Beth Howard, Warrior Princess of Power

I should title this post simply: Public Service Announcement.

I really considered it.

HOWEVER, I am going to instead title it with the pat on the back that I earned for what I have just endured. If you are easily made ill or faint of heart, read at your own risk. I will not be liable for anything that happens to you as mouth is gaping open and your skin is crawling.

Our story begins Friday July 15th, in the Stater Bros. Super Market on 40th & Waterman. I picked Bill up from work and we then proceeded there to do this weekend's shopping In the back of my mind, I had been formulating how I was going to talk him into spending Saturday afternoon at Deep Creek in Cedar Glen with some of my girlfriend's from work and their children... INSTEAD of cleaning. Weird? No.. no. Not at all.

You see this is a consistent issue between the Bill and I, as I have the ability to change direction at any time. Because I am like a ninja. A "plan's have changed... no problem" ninja. He is an old, old man of 41. He lacks spontaneity almost entirely. He likes order and routine and consistency. He enjoys "planning"very, very much. So much so that every single phone call we ever have includes the phrase, "So... what's you plan?". Sometimes I want to say, "Become the Speaker of the House, the Senate Majority Leader and the President of these United States. ALL AT THE SAME TIME." just to throw a wrench.

(I won't say I digress; I'll just say: Enywayz. I'm from CA, after all.) When The Man comes home, he wants to come home to a spotless house, a wife who looks like she just stepped out of a 1955 Playboy magazine and dinner that could have come from a photo in Food and Wine Magazine. Then he wants to shower, put his feet up, gather his family around him, watch a movie, drink a Stone Ruination and reeeelaaaaxxxx.

On Saturdays, he wants to get up... smoke a cigarette, drink about 27 cups of coffee, use the restroom, smoke a cigarette, make off color remark and/or smack my ass, open his BBQ Bible, pray, choose a recipe, smoke a cigarette, go to the expensive rip off store for 47 things he forgot at Stater Bros, smoke a cigarette, fill my children full of donut-y goodness and spawn insanity, spend the rest of the morning measuring and preparing, smoke a cigarette, turn on various History Channel programming OR Ice Road Truckers, take a nap, get up, smoke a cigarette, have 27 more cups coffee, use the restroom again, smoke a cigarette, make another off color remark and/or smack my ass, light the grill, crack a Ruination, smoke a cigarette, GRILL, smoke a cigarette, prepare side dishes, present dinner, eat, smoke a cigarette, choose a movie, watch movie, smoke a cigarette, send kids to bed... expect off color remarks and/or ass smacking to pay off and then sleep. There is very little exception to this, unless something has been in the works for several weeks, and even then I watch him struggle internally with reasons mayyyyybbbbbbeeee we should just stay home.

Alas, poor Bill. Every weekend he comes home to me. I would LOVE to look like a 1955 Playboy model. I would love to have a spotless house. I would love to have a dinner resembling something out of Food and Wine Magazine on the table for him, ready and waiting every Friday night. Really. I would. I'd also really like to bring about world peace, end hunger, empower women from every culture and cure AIDS and cancer. Unfortunately for Bill, these things are further up on the list. Also, I work at Hell, Inc. all week and do all the weekly child rearing myself. So housework? MWHAHAHA! I laugh at house work. Beyond the nightly dishes, 2 or 3 vacuuming stints and a load of laundry or two... if you expected more, I'd be happy to get you a gift. The gift of DISAPPOINTMENT. Act now and I'll throw in a free swift kick to the junk.

POINT: More often than not The Man comes home to a messy house. Being the amazing guy he is, he just walks in, looks around, sighs, and without a word goes into the kitchen and makes dinner for all of us. Then he gets in the shower, gets his beer, gets his movie time in with the boys and smiles over at me like I mine as well be a 1955 Playboy model. This is now a very probable certainty to him, so he's added it to his routine and automatically plans to spend most of Saturday morning helping me undo to the house what has been done all week.

He is an awesome man. We all know this. I won't go on and on. HOWEVER... you might possibly see, despite the awesome, how a girl who thrives on inconsistency and excitement can get kinda frustrated. And to be fair, vice versa.

Let's return now to Stater Bros., 40th & Waterman. Work friend had invited us that very morning to attend an impromptu gathering at the local creek, which kind of doubles as our "river experience" around here. Sure to be a "sun soaking, beer drinking, young boys get to play and stay occupied, while the adults laugh and chat" heck of a time. I thought about that for about .000001 of a second before I decided that I'd rather do that, than clean. As we're walking the aisles of Staters, I can think of no other tactic than to just blurt out

"I know you're going to need a little bit of time to think about this and get acclimated....BUT... IreallyreallyreallywanttogowithRachelandNikkiandbunchofother

peopledowntoDeepCreektomorrowandhangoutfortheafternoon!!! So we should probably just get sandwich stuff and snacks and drinks while we're here because we'll need it for tomorrow, right? I mean take minute and think about it. But please say yes! But take a minute... to think about it. And adjust. I know you need some time. It'll be so fun. I promise. I'll walk away now to get bread and chips and leave you to think. About saying, "Yes. I'd love to. Sounds super fun."

Scowl. Stern look. Shifting of eyes. Rolling of eyes. Irritated sigh. Exasperated sigh. Starts to say, "You know..." Pauses. Irritated sigh. Exasperated sigh. "Why do you ALWAYS do this?"

"Why do I always do what? Arrange for fun times? Strive for quality family bonding in "outing" form? Force you to make snap decisions so as to make you a better and more well rounded person?"

"Deviate from the plan!!! We have a plan. You already told me the house is a mess. I told you I want to spend tomorrow CLEANING so that I can feel comfortable in my house and you don't bitch at me when I leave Sunday that I left it all for you to do."

"Ok. How about this? How about I bust my ass tonight while you guys are eating and watching the movie and I get the house UBER SPECTACULAR clean. THEN... you live on the edge a little and commit to an activity you have had less than 72 hours to weight all the options, points and possibilities on. It'll be fun. I'll be YOU. And you... YOU get to be ME. Lucky you. I might try to stand and pee I'll get so caught up. First I'll make a plan, though."

Scowl. Stern look. Shifting of eyes. Rolling of eyes. Irritated sigh. Exasperated sigh. Growl of frustration. "FINE."

So that was the "plan". I began "cleaning all the things" immediately after we got home. I was on it. Dinner... made. Dishes.. done. Counters... spotless. Stove... sparkling. Table... wiped DOWN. Kitchen floor....

.......

"What the HELL?!? BILL!!! BILL! I think there is a maggot on our kitchen floor."

"What?!? It's probably not a maggot. And if it is, it's probably because I had the door open earlier. Anyway, thank you for cleaning up. The house is looking good. I appreciate it. Come to bed soon."

That literally happened. I said, I think there is a maggot in my home... and he literally brushed my concern off, took the boys upstairs, put them to bed and then went to bed himself.

I had no reaction to that at first. Until I realized there was not one maggot on my kitchen floor. There were about 20 of them when it was all said and done.

Let's rewind for just a minute before we get into the next portion. Earlier when I said that my house was never going to be spotless by then end of the week, I meant it. I do feel the need to explain to you, though, that just because my house is not spotless... doesn't mean it's dirty. It's cluttered. It's got too much stuff and not enough places for it. It's got laundry piled up and toys on the floor. It's occasionally got toothpaste on the counter that needs to be wiped up. It's got dishes in the sink more often than not. It's got an entryway that needs to be swept. The boy's rooms always looks like a bomb exploded. Dusting should happen more often. I consider this be "normal". We aren't hoarders. Or the renters from hell that move in and never clean anything. If you showed up unannounced, I would be a little embarrassed, but I'd let you in. Don't do that, though.

I would hope as I continue you, you would keep this in mind for the rest of the story. Beth Howard: Not super clean... but not a hoarder/non-cleaner.

I am sure that you can imagine, as soon as I realized that Bill was WRONG... it was a maggot and that it had friends, I went directly to the laundry room and got out my favorite cleaning friend, Bleach. Bleach is my "go to" comfort cleaner. If I am questionable about the cleanliness of anything, Bleach it is. For the next 20 minutes, I hand scrubbed/sanitized the kitchen floor, counters, refrigerator door oven front and bottom cupboard doors. I was feeling better. Confused as to where the hell those things came from... but better. Just as I was about to sit down and think on that...

"FUCK. You have got to be fucking KIDDING ME."

To my credit I did not have a mental breakdown at this point. I looked at the carpet in my dinning room and noticed about 50 more maggots writhing around on my rug and did NOT lose my shit. I kept it together. Thank you... I know. I know. I simply moved the chairs into the kitchen, moved the table into the living room got out the steam cleaner and began to clean the hell out of the carpet and rug. WHERE ARE THE COMING FROM?!?

Then it hit me. The trash. I hadn't taken the trash out since Sunday, as we really hadn't produced much during the week and the little bit we had, I didn't want to have to deal with picking up after the raccoons got into it. HOWEVER... what was in there was probably a few diapers and some dinner remains. I couldn't tell you for sure, though, because I grabbed the can and RAN to get it the hell out of my house.

When I came back to my absolute HORROR... as cliche as that it... I looked down only to see 50 more take the place of the ones I had just steamed over. And it occurred to me that I was gonna have to move the rug and do this one thing at a time. Remember the cliched use of the word HORROR? What can we go with that's worse and more intense? Choose your own adjective. Insert it now. That is how I felt when I lifted the rug to find at least a hundred more of those fuckers underneath. Again to my credit, I didn't yet have my break down. I just went and got the vacuum and alternated between vacuum and steam cleaner.

At some point I started crying, though I couldn't tell you exactly when. At some point I started drinking, though I couldn't tell you when that was either. After about an hour of going over the same area, one spot at a time, getting more and more of those nasty little things to crawl out... I went upstairs to my bedroom, flipped the light on and sobbed,

"Bill... they're everywhere. I keep cleaning and they keep popping up."

"What the hell are you talking about. Turn the light off!! I was asleep."

"The maggots, Bill. They're in the dining room carpet and they just keep coming out."

"I don't know what you are saying to me, but whatever it is, we'll deal with it tomorrow. Come to bed."

I am sure I must have looked like a chick straight out of a horror movie, mascara running down my face, standing there babbling about "Attack of the Maggots". I don't know how I did it, but I did what he asked, and I got into bed and went right to sleep.

The next morning, he got up and I bolted up with him, terrified as to what I would see when I went down stairs. It was as expected. There were maggots crawling on the dining room floor, as well as across the living room. Not as many as I had seen the night before... but enough to still make my skin crawl. I sat on the couch drinking coffee as Bill ran around with a paper towel, picking them up and putting them in a trash bag. There was no witty conversation.

I looked up online to see how rare this was. Turns out, it isn't rare at all. Here comes the Public Service Announcement: The way you kill maggots in your carpet is with boiling water and bleach. We called and flaked on my friends for Deep Creek, and I spent the entire rest of the day boiling water, pouring it on the carpet, watching those little assholes crawl up out of the heat and die, spraying the area with bleach water and then sucking it all up in the steam cleaner. 2 bottles of bleach and an entire lake of water later, I believe they are gone. Just to be sure though, I am going to treat the entire carpet with Borax tonight after the boys go to bed and vacuum it up in the morning. You can also use flea powder, but it don't like the chemicals and Borax is way less toxic.

I did finally breakdown about halfway through the day, BTW. It came when Bill absentmindedly set the trash bag he was using for maggot cleanup on my kitchen table. I don't think I've actually ever hyperventilated before, but I am pretty sure that I did then. He forced a beer on me and made me take a break outside. This has been a longer story than I wanted it to be. It also is not nearly as humorous as I would have liked. End result is that I feel violated. It almost feels like we got robbed, to tell you the truth. Also, new rule: We no longer have a kitchen trash in the house. New bag every time we need to throw a lot of things a way at the same time OR we just walk ourselves outside and through single items away. I am thinking about doing the same with the bathroom trash.

Tomorrow I'm going to arrange to get an estimate for new carpet. I'm still sitting here shuddering.

Paperwork

Soooooooo...

I'm having a bit of a hard time here lately. Houston... there has been some heavy, hard core drama. Please abort mission. I repeat... ABORT MISSION... and head on back to home base. No need to discuss the issues with the public. Let's just maintain a low profile, take our licks and move on with life. Roger that, Houston. Over and Out.

I'm in need of a funny story. And luckily for you AND for me... I have one.

And... I GUESS... I'll tell it. Geez. Twist my arm.

When I was about 16 years old, my mom took me to the doctor for something. (I don't remember what. I'm 31 years old now... what do you want from me?) She checked me in and got my paperwork. Came over to where I was sitting and began to fill it out. And I was like, "WHA...? Mom. MOM. I'm 16. I think I can fill my OWN paperwork out. Thank you very much-ah. I've mastered the arts of READING and WRITING at this point. I attend, you know, SCHOOL. Also... I believe I know ME. Because I am... ME."

She was amused. Teenagers are amusing, I have come to realize. Being that they know everything and all... but still make some of the most EPICALLY stupid mistakes ever. Which is so odd considering all of that knowledge. And wisdom. And advice they have for us older folk. Which ultimately guides them on their path to the spiritual awakening of "Holy Shit. I DON'T actually KNOW how to proceed. Mom? Dad? What would you do? And... can I borrow $100? Also... can you watch the baby on Friday?"

Anyway... she handed me the clipboard with the paperwork. I felt so official as I began to check boxes. And write my FULL NAME and my SOCIAL SECURITY NUMBER... (which I had to ask my mom for). When was my last period? WHY... YES. YES, I DO. GET THAT. THANK YOU. ADULT WOMAN HERE. Filling out her OWN paperwork. Tampon user now, EVEN. (Oh. Well. Ok. Apparently they don't need to know that.)

Have I had any surgical procedures? YES. Yes I have.
"Tonsil"... ahhh...
"Tonsel"... hmmm....
"Tonsal".... welllll...
"Mom... how do you spell tonsillectomy?"

Also... they need to know my insurance information. Ummmm... "Mom... what do I write here?"

Now we're to the boxes of what illnesses I have and have not suffered from. Check yes or no.
Cancer?... pfffft. Easy... NO. Duh.
Hemorrhoids? (like for REALZ? *snicker* NO! Wait... wait. Maybe I should put YES. LMAO! Wait... she's looking. Forget it.)
Heart Disease, including arteriosclerosis, angina, heart failure or history of heart attack ? What am I... fat??!? 60??? Also... "angina"? Really?.... REALLY? BWHAHAHAHA!! (what is that?)
High Blood Pressure? How the hell would I know? Aren't they going to put that squeezy thing on me and LET ME KNOW? You're suppose to know these things before you go in?
Blurred Vison? Yes. But if you think I am going to check YES so she can make me wear some dorky ass glasses you're insane.
Rheumatoid arthritis, lupus, or connective tissue disease? Uhhhhhh.... (what the hell is all THAT? I guess... NO. Is guessing allowed?)
Sickle Cell Anemia? Ummm... what if I have had all this crap? I've been sick a time or two in my younger days. But with WHAT? I don't remember. Can you catch this "anemia" business? And why does it make your "cells sick"? Is that any different from like, sick... sick? Why do they even need to know all this anyway? Forget it. I am just gonna put "NO" on everything else because I am not asking her, so she can be like, "Ohhhhhhhh... I thought you knew enough to fill out your OWN paperwork."

So I get done with everything and I could tell she wanted to spot check it. But I was like, "Nope. DENIED. I got this."... and went over and turned it into the receptionist.

After awhile, the nurse came to the door and called my name. Mi Madre must have sensed that this day was some sort of milestone, so when they called my name, she kept reading her magazine and didn't look up. I was on my own, apparently. Heck YES! Finally. A little respect around here. A little recognition for my (inevitable) accomplishment of growing up. Thank you very MUCH-AH.

The nurse did her nurse stuff. Height, weight, temp, blood pressure. Then she left me alone in the room informing me that "The Doctor has one patient ahead of you and then will be in shortly."

While I waited I read Better Homes & Gardens. It's what all the "adults" read while they wait for their doctors.

15 minutes later, the doctor knocked on the door and then entered. But it was all wrong, because it was a MALE doctor. WHOA. WHOA... now. Do they not know that on days when you have grown up enough to fill out your own paperwork and then do your whole "appointment" by yourself, you need to be assigned a same gender physician? How do they not know this? Didn't the receptionist notice me in all my adult glory, transforming before her very eyes as I took care of all of my OWN information? Uncomfortable this will be. Perhaps I should get my mom...

BUT NO. NO I WILL NOT. Perseverance. That's adult and shit.

He started asking me questions about whatever I was there for, as well as my medical history. Then he paused for a minute and said, "You've had Pertussis?"

????? "Uhhhhhh... I don't think so. What is that?"

"Well it says right here on your paperwork you have had Whooping Cough. How old were you when you had Whooping Cough?"

"Oh! No. he he. I've never had "Whooping Cough", I guess. But I have had a "Whopping (big) Cough" before that made my throat hurt. You know... like a whopper of a cough. I thought that was the same thing."

"Ohhhh... I see. You filled out your own paperwork today. Why don't we get your mother in here just to be on the safe side, then?"

DAMMIT.

Fearless Friday: Tolerance, Seperation of Church & State, Organized Religion: One of these things is NOT like the other...

Did you know that there is a woman named Sharron Angle who is running for a U.S. Senate seat in the state of Nevada? Perhaps. (I know you're reading your FaceBook page, not really listening to me.) Did you also know that she fancies herself a "tea party conservative"? Hmmm... really? (And thinking, "Stop talking. So I can read. See how that goes together?") And did you also know that she went on a nationally syndicated radio program (hosted by a conservative) and told the host that she did not support abortion even in the instance of rape and incest? No matter how old the girl is. (WHAT??!?) She said that in the case of a young girl being raped and becoming pregnant the girl should, "make lemonade out of lemons." (Thank you for your attention :) She also said that "It's God's will that the girl be raped." and "It’s easy to use rare situations such as the tragedies of rape and incest to skew the debate about the value of human life." Wow. Rare situations. Interesting.

How do you feel about those "Muslims"? Do they make you mad? Flashes of the 9/11 travesty play through your head, right? You see them every once in awhile walking around with their heads covered. The women don't meet your gaze. Sometimes you see a Mosque and it makes your skin crawl to think about all that kneeling and facing East. Let me ask you something, though. Do you know what a "Muslim" is? Do you know what they actually believe in? (No.. really... do you KNOW? Because you researched it yourself?) Good. In that case you know that "Muslim" is not a race of people; it's the name for the followers of the Islamic religion. Which makes you smarter than probably 60% of the rest of America. Do you also know how Al Qaeda relates to Islam?

A long, long time ago there was this guy who was sick and tired of watching people "buy" their redemption and so-called ticket to Heaven from the Catholic church. So on 10/31/1597 he nailed his theses proclaiming that "Salvation was a gift from God and that everyone was entitled to it", to the door of the All Saints' Church in Wittenberg, Germany. Back in that day they called him a radical, and then tried AND convicted him of heresy for his split from the Catholic way of thinking. You know what we call his followers? Lutherans. And MAN... are those some radical people. By the way can you tell a Lutheran from all the rest of the Christians we have? Or are you like me and you just kind of lump all of those kind of Christian religions together? Lutheran, Episcopalian, Methodist, Baptist, Pentecostal, Non-Denominational.... whatever. Of course Catholics stick out. So do Mormons. But otherwise... they're all just "Christians".

Oh... did that offend you? Perhaps you have some sort of argument or difference you'd like to impart upon me? Good. No really. Good.

Because here is the thing: I am so very, very, VERY excited for you that you can spend any day of the week you choose, devoted to any religion of your choosing. In any amount of time you wish. In any form of prayer you desire. Believing in anything it is you want. Praying for whoever you think needs it. Giving any amount of money you see fit. Providing selfless acts of service to those who request your help, in the name of whatever Deity you wish to give the credit to. And sharing your beliefs with anyone who wants to sit and listen to you share your testimony. I say this with not an ounce of sarcasm, and with complete and utter sincerity. GOD BLESS AMERICA.

Because I am also eXtremely excited to impart that same right among the Muslims of this country. Who would say "ALLAH BLESS AMERICA." It SICKENS me to watch political and personal rhetoric that preaches against allowing non-Christian Judea faiths of this country build places of worship. It OFFENDS me to hear people who fancy themselves AMERICANS speak out against allowing "weird" or "different" people practice what they believe in, as long as it follows the laws of not infringing on the rights of others. I know that Al Qaeda came here, played us for fools and dealt us a low, horrible blow. Al Qaeda is NOT a recognized Islamic branch among the Muslims. They are essentially what David Koresh and the Branch Davidian was to the rest of the organized Christian world. EXTREMISTS. Please tell me that it isn't right for me to look at you as a Christian and hate you because David Koresh brain washed and abused hundreds of people. Please.

Going back, though, to my original news story about Ms. Angle, who feels it right to interject her Christian views into my legislator: Could you imagine if instead of Ms. Angle, you were hearing Mr. Muhammad Jinnah tell you what he thought was morally right and how that should influence the laws that govern the two of us? Ohhhhhhhh... did you just bristle a bit? :) Muslim influence over our law making? I saw your facial expressions change. Beth Howard... she pays attention to the body language. (wink, wink). It's NOT COOL, right? Good. I am glad we agree.

STOP.SUPPORTING.CANDIDATES.WHO.INSERT.THEIR.
PERSONAL.RELIGIOUS.VIEWS.INTO.THE.GOVERNMENT.
OF.AMERICA.

We are constitutionally obligated to remain judicially separated from our churches when it comes to our state and national legislature. And THANK GOD. Thank GOD for that. Or... thank the dead, Founding Fathers if you so choose. If you're a Christian... I am sure you can recognize that it would have been nice for old Martin Luther to be able to preach what he wanted to preach; write what he wanted to write; share what he wanted to share with no interference from the government at the time, right? And I am hoping you realize that the "government" was the Catholic Church. If you feel that way, you should also feel that it is important for all other faiths to be free to worship in their own manner of choosing, so long as they don't infringe upon anyone else's rights.

Above all else, though, you should be happy to have laws that don't include either religious view in our governing.

The Iraqi Effect

This is for The Man who this morning, very matter-o-factly, told me many stories of the extremely high rate of un-happily married and divorced men in Iraq. My ultimate plan is to spend the rest of my life with him taunting me, smacking my ass and trying to boss me around, so a little 10,000 mile distance doesn't bother me. Besides, I've played out the scene 1,000 times where I am holding his hand in the hospital bed WHILE HE IS DYING OF EMPHYSEMA OR LUNG CANCER BECAUSE HE WON'T QUIT SMOKING... and all the romance and mellow drama I long for finally comes spewing forth from his lips, Jason Mraz style. I have to wait around until at least then, right? Otherwise, all my time invested has been wasted and that would just piss me off. Enough so that I would stay out of spite. So really... message to my husband: You couldn't get rid of me if you tried.

31 Years of Wisdom

So besides the proper lubricant for leg shaving, these are some other things I have learned over my small time on planet Earth.

*People Do, In Fact, Change. This is not true for everyone, obviously... but it is true. I, myself, do not own special x-ray goggles to be able to look into the hearts and minds of people to see whether or not they are "faith" or "hope" worthy... so I just try to keep an open mind and support everyone who seeks change for the better. If you own the special x-ray glasses, I encourage you to patent them and distribute them. I'll keep the faith and have hope you change your selfish ways.

*Cold Beer Goes The Best With Hot Pizza AND/OR A Hot Guy. If you need for me to elaborate on this, I can only encourage you to go out and get yourself a 6-pack and try both side dishes for yourself. Get back to me on your favorite.

*Pop Music DOES Have A Purpose. I realize that you may not like it... but it can be a good thing. Women dance together when drunk to pop music. This is a fact. Also... it will unite you with the people who are your age by evoking memories of teenage tomfoolery. The lyrics are easy to memorize. If you're of Caucasian descent, you may have a chance at keeping a beat. It is not the deepest or most meaningful of music, but like a movie or TV show you can zone out to... it is a necessity sometimes.

*There Is Nothing Better Than A Summer BBQ With People You Like. Notice I did not say "your family". This is because, in case you don't agree with me because you've only ever had BBQ's with your family... and you don't like them much... you would get my subtly hidden message to throw a secret BBQ with only people you like. You'll find it profoundly changes things.

*Hold Onto People You Love. I cannot stress this enough. If you loved someone at any point in time, they are worth figuring out a way to hold onto. (The exception to this, I suppose, is people whom you have loved but have abused you. This I leave up to you... but I encourage closure and a way for the good to prevail if it can.) You never, ever know when you will be at their funeral, devastated that you will NEVER be able to tell them how much they meant to you. Of course we can't always like everyone; nor are we obligated to spend time with people who irritate us when time is actually "spent" together. If you love someone, though, don't let them fall away into the abyss. Keep tabs on them, if only at a distance... and make sure that they know how you feel about them on at least a bi-annual bases. And for goodness sakes!!! If you have a old best friend/old boyfriend/old "other" someone special who you did actually enjoy but grew apart from and lost contact... LOOK THEM UP!!! Tell them how much they meant to you. DO THIS. I command you.

*Your Parent's Political Views Are As Subjective As The Rest Of The Population's. I think I almost fell over the day this dawned on me. But it doesn't actually compare to the day I really did fall over when I realized I was watching the news. By choice. And paying attention. Because it was INTERESTING.

*Children Are Freaking GROSS. That's right. I said it. They come into this world in a painful plethora of "gross-ness". They then proceed to continue this grossness to varying degrees as they age. They can be cute. They can be sweet. They can invoke emotions like pride and unconditional love. BUT... my friends... this is all their coy way of making up for the fact that they will puke on you. They will spit on you. They will urinate and defecate and infect you with germs and viruses. They will make the biggest and most disgusting messes you have EVER SEEN IN YOUR WHOLE LIFE. And then smile at you like, "What? Just clean it up." No one tells you this. I am telling you this. You're welcome.

*Who You Think You Are Now Will Change. Evolve. AND... Get Better. And I am excited about that for you and for me. Take it from a little meek, mousy blond wall flower who didn't even find her voice until about age 24. Also... do yourself a favor: You know that mistake you made yesterday/last week/last month that has been haunting you? Forgive yourself. Don't do it again. Learn to spot others who are in your same plight and help them by listening, and then speaking when asked. Sit quietly sometimes and don't be a mother or a wife or a sister or a daughter or a friend (or... you know... the male counterparts to that). Be yourself. Who is that? How will you know unless you spend some time learning about you (?) Also... try not to make absolutes. When I think back to who I was when I was 21... compared to who I am now... It is MIND BOGGLING the amount of growth and change. As well as the change in the needs, wants and desires. Don't ever sell yourself short by making up your mind for or against something you haven't experienced yourself.

*Educate yourself. As MUCH as humanly possible. Please do this. And please don't ever rely on just one person's opinion. I beg you. Probably the single greatest thing we can all do for humanity is do our own research. On EVERYTHING.

Ok. The End. :)

A Hard 4th

Bill and I have never spent a 4th of July apart since we met in 2004. Today was hard.

It got me thinking about what matters in my life. And what I would do if my life was to become different. If some how my life no longer included him.

I don't mean to bring you down. Truly. Meh. Maybe you should skip this post. I'll let you know when I bring back the funny. :)

I miss him. I miss life when he was here every day. I miss his smell and his touch and his habits, good and bad. I'm angry with myself for making some less than desirable decisions while he's been away out of weakness. If my life changed and I was forever without him, I would never marry or be in a committed relationship again. I can say that with about 99.9999% certainty. I don't think I could ever look at anyone again and say, "Yep. Bring on the Heaven and The Hell! Let's do this." Why??? For what??? The amount of effort Bill and I have put into our relationship and into understanding each other is too great and to think about all of that all over again... Oy. No. Never again.

I'm so tired of this. I just want him home for good. I want him safe and sound, unharmed, un-scared. I want him back home messing up the kitchen, hogging up the bed and hoarding the remote. I want to kiss him whenever I feel like it. I want to see him speak instead of envisioning him in his tent room as I cling to the only thing I have on a constant basis: The sound of his voice. I don't think any of this has been worth it. At all.

Happy Birthday America!

The 4th of July is... and always has been... one of my most favorite holidays. How does it get any better than sunshine, BBQing, drinking beer, hanging out with friends and then free night time entertainment? Also... it IS the prelude to my birthday, bitches!!! :) God planned it that way because he loves me. And you. So He gave you and I a day between the 4th and the birthday of Beth to rest up and recharge. A day for ibuprofen and electrolytes. He would have put that in The Bible, but He thought it might give too much away and rob Dr. Adams and the Boots Pure Drug Company of their glory. Don't forget to say "thank you" tonight when you pray. Also... America's fireworks tradition was, in fact, started in the year 1979, right? To signify the coming of Beth. That is what my mom told me so don't go getting all "hater" just because you don't have fireworks every year on YOUR pre-birthday holiday.


Speaking of people, as well as things, that are fabulous: Freedom... isn't it awesome? All kidding aside, I am so grateful to live in a country where I am allowed to feign arrogance and poke fun at religion. And politics. And children. I love being an American, and regardless of our flaws and faults... and occasional bad decisions to elect religious right conservatives to office... I love us. We keep changing and trying to become better, and even though there are those who try to ignorantly impede the process... you can find a lot of them on Fox News if you're curious... it is inevitable. As a birthday present to me, I implore you to constantly strive to remain educated. Seek out that which you don't understand and find truth. We, of the right to an education citizenry, are a great people.


Group hug.