incapable of ever wanting to love again, and I am glad of that because it made me free. The only thing I really worry about is my kids, but I know if the knock-down drag out battle happens, they will land in the right place with my friend Susan, who is peace and love and kindness and compassion and the best friend I have ever had, and I have loved pulling her leg in the past and I am still giggling over her reaction to my ,"Coming Out" blog. My kids will be better people for having her as a parent.
My ex will not be a problem, because if he comes looking for a fight, he will get one and we will both go.
My sis has a cancer scare going on, and unlike me, she is getting hers followed up on, and hopefully she will have some answers tomorrow. I put off my cervical biopsy until things settle, I figure whats the point of finding out if Im dying of cancer, if my ex is gonna kill me anyway, who needs that stress? But we were discussing our bucket lists and we both have some things in common which gave us fits of giggles tonight on the phone, and leave it to say,"Thelma and Louise" minus Brad Pitt because for some completely freakish reason my sis finds him repulsive, so we would have to kidnap Gerard or some other acceptable hottie, but it would involve a very fast car, verbally clearing the slate with more than a couple of people, and taking in quite a bit of countryside.
Talking about these things with her really makes me feel better about things, and its nice to talk with someone who knows me, and who never asks me,"Arent you scared?' because she knows the answer, I am not the one who should be scared because heaven doesnt want me and hell is afraid I will take over.
My ex will not be a problem, because if he comes looking for a fight, he will get one and we will both go.
My sis has a cancer scare going on, and unlike me, she is getting hers followed up on, and hopefully she will have some answers tomorrow. I put off my cervical biopsy until things settle, I figure whats the point of finding out if Im dying of cancer, if my ex is gonna kill me anyway, who needs that stress? But we were discussing our bucket lists and we both have some things in common which gave us fits of giggles tonight on the phone, and leave it to say,"Thelma and Louise" minus Brad Pitt because for some completely freakish reason my sis finds him repulsive, so we would have to kidnap Gerard or some other acceptable hottie, but it would involve a very fast car, verbally clearing the slate with more than a couple of people, and taking in quite a bit of countryside.
Talking about these things with her really makes me feel better about things, and its nice to talk with someone who knows me, and who never asks me,"Arent you scared?' because she knows the answer, I am not the one who should be scared because heaven doesnt want me and hell is afraid I will take over.
Monday, March 22, 2010
My Public Will
Well folks, we are down to the final stretch, and like it or not, one week from today, the man I put in prison will be loose on the streets of Flagstaff, and able to either go about rebuilding his life and re-establishing his relationship with his children, or he will come and find me and finish what he started. I am not sure of his mindset, I know that if I were him I would be nursing a very powerful grudge against the person who took everything away from me and sent me to hell, and we were never that great of a couple to begin with, so its a craps shoot, and being that I do not know what his intentions are, and I have no faith in the law or law enforcement to protect me, I am going to write down what I want done with my children and my posessions and I am going to make some of it public, because I have seen what happens in my family when it is just assumed that the people you trust, will follow your wishes and do the right thing, wills vanish and money gets ,"disappeared", and people make decisions that you would not have made in a million years, becuase they think ,'Its for the best".
The first thing I am going to say is that if he does take me out, I am not planning on letting him walk away from it, so my kids will be orphans, and as such, I want them to go to a place where they will be loved, and the money they will receive as my heirs/survivors, will be spent on them and their needs, and so I want it made very clear that I want my children to go to my best friend Susan W., in Gresham,Oregon. This means ALL of my children, my eldest son Chance, on down. She will also be my executor of my estate,(what there is of it), and she will make all decisions regarding my property for the interest of my children, because I know she will do it for the interest of my children.
Susan will be getting a handwritten copy of a more detailed listing of accounts and such, so she will know who and what to contact and how to proceed, but this is what I want. My kids will have a great life and they will know stability and love and peace and happiness.
I want to be cremated, and I am hoping that my friends around the world would be so kind as to be willing to participate in scattering them in places that I have never been able to see in my lifetime, and I am hoping my Facebook family around the world will assist my son Chance with that endevour. I dont want a big churchy service with people who didnt know me mooning on, I am making a playlit for my Ipod and I would like a traditional Irish wake with food and drink.
Burn my poetry and my writings, thats all it was good for anyway.
The Gila Monster Painting goes to my son Chance. One of the last competent statements my grandmother made was to say, "That is yours, YOU take it", to me, and I damn sure did. Its mine and I pass it to him.
Things that Susan cannot sell to help get the kids back to Oregon, should be donated to Northland Battered Womens Shelter.
I will address my dogs and all my other stuff in my private letter to Susan, but I wanted to get the main gist of what I was going to be saying, out and in the public view, where I knew it would have to be respected.
The first thing I am going to say is that if he does take me out, I am not planning on letting him walk away from it, so my kids will be orphans, and as such, I want them to go to a place where they will be loved, and the money they will receive as my heirs/survivors, will be spent on them and their needs, and so I want it made very clear that I want my children to go to my best friend Susan W., in Gresham,Oregon. This means ALL of my children, my eldest son Chance, on down. She will also be my executor of my estate,(what there is of it), and she will make all decisions regarding my property for the interest of my children, because I know she will do it for the interest of my children.
Susan will be getting a handwritten copy of a more detailed listing of accounts and such, so she will know who and what to contact and how to proceed, but this is what I want. My kids will have a great life and they will know stability and love and peace and happiness.
I want to be cremated, and I am hoping that my friends around the world would be so kind as to be willing to participate in scattering them in places that I have never been able to see in my lifetime, and I am hoping my Facebook family around the world will assist my son Chance with that endevour. I dont want a big churchy service with people who didnt know me mooning on, I am making a playlit for my Ipod and I would like a traditional Irish wake with food and drink.
Burn my poetry and my writings, thats all it was good for anyway.
The Gila Monster Painting goes to my son Chance. One of the last competent statements my grandmother made was to say, "That is yours, YOU take it", to me, and I damn sure did. Its mine and I pass it to him.
Things that Susan cannot sell to help get the kids back to Oregon, should be donated to Northland Battered Womens Shelter.
I will address my dogs and all my other stuff in my private letter to Susan, but I wanted to get the main gist of what I was going to be saying, out and in the public view, where I knew it would have to be respected.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Coming Out
There are secrets that a person keeps because revealing them to those who know the person, can cause embarassment, shame and even loss of status, and I have been keeping a secret, a deep, dark, secret that only a select few close to me know the depth and depravity of,and the lengths to which I have gone to not only indulge my passion, but to protect the secret so as not to cause embarassment to those who love me. I have decided to reveal my secret because keeping it has become too complicated and difficult, and because I have discovered that there are more of my kind than there are of those who would shame and humiliate me. I revealed myself to my son, and while a bit reticent and chagrined, he is supportive and willing to support me, oddly enough, my eldest daughter was the least supportive and the most scornful,even denigrating me and using insults and disparaging names for my particular group.
I have never been one to be fearful or seeking of acceptance, but this is so shocking and such an abnormality, that I have held back and watched from the wings as the movement spread, and it has reached the point that I have decided to step forward and admit who I am, who I have become, and I can only hope that Ali will forgive and that my son wont be too embarassed, but I have joined the ranks of the Twilight fans, and I am firmly Team Edward.
Yes friends, I resisted as long as I could, but when you live a life as devoid of romance and passion as I have, even a compensated psychopath starts to look good. I have read the books, I own the movie, and I am planning on dragging my poor son to the premier of Eclipse in June. Its fun, its harmless, and its like cotton candy for the middle aged brain. Edward is something that I have never, and will never, have, a man that loves purely and truely, albiet obsessively. When you reach my age and you realize that you have never been loved, its like a sucker punch to the heart, so you have to live vicariously. I like the books, the movies are fun and I like the fact that they arent so violent and full of sex and filty language, they are subtle and full of romance. I have very little in my life that makes me happy,mainly my life is lived for my kids and its work, work, work for them all day long, with no escape from the constant stress, to the point of chest pains, and it was that stress and lonliness and chest pains that made me retreat to the books.
I dont own any t-shirts or posters or anything like that, but I confess, I have perused the posters a few times and that Kellan Lutz...mmm!
I have never been one to be fearful or seeking of acceptance, but this is so shocking and such an abnormality, that I have held back and watched from the wings as the movement spread, and it has reached the point that I have decided to step forward and admit who I am, who I have become, and I can only hope that Ali will forgive and that my son wont be too embarassed, but I have joined the ranks of the Twilight fans, and I am firmly Team Edward.
Yes friends, I resisted as long as I could, but when you live a life as devoid of romance and passion as I have, even a compensated psychopath starts to look good. I have read the books, I own the movie, and I am planning on dragging my poor son to the premier of Eclipse in June. Its fun, its harmless, and its like cotton candy for the middle aged brain. Edward is something that I have never, and will never, have, a man that loves purely and truely, albiet obsessively. When you reach my age and you realize that you have never been loved, its like a sucker punch to the heart, so you have to live vicariously. I like the books, the movies are fun and I like the fact that they arent so violent and full of sex and filty language, they are subtle and full of romance. I have very little in my life that makes me happy,mainly my life is lived for my kids and its work, work, work for them all day long, with no escape from the constant stress, to the point of chest pains, and it was that stress and lonliness and chest pains that made me retreat to the books.
I dont own any t-shirts or posters or anything like that, but I confess, I have perused the posters a few times and that Kellan Lutz...mmm!
Sunday, March 14, 2010
The Dangers of Dining With Children
I do my level best to ensure that my kids have knowledge of the world around them, from pointing out the Latin,(real Latin, not Spanish) roots of the language around them, to teaching them greetings and words in other languages, and when I was trying to get them to stop cussing so much after their father was removed, we decided that the phrases the teachers and counselors were suggesting werent getting through to my son with Downs, so I found a phrase in Gaelic that he really like the sound of and he uses it whenever he is angry or stressed or upset, and it suits and and other than one teacher who has travelled extensively in Ireland,no one knows what the hell or my other kids are saying when they say,'Pogue Mahone!", and the other swearing has almost compltely stopped. I teach my kids about other countries and their heritage and that they have an obligation to explore what the world is like around them, including trying different foods and ways of doing things.
Teaching my kids to eat with chop sticks seemed like a good idea at the time, and after all, my uncle taught me how to use chop sticks when I was around 8 years old, and I can eat noodles, rice, veggies, and all kinds of stuff with them and I actually prefer them over a fork when I am eating Asian types of food. I love cooking Asian food, and I have gotten pretty good at Thai, Chinese, and some Vietnamese and Japanese, so its an at least twice a week affair at my house and I own not only a rice cooker that makes really great ,"Sticky Rice", I own a half a dozen sets of chop sticks, and special bowls, and I make rice noodles and such for the kids even when I make American food.
I should have started the lesson with the kids seated more than arms length apart from each other, but really, who expects them to begin by trying to stab each other?
What follows are the highlights of our dinner conversation during our first and last chopstick lesson until they are about 3-5 years older.
Stubby- What the hell are these things, toothpicks for Fergus?
Me-No, they are called Chopsticks...and dont say "hell".
Stubby-What are we supposed to do with them, kill the meal...(Stevie interjected at this point) MOM!!! He POOOOOOKED ME WITH THE STICK THINGY!!!!!!!!WAAAAHHHHHHH!
Me-Stubby! Do not poke anyone with the chopsticks! Sticky! Do not poke Ferg in the butt with your chopstick, put that one in the sink and I will get you a clean one, Ferg! Get out of the kitchen!!
Stubby-So what the hell is for dinner and how are we supposed to eat with these stupid things?
Me- We are having Orange chicken with sticky rice and quit saying "hell" or you will be sitting on your bed.
Stubby-Well, I dont want any stupid vegetables
Stevie-I WANT vegetables
Sticky- POGUE MAHONE!!! muttermuttermutter
Me-Sticky, I will put broccoli in the chicken for you and Stevie, Stubby, you at least need to try, all of you need to quit hitting the dogs with the chopsticks! Stubby, put the dogs out back right now, dinner is nearly ready.
(Chaos ensues while the dogs are run out back)
While the kids get hands washed and such, I served up the food and waited for them to come back up the the table, still hopeful(foolishly, that I could actually give a sane lesson to them on proper use of the chopstick)and as I started to explain how placement in the hand was often related to social status, my kids began stabbing their plates and each others plates with single sticks or thwacking each other with them and trying to steal chunks of chicken, or as Stubby did, just ignoring the sticks altogether and grabbing handfuls of food and shoving it into his mouth like a wild animals. Stevie was the only one to give a real honest effort, and even at that I had to disarm her because she insisted on using her chopstick as weapons to defend her plate from attack
Stubby-No wonder you are so skinny mom, those things dont scoop up nothing!
Me-Yes, they do, if you would just pay attention and practice, you would be able to pick up lots of stuff with them,(I demonstrated), and people have been using them for thousands of years.
Stubby- Well, I think they make really awesome waepons!
Stevie_MOM!! He POOOOOKED me AGAIN!!!!
Me- Poke him back, but first, get that chop stick out of your hair, these arent that type of chopstick.
Teaching my kids to eat with chop sticks seemed like a good idea at the time, and after all, my uncle taught me how to use chop sticks when I was around 8 years old, and I can eat noodles, rice, veggies, and all kinds of stuff with them and I actually prefer them over a fork when I am eating Asian types of food. I love cooking Asian food, and I have gotten pretty good at Thai, Chinese, and some Vietnamese and Japanese, so its an at least twice a week affair at my house and I own not only a rice cooker that makes really great ,"Sticky Rice", I own a half a dozen sets of chop sticks, and special bowls, and I make rice noodles and such for the kids even when I make American food.
I should have started the lesson with the kids seated more than arms length apart from each other, but really, who expects them to begin by trying to stab each other?
What follows are the highlights of our dinner conversation during our first and last chopstick lesson until they are about 3-5 years older.
Stubby- What the hell are these things, toothpicks for Fergus?
Me-No, they are called Chopsticks...and dont say "hell".
Stubby-What are we supposed to do with them, kill the meal...(Stevie interjected at this point) MOM!!! He POOOOOOKED ME WITH THE STICK THINGY!!!!!!!!WAAAAHHHHHHH!
Me-Stubby! Do not poke anyone with the chopsticks! Sticky! Do not poke Ferg in the butt with your chopstick, put that one in the sink and I will get you a clean one, Ferg! Get out of the kitchen!!
Stubby-So what the hell is for dinner and how are we supposed to eat with these stupid things?
Me- We are having Orange chicken with sticky rice and quit saying "hell" or you will be sitting on your bed.
Stubby-Well, I dont want any stupid vegetables
Stevie-I WANT vegetables
Sticky- POGUE MAHONE!!! muttermuttermutter
Me-Sticky, I will put broccoli in the chicken for you and Stevie, Stubby, you at least need to try, all of you need to quit hitting the dogs with the chopsticks! Stubby, put the dogs out back right now, dinner is nearly ready.
(Chaos ensues while the dogs are run out back)
While the kids get hands washed and such, I served up the food and waited for them to come back up the the table, still hopeful(foolishly, that I could actually give a sane lesson to them on proper use of the chopstick)and as I started to explain how placement in the hand was often related to social status, my kids began stabbing their plates and each others plates with single sticks or thwacking each other with them and trying to steal chunks of chicken, or as Stubby did, just ignoring the sticks altogether and grabbing handfuls of food and shoving it into his mouth like a wild animals. Stevie was the only one to give a real honest effort, and even at that I had to disarm her because she insisted on using her chopstick as weapons to defend her plate from attack
Stubby-No wonder you are so skinny mom, those things dont scoop up nothing!
Me-Yes, they do, if you would just pay attention and practice, you would be able to pick up lots of stuff with them,(I demonstrated), and people have been using them for thousands of years.
Stubby- Well, I think they make really awesome waepons!
Stevie_MOM!! He POOOOOKED me AGAIN!!!!
Me- Poke him back, but first, get that chop stick out of your hair, these arent that type of chopstick.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Its a Dogs Life
I guess you could call me an animal lover, I pretty much have to be, because I have 4 ginormous, slobbery, farting, rescue mutts that I share my home with, and its not always a harmonious existence because they all came to me with ,'Issues", and living where we live, we are quite often trapped in the house together for long stretches of time, and when they get out, they track back in copious amounts of the outdoors, so if I was one of those chicks that sweated the small stuff, I would be even more twitchy than I am now.
My main mutt, and the doggy love of my life is my Dogue de Borduex/Neopolitan Mastiff mix ,"Fergus". Ferg is getting close to 3 years old and he weighs a hefty 174 lbs,(give or take), and he is the best dog that has ever owned me. Its because of him that I decided to fight harder to hang onto my home, because losing it would have ment losing him, and he has helped me though some of the worst of the P.T.S.D. He is my chief of security, the head of housekeeping and kitchen management, and my crowd control officer. He is a beautiful dog that is the color of a weimeriner with yellow eyes and the flaw of a pink nose that sunburns to hell and gone when I let him outside too long. He is a protective and bossy fellow that tries to be a good second in command,and he recognizes that I am the ,"Alpha Bitch" whos word is final, even if I dont speak it,(I have taught him to respond to subtle hand signals for my and his protection), but he also adores my kids and tolerates them rolling all over him, pulling on his jowls and laying on him. He is on a strict diet that is supposed to keep his weight down in the 160 range, but this winter has been hard on all of us and he has ballooned up to 174 due to lack of exercise and constant chumming by the kids, that has not only made him fat, but has also permantly scarred my sinuses due to the gas that has peeled the paint off the walls in my house.
The next dog in the roster is ,"Finnegus" our recently adopted Basset hound. I adopted Finn after reading about him on the animal shelters website. Poor Finn had been dumped at the shelter after a bad divorce, the ex-husband waited until the woman and kids were committed to an apartment that only allowed one dog, and since they already had a dog that they had owned for 12 years, he had been supposed to keep Finn,(who had a much lamer name)but after they moved, he dumped him to get back at his ex. Poor Finn had lost his home, his kids, his friend, and everything he knew all in one fell swoop. Since he was an older dog, and noisy, people would look, but no one was taking him home, so I just had to go get him. He is pretty much a perfect dog, hes neutered, chipped, house-broken, obediance trained,(as much as you can a Basset), and he is a cuddler, his two major faults are that he has ,"short man syndrome", and that he is somehow able to countersurf and open garbage cans, and after he devours everything he finds, the resulting effects on his digestive system clears rooms, makes humans and other dogs want to cry and actually makes matches and candles burn brighter. He likes to lay on my lap when I am in my recliner watching a movie, and at 70lbs, he makes it hard to get back into the upright position, so I have used that as my excuse as to why I have watched ,'Twilight" so many times. He is a very sweet dog, but he constantly challenges Fergs authority and he is a bit of a bed/couch hog that snores like a sawmill running a full bore through petrified wood. He is great with the kids and seems to find it funny to sprawl on top of my 8 year old and just roll around on him while my son giggles and tries to escape. He doesnt always wake up the best, he seems to wake up with a fight response to sudden touching, which leads me to belive that he might have been abused in the past, but I dont wake up gently either, so we kinda understand each other in that aspect.
The last two members of my pack are the Bernard twins,"Fiana and Tara", a pair of 3 year old St Bernards that I took in from an abusive home where they had been throwout dogs,(dogs that had been bought as cute little puppies in reaction to the last Hollywood movie and then promptly thrown out in the back yard when the cute wore off and the work began), they had no training beyond basic terror tactics, didnt respond to the names the owner said they had, and they were stunted and underweight and terrified of men, and they had never had a bath or been groomed. When I got them, I took them straight away to the vet for shots and chipping and exams, and then to the groomers, at over $400 later, I had new dogs that seemed to realize that they had just won the doggy lottery. They are boundless energy, and they love to run and since we have been hit with blizzard after blizzard, they can simply step over the fence and leave, so I have to secure them when they are out in the back yard, but in the house they like to lay next to my chair and on their beds out in the living room, or in the doorway of my bedroom where they drool at the cat food. When we adopted them they weighed 105 and 107, and now they weigh 128 and 132 and act like new dogs, including being housebroken. The drool is epic in amounts, and in fact they baptized my new flatscreen befor I even got it plugged in, they came running into the living room to see what I was doing and shook their heads simultaneously, slinging slobber all over me, Ferg, the tv and the walls. The hair is pretty bad too, they shed constantly and they track mud in more than any other critter around here, but its hard to get upset about it, because if I even look like I am tense or angry, they freak out and seem to try and turn inside out in an attempt to please. Tara ia a compulsive licker, and if I dont keep an eye on her, she will lick a raw spot on her sister or on her own leg, and just trying to keep them from tangling themselves around me and or each other is an exercise in frustration when walking them, because they bounce all over the place and then go submissive and then try to play with each other or get Ferg aggravated and then he smacks them up while Finn barks at everyone, so its constant chaos when I attempt to hook them up for a jaunt around the yard, but they are sweet dogs that just need a bit of time and attention to be wonderful dogs.
I am looking forward to this summer, I will be glad to be able to get the dogs out into the big yard and allow them to run and play and just be dogs, and to watch my son play with Ferg and do their version of Spartan training camp, where Ferg chases him around in a game of bulldog style tag that is amazing to watch for the sheer terror and athleticism it displays.
I enjoy having my dogs, though I belive they most likely have me more than I have them, and every crazy, gnarly moment that both amuses and horrifies me, from the audible farts that send the children into gales of laughter and quite often startles the offending dog, to the hair and slobber that has created unique guessing games such as,"Kid booger, dog booger, or unknown substance?" or the infamous,"Which dog did it?" and 'Lets chase the cat", our poor benighted cat has become a master of stealth movement through the house and she lives up under my bed and at night when the dogs are asleeps, she moves through the house as if she were navigating a furry minefield, and she has gotten really good at it and somehow retained her sanity.
Its probably a good thing I have no interest in dating, if my children did not scare men off, my dogs most surely would and very few could handle my 174lb self-appointed, fanged and drooling, body guard.
My main mutt, and the doggy love of my life is my Dogue de Borduex/Neopolitan Mastiff mix ,"Fergus". Ferg is getting close to 3 years old and he weighs a hefty 174 lbs,(give or take), and he is the best dog that has ever owned me. Its because of him that I decided to fight harder to hang onto my home, because losing it would have ment losing him, and he has helped me though some of the worst of the P.T.S.D. He is my chief of security, the head of housekeeping and kitchen management, and my crowd control officer. He is a beautiful dog that is the color of a weimeriner with yellow eyes and the flaw of a pink nose that sunburns to hell and gone when I let him outside too long. He is a protective and bossy fellow that tries to be a good second in command,and he recognizes that I am the ,"Alpha Bitch" whos word is final, even if I dont speak it,(I have taught him to respond to subtle hand signals for my and his protection), but he also adores my kids and tolerates them rolling all over him, pulling on his jowls and laying on him. He is on a strict diet that is supposed to keep his weight down in the 160 range, but this winter has been hard on all of us and he has ballooned up to 174 due to lack of exercise and constant chumming by the kids, that has not only made him fat, but has also permantly scarred my sinuses due to the gas that has peeled the paint off the walls in my house.
The next dog in the roster is ,"Finnegus" our recently adopted Basset hound. I adopted Finn after reading about him on the animal shelters website. Poor Finn had been dumped at the shelter after a bad divorce, the ex-husband waited until the woman and kids were committed to an apartment that only allowed one dog, and since they already had a dog that they had owned for 12 years, he had been supposed to keep Finn,(who had a much lamer name)but after they moved, he dumped him to get back at his ex. Poor Finn had lost his home, his kids, his friend, and everything he knew all in one fell swoop. Since he was an older dog, and noisy, people would look, but no one was taking him home, so I just had to go get him. He is pretty much a perfect dog, hes neutered, chipped, house-broken, obediance trained,(as much as you can a Basset), and he is a cuddler, his two major faults are that he has ,"short man syndrome", and that he is somehow able to countersurf and open garbage cans, and after he devours everything he finds, the resulting effects on his digestive system clears rooms, makes humans and other dogs want to cry and actually makes matches and candles burn brighter. He likes to lay on my lap when I am in my recliner watching a movie, and at 70lbs, he makes it hard to get back into the upright position, so I have used that as my excuse as to why I have watched ,'Twilight" so many times. He is a very sweet dog, but he constantly challenges Fergs authority and he is a bit of a bed/couch hog that snores like a sawmill running a full bore through petrified wood. He is great with the kids and seems to find it funny to sprawl on top of my 8 year old and just roll around on him while my son giggles and tries to escape. He doesnt always wake up the best, he seems to wake up with a fight response to sudden touching, which leads me to belive that he might have been abused in the past, but I dont wake up gently either, so we kinda understand each other in that aspect.
The last two members of my pack are the Bernard twins,"Fiana and Tara", a pair of 3 year old St Bernards that I took in from an abusive home where they had been throwout dogs,(dogs that had been bought as cute little puppies in reaction to the last Hollywood movie and then promptly thrown out in the back yard when the cute wore off and the work began), they had no training beyond basic terror tactics, didnt respond to the names the owner said they had, and they were stunted and underweight and terrified of men, and they had never had a bath or been groomed. When I got them, I took them straight away to the vet for shots and chipping and exams, and then to the groomers, at over $400 later, I had new dogs that seemed to realize that they had just won the doggy lottery. They are boundless energy, and they love to run and since we have been hit with blizzard after blizzard, they can simply step over the fence and leave, so I have to secure them when they are out in the back yard, but in the house they like to lay next to my chair and on their beds out in the living room, or in the doorway of my bedroom where they drool at the cat food. When we adopted them they weighed 105 and 107, and now they weigh 128 and 132 and act like new dogs, including being housebroken. The drool is epic in amounts, and in fact they baptized my new flatscreen befor I even got it plugged in, they came running into the living room to see what I was doing and shook their heads simultaneously, slinging slobber all over me, Ferg, the tv and the walls. The hair is pretty bad too, they shed constantly and they track mud in more than any other critter around here, but its hard to get upset about it, because if I even look like I am tense or angry, they freak out and seem to try and turn inside out in an attempt to please. Tara ia a compulsive licker, and if I dont keep an eye on her, she will lick a raw spot on her sister or on her own leg, and just trying to keep them from tangling themselves around me and or each other is an exercise in frustration when walking them, because they bounce all over the place and then go submissive and then try to play with each other or get Ferg aggravated and then he smacks them up while Finn barks at everyone, so its constant chaos when I attempt to hook them up for a jaunt around the yard, but they are sweet dogs that just need a bit of time and attention to be wonderful dogs.
I am looking forward to this summer, I will be glad to be able to get the dogs out into the big yard and allow them to run and play and just be dogs, and to watch my son play with Ferg and do their version of Spartan training camp, where Ferg chases him around in a game of bulldog style tag that is amazing to watch for the sheer terror and athleticism it displays.
I enjoy having my dogs, though I belive they most likely have me more than I have them, and every crazy, gnarly moment that both amuses and horrifies me, from the audible farts that send the children into gales of laughter and quite often startles the offending dog, to the hair and slobber that has created unique guessing games such as,"Kid booger, dog booger, or unknown substance?" or the infamous,"Which dog did it?" and 'Lets chase the cat", our poor benighted cat has become a master of stealth movement through the house and she lives up under my bed and at night when the dogs are asleeps, she moves through the house as if she were navigating a furry minefield, and she has gotten really good at it and somehow retained her sanity.
Its probably a good thing I have no interest in dating, if my children did not scare men off, my dogs most surely would and very few could handle my 174lb self-appointed, fanged and drooling, body guard.
Friday, March 5, 2010
I Wouldn't Be So Angry If People Would Quit Pissing Me Off
Soo, I have been taking a little bit of time off to work on my house and to indulge in some strongly suggested counseling for what has been diagnosed as a "Pretty significant case of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder", people seem to think that just because I have a strong aversion to being touched, dont like crowds, have a hair trigger temper, start fights with strange men, have nightmares,insomnia, and eating issues, as well as a tendency to slam doors hard enough to dislodge the entire jam; that I need to be in some type of counseling. It was my performance at the ,"Directed Response Committee" meeting, where I told the County Attorney exactly what I thought of the job they were doing for the victims of domestic violence, that finally prompted me to give in after almost 2 years and get some help, because its really not a good idea to go off on people that can throw your ass in jail for a very long time. I was also falling back into an old habit that I can ill afford to indulge in at age 40, especially as a single mom, because there is nothing I find more disgusting and pathetic that a middle-aged drunk, so I nipped that in the bud right away.
My counselor is a bit of a hippy chick, and I think I might intimidate her just a little, because she says that she can feel the rage just humming off of me, and she spotted physical signs that I didnt even realize I showed, including having my left fist clenched pretty much all the time, and when I talk about my ex or another man, my jaw clenches and she said that pain shows in my whole being,(whatever that means)and that its obvious I havent just been hurt physically, but that the mind fuck that has been done on me for that past decade has left me so hurt and damaged, that she can see I am past the point of caring about the trite things most people worry about. She knows that I was supposed to got for a biopsy a couple of months ago, and that I havent, not because I havent had time, but because I just do not want to endure another indignity over something that I cannot change or that I do not care about. The sessions are kind of unusual, we talk about pretty much whatever comes to mind, and its not always about my ex, though with his impending release just 20 days away, that is the main topic of conversation because I find that my stress is reaching the boiling point, and the doors in my house cannot take much more slamming. I am still working on fixing things in my home, and the kids are still working on breaking things, including the main commode which the 9 year old managed to clog with some unknown object just for the hell of it, right after he smeared paint of the wrong color all over the freshly painted front bedroom and hallway. New carpet is going in this next week, but I do not have much hope it will stay unstained for long, they seem to relish ruining things that I have fixed and its wearing me out. The dogs are all shedding due to Spring finally trying to make an appearance, and there seems to be dog hair everywhere!
I do not know if counseling will help me, I actually think I would feel better if I was able to either go shooting or if I were able to take a baseball bat and beat the hell out of something, but the ability to speak candidly about the deepest, darkest feeling in my heart about things that have happened and that have bothered me for years, is somewhat cleansing. We discussed my not dating and general feeling of being numb, and though that is a lonely feeling, for now its probably the best and safest feeling for me to be experiencing, because I am dangerous due to my anger that I cannot seem to figure out where to direct.
I cut the end of my finger off the other day installing some tile, and I seem to keep bumping that finger against everything, and that just serves to piss me off even more, but I have managed to get down most of the tile with only a small amount of blood staining the floor.
Ive been reading alot, pretty much anything I can get my hands on, and thats help to keep me distracted from being alone and from my ex's impending release, but it does not change the fact that I am alone, soon to face the man who tried to kill me, who beat my son and who made my life a living hell. I am alone with no one to support me, no one to help me, no one to offer a kind word or to even to let me know that I have a reason to not be angry.
My counselor is a bit of a hippy chick, and I think I might intimidate her just a little, because she says that she can feel the rage just humming off of me, and she spotted physical signs that I didnt even realize I showed, including having my left fist clenched pretty much all the time, and when I talk about my ex or another man, my jaw clenches and she said that pain shows in my whole being,(whatever that means)and that its obvious I havent just been hurt physically, but that the mind fuck that has been done on me for that past decade has left me so hurt and damaged, that she can see I am past the point of caring about the trite things most people worry about. She knows that I was supposed to got for a biopsy a couple of months ago, and that I havent, not because I havent had time, but because I just do not want to endure another indignity over something that I cannot change or that I do not care about. The sessions are kind of unusual, we talk about pretty much whatever comes to mind, and its not always about my ex, though with his impending release just 20 days away, that is the main topic of conversation because I find that my stress is reaching the boiling point, and the doors in my house cannot take much more slamming. I am still working on fixing things in my home, and the kids are still working on breaking things, including the main commode which the 9 year old managed to clog with some unknown object just for the hell of it, right after he smeared paint of the wrong color all over the freshly painted front bedroom and hallway. New carpet is going in this next week, but I do not have much hope it will stay unstained for long, they seem to relish ruining things that I have fixed and its wearing me out. The dogs are all shedding due to Spring finally trying to make an appearance, and there seems to be dog hair everywhere!
I do not know if counseling will help me, I actually think I would feel better if I was able to either go shooting or if I were able to take a baseball bat and beat the hell out of something, but the ability to speak candidly about the deepest, darkest feeling in my heart about things that have happened and that have bothered me for years, is somewhat cleansing. We discussed my not dating and general feeling of being numb, and though that is a lonely feeling, for now its probably the best and safest feeling for me to be experiencing, because I am dangerous due to my anger that I cannot seem to figure out where to direct.
I cut the end of my finger off the other day installing some tile, and I seem to keep bumping that finger against everything, and that just serves to piss me off even more, but I have managed to get down most of the tile with only a small amount of blood staining the floor.
Ive been reading alot, pretty much anything I can get my hands on, and thats help to keep me distracted from being alone and from my ex's impending release, but it does not change the fact that I am alone, soon to face the man who tried to kill me, who beat my son and who made my life a living hell. I am alone with no one to support me, no one to help me, no one to offer a kind word or to even to let me know that I have a reason to not be angry.
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