Happy Thanksgiving!!!

Just for the record... I still want french fries...  Even after I stole french fries off of two of my kids' plates this afternoon, I still want french fries.  I think I might just have to solve this problem tomorrow....

So it was an AWESOME Thanksgiving today!!  It was bright and sunny and the most awesometastic thing of all??

I DIDN'T HAVE TO COOK!!!!!!!!!!!!

OMG!!!  So every year my mom and I discuss who's going to cook what for the holiday and no matter what, every year, I lose.  It's not a fight nor is it a competition, but no matter what, I lose.  Every year.  I get to procure the turkey and the ham.  I get to cook the rice and the vegetables.  I might even get to bake a cake or make cookies.  And I get to make the cornbread.  And while some of you are sitting there wondering, "Well Damn, what does Mom cook?"  Let me tell you.  Mac n Cheese (the baked kinds because Kayla LOVES IT), and a sweet potato pie.  She does however cook the ham.  And when she burns it, I'm the poor shlub who has to get in the car and go find another ham because I didn't go with my gut and get two hams in the first place because she swore she wouldn't burn the ham this year like she does every year. EVERY YEAR.  And I don't mean burn it like it's just a little well done, I mean burns it like it could probably substitute a bag of charcoal briquets in the grill burn.

Two years ago, we all went to Ocean City, Md for Thanksgiving.  My neighbor gave me this HUGE turkey.  Like over twenty pounds. We decided to forgo to ham because I put my foot down.  I was not going to be roaming a strange town trying to find an open supermarket trying to and ending up fighting someone for the last ham in the store.  Wasn't going to happen.  I defrosted the turkey, I marinated the turkey, I put my foot into seasoning that bad boy and I cooked him for twenty two hours.  The whole time share hotel was smelling good.  We could get off the elevator and smell that bird just roasting away.  People on the floor above us said that whatever we were cooking smelled awesome.

I woke up on Thanksgiving morning with a 105 degree temperature.  Mom rushed me to the hospital only for us to find out that I had double lung pneumonia.  On thanksgiving.  On bleepity bleeping Thanksgiving day after I had put so much work into that turkey, I couldn't stay awake to eat it and when I did wake up, I couldn't taste it.  I wanted to cry.  But I was also dehydrated so I couldn't do that.  So I slept.

And just to add insult to injury, I brought the turkey back home and made turkey soup out of it but what I didn't can to eat later, my kids gobbled up not leaving me any, my girls gave jars of soup to my neighbor and their teachers and the last jar that I forbade anyone to touch got invaded by ants.  So I tasted none of that glorious bird.  After that, I was finished.  No more, I wasn't cooking ever again.  Last year was the ex's Thanksgiving with the kids so Mommy and I drove up to Cherokee and ate at the casino.  We did the same for Christmas.  Let me tell you, that Indian Reservation knows they can fry up some chicken...

This year, we had the same discussion about who was going to cook what with the added bonus of where we were going to eat it and just for shits and giggles we threw in a healthy bicker about why we never have holiday dinner at my house. "No mom, you have never eaten a holiday meal at my house.  no mom, you haven't.  I don't remember that mom.  No mom, you haven't.  Fine mom, you have, I just don't remember it.  No, I;m not calling you a liar, I'm just saying I don't remember it.  Yes, mom.  Okay, mom.  No, I am not patronizing you.  Ow!!  Why'd you hit me??  I was not being condescending, I really don't ever remember you eating a meal at my house! Yes mom.  I'm sorry mom.  No, I still don't remember that mom. OW!"  That is how my end of that conversation went. And that was before deciding what to eat.  And I lost that discussion.  Just as I thought I would and I prepared to fight the late crowd at th store for my turkey because I didn't get my stamps until the 21st.  And even though I had already tuned into what I was going to make for Christmas (Don't ask me why, but my brain totally skipped over cooking for THanksgiving.) I had to rewind and think about cooking a turkey.  And lugging a turkey. Because even though she insisted she'd eaten at my house for a holiday dinner before, us coming over there with three kids and the meal was somehow easier than her sticking a chair in the back of her car so that she'd have something to sit on and coming over here.

I'm not shitting you.  This is how my mom thinks.  She would rather me put the food and the kids in the car and come over to her one bedroom (Technically two but her dining room is in the second bedroom) apartment than she put her barstool in the back of her SUV and come over to my house.

Do you see?  Do you see now why half of my blogs are about me going batshit crazy??  The people in my life make me batshit crazy.  I'm sane, I swear I try to be but it doesn't work.  Circumstances dictate that in order to live my life I must be crazy train crazy.

But then something magical happened.  My mom found coupons for buy one get one half off for Ruby Tuesdays.  She launched into this whole big long schpeal about how it would be better for us, and no one had to buy the stuff for the day and yada yada yada, (I kinda tuned out because my inner me was already singing "no more cooking!!") and then she said "So what d'ya think?" and I had to shake my head and ask "About what?" And she said "Going to Ruby Tuesdays for dinner?"  I looked the woman dead in the eye and said "You had me at, "You don't have to cook!""  To which she said, "I didn't say that."  I just blinked.  She smiled because she knew I was doing the happy dance in my head.

So yesterday afternoon, the ex dropped my son off here and OMG is that boy tall!!  At his birthday, he had me by a good two inches but now, I think he has me by maybe three or four.  HE's going to be tall.  And I expected it because on my side of the family, there isn't a male under six foot two and in Randy's side of the family, there isn't a man shorter than six foot unless you count Randy at 5'9 and Uncle Momo (I shit you not that is his name) who just clears five two.

Of course I had to document this.  It's not often my son comes to visit.

 Can you tell that my son brings out my goofy side?  He totally does.  I thought once that he was driving me crazy, but as it turns out, that train was already speeding along the track and he just made the ride a little more fun.  But just so that everyone is clear, no.  I was not ducking down for that picture.  AND NO, HE DOES NOT LOOK LIKE ME!!!  you have to see his dad to understand when I tell you that this boy is ALL Henderson.  There is no Wilson in him.  But then, I'm mom and moms apparently never see when their kids look just like them.  People swear I look like my mom and both my mother and I swear up and down that I look like my dad.   In case you are wondering, my mom was chosen hands down as who I look like the most.  I think even my dad agreed when you put their two pictures side by side.


And also, my mom thinks that everyone that answered that I looked like her is smoking crack.  I still maintain that I am my fathers child.

So tomorrow, we're going for family pictures because in my last family picture, I was the tallest in the group.  As you can see, that was a few years ago and Jovaughn was actually standing straight up for that one.  I had him by almost a foot three years ago.

Damn that good old Henderson stock.  Hell Damn the old country Wilson stock (Or whatever my dad's real father's last name actually was.  Funny story, remind me to tell it sometime.)  But anyways, as you can see, I was the tall one there.  I am not the tall one anymore.  Jovaughn towers over me, Kayla has me by an inch I think, and poor little Livy hasn't hit her home stretch yet and is still the little one.  Her achievement this year was that she cleared five foot finally.  And it only took her thirteen years.

God!  Can you believe that as of the 19th of this month, I will have three teenagers?  The boy is 15, Kay is 14, and Liv will be 13.  I don't look that old do I??  Do I?????  If your answer was yes, go away.  Just go away now.  If your answer was no, I love you.

And that's why I don't get it when guys tell me that my having kids means they have to think twice about dating me because they'd be stepping into a daddy role.  Those kids, my kids are teenagers.  What else can you teach them.  They're pretty well raised.

Shrugs.  I should go to bed.  Eight am comes really early.

But I get pictures!!!  yaya!!!

I hope you all had an awesome Thanksgiving!  I know that I have thoroughly enjoyed mine to the fullest.

*Yawn* (Dammit that word made me yawn!)

Stay frosty bloggers!!!

So I really want French fries

But it would technically be shopping on Thanksgiving day if I put on some pj pants right now and went to McDonalds...

But on the other hand we are going out to eat for thanksgiving dinner so we'll already be shopping on Thanksgiving day...

I don't need French fries.

But I really want french fries.

I should go to bed.

Aw crap!  I can't go get french fries... I already took my night meds.

Damn.

I'm going to bed.

My son is home!!  Yay!!!!

Stay frosty, Bloggers!  I'm... (yawn) going to bed...

*Note, reading the word yawn, makes me yawn....

Twas the day before Turkey day

And all through the house, the only one stirring was being quiet as a mouse.  She brewed up some coffee and went to her room, in hopes that her daughters would be awake soon.  For this was the first day of Thanksgiving break and at ten minutes to ten her kids still weren't awake.  As she sat and sipped her coffee with cream, she thought that the silence just might make her scream!  She'd taken her night meds only eight hours before but some numbskull had telephoned her only twenty minutes before.  So sleep was now ended and she was awake trying to decided what form this mornings blog might take.

OKay, enough of that, I could sit and bullshit that all morning because I'm just that screwed up.

So lately, I've rediscovered a baser side of me that shall we say I was kinda happy when it went away?  Things that I want to happen are on my mind and they are reliving the last time I was in that situation which considering my strained relationship with the person I was last in that situation with is not really one of those things that I want to dream about.

Good news!  I cut the trazodone down to 100mg instead of the 200mg I took Monday night and I got my dreams back.

Bad news.  I dreamt about things that I really shouldn't have all night long. Around nine thirty this morning, some asshat called my phone and woke me up.  I attempted to go back to sleep but the part of my brain that loves to villainize a certain someone took the pretty happy libido inspired dreams and turned them sixty way from awful.  I think this is my brain warning me not to even try to walk that path again.  This time I'll be without shoes and walking on broken glass.

No, I'm not listening to Annie Lennox... why do you ask?

If you don't get that connection, you may not be old enough to read my blog.

So I've been listening to Taylor Swift's Blank space and I have decided that that little twit came out with a song that describes me right now.  "Find out what you want, be that girl for a month, but the worst is yet to come."  Yeah, that's me.  I pretended to like a whole bunch of crap that I had no interest in for the sake of making for a happy relationship and now I can sit back and wonder if I hadn't fucked up and put him off me, would I still be trying to pretend I liked that stuff?  Would I spend our whole relationship sitting and smiling through endless showings of Firefly?  How long could I pretend that only parts of Battlestar Galactica appealed to me? (And honestly I really think that I could have been hooked on that show if the Sunday night thing had continued but they didn't and I had time to come down from it.)

And I'm generally not like that.  I don't pretend to like something for a guy.  I'm pretty much straight up front when I come across a guy who is big into something like sports.  I will make your game day snacks and I will not bother you while you are watching your overpriced game of catch played by guys who really shouldn't be wearing spandex.  I will go away and write and you won't hear from me until said sporting event is over.  If your team wins I'm happy to help you celebrate.  If your team loses, you can touch my boobs until you feel better.  That's a happy compromise, right?  I can do that because honestly helping celebrate probably means I'm getting sex.  Commiserating after the team loses means, I'm getting sex.  I could totally be that wife.

And it's not like I would be the only one giving in that scenario because you gotta think, I'm a writer.  Just like Sundays when he ignores me for sports, there are going to be random days when I disappear into my writing and I'm not even gonna know you're here.  When I come out of that fog, I'm more than likely going to have just killed someone or have written a love scene so either way, I'm going to need comforting which might lead to sex or I'm going to full on attack and you get sex.

My kids are finally awake.  Yay!!  I think I'm going to bake today.  Livy has been asking me for some peanut butter cookies and I have a mind to finally indulge her.  Don't judge me, it's the holiday season, the one time of year when it is acceptable to abuse your oven on a daily basis and no one bats an eye.

I better get a move on.  I have to work tonight.  Maybe tonight I'll take some cookie to work.  Let's just hope I don't have to sit through another lecture.  I'm not going back into that.  If you didn't read about the new feature at my job where I get lectures every day, you can read it here.  That one didn't post to my Facebook so I'm not sure who saw it and who didn't.

Oh well, time to get up and pretend to be productive.

But after this song, it's like the ONE backstreet boys song I listen to all the way through all the time...

I'm gonna stop saying stay Frosty because tis the season for snow.  No Bueno.  I don't like snow.  So stay toasty bloggers!!

I don't think my blog is posting to my Facebook anymore

I put up a blog on Sunday night and it still has not shown up on my Facebook profile page yet.  I have disconnected and reconnected everything I could think of and it's not there.  I do't know what else to do.

In other news, I saw my doctor yesterday.  She's not happy with me.  My lung function has decreased dramatically since the last time I saw her.  Something like I've lost over 10% in the last six months.  In doctor terms that is bad.  In my terms, I'm still walking and talking without an oxygen tank but whatever. I may have to pay the piper on that one soon.

She upped my daily inhaler on me.  Instead of doing one puff twice a day, I now do two puffs twice a day.  I also have a new sleep med.  She was concerned that I am on four different ones and wants to work that down to one.  So my Trazodone has been bumped up to 100-200 mg per night.  Until yesterday, I was on 50mg.  No ramping up, just boom!  There ya go. 50-150 more mg of something starting now!

Y'all, I slept like a rock.  Like I closed my eyes at one something this morning and the next time I remember anything it was 7:30 and the girls were waking me up.  And then they left and it was suddenly eleven thirty.

Hours of my life are disappearing. Not sure if I like that very much.  Also, last night, I don't remember one single dream. I always wake up with a slow fade out of my dreams.  This morning it was eyes closed, eyes open, eyes closed eyes open and nothing in between.  I'm not sure how I feel about that, I get a lot from my dreams as I'm one of those people that usually retain a large chunk of them.  Not having or not remembering dreams is not something I like.  I will try them again tonight and see what's up.  I have the added bonus of not havign to get up ass early to let the girls get ready because tomorrow starts THanksgiving break.  Yay!!!

We have family pictures this Friday.  Hopefully, that is.  If it looks icky It's gonna be a no go so I want it to be nice.  I've already gotten the shirts and we're wearing jeans and boots.  I want this to happen.  Our last family picture, all of my kids were shorter than me.  Now one towers over me, one is looking me in the eye, and the last is gaining fast.  Dunno HOW that happened.  Children are supposed to stay little, aren't they?  Little and cuddly, and adorable.  Not grow big and tall and get moustaches...

Oh wait...

Went and watched the walking dead with bestie last night.  Two weeks worth.  I love nights when I get to interact with other adults.  Another reason I love my job.

But I'm not going to turn this into a work blog.  I'm happy, I slept well, and I'm sitting here eating chocolate covered pretzels.  Life is very much pointing to awesome at the moment.

I think I am going to the movies today.  I have been wanting to see the Hunger Game since I knew it was coming out.  There are very few movies that I totally insist on seeing in the theatres and hunger Games is one of them.

If I go I will try and put out a blog later.

For now though, I am going to go get dressed and see how totally stunning I can look to go sit in a dark theatre!  LOL.

Did I mention I love the fall?  I really do.  There's very little sun so my sunglasses are very rarely needed (I have a problem with my eyes, I will explain later.  If I don't, remind me) So I can go outside and not be blinded and get migraines!  It's awesome

Plus... I look awesome in sweaters.

LOL.

Have an awesome day bloggers!!  Stay Frosty!!

One more lecture... Just one

And I may or may not snap like a brittle twig.

SO let's go back about a little more than month ago.  I screwed up, I get mad and I wrote a blog on men and how they suck and if you know me, I was kinda talking about one man while generally speaking about several.  He saw it, he got mad.  I spent three days crying.

And he has spent weeks now treating me like a redheaded stepchild that stole the last piece of fried chicken.  Don't laugh, it's something my family says.  It kinda applies to me because in the summer, my hair turns red but I digress...

For a week or so, he was just quiet and didn't say anything.  I personally spent this week crying over what I had done and the fact that he wouldn't forgive me.  Then slowly, but very steadily he began to speak to me in a tone that suggested I go take a long walk off a very short pier.  To my great consternation, I spent more time crying.  That continued for two weeks to the end of it being that one night I asked him point blank how many Hail Mary's I had to do for him to stop speaking to me like that.  He then replied he wasn't aware that he was speaking that way.  No, "I'm sorry."  Just , "I didn't know I was doing it."

It took everything I had then not to put on my ghetto fabulous black woman's ShaNaenae voice and tell him he knew.  But whatever for maybe three days, he didn't speak to me like I was the biggest bitch in the south.

Oh but those three days were heaven comparatively.  From day four until TODAY my work life on the nights that he is there have been a living hell.  And I don't use that term loosely.  More than five nights, he has been so borderline vicious in his tone that it actually made me cry.

And I am willing to admit that a couple of times, my defenses were down because lately I have been a PMS nightmare. (The fucking sky turning dark is apt to drive me to tears on my worse days)

My day starts off awesome.  I get up after getting enough sleep, I go into work and it's all good.  And I mean that.  I love my job, I love my co-workers so being there is never something I don't want to do.  But the second he walks in, I can almost feel the huge bulls eye on my face.  While certain people are there, he doesn't say a word to me.  Insert me jumping up and down in a giddy fashion cause I'm good with the silence.  But but when certain people leave the store, and he's the one in charge so to speak, the snake bites start.

A week ago I had a thing with another co worker that I was trying to annoy her because she has spent the day annoying me.  It was all good natured fun... no I take that back it was not good natured but she knew where I was coming from.  Mr. Man (A term i am using loosely because I will not say his name) took it upon himself to lecture me on being an adult in front of my children with some of the keywords being "She's 27, you're 35.  You should know better"

Basically saying she could annoy the eff outta me because she's not yet thirty but I need to grow up and act my age.

I could go off into a rant about how he is no one to lecture about acting like an adult.  He, the man who nicknames all of the equipment in the store (The docker is called Dockey, the sheeter is Sheety, the slicer is Cutty, the stepstool ;yes the stepstool is Steppy) as if I work in one big dangerous kindergarten was lecturing me on being an adult.  I even gave him a chance to realize that he was walking serious thin ice that night the way women do.  I looked him dead in the face and said "you are lecturing me on how to be an adult?"  He looked me right back in the eye and said "Yes."

But I'm not going to rant.  Nope.  As mad as it made me that night and still makes me, not gonna.

Friday, he made me cry again because of the tone.  This time I cried because I was so angry it was the bodily function that won out over grabbing a pizza pan and... well...  You know.  That being said, have you ever gotten so mad at someone that you couldn't say anything to that your body skipped right over the violent outburst and went straight to tears?  Most likely to save your ass?  That's what happened to me.  And I called my best friend crying.  I don't call people when I cry.  I never do but right at that moment, I needed someone to talk me back down to sanity and she did.  God Bless her, she did.

This past Saturday, we were all at work and one person stepped away from the make line to do something.  I never looked up to see that that person wasn't there and thus didn't see that the make line was unmanned. Trust me, if I had known that the make line was unmanned, I probably would have stepped over but instead I got a lecture, this time in front of anyone who could hear, I got a lecture about how I'm the insider and I have to step up to it and finish the pizzas.

Yes, in theory I do.  Not even the fact that I was told by the boss to concentrate on sheet outs really saves me from this.  I really should have turned around to see that there was no one there with three orders on the screen and one in the process of being made.  I get that.  What annoys me is that I got singled out for a lecture.  One that more than two people heard as one of the persons jumped on the makeline with me to help knock out those pizzas.  Saturday night was actually better for the first time.  I don't know if something was said to him or not but he seemed like he was at least trying to be civil, which I appreciated.  I even let go of the earlier public lecture.  I wasn't little miss chatterbox but I didn't tell him to go play in traffic either.  I think the worst I did was put one of my ear buds in my ear to listen to music while I flipped the make line.  I don't do oppressive silences very well.

So today was Sunday.  A.K.A. my happy day.  He doesn't work Sundays, I don't have to have my shield up because there will be no lectures or sharp razor edges to anyone's words.  It's an awesome day all around every week.  Honestly, it used to be my second favorite day and now it's my first favorite day but whatever.  Something I can't talk about happened and he had to come in for a couple of hours.

The shield didn't immediately go up.  It should have.  I put one earbud in to have some very low music in my ear while I cut pizza.  I think I said, I don't do oppressive silences very well.  I could still hear everything.  Everything except him mumbling.  (He has this crazy annoying habit of speaking while concentrating on the pizza he's making but he doesn't raise his voice, he just kinda mumbles and expect that everyone within hearing range is listening.)  First off I was by an oven that had the fan going.  On a good day I can't hear 65% of whats going on when I'm over there.  He starts mumbling.  Twice I only caught what he was saying because I had turned and caught the movement of his lips out of the corner of my eye.  The third I casually mentioned that I couldn't hear what he was saying.

Lecture number three about how I really shouldn't listen to music.  I didn't say anything about how the volume of the music was on 2 and it was really a random beat in my bad ear (I'm partially deaf in my left ear... well both really but more in my left than my right.) and I didn't say anything about his mumbling and me standing by the oven.  I just nodded (I may have rolled my eyes and made a face.) and took the earbud out.
Another employee came in and they began to talk about the massive amount of overtime they were both getting.  In front of the person who can't get overtime because of her position.  Who can't sub for people and get overtime because she has no car.  It was rather like when your married friends sit and complain about their men and you're all over there like "But I'm single and would step on several grandma's just to have a man But please do tell me more about your man troubles."  So while I had a few minutes to the next pizza surge, I stepped out back.  He was talking and I didn't want to break up the conversation but he saw me step out.  I know he saw me  I made sure he saw me.

Lecture number 4 about how I have to let someone know when I'm leaving.  Really?  I made sure you saw me and I didn't want to interrupt your conversation.

BAd me, what came out of my mouth was "Is the conversation about overtime finished?"  The fact that I cut him off mid lecture and asked this with all of the sneer I couldn't keep out of my voice hit a chink between armor plates and he backed off.

But then something went wrong which put him in a shitty mood for hours.  At one point he pretty much killed an extra large pepperoni pizza trying to get it out of the pan.  Something we have all pretty much done in the past week because the pan fairy visited us and we got new unseasoned pans.  I myself am personally responsible for the death of two extra larges yesterday.  He asked for a remake.  I said that I had to sheet it out in a minute because he had just pointed to an order on the screen and said to make it now not the others because that person was going to be there as well as one other thing.  A minute later, as promised, I sheeted out the extra large and handed it to the other person on the make line. She had to finish a pizza she was working on.  Took all of five seconds.  He turned, realized the remake was not yet in the oven and went twisted.  She said, "It's going in, chill."

His response, "Oh it's not your fault, you're not even supposed to be working."

Yep, you go it.  It was my fault.  Mine.  I didn't say anything audible but a coworker caught the gestures and word that my mouth was forming from the the side of the oven.  I'm not a violent person but if I could have frisbeed a pizza pan through the over at the back of Mr. man's head right then you can bet your bippy I would have.

And this is only about an hour and a half into my three hours of hell.

Around the two hour mark one of the accounts called up to ask if their pizza was on it's way.  It was due at 5:20 and they called at 5:28.  Their pizza was still in the hotbox.  He (Mr Man) could have gotten a blistering lecture from a couple of parties about an account's delivery being late (they could call the owners, the owners could call him or bless out the manager who wasn't there, the list of could haves could go on) but instead I said to the woman that called that it was my fault, I didn't look up at the clock and her pizzas were leaving right that second.  She was totally fine.  Said okay, and told me to have a good night.

Lecture number...5 (bear with me I'm starting to lose count of how many lectures I've had to sit through and not say what I was thinking) about how I shouldn't have said that because it needs to fall on a manager if there's a foul up or some shit like that.

So glad there isn't a big marquee on my forehead that teleprompts my thoughts.  I told the closing shift leader about that conversation later and their response was, "That was great, I would have hugged you, you didn't have to do that, thank you."

It's getting to the point where I'm not moved to tears because I'm hurt by his attitude and treatment of me, I'm moved to tears because I can't say anything because he's my superior.  I could come back at him and very well lose my job because my smart mouth started flapping and didn't know when to stop.  I'm angry that I have to stand there and take it.  I'm pissed that instead of coming to me and talking to me like a human being, he is whittling me down by belittling me.

And worst of all, my boss, who is both our friend, is being dragged into it.  That was the LAST thing I wanted.  I tried so hard to keep it out of the store.  Mr. Man dragged it in.  I held my tongue, I said nothing to no one and tried to keep my head up.  Every shot lobbed at me, I let lay where it fell.  I refused to make my workplace my battleground.

But one more lecture.... Just one... and I might get a really bad case of word vomit.

I have to fix this.  I have to stop this.  I don't know how, but I have to make this stop.  My mother suggests going to the big bosses but I'm not going to do that.  That would actually bring more casualties than help.  She also suggests that I change stores or jobs.  I don't want to leave my job.  I love my job and it's not as easy as she thinks to just change stores.  It doesn't work like that.  I have to fix this.  I can't talk to him because if I happen to go outside when he's on a smoke break, he walks away or goes back inside.  And then there are the moments when I want to say something but I don't because I know how it's going to sound coming out of my mouth which would solve more problems than help. (Like you wanna say something but you just know that that totally barbaric and murderous thought that's shouting across your brain is going to come running out of your mouth instead of the thing you want to say.)

I know I started this with my blog and I'm not even trying to justify that blog because there really isn't any way to.  There is none.  But people make mistakes.  You live you learn, you move on.  That's life.  IT's what keeps the human race going.

Sigh... I;m about all blogged out.  I have to get up in the morning and take my aunt to the airport.  Then doctors at two.  I should be able to sleep.  I've sat here and written all of this while my headache slipped away.  So I should sleep good.  I'm going to go lay down.

Stay frosty bloggers.  Love peace and Hair grease!

Checking in before bed...

Really that's all I am going to do.

Because if I blog about the poison that's actually in my head right now, it WILL bite me in the ass and right now that's not what I want biting my ass right now.

It was an okay at day at work today.  Correction.  Until maybe five this afternoon, it was an awesome day.  Between five and seven it was a decent day and after seven, aside from the fact that I got to leave early, the day probably couldn't have gone any worse.  As a matter of fact, I am pretty certain that there will be some talking done about me that I may have to take a minor ass biting lecture about.

Correction.  Another ass biting lecture.

I love my job.  There is rarely a but that follows that short sentence but there is ever more and increasing presence of said word nowadays.

I really do love my job.  But it's getting harder and harder to work around one person.  On good days, around that person, I'm fine.  I fool myself into thinking that one day we might reach a level of normalcy that befits, you know actual sane humans.  Then on bad days the person makes me alternately want to burst into tears or have to mentally check myself before I wreck myself.  Most recently, I've started to realize that the normalcy I want so badly has arrived but in the form of that person being free to say whatever they want to me in the tone that suggests I take a long walk off a short pier, but all I can do is nod and say "okay".

And yes, that is all I can do because if the word vomit that keeps pressing against my lips ever makes it out of my mouth I will be in big trouble.  No, let me give that the weight it deserves... BIG TROUBLE.

The holidays are coming up.  I need my job.  Maybe after the new year, if things aren't any better I will finally give up working with people I have come to love like family and seek employment elsewhere.

But first, I will start paper blogging the word vomit.  Like I said, if the word vomit sees daylight, it's going to bite me in the ass.

Odd thought... Maybe I am starting menopause.  Maybe that's an explanation for the swirling mass of stupid emotions I have become.  WOuld taking hormones and all the stuff a person in menopause has to take help me go back to being on even keel with the world?

Hmmm....

For now, I'm going to keep my mouth shut.  And I mean that literally.  I am going to keep my mouth shut and not say a word to the person making my life a living hell.  Not one word, ever.  And I will snap a rubber band on my wrist every time the word vomit presses against my lips.

Now watch that get me in trouble....

FML...FML very much right now.  I am so fucked.

good night bloggers.  Stay frosty.

Call me crazy

But I love the holidays mainly because it means that I get to bake.

Baking for late year birthdays, baking for Thanksgiving, Baking for Christmas.  Hell even baking for New Years because who doesn't like to scarf down some cake with their champagne while the ball drops.

Okay, maybe that one was kinda pushing it but still.  In my household alone between Spetember and February, there are three birthdays, two major holidays that require baking and a multitude of smaller holidays that are made better by baking.  Extend that to my family and friends and the birthday count goes up over ten I think.

Thathis is not limited to cakes and cookies either, I also bake breads and as a tradition when I make sugar cookie for my kids teachers I usually make a loaf of a winter themed bread.  Year before last I made butter pecan bread.  I don't actually know which bread I'm going to make this year.  I've been thinking of looking up a spice bread.

Yes, I am THAT mom.  The one that eventually, other moms realize it's not worth wasting time even providing baked good for a school bake sale.  When we lived in Dahlgren, the first year I was asked for cookies, I provided.  The following year I was asked for cookies and a cake after a couple of the moms liked the cupcakes their kids brought home from in class birthday parties.  The third year there, the list I was handed had brownies, cakes, (Yes that was plural)cupcakes, and brownies and just so you don't think they were totally using me, the list was accompanied by a voucher to the commissary to get the needed supplies.  The only thing I provided for free was my time and I was happy to do so but it didn't stop me from feeling just a little bit too full of myself.

Especially when one mother rather nastily said to me, "I was told not to bother baking for the bake sale this year because they asked you to do it all.  Apparently your baked crack cocaine is better than my pitiful ordinary cake."

Forgive her, she knew not how stupid she sounded.  She was an officers wife and they were the top of the pyramid at Dahlgren.  For a mere enlisted sailors wife to come up and be recognized for the stuff that they normally covered and covered well was unheard of and worthy of being squashed and swept under the rug.

I swear that very same woman probably had a party when I left my husband and put Dahlgren to my tail lights for good.

Whatever, back to the present.  I am doing the baking thing at church now.

Now DO NOT GET ME WRONG.  there are a multitude of women at my church that can easily put my baking skills to serious shame there.  In fact one of them makes a cake that my own mother waits for on a yearly basis.  So I didn't feel like I needed to put myself out there really.  I baked cupcakes and then I baked the cookie brownie and there were requesting me to make more.  So I gave them more.  I turned up to almost every even with a cake or two.  This year, for the Thanksgiving dinner, I'm sending three cakes.

I swear, places like church and it's functions are going to be the reason that I die a sugar filled, icing covered, buttery death.  They're going to find me laid out in the kitchen covered in what looks like cake or brownie mix and in the over will be a cake for you to serve at my wake.  Cause I'm kind like that.  How could I even think of dying without giving you a cake to serve at my wake.  Uh as if! LOL... but not really.  I'm actually certain that it's expected of me to have a couple cakes locked away in cryospace ready to thaw out to serve at my own funeral.

And there better be cake at my wake.

Better be.

I will haunt you all if there is no cake at my wake.

Just kidding.

But not really.

Just think about me haunting you over a cake.  Think about it.  You know I'll do it.

So, the next event I will bake for is the Christmas party at church, then Olivia's birthday, and then maybe a cake while we are away at Christmas.  Then if I go over Patty's for the new year, I will bake something.  Then my aunt's birthday at the end of January which is the same day as Kamri's birthday at work (Does anyone know how to make Olives into a cake?).  Then I might make Tammy a Red Velvet cake for Valentine's day since that's her favorite cake.  And I might make myself something so I have something to drown my sorrows about not having a man in.

And this is the season where my kids get to enjoy homemade breads in all their lunches because I buy flour like wheat is going to be an endangered species soon.

And soup.  I know it doesn't count as baking but the winter time is when I turn the crock pot on and seem to never actually turn it off.  I have four jars of chicken soup sitting in my fridge as we speak.  Amber requested soup for her birthday.  I made a lot.  My girls have already polished off one bottle.  One will go to Patty tomorrow when I go over for Girls time.  My girls will fight me for the others.  I'm pretty sure they will.

LAst year I canned it and set them in the garage but we got an influx of ants so all of the jars had to go.  Sad face.  There were some really good ones in there.

I should go.  The marble cake is probably finished baking now.  I've been occupying my time here in bloggerverse and listing to the oven cut on and off.  It's been awhile so I'm sure it's done.  I will ice them tomorrow.

Blog ya later guys!  Love you!!

Pissing contests rarely get won by any side

And this one that I am being dragged into is no different.  No one is going to win, everyone is going to lose.

Since late last year, and I do mean late, think like September 2013, the pastor of my church has been like a alien possessed being that has acted like he is God.  Not the word of God but God himself.

The first that I heard of it was when he, in what seemed like a totally random move, decided that as of January 2014, church would begin at ten A.M.  He didn't ask anyone he decreed it.  In my mind, it honestly didn't matter.  I'm rarely on time for church when it started at eleven so starting it at ten just meant that I would still be late just earlier than I had always been.  NOT A BIG DEAL.

Oh but it was.  In church meetings it was a HUGE issue.  This one solitary hour caused an uproar that I'm pretty sure that Satan himself heard and probably steepled his fingers ala Monty Burns and said Excellent.

I couldn't understand it.  I honestly didn't much care but I still couldn't understand it.  It was one freaking hour.  And despite many complaints, come January church did indeed begin at ten.  The bell schedule was off for a few months and people still were late, but even those that fought the new time so vehemently STILL SHOWED UP AT TEN.

In March I got a job so many of the things going in in my church began to fall past my notice.  Sure I was there and I had Sunday's and Fridays off but let me tell you, Most Friday's I was lucky to be awake long enough to care and most Sunday's I put my head down, played on my Tablet and called it a good Sunday.  Then I began to work on Fridays so I missed the gossip.  Then I began to close on Saturdays so getting up for Church... yeah... that was hit or miss.  If you thought I was late before that, my schedule on Sundays was comical.  I'd be on time but church service became an extension of my bed meaning I slept.  And slept hard.  Noticeably.  

Also somewhere in there, PAstors wife left him and to my utter disgust (A word I NEVER thought I would say in reference to my church) pastor began to preach about sex.  From the Pulpit.  Yes Sex.  Do you have any idea how may Sunday's I went home and felt like I needed a shower?  And people fell away.

But there was so much more happening behind the scenes that none of us had a clue about.  Money was getting tight but he got an $11,000 dollar raise.  He went to Africa and the church paid a good part of that I think.  We didn't have it but we did it.  

And then the big one.  It seems as though Pastor lied on his application.  He said he'd never been pastor of another church.  His resume said nothing about it.  But at a church function, members of the church he didn't claim to know anything about, came to our members and said that he had been their pastor for three years.  THREE YEARS!!  Even my mom read his resume.  He filled that gap quite nicely so that there were no questions.  The church in question also deleted his name from the history and searchable database effectively doing his work for him.  Did they know that this was going to help him?  I don't think so.  I think they just wanted to pretend that the cancer that was Jon Edwards never appeared to have sullied their church.

I'm told they asked him about it and he said wrong person.  So they let it go.  And a few months later, it came to light that this time, HE was lying.  It was him.

Rather like Mrs. White.  In the ballroom.  With the Candlestick.  It was Edwards.  In the pulpit.  With the Bible.

Aside:  Please don't think that by referencing The SImpsons or the game CLUE I am trying to make light of any of this, I am trying to keep myself from bawling because of the pain this is causing a lot of good people.

Anyway, it was him.  He lied.  Law says that even if you work somewhere for thirty years and it comes up that you lied on your resume, you can be fired.  And that's what the trustees did, they terminated him but he refused to leave.

You have to understand.  Admittedly It had been hubub for awhile now that he was bleeding our church dry and we couldn't take much more and maybe they were looking for a way to legally fire the man, I don't know but this glaring lie gave them the chance they needed and they took it.  Rightfully so if you ask me, which no one has.  The point being made here is he lied.  To a Church.  And now he needed to pay for that lie.  

But the fucker won't leave.  If I knew that I wasn't wanted someplace I would sure as hell not try to stay there just to be there.  I would pack my things and go.  I wouldn't try to grasp straws in hopes of staying.  I wouldn't try to divide the place into factions that are basically at war now.

My church is at war.  My church has become a pissing ground and a huge game of "My dog is bigger than your dog."  Certain people, Who granted favors to, seem to think that he was dismissed unfairly.  The rest of the church agrees that if you lie, you pay the price.  Hence the pissing contest.  One side is waving half the information, the other side is waiting for the other side to realize that they are wrong.

I've got news for you:

IT DOESN'T MATTER WHO'S DOG IS BIGGER.  IT DOESN'T MATTER WHO CAN PISS FARTHER.  GOD IS BIGGER THAN THE BOTH OF YOU AND SOONER OR LATER, IT'S GOING TO HAVE TO BE SHOWN JUST HOW BIG HE IS...

And you will lose.  BOTH of you.  Because no one wins when they bet against God.

I probably should NOT be blogging

Because while I have had food tonight, I have also had an entire bottle of wine.

YEs, Arbor mist is real wine.  Or it damn sure is when you drink an entire bottle of it.  I should work on my limits.  No... that's not the word... I should work on my... on my... what is the damn word???  That thing where you know you shouldn't do something but you do anyway?  LIke finish an entire bag of Pepperidge Farm MIlano slices with salted pretzels on top and drink an entire bottle of wine.  I wanna say limitations but I don't think that's the word.

I think that it's better if I don't think right now.

So an update to my stupid act of anger a few week ago.  I tried to apologize but he still won't talk to me.  I think my apology has gone the way of the mejai or whatever it is they say.

A friend asked me the other day if I want to make amends.  I don't know.  I miss my friend.  I miss talking with him.  Or rather listening to him talk.  If amends means having that back.  Yes.  I do.  If amends means having him back intimately, I honestly don't know.  I miss the way his eyes sparkle when he talks to me.  Now they are cold.  I miss the way I might look over and catch him watching me.  NOw he turns his back to me.  All The Time.

I can't keep up the dance where I try to move out of his way.  I can't force myself to keep breathing when he says something not work related to me.  I can't stop pretending that hugging him and being hugged by him fixed almost every problem I had had that day and that I miss it.

I miss it.  I miss him.  And he's gone.

And I am not okay.

I haven't blogged because there is nothing to blog about.  I think we all know that if I wanna blog I could bullshit out a blog about the sky being blue if I wanted to.  NO, I haven't blogged because I'm back to square one in beating myself up.  I did wrong.  I messed up.

And he won't give me the time of day to say that to his face.  He won't relent for one second for me to look him in his gorgeous eyes one more time and apologize to him.

I definitely should not drink.  I just need to stop altogether.  It's after midnight and all I want is another glass of wine.  NO actually, I want the rest of the absolut in my fridge and maybe the iced tea vodka.

I have this theory that I probably need to... I'm not going to finish this.

My life is in an absolute tailspin and I don't know how to stop it.

I don't know if I want to stop it.

And I have no one that I can talk to about it.

No one.

I need to change things.

But I don't want to.

I think that the absence of my want is due to the absence of my know how.  And I sound like I know what I'mn saying but I don't.

I want to change things but I don't want to because I don't know how and I'm afraid of falling on my ass again.

Okay, I'm going to end this and go to bed.  Maybe in the morning I will be better and not want to climb up a side of a water tower and just sit there singing.

One of my coworkers has this thing.  If you tell her she's driving you crazy, she responds with the same line:

"Crazy? I was crazy once. They locked me in a padded room.  I liked it there. I died there.  They put three flowers on my grave.  Two went up, one went down.  It tickled me.  It drove me crazy.  Crazy?  I was crazy once...." And it continues.

Why did I mention that?  I don't know.

I think I might need a padded room again.  I don't want to hurt anyone but I think I might be becoming a danger to myself.

It doesn't matter.  Everyone will write this off as me having a drunken moment and think that the next day when I don't say anything, that it's over and I'm fine.  No one is going to see this for what I'm trying to say.

For what I don't know how to say.

Fuck it.  I'm going to bed.

Do that frosty thing.

Happy November!

So although I'm writing this post at midnight on technically November 2nd  To me it's still the first.

I hate to sound like a whiny little brat, but I need my car back.  I need my freedom and my independence.  I love my mom and my aunt and Joe and everyone who's broken their backs to give me rides, but I am about to reach that all too critical breaking point where I just start crying for no damn reason other that I miss the freedom to go wherever whenever.

I do have a small amount of good news though...  After three long weeks I can finally say that my period has stopped.  One, I know that was TMI.  Two, I KNOW that three weeks is a bit long and I should probably have gone to the dr by now to make sure that I wasn't you know... dying.  But uhm... There was work.  And then there was work.  And after that I had a bit of spare time to, uh, work.  And the five minutes of my life that it seems like I have on my day off, I was too damn tired and my doc doesn't do walk ins which doesn't matter because I couldn't drive over there to be a walk in anyway.

But it's stopped so I can naturally assume that I'm not dying.  I mean if I drop dead tomorrow I will hope it wasn't because I was leaking for two weeks longer than I should have but still.

And it's not just that the bitch was on for three weeks, she was here for her normal week, eased off to almost making me think she was gone for a couple days started creeping back for more days and then just decided to come full back for another week.  The third week was not fun at all.  If there was ever an issue of blood loss, it was then.  The sudden migraines, my blood pressure spiking.  Last freaking week, yeah try and convince me I wasn't dying.  But damn it, despite the fact that I spent last weekend crying (Or was it the weekend before, I don't effing know anymore.) I did last week with a huge smile on my face.

Which is hard.  Like I said last week (Or was it the week before? Dammit, I hate losing time) I hurt someone with a blog and he got really mad.  And I'm not actually sure that he's ever going to accept my apology. This makes working with him kinda hard because aside from stuff about work, he doesn't talk to me.  Like at all.  And I have to admit, I kinda miss that.  I do.  I really miss it.

I had an odd feeling tonight at work.  I say things and people don't really think that I mean what I say.  Admittedly I have earned the reputation of being kinda crazy and usually jokey at work but sometimes, I'm not joking and I really mean what I say.  Sometime I need for people to at least listen and see if I am joking before they laugh.  But not everyone does and not just at work, it's most of life.

So okay, I guess I can chalk this hour that I spent playing Family Guy and blogging up to daylight savings and get ready for bed.

There's some drama going on at my church and I know I'm really just being nosey by going in tomorrow but I'd like to know what is happening to my church and to decide if I really want to call this my church anymore.  I love the people there I do.  With all of my heart but I don't do drama if I can avoid it.  I create it from time to time, I understand that but I tend to stay away from it.

Good night folks.  Stay frosty which understandably is way easier to do now that it's officially Fall and I don't say that because the equinox was a couple weeks ago I say that because today was the first day in a long time that it was COLD  Like really cold.  Well, to the Southerners... to me it felt good.

Okay guys!  Good night!