Oh hi there! Happy Mother’s day!

Well, it’s mother’s day weekend. My son is in the Seattle area and he called me yesterday and we had a wonderfully fun conversation as my early mother’s day call because he had to work today. My daughter also had to work today… so our mother’s day is tomorrow. I think I’m getting wrinkle cream for Mother’s day. Whoot! LOL
So what did I do for Mother’s day? I hung out with my BF and his kids. We went to the farmer’s market. We went shooting. And I cooked stuffed porkchops. (I know.. you want to ask about their mom… it’s ok. She passed away a few years ago. When they went to go put flowers on her grave I stood in the living room, told her happy mother’s day and told her how amazing she was… I even cried a little. Maybe I’m a weirdo.
So… let’s switch to a happier subject.. which is food. Stuffed pork chops. Oh yes. I have a great recipe but I can’t use it anymore because I have an issue with wheat and corn and that’s what the stuffing is made of. So instead we got some oyster mushrooms that are locally grown, from the farmers market, and used half a pound of those, and then some tru roots Organic sprouted rice an quinoa blend, with some onion (salted liberally). Cook that rice with yummy spices of our choosing. I chose some bay leaf and Italian blend spices. We mixed that all together and stuffed 8 big ol’ fatty pork chops. 4 in the oven, 4 in the freezer for later enjoyment. When we browned these, we put some salt and pepper and normally I would use sage, but we didn’t have any… so I used thyme. I can’t wait to eat these… they smell amazing and the stuffing tastes fabulous! Great Mother’s day, Yo.
Hope your’s was wonderfull too.

Imagination…. and loneliness

“Every girl dreams of falling in love.

When I was five, I decided that my future husband would have a smile that could brighten a room.

At twelve, I dreamt of a husband who was tall and slim, with dark, clean-cut hair and a well-defined jawline. He would have green eyes that reminded me of evergreen trees.

At sixteen, I wanted to date a guy with blonde curls that swept over his eyes. He would be a witty but tortured soul, perhaps a poet. He would be shy around everyone else, but with me, he would open up and make me laugh, and he would make my skin tingle when he kissed me.

But when I entered the dating world, the faces of all three of the men I once thought I would marry began to fade into the ceiling of my empty bedroom.

The future never turns out the way we think it will: the cruelest thing God ever gave children was the gift of imagination.

Ten years passed, twenty years, and still, I never once got the chance to answer the question: “Will you marry me?”.”

The above was written by an author named Shelly Li. Her online home is http://www.shelly-li.com.  Please go check her out. I think her writing is lovely. At any rate…. the reason this struck me is this passage is pretty much the story of my life. Well, except for the last line. I have been engaged twice and proposed to a few times. Why am I not married? Because either a)I discovered later that they were complete douchebags or b)I did not love them.  When I get married I stand true to the “till death do us part” line. No fair killing the other one off.

I had a dream. I had dream that I would meet this great guy and that we would fall in love and get married and build a family and a life together. We would do family things that my kids would never forget their whole lives. We would buy a home and make it our own. He would have a shop and a garage and I would have a project room. We would have friends and family over all the time. We would support eachother’s dreams and aspirations. We would struggle and succeed, hand in hand. We would grow old together and be best friends.
Yeah. Not so much.
I had a dream. I watched others live that dream and continually tried and failed to find it.
I watched people who had it let it fall apart and it boggled my mind. Why? How could you let something so wonderful just fall apart? Maybe it’s because I never had it. I could never understand. Poppycock!
At any rate….. I still have part of a dream. I’m not dead yet. But I wonder what it would have been like.
Do you have a dream?

Getting Old

That’s right…. I said it. I’m gonna write how I feel about it. And I don’t feel good about it… well physically I don’t. Let’s talk about why….
1) Sleeping in sucks. My head says… “stay here. It’s warm and snuggly and the person you love is curled up next to you with their arm around you and you’re all sweaty together and it’s cold outside of the sheets in the room out there…. It’s so nice and peaceful and quiet. And the dogs are curled up with you. No demands. Just the bird noises outside and the sunshine coming in between the curtains and the sound of the trees swaying in the wind and the fresh smell of outside. Stay here…. it’s so nice.” But my Body is saying, “AAAAAAAAAUUUUUUGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! Get up!!!! For the love of all that is holy! Move me!!! Stretch me!!!! Stand up!!!! Do stuff!!! This hurts!!! GET UP!!!!”
It’s a conundrum.
2) I seem to have at least 4 different people living in my head. They are all me… don’t get all psychological on my butt. There is the 5 year old; who is able to find awe and wonder in everything. There is the 12 year old; who thinks the following words are hilarious… Penis, Fart, Bagina (yes… I know it’s spelled with a V), Poop, and several other infantile things that when involved with anything that could feasibly become a joke. Also… this person does not find any danger in the idea of building a forge, playing with fire, shooting their friends with paintballs or nerf projectiles or airsoft pellets, building a trebuchet and firing watermelons into a hop field or stuffed turkey toys into a battlefield. Speaking of battlefields, this is a place where we play dressup in medieval clothing, dress in armor and/or beat eachother with sticks. There is the 21 year old; Who would like to think she can still wear mini skirts and tight clothing and dress like a teenager. She imagines her boobs still defy gravity. She wants to drink all the yummy flavors… micro-brews, wines, meads, liquors, mojitos, margaritas…. etc. Etc…. She wants to bang her head to loud music, and twerk like it ain’t no thing. Belly dance around a fire and to bellydance/tribal/techno fusion music. She thinks she can do anything… like bungee jump off a bridge or sky dive or hike across Europe. And then we skip to where we are now….. The 45 year old; She is level headed. Logical. A good little worker bee. Who sees all her dreams are pretty much down the tubes and why bother.  This person, however, clings to old hope…. and so she let’s the others drive as often as possible, without letting go of the common sense reins.
3) Fat…. Where the hell did that come from? What is this extra poundage on my butt…. it’s like I grew a second butt…. on my upper thighs… right underneath my original butt….. what is this? I’m not doing anything different from what I was doing before……… WTH?
Apparently your metabolism slows down. So what this means is that I must excercise. More. More than I was… and at regular intervals…. like daily. This is hard. Especially if you don’t have room or a friend to motivate you. Ugh. On the upside…. When I do yoga in the morning… I feel really good the rest of the day. And if I do actually work out… the pain I suffer in the following days is not the kind I want to complain about. It actually feels good in a weird way. Does that mean I’m some sort of weird self sadomasochist? (Sans the sexual part) I don’t enjoy inflicting pain on others, and I don’t enjoy people inflicting pain on me… but me inflicting workout pain on myself is really ok….? *insert perplexed face here*
4) This is a plus side I think….. a lot of women think that as they get older their beauty fades. If they are single… and they don’t want to be.. there comes this weird desperation phase. I personally think this is where the term “Cougar” comes into play. But if you can step outside of that desperation to find someone to spend the rest of your life with…. you can remember when you were young and you dated guys your age…. was it really that great? They haven’t changed. And in fact, most of them have gotten worse. There is something to be said about dating a man your own age when you are older. In fact, there is a lot to be said. Some of them have actually grown up. They are responsible. They generally have good and stable jobs. They’ve done something with their lives. They are well practiced in the art of love-making. They don’t just think about themselves all the time…. and they have an appreciation for a woman their age…. They see more than just boobs and butt. They understand that every stretchmark, wrinkle and line have a significant meaning. It means you are strong. You have survived life. They appreciate the love and the touches… and your inner 21 year old. They don’t take you for granted. And they aren’t so self centered.  Dear God… what woman in her right mind wants to train a teenager to be exactly what she wants only to have him discover she’s old and that all the girls his own age want him. Alone again. Think ahead ladies… think ahead.
I am pretty sure that I had more to say… but my ADD is kicking in… so I think it’s time to let this go.
Welcome to getting old. May you do so with more grace than I. Or maybe with as much grace as I. However you want to look at that.

Oh the tangled view I have on horrible subjects

A blogger I kind of follow… and by that I mean, I like their writing but I do not have the time to read everything they write because it kind of seems like the write all the live long day….. lucky them…… writes a lot about abortion. From what I have gathered, the reason for this is that they were an unwanted child that was lucky enough to be adopted into a loving family…. and so… if they had been aborted they would not have the opportunity to write witty, wonderful and important views of the world. And kudos to them. I am happy that all turned out well for them. Why am I telling you this… well you know me, I have to take the long way around everything and make sure you are getting a clear vision of why I’m going to share with you what I’m about to share with you….
So… anyways… this writer posted a news story the other day about people being upset because aborted fetus’s were being burned by a medical facility to create heat and/or electricity. So first off, my logical mind says “well, I’m sure that aborted fetus’s are not ALL that is being burned. I mean… that would be a hell of a lot of aborted fetus’s. I happen to know, from having worked for a company that disposed of medical waste for various places, i.e. hospitals, medical centers, doctor’s offices, kidney facilities, etc., that burning it is the best and most proper way of disposing it…. and aborted fetus’s are, unfortunately, considered medical waste. Just as is your amputated limb or an unclaimed dead body. (Actually I have no idea what they do with unclaimed dead bodies….. or bodies that have been donated to science… what do with those left overs?)” What was I saying… oh yeah… squirrell!! (I’m not at all ADD)
Anyways…. it seems logical to me to use the medical waste in a positive way such as when burning it, to make electricity or heat out of it.
When I commented this view point I was then lectured upon about how abortion is wrong and that it’s sad and that it is a horrible way to dispose of the unwanted babies.
*sigh*
Yes…. it is sad that the unwanted babies are not only unwanted, but murdered and then burnt for a practical use. It’s dehumanizing. And maybe my mind is just thinking that they are already dead and gone….. and there is no one to claim them. And so should we make a cemetary for all the tiny John and Jane Does to be buried. Where no one will visit or leave flowers or remember them….. That would kind of be a waste of space. And in saying that, it sounds terrible to my heart…. but it is logical.
On my view of abortion itself? I would never, could never, abort a child I was carrying. I had a tubal pregnancy once….. that was heartwrenching for me. The possiblity of a little life just blowing up my insides and causing me to bleed internally not making it into the world. I’m being serious….. I was devistated to loose the child I didn’t even know I was carrying and would never get to meet. I will not, however, condemn those who have them. I have a sour view of people that would use it repeatedly as a form of birth control. That is not, in my view, what it should be used for. I am not pro-abortion…. but I am pro-choice. It is very factual that their are far too many unwanted children in this world… and they know it. That to me is the saddest part. That they know and feel that they are unloved and unwanted. They are abused, mentally, emotionally and sometimes physically because they live with people that do not really want them or care about them. They are sold in to slavery or prostitution. They are made to feel they are worthless. They are malnurished, under clothed, under educated. They are not given the tools to succeed or to function as “normal” members of society. That, to me, is sadder and more heart breaking than the idea of them being sent back to heaven, possibly knowing for just a brief moment that they are unwanted vs a life time of knowing that they are unwanted.
This blogger I spoke of above argues…. “you cannot know of their future, of their potential” You are right… I can’t. But more often than not…. the future for an unwanted child is unfortunately… pretty bleak. Sure… there are people out there who may want them or love them… but would they EVER be connected with those people? The outcome is bleak. Some are lucky…. many are not. That blogger was so, so lucky. And I give them so many kudos on writing on this subject repeatedly and passionately. Good for you!
You can argue on this with me all day. I won’t argue with you. This is my view. This is my stand on abortion. I don’t think it’s right… but if you want to save children… save the ones that are living and breathing in this hell right now. Go find them. Adopt them. Feed them. Educate them… love them….. love them… love THEM.
Because their cause is worth fighting for. Their cause, their right now….. Imagine what your passion for a child could give them… the unwanted… the living in the right now children.
Make your voice heard in action. Not in word alone.