Momma Bonbon

I've Been Asked How I Do It All

2013-05-18T04:22:00.000-07:00

As the title of this post says, I've been asked how I do it all, with it being taking care of the house, the animals, bills, and all the other things, like working and helping out animals in need of a little bit of loving. Well, it isn't easy and some days I just want to have a Calgon-take-me-away day, but all in all it is so worth the seemingly constant work and effort.

What I had to do was eliminate stuff that sat around collecting dust and taking up space; space that was sorely needed for peace of mind, comfort, and movement. Getting rid of things took time, ingenuity, and effort, as well as soul searching on my part. As I had been raised by a parent who never threw anything away - and this included wads of tissues in her purse, which ended up taking up more room in her bag than the things she needed - I had gotten into the habit of keeping just about everything someone got rid of that I felt had the least bit of value or attractiveness. Many, many yard sales, trips to charity shops, and bags of broken or worn out bits of this and that which ended up as trash or recycled items had to be created with even less coming into the house later. I made it a rule of thumb that, for every bag of groceries or other shopping that came into the house, five bags had to go out. If things exited the house for yard sales, none of them were allowed to return and were given away to charity if not purchased by someone who found my trash to be a treasure.

At first, this didn't seem to be working; there was so very much shoved into every nook and cranny of my abode, but eventually, I found I had this superbly wonderful thing beginning to emerge - SPACE!! As space began to reveal itself, things began to get a bit easier around here. Seriously, this cleaning out and cleaning up took about five years to complete, while productivity inside the house began to pick up and household stress began to subside.

After that, I was able to then get to doing things for the house - such as cleaning and re-organizing - as they needed to be done. Since I don't watch television very often, the time one would normally waste on mindless viewing of the idiot tube I spent moving things about and actually utilizing my new-found SPACE. I also found that I wasted significantly less time having to look for things as they now had a place to be and, believe it or not, were usually there when I needed them - what an oddity!

Now, I also have significantly less animals to care for as I am no longer active in rehab. Where I had a constant influx and outflow of birds and other beautiful creatures of all ages, I only have my babies that I can care for. They eat their breakfast or dinner and I immediately begin picking up and washing their bowls as I walk through the room. As I pamper all of them with bedding of their own, I now have plenty of extra, freshly laundered bedding at the ready to change keeping them comfortable and healthy. When changing their bedding, I also make sure to take a few minutes and sanitize the areas where they like to eat and sleep.

I clean areas of my house as I walk through it, too. If the bathroom sinks need cleaned, I take a minute and scrub it when I wash my hands. If the commodes need cleaned, I take a minute and do that nasty little job when I see it. I have the supplies needed conveniently placed so I can do this without having to go searching. I can do this because, once again, I have lovely SPACE to do so since I've gotten rid of so much extraneous stuff.

And, in regards to all that "stuff", I realized I didn't need to have fourteen sets of dishes; two usable sets for everyday and two sets I've kept that used to belong to my Grandmother are more than sufficient. I didn't need to keep every glass my family had ever used, unlike my Mother who wanted to keep every glass that had a memory to it because someone we loved used it once upon a time. I didn't need to keep every little bit of paper or receipt from 1981 or chicken scratch my daughter had done twenty-seven years ago - important documents and good pieces of artwork or writings, yes, but every scrap, no. Over 95% got shredded and trashed in one way or another. It's absolutely amazing how much space papers will take up, along with old magazines that no longer serve any purpose other than being pretty. Stuff like that just had to go and I pay attention to it not accumulating again, while also re-organizing that which does need to stay from time to time, oftentimes tossing out even more of what I thought mistakenly was a necessary thing to keep.

Periodically, when chores seem to be caught up with, I look around to see what hasn't been done in awhile. Things like cleaning the oven, washing the windows, or washing the drapes get done during these times, along with cleaning under and behind the refrigerator, clothes washer, and dryer. Things stay kept up with this way.

This has become contagious to my husband also. He finds that he enjoys going through and organizing his own spaces, keeping his clothing hung up and his medicine cabinet neat and usually clean. When he pulls the lawn equipment out of the shed, he finds he's inspired to straighten and clean out some of the stuff in there, along with in his own tool areas of the garage. The interior of his car is no longer a mobile garbage container of used drink cups, fast-food wrappers, and old newspapers either - that's a blessing and quite a saver of gasoline as the car can now be used as a transportation vehicle for more than just garbage.

I'm less stressed, my husband is less stressed, and my animals are happier than they've ever been, even though they were pretty darn happy to begin with. This makes for a less stressful environment all the way around, with greater productivity and a better ability to get things done as they're needed to be done. Try it yourself and just realize that holding on to too many things causes you to be overly stressed, with the things owning you and your time; not you owning them or being able to use your time. And another thing - turn off the television set and get off the computer once in awhile!! Unless you have to work on the computer you sincerely don't need to be on it so much, telling everyone on Facebook that you're feeding your face - Really, no one cares! Turn off your computer and the video games, turn off that television set and the cell phone, and actually enjoy your meal, or whatever you're trying to enjoy doing, instead of reporting about it or getting upset because of someone's dramatic rant. Tune out everyday so you can tune in to your life, be more productive, and less stressed. That's what I do and it definitely works well here, so it will for you, too.

Little Bits Left in Places - What's Up With That?!

2013-03-03T03:57:00.000-07:00

Hi Everybody!!

I haven't written in awhile; I've been REALLY busy! Been doing a lot of cleaning and cooking while immensely loving the fact that my ex-husband seems to have fallen off the face of the earth - or so I hope. I've been helping out friends and writing, taking care of my family and pets, along with giving myself some much needed time to think.

One thing I've noticed while I'm cleaning and thinking is that it sure is funny how people love to leave little bits of things in jars and other things instead of finishing off those last little bits before opening up new containers.

Take, for instance, mayonnaise. I was cleaning out the refrigerator last week because there was no more room in it. I THOUGHT that there were many leftovers shoved in the back of the fridge, becoming science experiments, but I was mistaken. I found not one, but two opened jars of mayonnaise shoved in the back with just enough in them to moisten one slice of bread if I used a spatula to scrape the jar. Yes - there was a freshly opened jar in the door of the fridge while those two lone relics sat unattended and painfully neglected in the back, behind several partial bags of bread with just the heels in them. Hidden nicely, too, I might add!! Well, getting rid of all of that opened up some space. I decided NOT to make a sandwich with the remaining mayonnaise when I saw it had turned into the consistency of clear school-glue and smelled like gym socks. Yuck!

Next I found one jar of salsa that was in the same condition, with about a spoonful of what used to be yummy goodness in the bottom that had now turned into something reminiscent of red spackle with wrinkled beans in it. Of course, there was a freshly opened jar of salsa on the shelf just above it. This same scenario played out with several other condiments and other things, so, to say the least, I had a full recycle bin by the end of the day, particularly after cleaning out boxes of cereal with just a few crumbs left in the bottom, along with cracker boxes with ONE cracker left. At the end of the day I certainly had some clean shelves - as well as empty ones - and a beautifully sparkling clean fridge.

Just for the fun of it (I don't get out much) I decided to see if the jars of peanut butter in the cupboard were in a similar condition. I wasn't disappointed there either, finding another two opened jars with just enough peanut butter in them to coat the sides of the jar - recycle time again!! Of course, sitting in front of those two jars was a freshly opened jar with a bit removed from it.

After clearing all of these little bits away and organizing the shelves all over the place, I allowed myself to sit back and ponder this over a cup of coffee. I had to make a fresh pot - which is no biggee - but found another container of coffee on the shelf, holding just enough ground coffee to make maybe two cups. There seems to be a pattern here, especially since my husband likes to cook and make his own lunch lately and I don't bother to check up on him. Well - that pattern has got to stop. I assure you, I'm laughing at this and just find it amusing. Things like this don't tick me off like they used to - I've grown.

So, when I finally was able to enjoy that cup of coffee I mentioned earlier, I sat and thought about the little bits left in other things. Containers of shampoo, tooth paste, and shaving creme came to mind very quickly. This happened a LOT when I was a kid, but never really thought about it once I grew older; I just put up with it and knew the folks I lived with had this issue with tossing stuff away and not wanting to let go of that last little bit of whatever. What's up with that?!

I remember my mom doing the same thing - leaving little bits in jars and bottles and opening up new containers of whatever the item was. She did this the entire time I lived with her and I did ask her why she did this. Her answer was rather prophetic - "cuz!" I would ask her, "Because why?", to which she would answer, "I don't know - because I want to, I guess." Well - that was helpful. Hoping I would get a more informative answer from my husband I asked him the same thing. His answer was more to the point, "I don't know - I just do. That's all." Well - that helped clear things up - NOT! LOL

I don't get this behavior, but it really doesn't matter. I just find it laughable, especially since I just love that feeling of finishing something off and recycling the container. I get that childlike anticipation when I open something new or begin a new project, painstakingly work through whatever it is, and thoroughly enjoy that feeling of finishing something or using up that last little bit, even with something as mundane and insignificant as the last spoonful of salsa left in the bottom of a jar.

Oh, well - to each their own, I guess. This is just one of those little conundrums of life that no one really understands, but if we can laugh at it, that's marvelous. I'll write again soon, but for right now, I've got to go clean out some laundry detergent containers with just enough in them to, perhaps, do one full load. Our recycle bin is going to be pretty full this week.

I'm Thankful for Things One Wouldn't Expect...

2012-11-22T12:52:00.000-07:00

On this Thanksgiving, 2012, I find myself thankful for many things, many of which one wouldn't expect anyone to be thankful for.

To begin, I find myself thankful for having a family who can be somewhat narcissistic at times - overly controlling, self-centered, cold, and delusional. I'm thankful for them, because they forced me to sit back when I was very young and begin to ask that question of "What's wrong with this picture?" during family get-togethers that left us crying instead of laughing, or when they childishly threw clothing around the house because they were too rushed to iron them. These acts and the resulting angst caused by them taught me the true meaning of patience, caring, love, and organization. True, being more patient, caring, loving, and organized than they brought me ridicule and jealousy from my family at many times, which sometimes made me bahave as they did, but I also learned to watch myself and honestly and wholeheartedly apologize for my behavior, along with teaching me how to think before I acted out. I also learned how to do the right thing, which isn't easy at many times.

Then, I thank my family for pushing me to stay with that assinine Bozo when I tried vehemently to break it off with him in 1976. Had they not pushed, prodded, cajolled, and weakened my teen-aged self to the point where I gave in just to shut them up, I would have never been exposed to the face of true evil. This sounds like an odd, side-ways compliment and, I guess, in a way, it is, but it is meant as a heartfelt thanks as, if they hadn't done that, I would not be as strong or resilient and truly appreciative of things as I am today. Do I like having an ex-husband who still stalks me nearly 35 years after leaving him? Oh, Hell NO! But, I've developed strength I wouldn't have had, along with faith in myself that wouldn't have been there or appreciated otherwise. Good does come out of all situations if one chooses to find it, no matter how elusive that good may be.

I thank God for giving me the strength to stop self-medicating myself with booze. That process was hard enough in its own right, but to have "friends" and family tell me to start drinking again because I was "nicer" and "easier to get along with" while I was drunk, made me realize I'd been playing the fool and being everything for everybody while under the influence. I'd been discrediting myself for far too long and not allowing my own light to shine, so I could make others feel happy. I learned through sobriety that, if people wanted me to be something I wasn't so THEY could feel better, than I didn't need those people in my life, no matter who they were.

I thank my current husband for being the cold and secretive individual that he is. He's basically a good guy who wouldn't hurt a fly, but he also has to be told when to care for that fly, told when to let it fly and go out the door, or when to pick it up when it falls. Though he is one who doesn't see the importance of being open, honest, and respectful of others, he has unknowingly gotten me to realize a form of strength I needed to find within myself. Through his silence and lack of being there when I've needed him, he has unwittingly taught me to be the man I looked for in others, which oftentimes got my heart broken and my butt kicked when I looked outside myself for that which I needed to develop on the inside.

Not only has my current husband unknowingly forged an internal strength within me, but he's forced me to be able to find truth that laid hidden beneath the surface. Through his secretive attitudes and evading answers, I've learned how to delve into areas where no regular person should ever have to go to get to the truth behind secrets and evasiveness, bringing truth to light so it can shine in ways it's meant to, instead of how it's colored by silly dreams, grandiosity, or sweeping things under the carpet, just to be tripped over later. To my current in-laws this does not make me a valued member of their "clan", but it has opened my current husband's eyes to the real value and meaning of truth.

To my former in-laws, my ability to find their "secrets" hasn't endeared me either - oh well, too bad. Someone had to have the guts and the balls necessary to talk about their "beloved son", the one I refer to as Bozo, in the truth it was meant to be done, instead of their fantasies and excuses for his behaviors. Someone also had to come out the other side stronger, to help others to survive the hell they are going through.

I also thank those times in my life when I've lost just about every THING I owned. Those times, whether caused by my own stupidity or just because of financial circumstances, have taught me the true value of "things". Things mean nothing and will come back when - and only when - they are meant to; things can be replaced, but not in the same way they originally were. Memories, thoughts, expressions of caring, and love are what's important - not things - so I am eternally grateful for what I now have and do the best I can to hold on to them, care for them, and honor them and the people connected with them, without having a need to go out and max out my credit cards on "stuff" for other people or myself on Black Friday. Many times that "stuff" isn't really appreciated or even remembered months later anyway, so why waste the time, effort, and money. No one can BUY love; they can only give it and appreciate what they receive in return.

So, in conclusion, since my life is not that of a Norman Rockwell painting or a Folger's coffee commercial, on this Thanksgiving and everyday, I give thanks for the hurts that made me think, that made me grow, and made me stronger. I also give great and heartfelt thanks to all those little moments of happiness, as rare as they may be, which make me glad to wake up everyday, whether those moments are as simple as the coo of a dove or as great as seeing a friend do well.

To those of you reading this, may you also be thankful, today and everyday, for the situations in your lives that have made you what you are today. May you walk a little lighter and taller, today, tomorrow, and always, confident in the knowing that you are, indeed, a wonderful person who has been made better due to the negativity of life, along with its trials and tribulations. You are beautiful in your own right and you do matter. Take moments of hurt and turn them into positivity that others don't want to see in you or don't expect out of you - that's their problem, not yours - and know that I hold you all in my heart and am grateful for you, too.

Beware of What You Wish For, You Just Might Get It

2012-11-17T16:39:00.000-07:00

Though I haven't got a great deal of really close friends, I do wish them all, all the best things in life and that their dreams will come true. Dreams did come true for my friend, Sally, about two years ago when she won the lottery. She didn't win the BIG one, but she won enough where she was able to pay off her home - which was going into foreclosure - along with paying off all of her debts with some money left over to indulge upon some things she had only dreamt of ever having in her life. She was so happy and I was so happy for her.

After paying off her debts and putting money aside, she decided to remodel her kitchen. It was badly in need of new everything as her appliances, sinks, flooring, everything was just held together with duct-tape, bubble-gum, and a prayer. So, she bought magazines of new this, that, and the other thing; spoke to chefs and contractors, and searched on the internet for all that was new, shiny, and technically advanced and environmentally efficient. She searched, learned, read, conferenced, and thought for months, keeping her final decisions a secret from even her closest of friends, letting us all know that she would have a grand party and big unveiling of her new kitchen when it was done.

At the beginning of 2012, in late January, she let us know she would give us all a call in late April or so when the kitchen was done and invite us to her wonderful kitchen christening party. I phoned her in March and the sounds of construction blared in the background. I wanted to give her my support, fully knowing that the contractors' estimated time of completion would run long past their 90-day date - it always does.

She appreciated my call, especially since I was the only one of her friends who bothered to pick up the phone to see how SHE was doing and not the kitchen. As she moved away from the whirr of electric saws and pounding of hammers, into a room of solitude and quiet, I thought I'd heard a crack in her voice showing her frustration and angst, but prayed I was wrong. I wasn't.

"B." she said as she caught her breath, "These contractors are driving me nuts. They swore to me this kitchen would be done no later than April 20th and they've just let me know that it may take another 30 to 45 days. They're here every morning at the crack of dawn, making noise and not letting me sleep. They look busy and sweat a lot, with their butt-cracks showing all the time, but nothing ever seems to get done. The new appliances are due to arrive any day and they can't be installed because of all the delays happening, one right after another. I so wish I'd listened to you when you told me to put a stipulation in that contract that held them responsible for delays and cost them money after so many days going overtime. I should have listened to you, too, when you told me to put a bonus in that contract for finishing before their scheduled date. Now - I'm screwed." Having worked for contractors and developers for many years, I had let her know what to put in the contract to get their butts moving and motivated, but she didn't listen to me - oh, well, we live and learn.

We chatted for about another hour and she was grateful for the call, as well as me not telling her I told you so - she had done enough of that herself. She and I worked on a list of all those she would call as soon as the workmen were all done with everything, and yes, I was on that list with my new phone number. I figured on a call back from her in June or July, but no call came. I, being concerned for her, called and left messages, but got no returned calls - that was ok as I figured she was just very busy or perhaps decided to get away from things for awhile and take a trip. With everything going on in my life, as well as me not feeling as well as I would like to many days, I will admit that I stopped calling after awhile and lost track of time.

Last week I realized I'd been remiss in keeping up with Sally and gave her a call. This time she answered. She apologized profusely for not returning my calls during the summer; I let her know no apologies were necessary. At that little bit of kindness she broke down in tears. I asked what the matter was and let her know I could be at her house within 30 minutes if she needed a shoulder to cry on, thinking something really bad must have happened. That kindness made her cry even more, but through the tears she let me know that she didn't want anyone to come over or see her house, so I invited her over to my home. This offer she accepted.

Upon arrival, I saw that Sally looked like she'd aged terribly in the 8 months or so since I'd last seen her. We sat down for coffee and cake when she asked if it was ok for her to smoke. This floored me as she had stopped smoking many years ago and swore she'd never take it up again. She let me know that the stress of the money from the lottery and the hassles with her kitchen drove her back to it again - oh, dear. As her hands were shaking and I burn incense in my house anyway, who was I to tell her no; she was in MY house and could hopefully relax for awhile.

I let her speak uninterrupted and just listened. Come to find out, the kitchen wasn't completed until near the end of August, with one problem after another. Also, I was the only friend who bothered to call her and show her real concern, while also not asking for a hand-out of funds. To me, Sally was and still is just Sally, but to everyone else, she's suddenly become a bank. Poor Sally, who HAS helped out several of her friends financially, has lost nearly all of her chums as they now think she's being stingy - her good fortune showed her who her real friends are and she is just beside herself, feeling like a fool, over the attitudes of others and their petty jealousies. She also now sees why I wouldn't associate with her other friends.

On top of all this heartache from her past friends, she now has the kitchen of her dreams, but it is nothing to her now but a nightmare. She has all the latest and greatest in appliances with all the technological bells and whistles money can buy, but can't even get her coffee maker to work or boil water. She informs me that her fancy-schmancy microwave is so complicated that she can't even figure out how to make it pop a bag of popcorn. BUT, she now has everything she ever wanted and dreamed of in her kitchen - while hating every square inch of it.

None to say the least, the kitchen christening party is postponed until further notice. She's decided that, if she needs to get a degree in culinary arts just to know how to run her kitchen, she may as well rip the whole thing out and start over. A new contractor is coming in the week after Thanksgiving, someone who is hungry and wants the work, and together they're tearing out the new-current kitchen and donating all of the technological wonders to places that can use them and know how. Her drawings of the new-future kitchen are simple, well thought out, and real, with appliance names I recognize, along with instructions written in English and on/off switches she won't need a computer code book to use or a retinal display to access.

Sally has found within herself the strength she needed and love she wanted to give, that money and impressive outward things couldn't give her. I asked if she wanted to come over here for dinner on Thanksgiving, but she informed me she'll be very busy helping out a local organization that helps those who were where she was two years ago - she's giving back now and paying forward to those who deserve it, instead of those who want it, expect it, and demand it. She's also learned the importance of thinking about what she wishes for, knowing that she just might get it and all that comes with it.

Live and learn, my friends, for money and shiny gegaws can't and won't buy you love, inner strength, or peace; you have to find that within yourself to be able to give it to others. And that is something no one can take from you, no matter how hard they try.

Love to all, along with wishes for a beautiful and safe holiday.

Documenting Abuse: Keep a Record of the Crap

2012-09-02T13:19:00.000-07:00

Document! Document! Document! That's what I've always been told by police and detectives. And they are correct! You've got to keep a record of every darn thing your abuser or stalker does, because the police and the courts cannot read your mind or take what comes out of your mouth as gospel; they need records and a history.

You can do this documentation in many ways. You can make a simple note on a calendar, in a code that only you know. You can write down what's going on, day by day, in a journal. You can keep notes or cards that are sent to you from your abuser/stalker, or even film his presence on your property via surveillance cameras (be sure to make copies of what is caught on tape - more than one - for if something happens). Be sure to take note of ALL names of anyone you speak to about your abuser/stalker, whether the ones you talk to are police (get names and badge numbers always), detectives (private or police), judges, victims' rights advocates, anyone, and make sure you also log the date and time of your conversations with them. This can also include neighbors and friends who have witnessed your abuser or stalker lurking about, whether at home, school, or work. If you can, also log phone numbers of the people you talked to, as well as the names of their secretaries, as those numbers and names add credence to the fact that a conversation took place.

Any legal paperwork you have pertaining to your abuser/stalker is good to have on hand, too, whether you have to obtain it from the courts or via the internet. What you find or get may not have anything to do with you, but it shows a history on your abuser/stalker. Sometimes records get lost, which is why you should keep legal records, and sometimes the things you find out will show that your stalker/abuser is not telling the truth in what he or she is doing. My stalking ex-husband is listed as owning at least one home with his sister, but he's put her down as his wife, which I think is really amusing as, at the time, he was still legally married to wife #2. During this time he also purchased yet another home and is listed as a single man. Apparently, registrars and real estate people don't take the time to verify what the home buyer says is their marital status; or perhaps they just don't have the time and operate under due diligence, taking what the buyer says as truth, since they aren't detectives.

Make copies of your divorce decree, as well as your marriage license, along with all registration numbers. While speaking with a dear and hard-working victims' rights advocate, she informed me that she could NOT find a divorce decree on mine and Bozo's divorce. Something had been done and records were either lost or conveniently misplaced. Within just 24 hours I was able to locate my divorce decree and got that registration number to her. Now, that divorce appears as public record instead of something hidden. I was told that it was obvious the divorce was hidden and this frightened the advocate as she had never seen something done like this before. I wasn't frightened because I know how my ex-husband's warped mind works.

If you are physically abused or abuse happens to anything you love or care for - like a pet - take photos of what has happened and also write down when it happened. Though authorities may help you with photos of any bruising, etc., things can get lost, particularly if your abuser/stalker was ever a member of law enforcement, as mine was. They know people on the inside and know how to make things "disappear", even if they are no longer directly affiliated - they're sneaky and oftentimes have something they know that can work against an official (at least, that's the way mine works).

If something happens to a beloved pet, make sure to have that pet examined by a veterinarian whether the pet survives or not. THIS IS CRUCIAL!!! Jerks who will harm animals have been proven to often move on to bigger and more challenging game; that game may just be you. Take the report you get from your veterinarian and keep it with all of your other pieces of documentation; including pictures taken even if you are in tears as you take them because of the malicious and heinous treatment done to your dear pet. You have to be strong here - for yourself, your pets and children, as well as your home.

Keep vital statistic information on hand, too, with your documentation. When you are under a stressful situation you may just forget things like his or her date of birth, the dates of your marriage and divorce, where he or she last worked, along with height, weight, eye color, and hair color (note that weight and hair color can change over time; my ex had a full head of dark brown hair when I knew him back in the 1970's and now his hair is white as snow, but he can dye that at anytime and I know this).

When you have a lot of documentation at your disposal, you must remember to protect it. Abusers and stalkers have no qualms about breaking into your home, or having someone else break into your home, to steal that information that you've carefully collected. Make several copies of EVERYTHING and store them off-site, away from your home. Give a full file of copies to a friend who knows how to hide something (not a relative as any relations you have will be the first place they look after they've hit your home). Give that friend the authority to speak for you if, God forbid, something happens to you. Make another set of copies and put them safely into a safe-deposit box at a bank you don't go to very often. You want to use a bank that is off the beaten path or out of your normal daily workings just in case you've been followed by your abuser/stalker, like I have - you always have to stay two steps ahead of them and cannot afford to make mistakes.

When you sign up for that safe-deposit box, make sure to list the people who should be able to have access to the box in the case of you not being present. Some bank managers, who are sympathetic to your cause, will also allow you to make a list of people who, if they show up there and try to gain access to your box and have a key with them, the bank is to call the police immediately as that person is NOT authorized, in any way, shape, or form, to have those documents. If you are fortunate enough to have a restraining order or order of protection that is being observed, you can also show that to the bank manager and he or she MAY keep a copy of that on record.

Keep Everything! Copy Everything! Protect Everything - most of all yourself and those you love! I've been at this a long, long time - over 34 years now - and, believe me, I've had to think outside the box just like Bozo does. As I'm not giving away all of my secrets, you just think outside the box, too, and be creative, because your abuser/stalker will most certainly be doing the same.

Subtle Abuse - Being Set-Up in Childhood for Issues in Adulthood

2012-08-18T10:27:00.000-07:00

Subtle abuse is something that we can all take for granted and often ignore when we see or hear it happen. There are many forms of subtle abuse that comes from friends, spouses, acquaintances, or even over the internet, but that which is most damaging and sets us up to be abused prey later down the line is that of subtle abuse by our parents when we are small children. Not all abuse survivors have one or two parents that unknowingly set them up to fall later, but many do.

Parents try to love us as best they know how, but sometimes they simply don't do very well at it since children do not come with a handbook of instructions. Children are individual people whether parents like to admit that fact or not, and what worked well with one child will often not work well on another in the same family. One parent may also not be as well-equiped in the empathy department to deal with a child who fights for individuality and recognition, not wanting to be pigeon-holed into being like their siblings.

Parents who are setting their children up to be attracted to abusive relationships later in life do so unknowingly due to many reasons; such as acting out of frustration over something negative in their own lives that they won't or can't deal with, feelings of a lack of control, and sometimes feelings of jealousy, loss, anger, or just blame and guilt. Because of their own inadequacies they can over compensate by being too giving, too lenient, too strict, too overly protective, or smothering. Oftentimes all of these actions can come out of the same parent, particularly if that parent is confused, unfocused, and contradictory in his or her nature.

One will also find, in many cases, that parents like this are neglectful of the child when the child needs love, attention, health care, or even a new pair of pants. But, when it is convenient for the parent, or the subtly abusive parent has a need for attention from others, the child can be held up as a trophy child with their beauty or talents overly exagerrated to friends and coworkers. Children in this particular case are often paraded around in clothing that makes them appear as if they are a work of art or, if they have any talent at anything, these children can be forced to perform as if they were a trained seal. Children who are treated like this are often talked about in third person while they are standing right there, which begins to instill into the child the impression that she or he is nothing more than an object to be admired when it's convenient and then put back on a shelf later to gather dust. That child now mistakenly knows that being made to feel like an object is love and this is a hard concept to unlearn.

Some parents can overly protect children when they shouldn't and ignore them when they should be protecting them. They can make a big issue out of little illnesses, getting the child singled out in school, ridiculed and teased by fellow classmates, because they make a big deal out of their child having a simple cold, forcing the school to keep "their baby" inside from recess. They'll overly pet the child with the cold as if she or he is dieing. But, when the child is really ill, they'll often be harsh, cruel, and insulting to the child saying to that very sick little one things like, "See! This is what you get for being naughty," or "Now I've got to spend my money on you instead of where I wanted to," or "Well, aren't you proud of yourself for being bad and playing in the snow with dirty kids?" Subtly abusive parents do not realize how much these types of statements hurt the soul of a child, confuse the issue entirely, and set the child up to become unknowingly willing prey later in life. The child is also left feeling devalued and unimportant with a sense of guilt that is unwarranted, but becomes well established and engrained into their psyche. This skews the childs viewpoint of things giving them the false ideas that something little is a big deal, while something possibly catastrophic is a personal punishment. This isn't right and it is abuse.

Parents like this also don't realize that they cause a child to reach out to anyone who will give them attention and offer "love" to them, no matter how twisted or hurtful. Children are normally rebellious when they hit that hormonal phase known as puberty, but without knowing real love, caring, understanding, respect, and dignity in their own home, they can only find it by trial and error out in the world. They may not be able to even see it in other people and classmates, so they settle for what they know, what they're familiar with, and what they're used to, which is abuse. They may not be able to fit in with a better crowd simply because they don't have the knowledge of how, or they may take the easy route and run with a bad crowd because the excitement of the bad tends to numb the pain of not understanding what the heck is "wrong" with them; there's nothing "wrong" with them as many in the bad crowd - not all, but many - themselves have been subtly abused, too.

A child may have been fortunate enough to have one adult in their life that taught them how love was meant to be or friends whose family life doesn't feel the same as their's, but the subtly abused child feels good around these people while not being able to figure out why. In either of these fortunate situations the child may be prone to sit back and wonder, "Hmmm, what's wrong with this picture?" when they're at home with their subtly abusive parents, siblings, and other family members. This observance, in and of itself, can oftentimes help the developing child to not be as prone to be attracted to abusive individuals later in life if they are allowed to continue relations with these more healthy individuals, but all too often the subtly abusive parent will somehow block the interaction of their child with the more stable and truly loving people.

"Those people", as they are often called by the subtly abusive parents, are somehow perceived as being a threat to "our way" of being. Oftentimes, in these types of situations, the child will be told things about their friends or their friends' parents that contain lies with just enough truth in them where the child is lead to believe something isn't right with their friends; thus breaking down any good out-of-family relationships. Arguements in the extended family over nothing of importance will ensue which can separate truly loving family members from the child, thus forcing the child to have no one to turn to other than the abusive parent. This type of stress, this type of irrational rationale on the part of the parent is nothing more than a self-agrandising, selfish, self-oriented, and controlling form of abuse that has a brain-washing, soul numbing effect upon a child from a parent who is out of control and ill-equiped to be a parent. This doesn't leave a physical mark upon the child, but it certainly leaves an emotional and psychological one that takes much longer to heal, if it ever does.

As the child gets older and breaks away from the parent that is subtly abusive, the child begins to possibly see the reality of what has happened. They may begin to see a pattern in the types of failed relationships they have, as well as the patterns of failed goals they allow to slip through their fingers. It may hit the now-older-child that great opportunities presented to them in their youth, while in school, were undermined and sabotaged by the selfish actions of their parents. Again, they may ask themselves, "Hmmmm. What's wrong with this picture?" and try to move on. They may try self-help methods of healing while not really knowing why or how they should proceed. They may seek professional help and guidance, but with the brain-washing that was done to them at such an early age, any and all of their work takes a long time to make any positive progress. Many who want out of the destructive pattern stick with their efforts of moving forward and healing, though, and begin to raise themselves up, little by little, even though they are on a precarious summit that they can topple over at any moment. They take one step at a time and learn that they are good people who deserve love in the way it was meant to be, developing self-respect for the first time and independence they're proud of, while ultimately searching for their own sense of self that their family didn't allow them to develop.

But, don't think that this growth doesn't go unnoticed by the parents and possibly even the siblings of the beginning-to-heal adult child. Many times the growing and aging child must figure out some way of completely cutting themselves off from the family they love when the adult toxicity makes an attempt to leak its way back in. Staying close to their parents and/or siblings can work to sabotage all the good that's been done. Those subtle abusers will probably never change their attitudes towards the now-grown-child, but the adult-child can now change how they interact with the subtle abusers.

The adult-child can point at the abusers and say, "Hey! You messed me up!" for a minute to two, but then must realize that, even though there's one finger pointing at the ones who did the initial damage, there are three fingers pointing back at them. Those three fingers point to the one who is now in control and who can make the decisions. The subtly abused adult-child now has three times the power of the abuser - ANY abuser - and must take the control and power back that was taken away from them so long ago when they couldn't even fight their way out of a wet paper bag.

Don't ever kid yourself into thinking the road back from being abused and brain-washed will be an easy one, because it won't. You are NOT now the person that you were initially meant to be or could have been had you not been abused, whether by a subtle abuser, an outright blatant abuser, or both. The road you walk now will be an unfamiliar road and a path that's not one you recognize, but as time goes on it will get better, less rocky, and more maneuverable. You can hopefully rid yourself of blatant abusers, but oftentimes you can't get rid of familial subtle abusers. You have to realize that those familial subtle abusers know how to push your buttons very well to make you upset, feel guilty, and lose control; they'll even try to undermine good and great progress that you make, goals you set, and successes in your life - they get off on all of this!

But, it is YOU who now is in control of you and you control how you react to their behavior towards you - NOT THEM! Take back your power and KNOW that you have three times the strength they do and you know you better than they ever will. You aren't a child any longer, so don't let them make you feel as if you are. They want to keep you weak so they can feel strong - take that away from them! Their loss IS your gain. You are the winner here and you DO matter; you're important and you can do it.

"It's Just One of Those Days," she said...

2012-07-08T13:29:00.000-07:00

I spoke to an old and good friend of mine who still works with animals as a rehabilitator. She does this out of her home and is often pressed beyond her means and past her limits, just like I was. She is one who works tirelessly and without funding to care for creatures that have been needlessly stolen from their nests because someone thought there were no parents around or they thought it would be a fun and cool idea to try to make a pet out of a wild animal, as well as injured and truly orphaned wildlife brought to her by caring individuals. She always has a kind word to say to anyone, no matter how she feels or how stressed she is, but she didn't yesterday when I returned her call and let her know that some idiot left a bird in my mailbox again.

She didn't have anything cross to say to me, but she certainly did for the fool who thought that placing a bird in the mailbox of someone who hasn't done bird rehab in years would get the poor thing taken care of. Apparently, the fool who left the bird can't read! As I have had numerous animals put in my mailbox because some supposedly caring, angelic human thinks it's okay to do this, mistakenly thinking the mailbox is some sort of drop-off box, I have a sign posted clearly on the door of the mailbox. This sign reads: "If you haven't called me to take the animal or bird you're thinking about leaving in this mailbox, DON'T leave the poor creature in this box!!! Take it next door and leave it with my neighbor, who will call me so I can help the animal. If she isn't home, place it in the care box on the north side of my garage, by the door between our two houses, marked Drop-Off. DO NOT LEAVE THE BIRD OR ANIMAL IN THIS MAILBOX!" (I have to specify 'bird or animal' as some idiots don't consider birds to be animals.)

This sign has worked well with people in the past, with them wondering why in the world someone would even consider doing this when I took their injured bird from them to rehabilitate and care for, or, if necessary, give a peaceful crossing. But, people still leave animals, mostly birds, in that mailbox about once or twice a year even though I no longer actively rehab. This makes my friend and I just sick as, most of the time, the animal dies, especially in the hot Arizona summer. How in the world can people be so stupid!!!!!

What's really amazing is that I have the person on video tape. The person used to bring birds to me all the time that her children would find; that was fine and wonderful then, but not now. This person is no kid and can read very well as she is seen on video tape reading the sign, but placing the injured and unconscious bird into the mailbox anyway. If I knew her name and her location, I would most definitely turn her in for animal cruelty, but without knowing neither, there isn't really anything that I or anyone can do. Apparently, she had left the poor thing in the box not long before I'd found it, according to the time stamp on the tape, but it was long enough. Very possibly, the poor bird was so far gone that it wouldn't have made it anyway, but at least I would have been given the chance to help it if she'd followed my instructions, especially since my neighbor was home. The bird has been laid to rest, respectfully, and with reverence.

When I called my friend and after explaining the incident to her, her first thought was that perhaps the bird was already dead and the woman left it there to be "taken care of", which means either buried, cremated, or tossed in the trash to go out like someone's garbage instead of the beautiful creature it was. Well, that is one possibility and I'll go with that. But, after she expressed this thought is when she just let fly with the stupidity of some people. Then, after getting all of it out and off her chest, she said, "Oh, well, B. It's just one of those days, I guess."

This summer has been particularly bad for her and other rehabilitators. Many are thinking of throwing in the towel because of the acts of humans; not because of the animals who need care. Many are thinking of giving up caring for injured and lost animals due to financial problems where people are just no longer donating to help with the care and feeding of the animals they bring, even as little as five dollars, thinking that people who do this caring and selfless work are, in some way, funded by tax dollars. This isn't true at all for any local animal rehabilitator. Animal rehabilitators, whether they care for song birds, house cats, dogs, horses, or any wildlife, are not funded or supported by the local or federal authorities, and if by chance they are, the amount given isn't even enough to scratch the surface on all of the expenses incurred as a rehabilitator. They pay for everything out of their own pockets and are not allowed to take anything as a tax deduction - so don't dwell on fantasy told to you by someone who SAYS they know what's going on; they don't. Donations have to be made for the rehabilitator to keep his or her doors open to care for animals. Whether that gift is food, money, towels, running errands, or even just some time to help out in various ways, they have to have help.

This is not a situation where you can sit back on your butt and say "something's got to be done about this, because these rehabilitators need some help and things shouldn't be like this". Oh, no, no, no. If you're reading this and you feel this way in the least, then you are part of the problem, but you can make yourself part of the solution. It is YOU who needs to get up off your butt and make a few calls. Call your local animal shelter or wildlife center and find out if there is a rehabilitator in your area. Call that rehabilitator and offer them some help in your own way - don't wait for someone else to do that which YOU should be doing. You might not know a damn thing about animals, but love them all the same, and there are so many ways you can help them.

If you have the time and desire, there are licensed facilities that will take the time to teach you what to do for animals, even if that 'what to do' is just feeding, cleaning, and watering. You can offer to do that, too, for any local rehabilitator - if they have the time, they'll teach you. You can offer to run errands for them, such as picking up feed or even just their own groceries (this helps so often and allows the rehaber time to care for the animals). You can hold your own yardsale where the proceeds would go to a rehaber who needs the cash to pay the bills of caring for the animals in their care, which will hopefully either find good homes if they're domestic animals or be released if they are wildlife. When you pick up food for your own pets, you can get an extra can or bag of food and take it to the rehaber - they can always use extra food for the animals; this includes ANY type of animal food, including bird seed. You can supply bedding by going through your closets and cleaning out old towels, blankets, and sheets - these types of things are always in short supply, including bedding materials for smaller critters, like straw, hay, and bundles of litter for rabbits, as well as cat litter. You can scrounge around in your cupboards for dishes, particularly bowls, that you no longer use - I never had enough of those around here.

There are so many things that YOU can do to help with the issue. Your help matters not only to the animals in the care of rehabilitators, but it also helps the rehaber know that he or she is appreciated, which many times really helps to lighten their load and bring a much needed smile to their face. If you donate time, money, food, or supplies and that particular rehaber can't use them right then, I can assure you that he or she knows someone who can, and they WILL get your kindness over to that person. Even though I technically retired from doing animal and avian rehab, I still try to stay connected in some way. I do what I can, where and when I can, sometimes having to take an animal to someone much more active than I or much more learned. You can help, too, so that someone in the trenches, actively and passionately doing their work, doesn't have the need to say, "It's just one of those days", if only for that one day.

People Ask Me How...

2012-06-23T11:23:00.000-07:00

People ask me, "How in the world do you manage to hold together after all of this from your ex-husband?" Some days I ask that of myself, too. Working on my book about the 34+ years of this crap isn't easy and I revisit many places and memories I didn't want to go to ever again. But, I go there and do so fully knowing the pain it can re-awaken. I do that in the hopes that, someday, my book will get picked up and published, and will also help some people to rise above the muck that their abusers have drawn them into.

While doing some editing last week I thought of all the hundreds of thousands, perhaps even millions, of men, women, and children out there who are abused in so many ways. Young and old, rich and poor alike, for the face of abuse is not any one status, race, religion, or sex. It happens to all types of people no matter where they hail from or their economic status or their religious beliefs. Abuse crosses all boundaries and has none itself.

So, in answer to that question of how I hold on, I hold on with love as well as some humor. I was programmed, through many years of neglect or ridicule or just general bullying in school, to believe that I wasn't worthy, I didn't matter, I was odd, I was "making things up" (that's one of my personal favorites), I wasn't seeing things correctly, or (this is another favorite) I had PMS and was too emotional or overly sensitive. This programming made me stop loving myself and it made me try to find love from others in the form of humor to make others feel better - not me. Somewhere along the line I was able to force myself to look at me honestly and re-evaluate all that crap from the past. I learned to love me, be my best friend, and use laughter as an outlet.

My laughter doesn't de-value or minimize the things that others have done, nor does it discredit the things I recall and retell about my ex-husband. On the contrary, it sometimes makes it easier for the person I'm talking to, to be able to take in the magnitude of the violence and corrupt meanderings of that man, while also giving me a release that doesn't make me feel like a fool or weaken my strength; it also allows me to laugh at myself. Laughter is one of the best medicines out there for OH so many things, and healing from abuse is just one of them.

I think of the thousands of people who aren't at the point where I am; the people who are scared to death, confused beyond belief, and crying in the dark, unheard, unseen, and unloved. Love isn't supposed to hurt; not like this, but it also isn't supposed to strip a person of their value, take away their dignity, or make them wonder if they are here to do nothing but hurt. Love doesn't do that and is not meant to do that at all. It is meant to make a person feel whole, feel special, give a person a reason to wake up in the morning, and allow a person grow. Love is meant to be seen and felt in every drop of rain, in every breeze, and apparent in every sunset and every cloud - not hidden under a basket or in a hay bail like an enigma that has to be deduced or hunted for. Love is just supposed to be.

And the really interesting part about that "just being" is that love may be there on the outside, but that little on the outside is supposed to grow that love one has within, for it is only truly the love for one's self - from within - which is the love that makes a person whole, feel special, and have a reason to get up in the morning. It is that inner glow, that inner light that really shines. Unfortunately, our abusers sense that light of love from within us and figure out ways to turn off the light-switch - or so they think.

They think they have power over you; they think they OWN you. Hell! My friends, I am here to tell you that Lincoln freed the slaves! Contrary to popular belief, you did not just fall off the turnip truck. You have a right to own who you are, make mistakes, not be perfect, and live another day - in peace and joy, not fear and pain. You have a right to control the workings of your own body and make your own decisions about what happens to that body - not some fool in Congress or sitting behind a desk at some inane insurance company or some jerk you share your bed with. You don't know that fool in Congress, you don't know that idiot behind the desk, and you most certainly don't know the jerk you share your bed with if that person abuses you. So take back your power and release the bonds of servitude, because Honey, you are no slave and you are most certainly no punching bag or blow-up doll.

Whether you are black, white, pink or polka-dotted, Christian, Atheist, Jewish, Muslim, or any other religious belief - if you're rich, poor, young, or old, gay or hetero, it does NOT matter! You are a person, you are you, and you do NOT deserve to be abused in any damn way, especially by some damn fool who thinks they can control you with fear, agony, neglect, and pain while calling that love. That isn't love, girls and boys, that's weakness on their part and just proves how small and truly insignificant THEY are - not you. They just want to make themselves feel better - not you. And that is not what love is, folks - plain and simple.

No matter where you are at in your cycle of taking or receiving abuse, your place of healing is going to be different. You may be just at that confused state of what the hell is going on here, or you may be at that stage of I have got to do something about this, or, if you're fortunate, you are at that stage of honey, I am so glad I got away from that jerk. No matter what stage you're at, the message is still the same, but you may not be able to see it yet.

Take it from a survivor, one who has been where you're hanging and sees how you're pinned, you matter - we ALL matter. You have that love within you - for yourself and the wonderful individual that you are. You have a heart and a soul that's worth being loved in the right way, by another. Heck, you may find out later that you really don't need what you think you do right now. Where you are at right now will not be where you'll be tomorrow or in a year. It all takes time to get to know you again and like yourself, but it'll happen - with love and a bit of laughter.

This change, this growth, this inner light doesn't happen overnight and sometimes others will test you to see if you're for real. That's because, even to those who are closest to us, in some way, we change. If you hear someone saying to you, "What has happened to you? I just don't know you anymore." - there's the indication that you aren't playing their game anymore and they're losing. These statements can sometimes be accompanied by something like, "I know how you feel much better than you" or "I'm sure you really don't mean that" or my personal favorite "Why don't you just go back to the way you were - you were easier to get along with then." If you hear any of these things, or even something similar, this tells you who other abusers are that are somewhat under the radar, whether they are family or friends. You don't have to dump these folks or walk away from them, especially if they are important to you in some way. On the contrary. You keep on growing while making them wonder, because these idiotic statements will show you that you ARE succeeding in finding yourself, possibly for the first time ever. Their statements, which at first may hurt sometimes, will serve well to make you even stronger - and abusers of any kind do NOT like strength in their victims.

So, let people you feel close to make idiotic statements. If they are really your friends or relatives that you are meant to be around, it is they who will eventually see the light or walk away. They'll go their merry way after time; it all takes time. Those whom YOU want in your life will stay and change their view of you; those who YOU don't want in your life will eventually move on and continue their egotistical walk through life without you just fine; their thoughts about you really don't matter. What does matter is you and how you allow yourself to love you and be your own best friend, without regrets, but being able to grow, love and heal every day.

I've got one more thing to say here before I close. I have a very dear and trusted friend who is on Facebook. I will not go on that social media site because my ex-husband is on there. I know he's there because my dear and trusted friend looked him up for me. She also informed me that Facebook has a policy where they allegedly don't allow convicted sex-offenders on there. Obviously, Facebook is full of s*** in that department. After all, if they were valid in their claims of not allowing convicted sex-offenders on there, then why in the hell is he there? Under his real name yet! You've got to protect yourself, but, at the same time, you got to laugh.

Eulogy for a Spatula...

2012-05-29T18:51:00.000-07:00

We are gathered here today, one and all, to say good-bye to Ekco, a good friend and service companion for over 30 long and hot years. Though many thought Ekco was merely a spatula that lived in the kitchen utensil drawer, he was much more than that and will be missed by his other drawer companions, especially Cheese Grater, Candy Thermometer, and Salad Tongs whom he connected with daily. Remaining shiney til the end, his hard, plastic handle could take no more as his spot-welds gave way under the ravages of a cookie stuck to his friend, Cookie Sheet, by his arch enemy - baked on Brown Sugar.

We remember the many batches of cookies that Ekco helped to release and the servings of lasagna he faithfully served up to our plates. We shed a tear in remembrance of the Oatmeal cookies, Chocolate Chip brownies, and various omeletes that our dear friend allowed us to consume, without a break, crack, or slippage onto the floor. We laugh as we recall the many times Ekco multi-tasked as a fan, waving valiantly and strong to help us cool racks of cookies so we didn't burn the rooves of our mouths, allowing anxious anticipation for tasty comestibles to run away with us.

Ekco the spatula is survived by his faithful and ominous companion, Wooden Rolling Pin, as well as Steel Garlic Press and Potato Masher, all of which he worked well with to make many a wonderful pizza for our enjoyment. Let us raise a glass - or more appropriately, a home-baked cookie - in honor of our faithful and never-tiring friend of over 30 years.

Here's to you, Ekco the Spatula, now resting peacefully in the recycle bin awaiting your final ride to the recycling center. May your steel elements live on in the frame-work of a toaster, making breakfast for the masses, or in the frame of a car, keeping someone safe and sound just like you kept so many foodies happy with filled tummies of yummy goodness. May your spirit shine on in that great Bacon Skillet in the sky. Thank you, good buddy; you were one hell of a utensil. We salute you!

"He's Watching..." (Surviving Abuse entry for May)

2012-05-23T13:24:00.000-07:00

Oh, my goodness, the last few months have been very busy. I have this little thing called a life that I try to maintain with as much normalcy as possible, even though there's always this little, nagging itch in the back of my mind that Bozo will appear out of the bushes again. Oh, goodness, why, oh why, won't he just crawl into a hole and pull it in with him. With my luck his hole would be like those portable holes in old cartoons and he'd end up in my house somehow. LOL Oh, well...

About six weeks ago I awoke to find an ad, on paper, that had arrived through my fax machine. I thought this quite odd as the fax machine had been turned off the night before. At first, I was going to just toss this fax, until it hit me that I shouldn't do this as the machine had been turned off and perhaps I should read the dumb thing. It seemed harmless enough and just like any other boring piece of solicitation one normally receives, until I read where it came from. It was from the company my ex-husband claims he works for on his Facebook page - Oh, Goodie!

I called that company and, as he has rights, I did NOT mention his name to them; I merely asked if they had been sending out faxes soliciting business with "special pricing" on it. They answered in the negative to this and informed me that no faxes would be sent out at 2 in the morning, anyway, if they were. Though I was very kind and considerate of them, THEY, on the other hand, were not likewise with me. They accused me of "making it up" and just trying to "seek attention" (remember, I had not mentioned his name in any way). I read to them the header information, which also has a phone number on it. They admitted that the number is theirs and referred to it as "an inside number", but they have no "specials" going on like that.

I asked them if, just perhaps, they had something in the cue for solicitation that would have spurred this fax - of course, they did not. I tried to rule out everything, but was strongly tempted to let them in on what was going on and why I was asking them; I kept quiet, though, as I knew that would be seen as stalking or harassment on my part then. So, I thanked them for their time and was told "Thank you for calling _____. Have a nice day!" Yeh. Right.

I sat and looked at this fax, thinking to myself, "You crafty sonofa ___! How'd you do that?" and, quite honestly, I laughed. I really wanted to know if someone could actually get a fax machine to turn on without being physically in the room to do this and send a fax to a phone number that's unpublished and unlisted. I searched the internet and came up with zilch. I asked a few friends who are somewhat computer savvy and was told, strongly, no - this can't be done. I then remembered the words of a person who does undercover work, on computers, for the authorities, "In the world of computers and surveillance, if you can think it, B, you can bet your bottom dollar someone's working on it or has already done it."

This remembrance prompted me to make a few calls to other people who are definitely more computer and surveillance savvy than those I thought were that way. People with credentials, licenses, and experience at being sneaky in the computer industry. I won't name names here, but these wonderful and learned people can be found if one only thinks outside the box. I received resounding Yes's from all of them - someone CAN access and turn on your fax from an outside source, along with many other things, without you being aware of it. Oh, Boy! That did NOT make me feel good.

I had it explained to me how this can be done, but when one is speaking to technical people who really know their stuff, one's brain begins to glaze over just like mine did. As I do NOT have Wi-Fi enabled, but do have the capability for it, I was first told to check the system and make sure that hadn't been enabled from an outside source. Then, make sure to remove all power to any and all technical equipment before retiring for the night, including laptop batteries. I now do that and haven't received another fax since.

But, that doesn't stop Bozo... no, no, no...

I recently received a document that I needed to respond to in regards to something important I'm working on. I needed to respond within ten days of the date of the document to be able to meet a deadline. I received the document, via snail-mail, on the 15th of May, but the document was dated the 18th of April - I'd missed an important deadline and was afraid I'd also missed out on an important opportunity or ticked off the person I'm dealing with, causing him to seek the work of someone else.

I immediately got on the phone with the person I've been dealing with in regards to this opportunity and was informed that the document was originally mailed on the 18th of April. He was sorry for the short notice, but knowing of my strong interest in working with him, he had kept the opportunity open even though I hadn't responded. The Angels were looking out for me on that one, and to them, I give great thanks. That has worked out, but almost didn't and I wondered if Bozo was up to his old tricks of stealing my mail again - which is a FELONY! Mistakenly thinking that he wouldn't stoop to this old behavior again, fully knowing I'm wise to this one, I blew it off - I get tired of always having to decide whether or not it is he who is up to shenanigans or just sheer luck of the draw.

On the 16th of May, when I called the person about the document, after I hung up with him I needed some time to think, so I walked out into my front yard, which is something I rarely do. A dear neighbor, whom I've known for a long time, was walking by with his dogs. I cordially walked over to him and we chatted for a few minutes about the weather and his lovely doggies, then he asked, "Hey, B, I've been meaning to ask you. Who's that guy on the sporty motorcycle that sits in front of your house, by your mailbox, every once in awhile?" BINGO!

I explained to my neighbor about who this person is without giving too many details, but enough. He let me know that he sees Bozo from time to time and he gets bad vibes off the guy. He sees him riding calmly up and down our street from time to time, then he'll quietly ride into my area and pause, for just a second or two, at the mailbox, then leave. He's also seen him in other vehicles parked on other streets and is wondering what in the hell he's up to. He's called police, at least once, and has found that, as soon as the call goes out, Bozo leaves. (Interesting validation of my theories, along with another witness.)

So, though he's watching me, others are watching and looking out for him, too. You would think he'd quit, but NOOOOO!

All of this prompted me to take another protective move and talk to the phone company about changing my number, yet again. They were happy to do this, but we both know this will cause some activity on the part of Bozo. On the 17th of May my number was changed and things were quiet until about 8pm that night. My dogs and I heard banging on my metal garage door and then a motorcycle take off down the street. My nextdoor neighbors heard it, too, but by the time they got to their windows, who ever was doing it was gone. We didn't call police because there was no damage done and really nothing to report other than our thoughts - no proof as to him being here as the surveillance picked up nothing clearly and, unfortunately, the garage door's surveillance wasn't working at the time.

My neighbors and I knew this wouldn't be the end. On Monday, the 21st of May, I was calmly allowing myself some down-time to watch TV at 8 pm with my animals. My dogs and I both became aware that someone was walking on the roof of the house, over our heads in the center of the house. I muted the TV to listen closer to the steps. They were definitely footsteps, not cats prancing or playing on the roof, and they became very quiet, as if to muffle the sound. I heard a slight thump on the ground and got up to get to the phone and my gun as my dog barked furiously (Love them doggies!). As I moved through the house I heard the sound of a motorcycle take off to the east - he was gone. I saw nothing and no neighbors were outside to see anything either; again I had no proof, just my word against his, so why bother the police. At least I've documented it, publically, here.

Well, if this isn't spooky enough, sending chills up your spine better than any ghost story, that same night, just before my current husband of 14 years was due to get off of work, the phone rang at 2120 hrs (that's 9:20 pm on 21 May 2012) the phone rings and I go to answer it thinking hubby was calling to let me know he would be late or something, while also hoping no one was sick or worse - Bozo was the furthest thought in my mind as I do live my life on a regular and on-going basis.

I get to the phone and, as I touch it, it stops ringing. I look on caller ID and see the number 000-000-0000 with Unknown as the name. He had done this before, many years ago - accessed my cable phone line, and the ID always came back as that. I checked with the phone company repair department to see if, perhaps, they had workmen in the area and they were checking lines, fully knowing that each and every time they've done this, if I couldn't get to the phone, they always left messages and kindly identified themselves. No message was left on my voice-mail whatsoever and there were no repairs being done in the area that would have warranted a call-back-line-check.

After speaking with the wonderful representative from my phone company who helped me change the number just days earlier, it is his thought, hope, and prayer, as he's never dealt with anything like this before, that hopefully the ID on my phone somehow "just glitched". I so wish he was correct there, but we have several caller ID units and they ALL read the same information. At least now the phone company has a record of this call, but again, I'll have to keep records of similar. The rep couldn't trace the call, for several valid reasons, and when I star69'd it, all I got was connected with an operator. So, then my thoughts moved to, "Okay, how's he doing this?"

As I was going about my normal activities on Tuesday - yes, yesterday - I did a facepalm as I was doing something in another room I don't use very often. The phone jack in that room reminded me of something I'd not thought about for quite some time - there's a second line of phone wiring in my house that is no longer used. I also recalled how he had told me, long ago, to watch my back at all times, mentioning that I should take the time to watch a movie called When a Stranger Calls, which came out the year after I'd left him in 1978 (movie in 1979). I know the movie well. Bozo never forgets... but neither do I.

Living Life - No Matter What

2012-05-07T10:49:00.000-07:00

I haven't blogged in nearly a month because I've been busy. I've been living life no matter what it threw at me. While some days I just wanted to pull my hair out, others were days I enjoyed, even if for just a few minutes. I've had days where things broke down and the money wasn't there to repair them, then days where prayer and guidance helped get those things repaired. I've had days where my current husband was brilliant and days when he was a total idiot. There have been days when I didn't want to get out of bed along with days of sunshine and energy. Days and nights when I sat up with a sick kitty, then even more days with a healthy and happy kitty after she'd gotten over whatever ailed her, with blissful nights of her purring and giving me sandpaper kisses as I slept peacefully beside her.

All in all, I've been living life. That's what we do; some days are bad, some days are hard. Others are blessings that we should never take for granted. Whether we find that we have an entire day of beautiful blessings or a day full of trials and tribulations, we should never ignore the little things in life that come along. Many days, that's all we've got.

Our wallets may be empty and our patience at its limit, but everyday and every moment is another opportunity for hope and future, for survival and growth, for laughter and love. Every quiet moment is yet another episode in this wonderful thing that we call life. Time to reflect, to forgive, to heal, and to give thanks for what little we have and for the people in our lives.

Some of those people may be folks who earnestly care while others may be thorns in our sides. The ones who care we should embrace and openly care about and appreciate. Those who are thorns in our sides we should embrace also, but differently, as we grow to appreciate the strength that they have unknowingly helped us to build within ourselves. The caring folks are as precious as gold and something money cannot buy, but the thorny ones are those who make us see what we're really made of. We may also be privileged to see an aspect of ourselves in them so we can work on that and correct it, making ourselves more beautiful and worth caring for. The thorny folks don't have that advantage, because they'll usually just grow more thorns and eventually poke themselves to death with their own sharp points.

Life is worth living, everyday and in every way. From every batch of thorns in our lives arises a flower as glorious as the sun. Let that sun rise out of you, just as I have, and appreciate all that life throws at you, too. "Just remember in the winter, far beneath the bitter snows, lies the seed that with the sun's love, in the spring becomes the rose."

Take care, Be well, and Live to the Fullest Today!

As a Mortician, What Did I Make?

2012-03-12T12:54:00.000-07:00

As a funeral director, embalmer, and cremationist, I am often asked what I make. Unfortunately, I am no longer actively working in the industry itself due to injury and illness, but financially, I didn't make much after five years' dedication and service. Emotionally and spiritually, what I made was priceless.

I made your children look presentable and at peace after they'd died tragically in a car wreck.

I made your mother look healthy when she'd been ravaged by disease.

I made your husband look dapper and strong.

I made your wife smile for the first time in years.

I made you smile when you thought you had nothing to live for.

I made you cry when you couldn't and taught you how gentle laughter and memories can heal.

I made you celebrate a life that had passed instead of letting you drown in loss.

I made you stand tall when all around you felt as if it was falling apart.

I made insurance companies pay you when their red-tape pushed you to the brink.

I made doctors cooperate when they were too busy to care.

I made time for you when you needed me, often setting the needs of my own family aside.

I made sleep for me a thing of the past as I compassionately took your calls at all hours of the night.

I made your loved one's last wishes come true.

I made complicated final dreams seem like they were easy as pie.

I made you replace ugliness and pain with love and peace, joy and a little laughter.

I made you live when you thought you couldn't.

I made you feel respected and cared for as if you were my own sister or brother.

I made you know that someone cared when no one else did.

I made you breathe again when you never thought you would.

I made you begin to heal.

In short, that's what I made.

(This post was inspired by Nick Astorino's writing on Facebook called "What Do I Make" which was shared by Jennifer Scott there. My thanks go to Nick for putting it like it is in his original writing of the present, inspiring me to elaborate upon the past, and thank Jennifer for her sharing of Nick's writing.)

I Love Reading Carolyn Keene For Stress Relief

2012-03-11T01:23:00.000-07:00

When I'm stressed, yet find some time to read, I love to pick up a Carolyn Keene book for a relaxing afternoon of escape and peace. As you may not know, many authors have worked under the psuedonym of Miss Keene, including Susan Wittig Albert who is one of my favorite mystery authors. Recently I had some time to read an oldie, but goodie, from the Dana Girls series called The Winking Ruby Mystery.

This is number 19 in the series, written in 1957, and I read the printed cover version. In this story, the Dana sisters, Louise and Jean, have the opportunity to take a voyage on the ocean liner, The Balaska, captained by their Uncle Ned. The good Captain is given somewhat of a cryptic message from one of the members of the ship's orchestra, involving someone named Carlo and a winking ruby in Florence, Italy. As his nieces have been so successful in solving mysteries in the past, he feels this is right up their alley and is able to book passage for them on his ship.

Things begin to get interesting for the girls almost as soon as they board ship, especially when the seas get a bit rough. I've always thought of the Dana Girls as a cross between Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys and this entry into the series is no exception.

This is a fun and quick read for a rainy afternoon, sitting in a comfortable chair with a pot of tea and a plate of cookies. It's also a great way to escape from the mundane for awhile and let that stress fall right off. I highly recommend this book for adults and youth alike.

He's BAAaack! (last Friday of the month entry on abuse & it's fallout)

2012-02-27T14:13:00.000-07:00

I neglected to write my last Friday of the month post on Friday due to being kind of busy and preoccupied with this little thing that we all normally do called life. I apologize for that oversight and a couple days late is better than never I always say, so here goes...

Just like bad gas and unwanted relatives show up for no good reason, my ex-husband, who has been stalking me for 34 years - yes, YEARS - has made himself known over the past few weeks. Ain't life grand! Either him turning middle-of-the-road-50-something or Uranus not conjuncting with Pluto's retrograde or a leaf falling off of a tree in Guam or some other little upset in his life triggered him again. Oh, Goodie!

For five nights in a row he sat out in the alley behind my house, on his motorcycle, for God knows how long between the hours of midnight and 2 A.M. I wrote a little something about that in my last post on abuse, but didn't go into much detail. I would be sitting here at the computer, working or oftentimes writing about my 34 year experience in a book I'm working on that I hope will get picked up by a publisher, when I would hear the crotch-rocket that he rides zoom up and down the alley, once or twice, then leave. Two of those nights I didn't know he was there and, while I try to live my life like a normal person and just tend to my own thing with him being the furthest thought on my mind, my attention was brought to him immediately when I heard his motor cycle start up loudly in the alley. On the first night of the bike starting up I had been in a fairly good mood and just sighed while cynically saying to myself, "Oh, Goodie... he's been sitting out there. Ain't I blessed." As I thought this, he zoomed off out of the alley. I knew it would do no good to call police and besides, I'd probably get nothing more than another lecture on HIS rights - I'd like to know what mine are.

The next day I called my neighbor to find out if she had heard the bike, too. "Yeh, what's up with that?" she asked. "Some idiot has been zooming up and down that alley like it's a race track out there. You think we should call the police if that happens again? I hate to bother them, but this is becoming a nuisance; somebody could get hurt!" Well... Duh! She and I have spoken numerous times on the importance of someone else calling the police, besides me, when he's around, or when anything is happening, but I'm certain that she would prefer not to have to get involved out of fear of retaliation and I don't blame her one little bit. I have had more than one officer inform me that, if I'm the only one making the calls and issuing the complaints, basically it's my word against his. I could also be seen as the one making the problems - not him - so other people have to call, too, or I'm just seen as blowing smoke out of my butt, or worse. Others not involved have to get involved, but I can honestly see why they don't. Who wants this crap?!

On the second night of Bozo starting up his crotch-rocket I wasn't in as good of a mood. I also hadn't been thinking about him either - I do have a life. One of my dogs had a touch of tummy trouble after eating something she shouldn't have, so she had to go out to do her business often that night. About 1 A.M. I let my old Lady Belle out for what must have been her eighth trip. Thankfully she was feeling better, but she was a little bit tired, so I went out into my own backyard and gently helped her inside. For some reason, a mental image of Bozo having tossed something over the back wall hit me very clearly as I walked into the house and locked the back door. I also became aware of having that feeling of being watched. These two thoughts served to put me in a worse mood than I was already in.

While giving Lady Belle a nice treat with her medicine to help settle her stomach and her nerves, the crotch-rocket started up again. It was louder than the first time, accompanied by that annoying vroom, vroom, vroom of the accelerator handle that motorcyclists can do to show off sometimes. Now, I got good and mad. As I ran to the back door to throw it open and yell at him at the top of my lungs, he took off, hit the pavement, and left the area. The anger stayed, but thankfully, he left. I uttered many choice words that I will not repeat here and then began to chastise myself for almost breaking my number 1 cardinal rule of never making contact with him in any way. But, hey - I'm human and sometimes enough is just enough and a person has to let fly. Unfortunately, that's what he wants, so I can't allow myself to yield to that human frailty; I have to remain strong, controlled, and cool - that so sucks!

After calming down and sitting with Lady, who was now sleeping comfortably with all of her tummy troubles gone, I began to cry at the thought that he was now beginning crap that he had done before. While I was living with my little family in another location that I had NOT informed him of, he had been seen by a neighbor tossing something into our patio. The dog I had at that time had eaten whatever this was and became severely ill - we thought we were going to lose her. Thankfully, my vet had taught me what to do for dogs if they were poisoned in any way and I was able to do that, helping her to make it through the night and back to full health. I realized that Lady had exhibited very similar symptoms as the other dog, but not as badly. Perhaps this was due to her size or perhaps the same toxin wasn't used; I don't know.

What gripes my behind is that I can't prove this allegation, yet I know in my heart that somehow he was the cause of my Lady Belle becoming ill. It's another of those things where even authorities I've talked to say, "We agree with you, mam. He's got to have done something and even we know that it's him, but, mam, YOU have to prove it."

While chatting with a very kind person on the crime-stop line about this alley-zooming, it was suggested that, perhaps, I may want to hang out near the alley and somehow get a picture of him. Yeh... Right! "Well, mam, you state that he's just on the other side of the fence; just poke your head out the window and take a picture of him." Obviously, I hadn't been heard when I told the gal that I have a six foot block wall around my backyard. I reiterated this information to her, to which she replied, "Then, why don't you just stick your head over the wall and snap a picture while he's there? If you can't see him, he can't see you either and you could catch him." Yeh - Right, and get hit in the head as he's a martial artist or shot since he's always packing a piece - that's real smart - NOT! "Well, mam, I don't know what else to tell you, then. Is there anything else I can help you with?" she asked. I thanked her for her help and her information, then hung up the phone as I shook my head knowing that nothing has changed, at least not in regards to this type of harrassment.

I do understand this and greatly appreciate the efforts and advice from the police. There is just so much they can do, say, or advise, especially since HE has HIS rights. And he knows those damn rights, too, as he used to be in law enforcement, not as a cop, but in another official capacity, with a badge, back in the day. He knows those rights, keeps abreast of any changes, I'm sure as I have been informed of this little talent of his from authorities, and he knows how to use those rights.

I've been told repeatedly to watch my back - like I didn't know that already. This has brought about some concerns from a very long and dear friend of mine who lives nowhere near me. My friend wonders if Bozo will ever follow me and learn where my friend's home is, creating trouble there. I hope not, but one never knows. I practice safe driving and take different routes to my friend's house when I visit; I am constantly looking in my rear-view and side mirrors for evidence of being tailed, all the while knowing that Bozo is good at something he used to refer to as "a reverse tail" where you aren't being tailed from the back, but from the front (I told you - he's talented); I've even gone to the extent of changing my license plate so that I blend in with the traffic better and have removed all personal insignias or signs from my car. No stone goes unturned here.

This apparently doesn't stop Bozo. Last night, after I returned home from my friend's house, Bozo was heard zooming up and down my street. I heard the bike pass the first time, which switched on my spidey-sense. I heard the bike pass a second time and wondered if he'd be bold enough to try a third time and went out to the south wall of my yard that overlooks the street. He did and I laid low until he'd passed my location. With camera in hand I popped up over the wall to take a picture. I saw him with my own two eyes, but the darn camera took too long to snap and he was out of the frame - he was moving, but I caught a glimpse of him. I sat on the other side of the wall hoping he would zoom by a fourth time. I'm thinking that he may have seen the flash from the camera and just decided to end his little joy ride for the evening. What good would another photo have done anyway - I already have him on video and still police can do nothing as he's within his rights to be on a public street and, without anyone else complaining, I'm just spitting in the wind. Oh, Brother!

I keep my guard up and constantly watch my back. I do the best I can even though it gets mighty frustrating and disheartening at times. After 34 years of this, I've learned how to recover quickly, but still it wears. Why he has increased his activity and presence in the past two years is anyone's guess. Seriously, I don't really care why - I just wish he'd crawl in a hole, pull it in after himself, and go away. Contrary to his beliefs, my life is not his life, he does not own me, I am not a piece of property nor someone who appreciates this "attention" - Bozo needs to leave me alone and go about his own business. And, I most certainly will NOT stop living my life because of his presence or his threat and I will NOT allow fear to control me or even gain a hold on my life. He will NOT influence my existence just because him widdle ego got bruised when I told him to take a hike and stood up for myself 34 friggin' years ago.

But, what will I do? I WILL continue to live a life that's as full of joy as it can be; I WILL continue to love life, my friends, and my family; I WILL remain diligent against he and other people who do this to people; I WILL continue to speak out; and unlike my neighbors, who I do understand and appreciate why they can't do this, I WILL get involved, somehow help others, and perhaps, somehow make a change.

Take care all and to ALL survivors and victims of abuse, I stand with you!

What Were We Thinking Back in the Day?

2012-02-18T13:48:00.000-07:00

Have you ever wondered whatever happened to people that you used to hang with or dated? Ever wondered if the friends you lost touch with are okay, hoping they're having a better life, or if they kicked the habit like they wanted to, whatever that habit may have been? Ever wondered what people look like now after losing touch with them for years? Seriously, I haven't done much of that, but while doing some research over the internet one boring evening my husband suggested I do that.

Initially, we were talking about an old friend that I had admired greatly for his musical talents and his passion for the art. As my first love was music I was in awe of this man's ability to focus and rise up through the ranks, making his form of music like poetry to the soul. I was never part of the group, or clique, that he traveled in while in High School, but I could appreciate, platonically admire, and hold this person in high esteem from afar. After High School and after I left my abusive first husband, the musician and I began talking after running into each other at a local music store where I worked. We chatted a lot and became friends, but we never became close, which was good for both of us. We went our separate ways after having many laughs as well as sharing some tears, so my husband suggested I look him up and just see how he's doing.

I did just that and am pleased to say that he has done very well for himself in the musical world and has great respect from colleagues and fans alike. He is highly successful now and has a beautiful family. Like all of us, he has aged and has a few problems, but nothing that can't be overcome or dealt with. That's a good story with a beautiful and happy ending. Somehow, just knowing that he's doing great makes me feel wonderful and that's enough. But, that isn't the real topic of this post - is it.

My husband, after seeing how well my old High School chum had done, asked me to look up some of the weirdo's that I'd dated after I left the abusive husband - just for fun - so I did. Oh... My... Goodness! Was that ever a laugh and a half!

I looked up one guy who had asked me to marry him, not once, not twice, but four times. The fourth time was through my Mother. He didn't have the guts to ask me directly and figured, if he softened up my Mom, he could get through to me. I found this guy on various social media sites and found that he's crazier now than he was back in the day. Looking over his tweets and reading his philosophy there, I could tell exactly what drug he was on at the time he wrote. He loved doing various drugs back in the day and that's just one of many reasons I didn't want to be with him. He had no preference for them, whether prescription or illicit, and I always knew that he would go from experimenting with drugs to going into full blown research some day. Well, he has. His sense of humor, which was well instilled when I had known him and got a bit grateing after awhile, is now ever stronger. It has a sardonic flare to it now that grates on the nerves quickly and pains just by reading a few lines (which he's also probably done before writing). He still has a great mind, but prefers to rest it in the bottom of a bottle after taking whatever drug happens to be available that day. Who knows how long that mind will last, though, or if it's even there anymore when he's rarely clean and sober.

And he is no kid, either. If I remember correctly, he should be about 60 now, or older, and his pictures he posts of himself show it, but oddly, his drug and alcohol abuse doesn't show very much; that, or he's just well preserved. That's one I am glad I walked away from while also asking myself, "What was I thinking!"

My husband and I had a jolly good time looking up my old friends and flames, finding out that some had "come out of the closet" after a few years, some had gone on to great things, and some had even gotten married to each other after our friendships and supposed romances broke up. Some have aged well and others look like death warmed over. Some have wonderful families now while others live almost monastic lives. Some old friends and acquaintances have grown up well, lost their mullets (thank God), and are exceptionally handsome and beautiful people, while others still think mullets are in fashion or cut their bangs too long and spray them to the sky with a can of Aqua-Net while still publically believing that women and children should be seen and not heard.

It's amazing what people will put on social networking sites.

While presiding over funerals I happened to be put in charge of the funeral of the father of one man that had dumped me decades earlier. The man, though standing right next to me, didn't recognize me at all - thank goodness. He had changed in his appearance immensely, but not in his attitude, which was and is abrupt, brash, mean, and authoritative. He had dumped me because I didn't fit his bill of what a woman should be, but he apparently got the gal of his dreams; I'm glad, but I can't figure out how. The gal that he's married to now is absolutely drop-dead gorgeous and one of the nicest people anyone would ever meet. What she's doing with him, I'll never know. They have three lovely children whom he orders about like little soldiers while she constantly smoothes things over and translates his words into more gentle statements to the children. She also speaks endearingly, without fear or hesitation, to the guy keeping his temper in check and keeping he and his family calm and orderly. Damn - what a job!

After they'd left the funeral home I just laughed and told myself that I'd really bit the bullet on that one. I asked, "What did I ever see in that guy? What a jerk! He was a jerk then and still is now!" Yep, I bit the bullet on that one and someone up there was looking out for me. Thank you!

When I was young my Grandma used to say that we can't go back. I never quite understood that at the time, but do very well now. I can't say now that I even want to go back if I ever did think about it, because seriously, what was I thinking? Ya gotta laugh.

I Had A Problem! (Last Friday of the Month Entry on Abuse & It's Fallout)

2012-01-27T15:06:00.000-07:00

I had a problem with my house, he said,

After he'd lost his home.

I had a problem with my cat, she uttered,

After her cat died.

I had a problem with my mother, she remembered,

After her mother kicked her out.

I had a problem with my car, he cried,

After his car was repossessed.

I had a problem with my daughter-in-law, the mother bitched,

After she'd alienated her son forever.

I had a problem with my dog, she complained,

After her neighbor had shot the dog dead.

I had a problem with my boss, she bragged,

After she'd lost her job.

I had a problem that I'll never forget,

Because it's a problem that won't go away...

We sit and we whine, we complain about our problems. Often, those problems will end over time or we can work to correct them. Far too often, though, those problems change our lives forever leaving devastating marks or giving us strength we didn't know we had; some also change us because they can't be corrected.

Such is the case with abuse. Far too often an abuser cannot be stopped and our hell rages on. Few who have been abused have had the "blessing" of being plagued with an abuser for over 34 years, as I have. Most abusers go on their merry way and move on after a few years; but not mine. Most abusers get a life, killed, or put in jail; but not mine. Most abusers get tired, give up, or change; but not mine.

For 34 years I have been followed, harrassed, bad-mouthed, and watched by a man that I left - for good - in January of 1978. Our divorce was final in August of that same year, merely 5 hours before he wed his second wife who was a beautiful and sensitive girl that he'd been sleeping with while we were married; she was also my friend. She was jail-bait at that time, but he convinced her to marry him almost as soon as she'd turned eighteen. I laughed when the judge that granted our divorce informed me of why Bozo had pushed so very hard to have our divorce papers shoved through. I laughed until I later cried - I cried for her. I cried because I knew what he would do to her. I knew that he would hurt her in many ways and strip her of her innocence. I knew that he would force her to have children that she wouldn't be allowed to bond with. I knew that he would alienate her from her family and friends. I knew that he would do all of this, and more, because he'd tried it with me and failed on many points. I prayed for her, almost every day, and still do. She was and is a victim of Bozo's control, lies, and manipulation.

He failed on many points with me; that's one reason he still stalks. I was something (not someone) that he couldn't control. I was something that asserted myself and woke up to his behavior, then found a way to walk away. When I walked, that angered him, too, because I did so with my head held high and with no regrets. He said he would forgive me - ME - and we could put it all behind us. I told him to shove it; I had no regrets and laughed in his face. I knew he was lieing, but pushed him anyway to prove it to those who were watching. They saw Bozo's face change from the sweet, handsome soul that he loved to portray, to the demonic, hateful individual that he really was. I took a risk and I won that battle; but the war wasn't over yet and is still raging.

This is NOT my choice - it's his! I have consistently gone on with my life and left him alone - I just wish he would do the same as he also leaves me alone. I have remarried and had a child, raised her on my own while running a business and getting a formal education while obtaining a degree. Bozo has also lived his life, had children, and worked, but he has also wrung the necks of birds that I had in my rehabilitation aviary and placed their bodies in baskets and sat them at my back door; he has come here, to my home which I did NOT give him the address to, and stolen my mail and picked the lock on my front gate (he was seen by neighbors and still the police could do nothing); he has invaded my privacy by tapping into my home phone and cable lines; he has left post-it notes with his phone number and has been caught on our surveillance camera (PD can still do nothing); he left a birthday card for me just last year that states I'm special and signed Your Husband with his name in parentheses underneath (he is NOT my husband and hasn't been since August of 1978). This war is not my choice - it is his. It is his sickness, his warped sense of human ownership, and his twisted obsession - not mine.

Bozo has suddenly popped up on a very active social media page. His philosophy, though I won't repeat it here word for word, reads that just because someone wins a battle and becomes comfortable with their life, doesn't mean the war is over. That is meant for me and I know it. It is when one is comfortable, feeling safe and happy, that men like this will suddenly jump out of the bushes and attack or harrass. I'm never comfortable or feeling safe and happy - NEVER! At least, not where Bozo is concerned. I live my life the best that I can and will not run because that would just give him something new to do to find me, which he would do and has always done. He is a coward - I am not and will continue to speak out and educate those who just can't seem to get their minds around this type of treatment.

Unfortunately, in the process of speaking out, I have lost friends and some support; this happens. Just recently, while chatting with someone who I considered to be a dear and strong friend, I found out that she wasn't as strong as I thought she was. Honestly, that's okay. People get tired of hearing this crap and I do understand that, but it does sadden me at times, even though I get over it after a few days.

While chatting with my friend I let her know that Bozo is up to his crap again. I let her know that my neighbors and I have heard him in the alley, riding his crotch-rocket motorcycle up and down the alley and sitting behind the wall of my house, revving his engine. I told her that he must have a police scanner on his bike or something because when I call PD he takes off as soon as the call goes out - we have a scanner, too. My friend's response was to "just forget him because obviously the police don't see him as a threat so you shouldn't either - just forget him and he'll forget you". He hasn't forgotten me in over 34 years, so why in the world would he suddenly forget me now! And besides, how in the world does someone forget someone who is currently stalking them, harrassing them, trespassing onto their property, and watching from the wings? How! I have not spoken to him since 1985 and have told his attorneys to tell their client, in no uncertain terms, to leave me alone and don't ever cross my path or bother or contact me again.

He has attorneys, or had them, because he was brought up before the court on molestation charges in 1990 and had felony abuse charges brought against him. Unfortunately, his mouthpiece bargained and pleaded them all down to misdemeanors, so he was also able to get himself a Concealed Carry Weapons permit - he is armed. He stalked my husband while he was working in a local mall. Bozo carried his weapon into the mall just to prove that he could do it, even though against mall policies, and no one could touch him. He has no fear and loves to show his superiority; he also knows the law and how to use the system to his advantage. He's a pro who also wore a badge while we were together back in the 70's and became an MP in the US Army - in his eyes, he is God.

In my friend's defense, she simply can't deal with it any longer, I'm sure. She's not the first friend I've lost or had to back off from because of Bozo, and she won't be the last - of that I'm certain. No one wants to have a friend that they simply can't help or whose problem is something that they can't get their mind around, but I did greatly appreciate her listening for the length of time she could; she listened and that helped so much for the time it lasted.

Those of us who are going through the abuse and harrassment of past relationships, are forced to become accustomed to loss of friends - it becomes a legacy of the abuse, especially when it's something that never lets up. It gets old and we all understand it, but that doesn't make it hurt any less. Loss of friends is part of the fallout of abuse, especially when nothing can be done and authorities can't even help.

I'm going to add here, Please don't suggest that I get a restraining order or order of protection on this man - you simply don't know what you are talking about. Getting an RO or an OoP on him is like waving a red flag in front of a bull. His second wife, whom I still pray for, did just that and received the beating of her life from him as he told her to call police. He told her, "Go ahead. Call the stupid cops. I'll be done with you before they get here," and he was. He was picked up and tossed in jail, but out by daybreak with just a slap on the wrist while she laid in the hospital for three days. She, unfortunately, dropped the charges against him; she had no choice as he threatened someone very dear to her. How do I know this? I was informed of his vile behavior by the county - by authorities, not hearsay. Restraining orders and orders of protection are NOTHING more than pieces of paper that often incite more damage than they prevent; they merely make the situation more of a "hot call" that police will respond quicker to. They don't give police the ability to be white knights riding in to save the day. That's the truth of the matter.

As friends go, most of us have no one but ourselves - we are often alone. But, we do have each other and oftentimes it is just us who can get it, understand, and support as well as stand the test of time. We who are abused, harrassed, and/or stalked do matter... we are of value and must stand strong against these jerks that try to destroy our lives to make themselves feel like big men (or women) when they are really nothing more than assinine bullies on the playground. Together we will win the war and together we will find peace.

(The above poem, "I Had a Problem" is written by me, B.F.Jacoby, copyrighted 2012, all rights reserved. No one may use any portion of this entry or any Momma Bonbon writing without my permission. To ask permission, simply contact me in the comment section here or through Twitter @tombshopmom. Thank you.)

Recipe - Spiced Oatmeal Cookies

2011-12-23T01:23:00.000-07:00

Just in time for Christmas, I've worked out an Oatmeal Cookie recipe that is healthier than most, that stay soft, that are easy to make, and full of holiday flavor that can be enjoyed at anytime of the year. I love to make cut-out cookies - rolling out the dough and all of the designs that can be made - but I really don't have the time to do that this year. I still love to bake, though, and so this recipe, I think, is perfect for when you don't have a lot of time to chill dough, roll it out, cut it, and the extra clean-up that's involved with that whole process.

So, without further ado, I present to you...

MOMMA BONBON'S SPICED OATMEAL COOKIES

Whisk together in a medium bowl the following:

1/2 cup All-Purpose Unbleached Flour

1 1/2 cups Whole Wheat Flour

1 1/4 tsp. Baking Soda

2 tsp. Ground Cinnamon

1/4 tsp. Ground Nutmeg

1/4 tsp. Ground Allspice

1/8 tsp. Ground Cloves

In a large mixing bowl, cream together the following ingredients, in the order they are listed here:

1 cup Margarine, softened (warmed in a microwave is fine, but don't let it get too liquid)

1/2 cup Shortening (I prefer Crisco here)

3/4 cup Firmly Packed Dark Brown Sugar (C&H is always my sugar of choice;others will work, too)

1/4 cup Granulated White Sugar (again, C&H is my choice, but others work just fine)

1/3 cup Molasses - Sorghum or Dark (I love to use the Sorghum - it's a richer flavor to me)

1 Egg

1 overflowing tsp. Pure Vanilla

While creaming together the wet ingredients, you may see that the margarine and shortening look as if they're separating. If this happens, simply whisk all of the wet ingredients together until the batter is a consistent color. Slowly incorporate your dry ingredients into the wet ones. When completely blended, add:

3 1/2 cups Old Fashioned Oats (any brand is fine and quick oats will work, too, but do NOT use instant oatmeal)

Fold in the Oats to the blended batter until they are fully incorporated. Don't be afraid to over work this dough - it'll hold up to being rough with it.

Use an 18/8 cookie scoop or rounded teaspoons to measure out the batter and drop onto ungreased cookie sheets about 2 inches apart. Bake in a pre-heated oven at 375 degrees Fahrenheit for 11 minutes. Allow the cookies to cool on the cookie sheets for about 10 minutes before removing to wire racks to completely cool, which won't take that long at all. Yields about 5 1/2 dozen cookies.

These cookies are so yummy and fast to make, with very little clean-up, you'll find that they really are a treat at this busy time of the year and anytime. With the Whole Wheat Flour and Molasses, you get a lot of fiber to go along with the Oatmeal's benefits, plus you get iron, calcium, copper, and manganese, along with a touch of potassium and magnesium from the Molasses.

These cookies tend to stay soft instead of getting brittle and crumbly, so friends of mine who love Oatmeal Cookies but don't like how they can fall apart, are absolutely going nuts over this recipe - they love it. Children who I have had taste-test them also like them even better than the fancy Christmas cookies because they don't get all full of crumbs, plus they love the taste and texture and don't realize that they're eating something that's good for them.

Make a batch for your family and friends - you really won't be disappointed.

Things My Grandma Used To Say...

2011-12-17T00:46:00.000-07:00

On December 5th, 1992, my Grandma, one of the most wonderful women that ever walked this Earth, passed away. It's been 19 years since I heard her wisdom, along with her threats that no one ever was sure if she meant or not. What was it about that generation; it seems that they knew how to keep us kids in line without ever raising a hand to us - we were blessed.

So, in honor of her gracing my family with her presence and beauty for nearly a full century, I'd like to share some of her sayings with you. Perhaps you'll remember a few that you heard from your Grandma when you read these; or maybe they were very popular in their day and a relative of your's used them, too.

Grandma never missed when one of us was up to no good or slacking off. "You quit that or I'll knock some sense into you!" or "Quit it or I'll knock you silly!" resounded and could be heard for miles if I even thought of getting into trouble. I never did THAT or IT, whatever they were.

My Uncle, her only son, would taunt Grandma by leaning back in a kitchen chair, balancing on just two legs of it. That earned him both of the aforementioned statements, along with "You keep sittin' back like that and you're gonna fall and break your fool head open" or "You fall and break my chair - I'll cold-cock you with it!" He fell a few times, but never broke his head open; didn't break the chair either, which we often felt was too bad because we'd never really seen a good cold-cocking before.

During summer vacation I liked to sleep in late. That earned me "You get yourself up outta that bed or I'll come up there and pull you outta that bed. You hear me?!" She actually did that, just once - she came upstairs and into my room, grabbed me by the foot and hauled my kiester outta that bed. So, when I heard her yell up the stairs, I was up and outta that bed. Drill sargents could have taken lessons from her.

She kept her eye on me when I was a "young un", like a hawk. She looked out for my future by telling me "You read so much your eyes are gonna cross" or "Don't sit so close to the TV - you'll ruin your eyes." Maybe she was right, because I've been near-sighted since I was about 7 years old. She'd also warn me about men for when I got old enough to think about them. "Men just root like damn dogs; it's in they're nature," she'd warn. I should've written that one down and pondered it awhile before marrying my first husband; it would've saved a LOT of hassle.

Grandma also had a stick. We don't know where she kept her stick or even what it looked like. We just knew when we heard the phrase "Where's my stick", we were in trouble. Usually she'd start looking for her stick when we weren't cooperating with her or getting things done we were supposed to. "Where's my stick" got our attention real quick, because we never wanted her to find her stick. We cooperated and did what we were supposed to, even though we didn't know what would happen once she found that stick that we never saw; but we didn't want to find out either.

Her dogs weren't immune to this correction either. She never, ever hit an animal. Having been raised on a farm, she saw just too much "meanness" done to animals. She would say, "There's just too much damn meanness done to poor animals for it to be right. They got hearts and they got feelins', so why's folks gotta treat em so damn mean." She loved Scotties, as you can see by her picture above where she is in a lawn chair with Laddie. Scotties are known to be stubborn and her's were no exception. She would often utter "Where's my flyswatter?" to her dogs when they were being "ornery". That's all she had to do was utter that phrase for any of them to behave; no yelling, no abuse, just the phrase.

She had a way with animals and she had the patience of Job. She taught me how to cook and sew because my mom was too busy trying to earn a living. "Now, you just do it like this-a-way and it'll do just fine" came out of her every time I tried something new, like baking chocolate chip cookies, sewing a quilt, or doing embroidery. Grandma knew her stuff, but she never learned how to "cook little", which meant making small batches. She'd cook enough food to feed an army; unfortunately, so do I. I can't "cook little" either.

She loved to watch TV, too, and I always knew when it was time to warm up the TV set (we had to allow them to warm up back then). I would be told, "You hush now - it's time for my stories" and knew it was her time now and I had to "jolly well wait", which I patiently did.

She would see things on television that bothered her or amazed her. She never hesitated to let anyone in the room know what she thought; she'd voice her opinion even if she was the only person in the room, too. "Them people sure are funny" (meaning weird), "That's the cryinest girl I ever did see" (said about overly dramatic actresses who cried a lot in her soap operas), and "Some folks don't know what other folks are sayin' cuz they can't hush up long enough to listen" regarding politicians that were "a speechifyin'", along with reporters on the news.

All-in-all, my Grandma was very shy and didn't think she was worth looking at twice. I disagree to this day, but often heard her say, "Don't you take my picture!" when she saw me with a camera in my hand. She said that very thing just before I took her picture you see above, then giggled like a little girl as she kissed Laddie's cheek. Snap! Gotcha, Grandma! I've got dozens of pictures of the palm of her hand because she would try to block my taking her photo; she was quick on the draw. I was always trying to take her picture. To me, she was the cutest and most beautiful woman that ever walked this earth and always will be.

I was the last person she spoke to when her massive stroke hit, which ultimately took her life in 1992. While in the ambulance, on the way to the hospital with two gorgeous, young, strong paramedics working on her (she thought firemen and paramedics were pretty - I agree), I was asked what her age was. I had absolutely no idea, but knew she had talked about things that had happened during the turn of the 20th century. She NEVER told us her age; just kept telling us that she was "older than the hills". I said to her, "Okay, Grandma. This is it, girlfriend. You've got to tell us how old you are." Her answer was a firm, yet polite, "Noooooo." We got told. She hung on for another four months to finally let go of the strings binding her to this earth at three in the morning of December 5th, 1992.

Her legacy lives on in the laughter she gave, the talents she shared, and the respect she earned with a gentle hand, which she taught to me, as well as my daughter. Her gifts and her love are priceless.

I've got to go now and whip something up in the kitchen. Rest assured - I won't "cook little".

Two More Craft Projects I've Finished

2011-11-24T22:36:00.000-07:00

Don't worry! You're eyes aren't playing tricks on you. The picture you're looking at loaded side-ways and I can't figure out how to turn it right-side-up. That's okay, though, because I bet it got your attention. What you're looking at is a knitted scarf that I've completed for my husband. It was one of many craft projects that I found I had started years ago and just stuck away in a closet. It is amazing what one finds when one cleans.

This is a knitted scarf that I enjoyed finishing up about a month ago in October. I was surprised how quickly it moved along. The scarf is a copy of the original scarves worn by the members of Gryffindor House at Hogwart's School for Witchcraft and Wizardry in Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone (Harry Potter - Year 1). My husband's favorite Harry Potter is the first year and he loves scarves, so after watching the movie a few times, I had decided to make him one that was similar.

At that time I worked the scarf to about twelve inches in length, so it wasn't very long when I located it in the back of a closet in the spring of this year. I began working on it in September and completed it in October to an overall length, including fringe, of about seven feet - it grew. I haven't really blocked it like one is supposed to properly do with knitting, but my husband loves it anyway and has even gotten permission to wear it at his work where he is outside all of the time.

Originally, when I began making it back in whenever, I was making it to give to him as a Christmas or birthday present since his birthday is so close to Christmas. I gave it to him upon completion, though, because I am a firm believer (since I was a mortician for five years) that gifts and love are to be shared quickly and often as we never really know if we're going to be here tomorrow.

The next project is a special Christmas gift, too, and has also been given to its recipient:

Pay no attention to the beaded blue background - has absolutely nothing to do with the piece.

This is a cross-stitch Christmas ornament done on plastic card. Santa here stands five inches high and is about three inches across. I had begun this little ornament back in 2003 and put it away in a box. When I found that box while cleaning out a closet, I opened it and was amazed at the little projects that I'd started and just stored away; what was I thinking!

I am a huge collector of Santa Clause's of all sorts and had decided to add hand-made Santa ornaments to my collection umpteem years ago. This little guy came in a kit along with two others in different suits with a small ornament on the side - like the little tree seen here with Santa holding a watering-can (no - it's not a purse, I see that image too if I look at it too quickly). When I began working on this one I realized what a wonderful gift it would make for a very dear friend of mine, but set it aside anyway.

Well, I'm glad to report that Santa is now complete and has been given to my friend. It will be the only hand-made, cross-stitch ornament on his tree and he displays it proudly now on a side-board table as he hasn't gotten his tree up yet.

I can't tell you how good it feels to find all of these old projects from years ago and have the opportunity to now finish them. With the problems that I have in my lower back making it very difficult to sit for a long time, I am forced to sit in one over-stuffed chair in front of my old TV that my birds watch movies on. I HATE just sitting - Aaaarghh! Plus, I've seen the movies my birds watch a dozen times, so they're boring. I'm glad that I've found all of these projects because it gives me something to do while I'm having to sit in that chair just to get off of my spine; makes life just a little bit easier and productive.

Thank you for reading and I wish you the best on all of your Christmas craft projects that you are working on. Please feel free to chat about your projects here in my comment section - I love the company.

Peace and love to you and happy stitching!

Come On, America! Here's One Way To Take Back Your Power

2011-11-14T13:50:00.000-07:00

Well, well, well… Please excuse me because I’m warning you and I’m going to be a bit of an ugly American here. I had an incident this morning with Century Link, my phone and internet provider, which showed me that, as an American, I do have a voice and I do have some power. Every single American has a little bit of power, but they get frustrated and can’t figure out what to do to exercise that power. I’m going to share with you what happened and what I did to correct the problem so that you, too, can exercise your power and get corporations to listen to you.

Within the past three weeks my phone service and internet have been down AT LEAST seven times. Before Century Link purchased Qwest I had this happen maybe once a year. Each time it happened with Qwest I was able to speak with a person in the United States who spoke English very well, sometimes with a slight accent that was beautifully representative of the country or culture that they hailed from, but ALWAYS able to be understood, very polite, as well as quite knowledgeable of what the heck was going on, why, and when it would be fixed. I absolutely loved dealing with the representatives from Qwest.

But, now I’m dealing with individuals that are employed “offshore” who are employees of Century Link. I’ve spoken to individuals who are located in Bombay and Calcutta as well as some other areas of the globe that I can’t pronounce let alone spell. I speak with, or try to communicate with, individuals who can’t even say MY name or even get the order of the numbers correct. I understand that these dear folks are just trying to make a living and I applaud them for trying so hard in a country that wishes to rise above poverty and their third world status. Hooray! It isn’t these individuals that I’m griping about – it’s the corporations that service people in the United States and take jobs away from Americans.

As I have called Century Link no less than seven times about their lousy service, today I held firm. I spoke with a gal initially who said that her name was Loreen located somewhere near India. What does that mean… “near India”? What… was she located on a barge in the Bay of Bengal or something? Give me an f-ing break!

With all of their new equipment not working properly when the old was working quite well, being hampered by these constant inconveniences, and lines of communication being broken to the point where one of my neighbors couldn’t even call 911 when she had a medical emergency due to Century Link dropping the ball not one, but seven times, I was fed up. Loreen had no idea what was going on, couldn’t tell me what the problem was, and had absolutely no idea when it would be repaired. She also kept asking me questions and would constantly interrupt as I tried to answer her questions. Through all of this I remained calm, professional, and firm in my dissatisfaction with her responses and Century Link’s service and lack thereof. I demanded – I did not request, ask for, or say I thought I deserved, but demanded - a full month’s credit on my bill for my inconvenience. Loreen just kept replying that this would be taken care of for me, they would look into this for me, and other such bulls*** that she read off of a script to get me to back down, shut up, and think that I was being heard. It was not until I demanded, not asked for, a confirmation in writing within 72 hours of the completion of our call that she shut up long enough to listen to me. At that point I informed her that if I did not have the written confirmation in my hand, I would then take action and report their company to the Corporation Commission in my state. I emphasized, once again, that I had never had this problem with Qwest before and that Century Link obviously bit off more than it could chew when it purchased a company as large as Qwest. They are dealing with Americans now and we will NOT take this crap. (Yes, I used those words exactly.)

Loreen then panicked, asked me politely to hold the line as she was going to get me in contact with someone “stateside” that could better serve my needs. I sat on hold for a couple of minutes and became antsy, almost hanging up, and muttered into the phone “I’m waiting one more minute and no longer – then I’m contacting the Corporation Commission”. Apparently she heard me because she was immediately on the phone with me asking me to hold for just another moment as “the connection was being made” (What’s up with that! What is this… ship-to-shore radio or something! Oh, that’s right, my-bad… she’s on a barge in the Bay of Bengal…I forgot).

I was immediately connected with a lovely woman here in the United States, but in the wrong department. She connected me with the correct department and another woman in another state here in the United States in Idaho. Unfortunately, Century Link’s connection wasn’t good at all and we had to adjust our phones on both ends for several minutes until her end quit breaking up. Seems to me that a phone service company should give their employees equipment that would work well when speaking to the customers… that’s like a no-brainer to me, but apparently not to Century Link.

After clearing up the issue of getting a credit on my phone/internet bill that was much nicer than I’d hoped for, the gal in Idaho and I had a few giggles over companies having their call centers off-shore. I also was able to procure the necessary validation of credit on my bill that I had demanded from Loreen. I got all of this taken care of in less than ten minutes once I was connected with someone “stateside”. I also learned how to get to repair for Century Link “stateside direct”. That number is 1-877-348-9005. Unless there is a large back log of calls waiting in the queue, one should be directly connected with a person working in the U.S. of A. for Century Link who can help much more efficiently than someone located “near India”. One can also demand firmly, but politely, to speak with a Century Link representative who is “stateside” instead of “offshore” when calling their regular number of 1-800-244-1111 for service or 1-800-573-1311 for repair… these are the terms that I was told to use in the future should this ever happen again – which I’ll bet it will, unfortunately.

When you have the need to speak with anyone at Century Link, stay firm, polite, professional, and don’t back down. Demand to speak with a stateside representative and don’t hang up when they try to steer you away from your goal. Once you are connected with someone stateside, make sure to demand credit on your bill for your inconvenience – if you have medical problems they may NOT have your service down for long due to likelihood of there being an emergency; point out the fact that you are ill when you speak to them as your repair should be a priority.

If you don’t receive satisfaction, make a formal complaint to your local Corporation Commission’s office in your state. Their information can be found on the internet, along with procedural information on how to make valid and formal complaints. Make sure that you take down the names and locations of all of the representatives that you speak with, as well as how your service has been inconvenienced and how long it was down, along with how long you had to stay on the line, including dates and times of your calls with them. This is all important information that you should include in your complaint.

If Century Link and other asinine corporations lose enough money through having to give out credits on customers’ bills, and they find that Americans prefer to speak to knowledgeable Americans, they’ll have to change their ways and bring jobs back to this country. Personally, I wouldn’t mind paying a little bit more on my phone bill if I knew that my hard earned money was going to pay another American trying to make a living here. I’m sorry India… I love your people and I thank you for all the wonderful things you share with the world. This is NOT a reflection upon you in any way. But for crying out loud, America! We need to take back some of our power and this is just one little way to do it! Lord knows our government isn’t going to do it for us, so we have to – one American at a time.

Three Black Cats Song

2011-10-28T14:01:00.000-07:00

In honor of my three black kitties, I've written a silly little ditty that's sung to the tune of Three Blind Mice. Enjoy!

THREE BLACK CATS

Three Black Cats, Three Black Cats

See how they creep, See how they creep.

They came to my house, someone tossed them away,

In my home and my heart they will always stay,

It's time to be loved and allowed to just play,

They're Three Black Cats, Three Black Cats

See how they Pounce, See how they Pounce.

They sleep in the sun at the break of day,

They run through the house when they want to play,

And stop to eat from their kitty tray,

They're Three Black Cats, Three Black Cats.

Hear how they Purr, Hear how they Purr.

They Purr as they eat on their table top,

They Purr as they play with the water tap,

Contented they Purr lying on my lap,

They're Three Black Cats, Three Black Cats.

Hear how they Meow, Hear how they Meow.

Their Meows awaken me out of my bed,

Meows are heard when it's time to be fed,

They never Meow when they lay on my head,

They're Three Black Cats, Three Black Cats.

See how they Sleep, See how they Sleep.

Yardley sleeps in his favorite sink,

Tigger sleeps on his pillow so pink,

Tatiana's place is with me, she thinks

They're Three Black Cats, Ssshhh! They're sleeping... I think!

(When I can find pictures of Rum-Tum-Tigger and Tatiana I'll post them - they're floating around in my computer somewhere. But, that's typical for once feral cats - they know how to hide. LOL)

(My lyrics/poem is copyrighted by me, B.F.Jacoby, but feel free to have fun with them. The tune of Three Blind Mice I have no idea who wrote it, but do give credit where credit is due.)

Cleaning Copper Pots Easily Without Toxic Chemicals

2011-10-18T11:48:00.000-07:00

Many people have beautiful copper pots in their homes, yet don't know how to clean them and keep them from scratching. With use or just hanging around on a shelf or on a rack, all copper pots will tarnish, get streaks on them, and look yucky over time. If one wishes to retain the patina of the older copper pots or copper anything that one collects, one should never try to polish them as the polishing does remove that wonderful patina as well as often lower the value of the collectible. But, for those of us who use our copper pots and copper bottomed pans and like clean, shiny copper, here is what I've done for years to keep them fresh, shiny, stain-free, and unscratched.

This method is so easy and it takes little time. Plus, it makes your kitchen smell nice, doesn't make a toxic cloud of chemicals in the air, or leave toxic residue on your cookware. All you need is a lemon and simple table salt. Cut the lemon in half and squeeze some of its juice onto the copper, then sprinkle the table salt onto the juice. Use the cut lemon as a scrubber and gently scrub the salt with the lemon. You can use a sponge with bottled lemon juice if you can't find lemons or they're too high priced to use for this purpose, but it will take a little longer. Rinse the pot with warm water and dry thoroughly after you've completed this.

As the lemon juice and salt is a bit rough on the hands, I would suggest that you do wear rubber or latex gloves to protect your skin. Also, if the pot or pan bottom is severely stained and darkened with a lot of build-up from years of neglect and use, this method may have to be done more than once. A little elbow grease may be necessary also on areas where drips have make marks and sometimes, but rarely, some of those stains won't come completely off - they will be lightened though.

I've also used this lemon and salt method for cleaning and polishing brass that has darkened that I've been asked to make sparkle. Due to some coatings that are placed on brass, this may not work really well unless that coating has deteriorated over time. Those coatings are supposed to keep brass from tarnishing, but I've found that it doesn't always work as they say it's supposed to. If there used to be a coating on the brass that's gone dark, you must be certain that all of the coating is gone or should you try to polish it, you won't be able to access all of the surface as you'd like to and it will look blotchy. On un-coated brass this method does work really well and is done just the same as with the copper, but a little more scrubbing is needed and the drying must be very thorough or the moisture left behind will make spots when dry.

Having animals who are sensitve to many toxins, including bleach, I've also found that I can use the lemon juice and salt to clean and sanitize their bowls, litter boxes, and cages, too. Where my kitty, Sugar-Baby, is extremely sensitive to any cleaning product, she never has a snuffle problem with the use of the lemon and salt on her box or bowl, so I use it for all of them including my birds' feeding containers. Be sure to rinse really well anything that you use the lemon and salt on in regards to your pets - unlike us, they don't like that lemony scent.

I Just Read 3 China Bayles/Susan Wittig Albert Mysteries

2011-10-12T09:23:00.000-07:00

With summer here in Phoenix being so unrelenting and taking its toll on my health, I gave myself a treat of sitting down and enjoying one of my favorite characters in mystery - China Bayles. I wasn't disappointed in my selection and read all three of these novels, Dead Man's Bones, Bleeding Hearts, and Spanish Dagger, in order and loved every minute of all of them. Susan Wittig Albert is truly one of the best and most entertaining mystery writers we have today.

In these three books, China and her family and friends in Pecan Springs, a small town in Texas, run into some very interesting situations that give the reader a wonderful taste of what life can be like outside of the big city. From finding bones in a cave to drug deals gone bad to family issues that many of us may be facing ourselves, Susan takes the reader on a truly delightful ride into the minds and hearts of her most believable characters.

While the books themselves are fabulous stories, the herbal information is phenomenal. Having a love for herbs myself I've taken the time to look up some of her references and they are so right-on and accurate. Recipes in her books are also fun. I made 'Ruby's Better Bones Soup' from the book, Dead Man's Bones (chapter 16), for my mother and she absolutely loved it!

Susan Wittig Albert's China Bayles series is not only fun to read and chocked full of really intesting information, but it's a series that's easy to read. If one has a chance to pick one up, but hasn't read the books before it in the series, that's okay. Susan never leaves the reader feeling like they're out in left field with what's going on or like they've walked into a movie in the middle - she informs and catches the reader up, while not making those of us who have read the entire series feel as if we're having old information just re-hashed. But, I warn you - if you like cozy mysteries that are a level above other cozies and have ever thought about what it would be like to toss the big city life and move to a small town, you'll get hooked on Susan's China Bayles series just as I have. This is one great addiction that is good for the soul as well as being a great lift to the spirit.

Thank you, Susan Wittig Albert, for three more great stories. Now, I've just got to go out and get the next ones in the series. Keep up the good work - you're AWESOME!

Monday Clean-Up Every Friday - A Husband Rant

2011-10-07T09:24:00.000-07:00

Every Friday to me is like a Monday to other people. Why? Because my husband has been on his "weekend" from eight o'clock Sunday night to noon on Thursday. He works a job where he is able to be home and "helping" for four days. His version of helping is tearing up what I've worked very hard for three days to clean up, straighten up, or create while he was, thankfully, at work or asleep. I began this day at five in the morning while he was attempting to be quiet as he got himself ready for his full day at work. "Quiet" is NOT in his ability whatsoever, whether awake or asleep, so therefore the cats begin their it's-time-to-feed-the-kitties speak earlier than normal with the hub-bub created because of my husband's "quiet". This happens everyday when he's heading off to work, although he will constantly be kind and say, "Honey, make sure you get some sleep. You so deserve it."

I'll feed the kitties after he's left, but not before washing an entire sink-load of dishes that he's created while being "quiet" and preparing his breakfast, lunch, and snacks for his work day. How one person can make so many dirty dishes in such a short period of time, I'll never know, but he's very adept at it - it's a gift, I guess.

Then, like this morning, I go about straightening up everything that he's messed up during his four days off. Just before sitting down with a cup of coffee to write this blog I was able to finally locate my kitchen counter. I knew it was there somewhere and actually found myself saying HI to it as I scrubbed the melted sugar and other food stuffs off of it. You see - while he's home, he feels that he's helping by, supposedly, cleaning the counter himself and giving me a break (isn't that sweet). In reality, he just moves the yuck around and cleans half-way.

This "cleaning" occurs throughout the house. Why? I don't know as I work my tail off while he's not at home and clean all the time. I do a damn good job of it, too, but he insists upon "helping". We have animals, more than most folks do, and they do mess up - that's their job. It's our job, mostly mine, to be sure that they're clean and their areas are maintained - which I'm very diligent with. But, still, he helps in his own way. He asked if he could help with the kitties - I told him the litter boxes could be changed. Out of eight boxes, he changed one successfully and stood stareing at the other seven. I have no idea what the stareing was to accomplish, but as the other seven weren't changed, I'm sure they spoke to him in their own way and let him know they were fine.

He mopped the master-bath floor this weekend. Our overly neurotic Tonkinese ate too much and too fast, once again, and urped three times on the black and white tile. Hubby helped there and did, at least, clean up the barf and sweep the floor BEFORE attempting to mop it. I'll give him credit there, but it took nearly two hours for him to do this - again, he had to stare at it for awhile as he did each step.

He also decided to do his own laundry during his days off. Now, understand that I'd already done his laundry for him and put it all away. But, he claimed that he was out of socks, underwear, and his sleeping boxer shorts again. Don't ask - I don't know how. This happens on each and every of his weekends, whether I do his laundry for him or not prior. I don't get it and never will. With all of this laundry that he does, then why in the world is there still a full hamper and another pile of dirty clothes on the back of his door - I ask you.

He asks that I make lists for him of things that I'd like for him to take care of on his time off. I do so each week. He'll, maybe, get one or two of the things on the list done - usually half-way, but occassionally done all the way and done very well. My job is to follow behind him and make sure the task, no matter how large or small, is done all the way along with well. Even in regards to things that are just common sense or guy-things (I know - rarely do the two go together).

For instance: He has an oil leak in his car. He keeps an oil pan under the car, in the garage, to catch the leak. This pan fills up - Duh! He cleans it out, takes the oil to be recycled, and puts the rags in a bag to be tossed in the regular trash. This drives me friggin' nuts! I make him take those toxic rags with him to where he recyles the oil so that they can dispose of them properly. I then, chat with him without trying to seem like a nag about getting the stupid leak fixed. His answer is always the same - he doesn't have time.

Why doesn't he have time? He shops! This man shops more than any woman I know. We have an odd situation where I can't go out of the house often because of me having an ex-husband who has been stalking me for 33 years - in fact, that a-hole tried to break into my house on the morning of Sept. 24, but that's another blog entry story altogether. My current hubby sees the need for me to be home as I also write, so he has developed the love of shopping. He'll be gone for hours, but I've watched him shop before. Again, there's a lot of standing and stareing at stuff. He coupons and finds great deals, but is gone forever. While he's gone, instead of writing as I should, I'm trying to straighten what he's messed up, which just gets messed up again once he gets back home - so, oftentimes, I've learned to just leave it and write.

I've put away two loads of laundry and started two more as I've been writing this rant. I guess that, in a way, I'm blessed to have a husband that tries. But, now I've got to go and make an attempt to find the floor of his room before one of my cats mistakes his work-clothes for just another litter box. OY!

(Maxine courtesy of Hallmark cards - they so Rock!)

Craft Projects I've Been Finishing

2011-09-16T00:16:00.000-07:00

This summer was pretty hard on me physically. The heat and sunlight did not agree with my system, so I was forced to spend most of the summer's time indoors. Even with the fact that I work from home as well as write several hours a day, I had to do something that I felt to be productive, but relaxing. I did some cleaning out of more closets and other things, but could only do that so long before I felt as if I were going coo-coo. I began to think about the myriad of projects that I'd started over the years and had stuffed in various nooks and crannies about the house. I went on a hunt and told myself that the first one I happened across would be the one for me to work on and complete.

On the back of a door, hung in a zippered bag, I located an afghan that I'd started over a year ago when I had come down with a bout of not feeling good that laid me up for several days. I had completely forgotten about this afghan and, after taking a good look at it, I began working on it. Sometimes, when I create an afghan, I just play with it as I go along and mix and match colors as they suit me. That's what I did with this one and finished it in July after also getting out all of my other yarns and organizing them into a closet that I'd emptied out completely of junk no longer needed. The finished afghan is above and displayed on my cats' feeding table, which is another art project itself having been made from the top of a casket that arrived at the parlor with its lower section not usable. That wood the afghan is displayed on is, indeed, the top of a casket - I love to recycle.

This afghan now covers the bed that I sleep on and share with Tatiana, a cute black kitty who showed up at my door last Thanksgiving. Tatiana absolutely loves this afghan; I don't think that anyone ever made or gave her anything just for her before she arrived here. That is now her bankie and she rolls in it every night before she cuddles down to snooze with me as my little guardian.

After I completed the above afghan, I found another one in my master bedroom that I'd begun five years ago. I decided to work on that one and see if I could get it completed before September came. As I worked on it while sitting in an over-stuffed chair in my birdroom/living room, my husband gazed at what I was working on and asked where that one had come from. He had seen me working on it years before, but had completely forgotten about it - I don't blame him. I had picked the colors out as masculine, but earthy, and had intended it for him as a gift I'd long forgotten, too - my-bad, I know.

As I progressed with it, and got closer to completing it, he felt that it looked much nicer sitting on the back of the chair that I sat in. So, now that it is also done, that's where it lives. My cats love this one, too, and find it quite nice to lay upon when they're on the back of my chair. Here's a photo of it on the chair.

I am really glad to have gotten these two afghans done. It feels so good to have completed a couple of craft projects. I love to see just plain skeins of yarn turn into something useful; especially when the something useful is also cuddly, comfy, and pretty. I didn't use a pattern for these designs. They're just a simple granny square crochet pattern that's continued out and out instead of made into small squares. Super easy and fun.

Now, I've dug out a scarf that I started making several years ago and am knitting in just a simple knit stitch. This one is definitely for my husband and is in stripes the colors of Gryffindor House from Harry Potter's Hogwarts. My husband and I love Harry Potter, but he's more the Gryffindor type. Me - I'm a Ravenclaw.

Have fun with any craft projects you're working on and I hope this post inspires you to pull out some of those long forgotten projects and complete them. Give yourself the gift of creation and a sense of accomplishment. After I finished the second afghan, I then finally finished painting a wall in that same room. Things like that do make me feel a little bit better in many ways - they will you, too.

Take care and thank you for reading.

The Stitchin' Mortician