Dear Roger, Grannys Wooden Spoon or The Crazy Eye Comes Naturally

My Granny has been on my mind a lot lately, and I dont really know why, other than my dad and I have finally reached an understanding about a lot of things and while neither one of us may approve of the others decisions, we both have realized that we are flawed individuals that have survived a lot of foul shit, mainly because one woman imbued us with the pure cussedness and will to fight on and survive no matter what life may throw at us; mainly his mother;Dorothy Mae Wallace.

My granny was the oldest daughter of 13 kids, her father was a Scotsman and her mother was a mostly Comanche woman from out in the middle of nowhere West Texas. She was essentially handed off to my papas family when she was 13 because they were starving and couldn't afford another daughter and my papa and her were already fond of each other. Pa was 16 when she came to his family and they were married soon after, and then they waited until she was 19 before she had her first kid, but in the mean time she was a ranch hand, helping my papa break ranch horses, work stock and manage the ranch. She was fierce and tough and there were stories about her shooting wildcats and coyotes from horseback, standing up to cattle thieves, and being virtually unseatable from any type of bronc that the ranch could find for her to try. My favorite picture of my granny is of her in front of the little ranch foremans house that she and my papa had out on the ranch they ran for some rich oil man, and my aunt is in the picture so my granny is probably 21 or 22, and she has what my sis always refers to as 'Chinese eyes" because due to the native blood her features are kinda Asian looking, but she is just looking larger than life and tough and carefree and my pa is standing there next to her, looking all cool and tough in his authentic cowboy gear, but he looks smaller and not quite as tough as my granny, and really, she ran the show. My granny raised 2 kids, and a husband out in the middle of the brutal West Texas middle of nowhere, and she made it look easy always cooking meals that cousins would break out in fist fights over,all while rocking the typical West Texas hair and immaculate nails. They lived in Monahans, Midland,Odessa, Abilene, and finally Bryson.My granny kept papa going as his 6 brothers passed, she never wanted for anything and never doubted pas devotion to her because I think he was just a little scared she would end him in his sleep if he ever even looked at another woman, but truth be told he doted on her, buying her a new car every year and jewelry that kept the diamond mines working 24/7.

They were never amongst the super rich, that was papas brother Charlie and his horse racing "trash" wife as my granny called them, but they were comfortable and never wanted for anything except more time with each other and their family.

My granny was the toughest damn woman I ever knew, she was plain spoken and often could leave a mark with her tongue that either made you try harder or made you just want to curl up and cry, though she wasnt cruel, she just wasnt one to blow smoke up your ass and she could not stand laziness or whinyness or weakness, even in herself, and that is why she fought so damn hard against her body when it started failing her. Cancer cuts a deadly swath through that part of my kin along with diabetes and heart disease, and she managed to get the deadly triad, but even with all three chewing at her, she still kept the house clean, took care of papa and tried to tell people to mind their own damn business when they tried to tell her to take it easy. God knew he had to sneak up on her and get her when she wasnt looking, and sure enough, he took her with a sudden, massive heart attack one morning.

Her funeral was the last time my whole family ever got together and I found out there that she had known all along that my cousin Robert,(my favorite cousin and the one I was always closest to) was gay, and though we had been scared she would be less than understanding, it turns out that she had been paying for his Aids medications for years. I dont know what made me cry harder, finding out she knew all along or finding out that Rob had AIDS, but either way, I lost him less than 6 months later when he went to bed with a bottle of Patron silver and his partner of 20 years and never woke up down in Cabo on vacation. I like to think that he went out happy and snuck up on like granny did. I havent been back to Texas since I lost them, and my family kinda went to shit after they passed. My other cousins just bickered and fought over the estate and lost sight of what family was about, and from the sounds of things, no one had even tended the graves other than Robs partner, so I figure there is no great loss to be shed of them, but I would like to know what became of my grannys relatives and her siblings and the ties to the Comanche tribe. Granny never spoke much about them and papas documents got scattered to the four winds, so tracing any kind of family tree may be next to impossible, but everytime I see those slanty eyes and that cockeyed glare that makes me want to start ducking and dodging the dreaded wooden spoon that I currently have custody of, I have to wonder, cuz?

My sis gets the spoon now, I no longer own a home or a vehicle! I sold the van to the ex today and I hand him the deed tomorrow after a week of epic knock-down drag out battles that made me want to hurt someone or something. I got him to agree to let me take my baby girl with me, and I am leaving him my two sons for the school year until I am settled in with a house. I bought 3 tickets on Amtrak leaving here Friday night and we arrive in LA Saturday morning for a couple of hours and then onto Portland by Sunday afternoon with hopefully enough money left to get a good start. Its scary as hell, but also freeing. I have wanted to run for years and now I am doing it, I dont know if granny would approve, but I know she is the one that gave me the courage to try and start over after everything that I have put up with over the last decade, though my granny probably woulda made the bastard bleed a little first.

Dear Roger,I am Cougar,Hear me Roar!

Being the parent of an adolescent boy is like navigating a minefield,drunk, blindfolded, in a hurry while someone blasts really bad screamo music at you. I swear, my son alternates between an Emo,ambi-sextrous, basketcase and a Texas redneck that is both confused and a little irritated by me, his middle-aged crazy,raring to go out and recapture her youth by running full-tilt into my mid-life crisis, mom.

We engage in ongoing prank wars with each other, he hacks my twitter account and posts cryptic messages,I threaten to post his naked baby pictures, or create havoc with his hair dye job after he hides my favorite pair of cowboy boots and the Gorilla glue in a failed attempt to glue them to the ceiling of my bedroom. We swap clothes back and forth because we are weirdly enough the same size right now, except for his bizarrely large feet and hands,(im really glad he cant wear my boots because the boy is hell on shoes),we talk music and movies and about all kinds of other things, and he even seems to like hanging out with me on occasion.He admitted that he had fun at the Eclipse premier and he has even been throwing out random quotes at times just to crack me up.We share hair care product, skin care tips and even the occasional semi-dirty joke, but when it comes to me even alluding to the fact that I would someday, somehow, like to date again,he gets really upset with me, not because I want to date, but because of what I want to date. I only date younger men. By younger I mean aged 23-33 max,No older, no younger, and that horrifies him for some weird reason. I dated a 25 year old guy for a while and it was FUN! He was vibrant, energetic, he had a sense of humor and he had STAMINA, all the things that make life fun and that were missing out of the last ten years of my life.

My ex was all about cruelty, sarcasm, being a stick in the mud, humiliating and making fun of me, and less than satisfactory aspects of other things...(You get what I mean?) after all he was often asleep in his damn chair before the evening news and I was just here to take care of the house and the kids and bring in a paycheck, so I have had it with older men. I am looking for the goofy, funny, silly, not afraid to dance, not afraid to get lost in the moment, laugh or just run around in the rain or roll in the grass, tell a dirty joke, jump in the mosh pit, get a tattoo, be spontaneous and foolish and fun, kinda guy that still is tight and firm in all the right places.He doesn't have to be a keeper, im not looking for the love of my life, after all, I am pretty sure he died a long, long time ago on the side of that road in Texas, but a cute lil fella to spoil and have fun with, and to go DANCING with,(GOD! its been over TEN years since Ive been dancing!)and im not particular about year, make or model,as long as it falls between the parameters. But Chance seems to think that only men should be able to date younger women! He has taken to calling me "Cougar" pretty much constantly, and he even changed my phones ringtone to a cougar roar, which kinda backfired on him because I really like it and it annoys the snot out of him when he forgets about it and I have it set on high and it goes off and scares the snot outta him or prompts the dogs to attack him if he has jacked it and stuck it in his pocket or underwear to keep me from taking it back from him.

My son has girlfriends, a disturbing amount of them to be sure, and he spends way to much time texting, calling, im'ing, or all three at the same time, to multiple girls and they send him messages telling him how ,'Hot" and such that he is and all kinds of other wrong things about my lil monkey boy(one of his more politically correct, non-Texas,freak out all the liberal hippy, baby names) the other was "Pecker" that was given to him by his West Texas great-granny and was banned by my ex when my son started the hippy school here in Flagstaff and people from California didn't know that many Texas children grow up with very strange baby names bestowed on them by granny's and do not become ax murderers or have abusers as parents, but if I call him Pecker nowadays, he just rolls his eyes at me and tells me that if I am going to call him his baby name, we have to move to Texas so at least he wont have to kick peoples asses over it.

He accuses me of having a dirty mind and deliberately saying,"dirty" things on a regular basis supposedly just to embarrass him, and even when the words are not the least bit dirty, he says that my ,"look" or my raised eyebrow or leer or just the way I say things or even the context of how I say them, is all 'wrong". So according to him, I can no longer say,"bone,ball, weiner, steak and taters in the same sentence or when I am looking at any picture of any Twi-guy online at any time,meat, hard(any form thereof),do,pork; the list just goes on and on! I swear the kid is such a prude! He looks over my shoulder once and sees me watching a video of a young man jogging in sweat pants and a black wife-beater,ONCE! and he thinks im some kind of perv! He hasn't caught me the rest of the times Ive watched it, I swear!

Dear Roger, Tending the Dead, Texas Traditions,and Other Things I Think About When Insomnia Has Me

Well its another night that I am not having any luck in catching some zz's, so I have been watching John Wayne movies, eating cold pizza and drinking cheap soda. I am not supposed to eat pizza or drink soda and I will probably be dog assed sick tomorrow, but I figure I am not going any damn place so I might as well indulge in a little masochistic self abuse.

Its getting close to time to pack up and go and I am a full on stress case! I worked on packing my shit today and sorting out more of what is going and what is staying and what is getting sold, and its just soo damn hard to make those decisions. My ex and I are sort of on speaking terms, and as I expected, he didn't bank any money back to pay me for the van, so Im fucked for that one. I knew I couldn't count on him and I dont know why I even thought I could, and though he tells me he will pay me off for it and a,"week or two", I dont see that happening, and I know that I could sell the damn van at the yard sale on Saturday for over 800 and that would set me and Chance up mighty fine in Portland, but once again my albatross strikes. Its disheartening.

I was raised on John Wayne movies, and around men who were the John Wayne ideal. My granpa who flew more than 57 missions out of England during WW2, my dad who did 3 tours of Viet Nam, you and your time at the DMZ as a "courier" for the CIA and your adventures with Air America,(I would have loved to have heard those stories), Sammy in all his true Texas cowboy glory, Uncle Charlie and his West Texas ranch and all the race horses, and Papa and his stories of Wildcatting with his brothers in the Texas oil boom era and building and losing a fortune from nothing,I grew up around MEN! Men who would never in a million years visibly fail. Men who knew how to be a hero and how to make things right. What the hell happened? Where did the real men go? I am so sick and tired of excuses and failure and settling . Im tired of ,"carrying the penis". I haven't been around a man that could outman me in over a decade and I dont understand it. I loved romance, I enjoyed a man that would open a door for me or pay for dinner or lead when we were dancing. I never bitched any man out for those things, hell! I thanked them! Ive had to be tough and mean and a fighter and a scrapper because I have seemed to end up with pussies as companions or husbands and if I didnt get hard, they would just let the family fall into poverty worse than it already has. It cost me, because men that often wont fight the world outside for survival, will damn sure take their anger out on the one that makes them look bad, and I have the scars and PTSD to prove that being small and a bitch often leads to problems with your physical well being. It doesnt matter at this point in the game, but I am sick and tired of seeing this going on and I have told Chance that being the kind of man he has seen around is not acceptable, and the one thing I can hope from his time in Texas is that he learned what it means to be a man and the one who is supposed to at least shoulder 1/2 the burden.

Dear Roger, Movie Premiers Or Why I Dont Teach Tweens

Well, last night was finally the night! I did something I have never done and I actually went to opening night of a major, guaranteed to be freaking insane, and chock a block full of annoying tweens and dodgy others, movie. I managed to put aside all my hating crowds issues, my not liking other peoples tweens issues, as well as my general dislike of all things media hyped and insane and I took Chance to see the premier of Eclipse. We went with my friend Elisha and we saw the film along with the other two previous films, which was kinda cool because I realized while I was watching them, that I had never seen any of the actors in any of the movies in the theater ever before, I mean, sure, I had seen other movies of theirs, but always on dvd or cable, never on the big screen, so it was pretty interesting, and I realized that WOW! some of those guys are even better looking, BIG! but hell, when isn't big,better??

The theater was slammed to hell and gone and I was very glad I had gotten out tickets over a month ago, because even arriving an hour early with advance tickets, we still had to sit down pretty close to the front. They had over 900 people turn out here in the ghetto in the meadow to see this, and there were more who wanted to, but it sold out so damn fast that they had to turn people away. People had camped out, and the line went around the building which really shocked me considering we are such a podunk city that doesn't stand a snowballs chance in hell of a celebrity showing up for any kind of events, and in fact there really weren't any events to speak of, just long lines at the womens restrooms and concessions.

The crowd was good natured and really diverse with a large contingent of Native kids, Twi-moms and the ever present vaguely psychotic, tweens that screamed for not apparent reason and seemed to have bladder issues, or at least the ones on our row did. It finally reached the point during the second film that much to Chances dismay, Elisha and I finally got a little hostile, because if you have an issue that means you cannot sit through a 2 hour movie without having to get up and wade across 12 people more than 8 times with your 4 little girlfriends, then you need to be either sitting on the outer row or your momma needs to take your ass home instead of trying to mad dog those finally get sick and tired of getting their boots stepped on and say something.

There was lots of cheering as the favorites came on and lots of hooting and hollering during any kinda romance or smexyness and I only embarrassed Chance a little by whooping it up when Jasper showed up in his back-story wearing a Confederate uniform, riding a horse, but DAMN! there is only soo much a grown assed woman should be expected to take and keep silent, and in my defense, I was not the only person that got a little vocal, there were more than a few grown assed women, and (men) that let it be known that Team Jasper was in the house. I know I had a big ole grin, and I probably embarrassed the hell out of Chance, but he was good natured about it and I only herd a muttered,"Cougar" once or twice, but then I think he realized he was outnumbered by,"Cougars" so it was probably safest to be quiet.

On the way home at 0300, I asked Chance if it was totally horrible? and he said,"Noo, it didnt totally suck, there were lots of hot babes wandering around, the fight scenes were pretty wicked". When I pressed him to pick a favorite character, he went with Jasper,"Gotta go with the Texan, DUH!" Thats my boy!

It was good, I will buy the dvd.

Dear Roger,I Got A Pair Of Boots Older Than My Last Friend With Benefits

Well, the time is getting short and im really having to get stuff ready to go, and I have spent most of the past few days looking for places to live, sorting out things that can go to storage for a while, things that have to go with us right away and things that are just gonna get gone. The worry about the unknown is the biggest thing bugging me now and oddly enough my boots are my biggest issue. I have more than 8 pairs of cowboy boots, in fact they are pretty much all I freaking wear and have worn for most of the last decade or so. I have walked the soles off of several pair of Ropers, worn down the sides on a pair of combat boots, and I have some Tony Llama Rough outs that are older than my last "friend with benefits", in fact they are actually 36 years old and in better shape than he was in and much tougher. I own boots that have waded thorough mud, blood, beer, cow pastures, crime scenes, and dance floors. I have worn them for horse back riding, running, fighting, motorcycle riding, one really interesting night with a fella that found my boots and Vickies to be quite the turn on, and the spurs to be quite the icing on the cake,(actually my PaPa's spurs)but there is no accounting for the oddness of some folks.I value my boots up there with my books and my music and I have worn and carried them with me pretty much everyplace I have lived. I do not own a pair of heels, and I only bought a couple pair of tenny shoes after my ortho guy had ten different fits about me working out in boots on their mats after my back injections were done the last time. I used to wear Doc Martens quite a bit as my tenny shoes, but then they got adopted as the unofficial footwear of those who bat for the other team, and considering I have enough trouble tracking down a fella willing to put out, I sadly had to let them go, so that I would not shut down any interest based on first impressions.

When we get up there we will not have any furnishings! Im going to have to buy beds, a table, a tv, and all kinds of stuff, but it will all be a clean start and as long as my boots are on the ground and my I can see where the starting point is, its all good.

Dear Roger,Cooking Up A MId-Life Crisis On The Road to Hell

Well hell, the fire is finally mostly out though we are STILL getting smoke, the God damned ex is still here and has decided to raise his fucking voice to me from time to time and I have come real damned close to telling him to take his fucking attitude back down the road to his crappy apartment, because until I hand over the paper and its recorded, the place is NOT his and I can still tell him to fuck the hell off and get out, and I can walk away from the house, or sell it and then move the kids to wherever and he can try to take me to court to stop it. Im really trying to be overly nice and im getting sick of him not realizing that. Im stressed out and he really pushed it today and considering he didn't pay me any damned rent or child support or any other damned help, and I have let him use my car, and I could let a much younger and nicer and better looking guy move in here that would pay rent and probably clear my sinuses with a good thorough trouncing several times a day. I have 8 days left to put up with him wandering in and out and trying to get the kids on some kind of schedule and sorting out my stuff that I am planning on taking to Portland from the stuff that I am leaving here for the kids to have for their comfort and the stuff that I am selling. I have 40 years worth of crap to sort out and its not easy, and his attitude making my PTSD fire off like a bottle rocket on the 4th and im back to not sleeping and stalking around like a stressed out ally cat in a room full of rocking chairs.

Chance is being a big help, he has been distracting me with movies like Harold and Kumar, and endless games of Wii Rockband where I actually scored 100% on "Give it Away " by the Red Hot Chili Peppers while singing bare footed with my shorts falling off my ass while I did the funny dance to the music and made him laugh his ass off and freaked out Fergus, nearly resulting in getting my butt bitten again. He also keeps acting like a living countdown, reminding me that we have very few days left here to put up with the shit attitude and the stress and soon we will be in the land of green and rain and trees and where everything doesn't smell like smoke.

Im not sure what all is going to happen once we get there, and I worry about things, but im doing my best to keep my kids fed and clean and sort of happy. I have been cooking more than normal, and I have busted out some of my old favorite recipes,even if I cant eat them I at least get to enjoy cooking them for my big son who really enjoys eating them.

When I was in college at University of Texas, I was in the International Student Union and I had friends from all over the world, and we got together and had communal meals every single day. We kinda functioned as a large, weird, dysfunctional family, with kids from all over, Iran, Iraq, Vietnam, Palestine, Israel, France, Germany, England,Ireland and me, the token Texan who loved to cook and hang out and play soccer with them. I gained the Momma Bear nurturing bone from my grandma I kinda started looking after some of them that seemed to need it, and we ate meals together often several times ag day, and I learned to cook large, recipes that were a blend of Asian, Texan and even African and Mexican, and I still love to cook that way, and I have even considered opening a restaurant at times like the bar b cue joint near where I grew up, where even if you could only afford the smallest, sandwich, the old woman who ran the place always made sure you had a bowl of cowboy beans and cornbread and sweet tea to go with so you never left hungry. I love cooking, and I love seeing folks appreciate my work. When I was a firefighter/EMT, I used to cook large meals in the fire station kitchen and feed all the duty officers in the area all kinds of Tex/Mex goodies, and I miss the camaraderie, and perhaps I could someday own a combination bookstore, coffeehouse restaurant that allows me the ability to make sure young uns are fed and taken care of, as well as allows me the time and place to write and relax in my kind of place. Who knows, maybe I can finally track down my muse and get back to writing again.

Dear Roger, For A Suck Ass Week, Things Have Actually Been Pretty Good

My boy is home! He is so different from the boy that left here a battered and bruised wreck of a young man, and I am glad to see that. We seem to have a better bond, perhaps gained through him realizing that we were both just surviving our circumstances and doing the best we could and that I was trying my best to protect him from the worst of it all.

He has grown so much. He is taller than me now and spending a couple of years playing athletics in Texas has given him lean muscle and made him fast and much more confidant than he was before. He still has the intensity in everything he attempts, music, athletics,harassing me about whatever, but we seem to get along really well.

We joke a lot more than we ever used to, and he seems to enjoy teasing me about whatever Twilight young man I have on my screensaver or picture that pops up, and I harass him about selling himself as my escort to the premier of Eclipse.He agreed for $35.00 so he could take out one of his girlfriends in Texas, that he would accompany me and my friends to the premier, wearing whatever clothes I selected without complaint, he just didn't realize that I would select clothes other than ripped skinny jeans and faded rock t-shirts, so now he is screwed, so he twitches and shudders just a little every time someone even says the words "Twilight" or "Eclipse" around him, because he saw the shirt and tie and vest and jacket and he KNOWS he is done for, though I did buy him a brand new pair of skinny jeans that he selected as a comfort, and I am allowing him to wear his Vans that don 't stink. He also knows we are taking pictures and hamming it up and planning on having a good time as well as posting pictures, so I guess he is glad that we are in the middle of a move between cities so that he can reinvent himself all over again in a new city and erase the shame and stigma that comes with having a mom that is full bore in a midlife crisis.

I am so damn glad to have him home that things that would have driven me nuts 2 years ago, dont even phase me. He has jacked my cell phone, some of my Affliction and rock t-shirts, my skull crusher headphones,my socks, and money, made fun of my screensaver, my taste in music and men and movies, and drank most of the sodas and dominated the tech area with Halo and Wii and attempted to P'wn me in Wii baseball while making bad "ball" jokes and trying to harass Fergus into biting me on the butt while I was at bat, yet I have reveled in ever moment of it. We watched the Team USA/Ghana match and he yelled with me and and we booed and cussed and mourned the loss together and fist bumped after the one goal and agreed to cheer on team England. We even went out and threw a baseball back and forth in the road for an hour or so, watching the helicopters flying gear in and out of the mountains where they were still fighting a few spot fires left on this side of the Peaks from the Schultz fire.

We have sat around watching weird movies, listening to different types of music and comparing musical styles and making fun of each others generations, though today he even admitted that Gen X'rs like myself had music that seriously,'Rocked balls" and still rocks harder that most of the stuff out there.He has refused to allow me to sit back in my room and hide from the commotion that is going on in my house while the ex prepares to take over operations. He has come back into my room and grabbed my computer out of my hands and said,'Old woman! quit perving over pictures of guys that are young enough to be your sons, get your ass outta bed, and come out to the living room and be with your family!" He has admitted he is scared but excited by out pending move to Portland, and he knows we will have nothing starting over again, but we will be free and we will be healing and no one will be able to hurt us again and I think that is why we are both feeling like life is finally worth living.