Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Things I wish I could do

Whistle, yup, can't do it. Tried and tried, I don't know where to put my tongue (no comments here plz)

Spit, not a very good spitter. It goes everywhere, I don't have that one blob in the spitoon sort of ability. I realized this when I run or bike and I have that disgusting build up after a long ride/run. TMI I know.

Drink Tequila. Oh I can drink it, but I can't keep from barfing after

Just a quick running update

I am still running, still lovin in, still a short legged slow person.

My runs are every other day, at least 3.5 miles and I haven't moved past the 5 mile limit. I average a 10 minute mile. I have done 9 minute averages and wanted to puke, cry and die all in that order when I finished.

I love the feeling of salt crystals on my face from the dried perspiration. I know very odd, but I love it.

Monday, April 25, 2011


Riddick and I were cruising through the Sonic drive-thru, during Happy Hour(if you don't know what Sonic happy hour is, you are missing out on pure joy for 99 cents)

Riddick ordered two medium "grape squishies"

The response after a healthy pause was " ...do you mean slushie?"

Riddick.."ah yes"

as we drive away Riddick mumbles, "don't tell me you don't know what a squishie is"

Really does anybody not know what a squishie is? Even if you aren't a fan of "The Simpsons", have you really never never heard "squishie"


Sunday, April 24, 2011

Easter Memories

I used to get black patent leather shoes every Easter. I wanted red ones...so stinking bad. But they were always black. A new Easter dress and shoes.
Every Easter we would go to my Uncle Bob's for dinner. But first there would be magnificent

Easter baskets courtesy of Mom.

I know now, that she spent time putting them together. I looked forward to finding them every year.

My cousin Nina and I one year in Uncle Bob's garage.

Saturday, April 23, 2011

Sido's "Labbit"

My niece, Paislie Jean. Sido calls her a labbit, even when it's not Easter. Something to do with the big back feet and the hopping I'm guessing

Thursday, April 21, 2011

I'd ask why, but who would I ask

Criticizing my parents is incredibly painful for me. They aren't here to explain anything, or defend any criticism, and I miss them so very much that any thought that darkens that memory makes me feel dis-loyal.

This all stems from a lie. A lie I told. Actually a series of lies. I didn't tell anybody when my first husband hit me. I kept it in. I knew or at least I belived that I was protecting him, myself, and that if I didn't tell anybody that I would be the only one to get hurt. And because I thought I deserved it.

You might ask what the hell would give an 18 year old the idea that she deserved to be beat by her 38 year old husband. Well because it had happened before. Not by either of my parents, but by someone else, someone else who had no right to solve an argument with violence.

My Mom had died by the time this all happened. But I feel that my Dad did not defend me as he should have. In his defense he probably did more than I know of, but to me, he wanted me to be strong. He told me that he always knew that I was the kind of person that could take whatever came my way, and that not all people are that way.

My Dad didn't do anything wrong. He was trying to keep his family together, and he had absolutely no idea what would happen to me in the future, and if I had told him what was happenening to me in my marriage, I believe he would have helped me.

But I chose to hide it, all for wrong reasons. I guess I could write a book, but really does the world need another book about some asshole cop who beat is young wife? No I don't think so, but what the world does need is a bit more understanding, more apologies and a lot less violence.

So now, years later, when I'm finally trying to deal with all this, who do I tell? The person who did it, he has spent his life thinking he was right, and I in my silence allowed that to happen.

Don't ever be silent my sisters and brothers! Never let anybody take your voice.

Monday, April 11, 2011

Ahhh what a time I have had

Blogging has been on the back burner, the way back burner as of late.

The past month I have been coping, dealing and trying to help with my step-father's illness. Sadly, Ken died March 25th.

Last week was especially stressful. We had Pinky and IronMan for the week. April 5 is also the anniversary of my own Dad's death and Ken's memorial service was set for Saturday the 8th.

The kids had doctor appointments and youth group. I had envisioned a very hard week for me. The driving was too much, the phone calls, many comforting my bio-Mom, were painful, but in the end it was all made better by having the kids.

Having them here with Riddick and I meant that I could not just lay down in my bed and cry for a day, or hide in my house, like I choose to do quite often.

Do you ever like to do that? Plan days where you don't leave your home, puttering around, cooking, plucking your guitar, organizing..or just reading. I love those days. Never used to. I always wanted to be away from home when home was miserable.

I was nervous to actually tell the kids what was going on inside of me with remembering my Dad's death. Riddick told me I could trust them, to take a chance and let them see my exposed underbelly. And I did.

And..he was right. Pinky and Ironman are definitely wonderful human beings. They are a product of their parents, who despite their differences work very hard at getting along, and respecting one another.

This situation is so so much different than my first marriage. That relationship was marred with selfishness and dis-respect from him, to me, to the kids, to the ex..heck to the whole world. But each time I am reminded of how crappy things were than, it just makes now even more beautiful.

So even though at $3.70 a gallon, driving all over hell and gone was expensive, and the co-pays at the doctor quickly add up, I was once again truly grateful for who my family is now, and how special each and everyone one of them is to me.