I already have a big brother

Once upon a time the entire world was ruled by religion and Kings and Queens that forced religion upon you lest your head be lopped off.   In this strange land, you quietly did as you were told so you could keep your head attached to your body.  You were assigned a station in life upon your birth and it was indeed a rare thing to be able to change it during your life, without luck and some blackmail.

Then one day a new world was found.  In time the people that founded this new world decided that anyone no matter their status at birth, could become whatever they wanted if they worked hard enough. They also decided that religion although important to maintaining a level of decency in society,  would never be assigned by the ruler but instead be chosen by the individual.

It was awesome.  First civilized society of it's kind. No Kings, No Queens and no forced religion.  How wonderful, how profound, how genius. They knew the people couldn't just go all willy nilly batshit with all this freedom.  They also realized that even without Kings or Queens someone has to be in charge of super big deal stuff, which means power. As they say, "with great power comes great responsibility".  It's far to easy for any leader to fall back into the "luck", "blackmail" situation.  It's far to easy for someone in charge to indeed go full speed frog in a blender insane. 

Being super smart.  They decided to put down some rules and guidelines.  These were not just for the people, but also those in charge.  So no one could go wiggidy whack and start offing people for their beliefs.

Somewhere over the years the system the plan the guidelines got seriously diluted, messed up and twisted.

Don't make me slap your nostrils off

So the past couple of days I have to spend in and out of the care of people who learned what little medical knowledge the posses from Dr Kevorkian.   I am going to give you the cliff notes on this because honestly why bore with  long drawn out details that will leave you so dumbfounded and amazed you will feel like you are being offered the opportunity to see a sideshow freak for only a nickel if you step inside this big tent.

I don't have a Dr. I have  a Physicians Assistant. PA. Because the Neurologist said I was beyond his scope of care.  Obviously that means I am within the scope of care of a Physicians assistant. PA Well then my Physicians Assistant (PA)  got a promotion about 3 weeks ago so I got handed down to the assistant to the Physicians assistant so I guess that would be the APA.   So this APA has a sign in the little room I am in that says,  "due to time constraints you are only allowed to discuss 1 issue per visit."   Wow really?   It takes 6-9 weeks to get an appointment and you can't go in and say,  I have a suspicious freckle and my eyeball itches?  That's just too much for one appointment for this APA?    I could tell this was going to be bad since my 2 conditions Brain/Spine cause a laundry list of symptoms we are trying to manage through medications since my insurance feels it's silly to send me all the way to see one of the 12 doctors in the country that actually understand my condition and I wont let just anyone with a scalpel and a Cracker Jack degree dig in my brain.
So Mr Important APA  see's me trying to wrap his head around my issue and adds a new med to my lovely list of meds that consist of nothing that carries a street value of over a Flintstones vitamin so no need to rob me. He then tells me to come back Sept 1 for follow up.

They call on Aug 26 to tell me to come in Aug 30 instead.  So I do. Guess what. I am now in the care of a Nurse.  Yep.  Guess what else.  Again no clue as to what my condition is, how the medicines work nothing.
So besides the fact that I am pretty sure she hugged a few trees in the 70's she had no clue how to do diddly shit. and She screwed every single RX I have up beyond all recognition.

Then I go in today. For fasting Lab work.  Starving to death.  The 18 year old girl with my ID in her hand looks at me and says Miss PERD?  I looked at her and shook my head no.  She said yeah you Miss Perd. I said no its Mrs. Kirk, just like the ID in front of you says clearly?  OH My bad

anymore

You have broken my heart,

you have cut me to the bone, 

you have stabbed me in the back

you have endangered my children 

you have stolen from me 

you have threatened to kill me and it seems every time we talk you spew out nothing but lies.

I failed you.  As the person who brought you into this world it was my convoluted job to make you appropriate for society. 

 If you had been an only child would it have been different?  Would I have given you more leeway so as not to sacrifice your siblings humiliation, safety and discontent.

We moved for you, it was the area, the neighborhood, the school, the doctors,  I did everything and gave all in hopes it wasn't really you.

Doctors, therapist, counselors, hospitals, things a mother should never have to say about their child were said.

In the end, I failed you.  

For many years I was a mighty warrior set out to ensure your health and happiness, but you broke my spirit and I gave up.  I want to let you in, but the price is so high and I am emotionally bankrupt.

You deserved a stronger mother, one who could stay the fight, one who could be more understanding, one who could battle for more than 19 years.  I am so sorry you ended up with me, who tried to make you fit in a cookie cutter mold when I still have no clue what kind of mom could have helped you. It wasn't me battling up hill to mend my broken life while trying to simultaneously protect yours.  The spiraling all consuming sucking down of the soul constantly being kicked and punched was beyond me.  

I'm sorry I am so broken and weak that I can't afford to be hurt again.  Everyone in your world has disconnected over the years for the simple and often subconscious act of self preservation.  But in everyone's life there should be at least 1 constant.  One thing you know will always be there and you don't even have that.

I hurt you

I insulted you

I embarrassed you

I punished you

I hospitalized you

I let you down

I lied to you

I threatened you

I had you arrested

I closed my door to you

I laughed at you

I walked away....

I didn't ever deserve you,  and you certainly didn't deserve me. 

THE WIZARD

I am fixing to slap somebody y'all.

As your reading this I am probably sitting in Oz, seeing another wizard.

If you know me you know this means I am on yet another medical adventure.

Since my issue is not "common" and I live where good Doctors play golf not Practice medicine, I am shuffled about  and get the joy of paying to explain my condition, the symptoms, related problems, affects and treatments for my condition to these fantastical wizards.  

Inevitably it always goes one of 2 ways.  

Reaction1-

 THE FAKE IT TILL YOU MAKE !  They nod and act as if they have a clue but can't even pronounce it then leave the room and come back with questions and a bunch of crap they printed off the internet because I can see the url and they are not pronouncing the words correctly.   

Reaction 2-

THE WTF? FACE ! - These are the ones who you can visibly watch the blood drain from their faces as you calmly and with a splash of humor explain what's up.  They then ask you what the treatment is and what they should do.

I actually had a Dr google it in front of us one time.  AWESOME.

Teeth + South = stereotype

In case you didn't know. I live in the south.  It's really hard to get any further south than where I live.  Other than Florida but it doesn't count as the south because even though it's geographically lower than where I live, it is actually socially north or here.

So 20 years ago I despised kids/parents  who acted out of control because clearly I was awesome at parenting. To teach me a lesson Karma gave me my oldest son and I realized I am a powerless idiot.

18 years ago I went to the gym 5 days a week, walked every night and associated fat with lazy
To teach me a lesson Karma gave me a medical issue that pumps me full of steroids so I am constantly have to hire handlers like a Macy's Thanksgiving Parade balloon.  Seriously between the steroids and the sudden total lack of physical activity combined with the comfort food instead of Xanax  I am pretty sure I will be hiring a handyman to install double doors in my house


15 years ago I was so happy to have my very first NEW car.  Because I always drove serious POS.
To teach me a lesson Karma has arranged for that new car to still be my car with no chance of upgrade and a timing belt that has slipped.

10 years ago the business my husband and I started to get major contracts with our company thus providing us with a monthly salary that was hire than my younger years annual salary.
To teach me a lesson, Hurricane Katrina wiped out most of our clients and then the BP Oil Spill finished them off.  So we are back to working for others and paycheck to paycheck.

5 years ago I was astounded at the absolute lack of straight, white teeth around the area.  I was like, "seriously?  hello?  toothbrush/dentist/flouride".
To teach me a lesson Karma let M&M's with pretzels knock out my tooth


This past Friday night.  One of my Blog Buddies came to town and I invited them to stay here.
and my tooth flew out of my head while we were talking and she actually had her 7 year old daughter help me by crawling around on the white tile floors to look for my white tooth.  


Oh yeah it's official.  My IQ has dropped,  ass widened, and toofless.  I am officially from the south now.

Saying F u seems too nice

I consider our life pretty good.  My husband spent 20 years serving our country.  He made a hair over minimum wage,  doing what he was told,  and at any moment we would have moved where we were told to do what job he was told to do and work for whatever boss he was told to work for.  Our kids would have went to whatever school was there, and if need be he would have given his life in this service.  For a couple dollars over minimum wage for 20 years.  

I worked for the local Government, in various capacities, mostly public safety.  I also worked in a children's TBI rehabilitation hospital, and 1 year as a teacher at a Private Parochial school to work off my children's tutition when the schools in that area were too bad for my kids  to attend publicly, but private was far out of our budget.

We both attended college, but we both had to enter the workforce due to finances.  I went back, a few times.  My children were from my first marriage and my husband adopted them.  I always worked, but with the second one being "special needs"  it did put a strain on my career because there are a lot of meetings, and school, and doctors, and such.  When your husband is in the military he goes to as many as he can,  but in our family I felt it was my job to take the hit, and honestly even though I had the better sounding job. He had the "career" in the military.  So there were small gaps in my work history but nothing lengthy.

We never had money, in fact we were always renters, never knowing when or where we would go, both being divorced with bad credit,  the power bill was a struggle and we couldn't finance a bottle of water.  We shared the used little red Geo Spectrum I purchased and we started out marriage with nothing but 2 kids and a cat .

We started a little computer business from the dining room table in 1997,  and when he retired from the Military in 2000,  he got a great job with GTE that would afford us with some new and exciting things like a car with air conditioning.  At the same time our business took off.  Contracts came in and I worked 24/7,  GTE was sold to Verizon and he was picked up and  then BAM I was pregnant with a surprise baby, we had money, lived in a nice house and could buy not just a crib but a car seat too?   This was such a new concept.

Things went wrong and I spent 58 days in the hospital, my  husband worked, and took care of the older kids, and "our" business which just like the little baby in my tummy kept growing fast.  

By the mid 2001 we had our 3rd child, 2 cars and solid contracts with our business that allowed him to leave GTE.   My father was ill and getting older,  we wanted the kids around him, so we moved back near that base where my husband had spent 20 years.  We rented a house while we built ours, we opened an office in the little country town and tried to introduce technology to the local businesses who acted as if we were speaking pig latin and selling snake oil.  But we had our large out of state contracts.

In January 2003 I did our taxes for 2002 and sent them off with the check.  I got a letter from the IRS saying they owed us money on 1999 and it had my 2002 check in it. They told me they couldn't take my 2002 check until we refiled out 1999 taxes and they paid us. Like a naive child I spoke with them, and I will never forget the male agent saying,  " oh yes Mrs Kirk, we are not Simon Legree,  we are just like you".   I am embarrassed to admit I had to look up who Simon Legree was.  When I did,  I wondered why he would use that term with me.   In the mean time I was trying to file taxes on 1999 which was 3 jobs and 2 moves in the past,  very difficult for me.  But I did it,  I sent it in with a note saying please apply the refund to my 2002 taxes that are due, and I waited.   In about 6 weeks I got a certified letter.  Saying I owed an ungodly amount of money, that the time to file 1999 taxes had expired by 41 days and I would not be credited for that year and now I had penalties on my 2002 taxes.  I called them up, because after all " they aren't Simon Legree"  I was told to pay over the phone or by mail within 30 days to avoid garnishment and bank holds.  It was an ungodly amount of money.  We wiped out everything we had ever put away for us, or our 3 kids and paid,  we paid Simon Legree and that day I vowed never to speak to them again, because we had just paid the IRS 70% of our total income prior to any deductions for the entire year.  No matter how bitter that taste. It was our duty.  I also swore from that point on, I would not attempt to do our own taxes,  or use some tax program or whatever.

Peyton singing

I lurv skool

The following is a  fictional rendition of a transcript of a phone call to the school where my teenager goes.   With this kind of leadership I am not shocked that our kids are zombies.  I want a lobotomy after this brief phone call.


ring

Hello this is the glowstick of education.

HI,  my name is Slim Shady and my kid has "athletic"  tryouts today but I have a couple questions.

NO- high school is today and that they told the kids like 2 weeks ago they would try out on Tuesday.

well you sent home a paper Friday that says Monday,  and there's ONLY 1 team, the high school team,  so uh....   are you sure? 

yes

 ok, tomorrow,  where is it?

 I don't know,

Who knows? 

 I don't know.

ok, I need to find out who knows where it's at?   

your kid can tell you when he gets back,

no no,  I want to know where he is trying out, maybe be there.

 parents can't ride  the bus,

no ,  we wouldn't ride the bus we were thinking of driving our own cars to watch try outs,

well the child has to ride the bus,

yes I understand I just want to know where it's at, what "facility",

they don't know,

no one knows?

not anybody I know knows.

oh, ok.  well maybe it's a magic bus then.   so anyway says he has to be there to LOAD on the bus no later than 330.  

yes,

ok, well can he just go on  down to Heart Attack burger Hut or should he just go straight to the high school to catch the bus.

he can't stay we don't' provide baby sitting.

what?

we don't baby sit,

  if he needed a baby sitter I wouldn't be letting him get on some magic bus with unknown strangers to go to a location no one knows about.    he's a teenager,  do you actually work at the school or are you a volunteer ? 

 I work here. 

 oh ok,   so let me try it this way.  if he rides the bus,  he wont get home until 325,  he has to be at the high school to get ON the bus BY 330,  so clearly that wont work.   so can he just walk over and get on the bus that is in the parking lot in 10 minutes?   

NO  WE DON'T HAVE BABYSITTERS.  

Mam.  he's a teenager,  he crosses parking lots all day long, he's an 8th grader,  he doesn't require a baby sitter, maybe you are looking for another word.   do you understand that the note says the time and the location are where he will be within 10 minutes of each other?  and that unless I too own a magic school bus that can fly away there is no way to get him back to the school in that time..

Well if you want your kid to be an athlete for  The Hooterville Podunk Glowstick of Education, you will need to solve your own problems. 

  ok  so  "athletic" tryouts are tomorrow?  

yes,

he has to be at the high school by 325? 

 yes...

ok.  well he wont be riding the bus home tomorrow so he can participate.

well you will need to come in to the school in person before 1pm to sign paper work saying he wont be a bus rider for tomorrow.

mam, it's after 1pm,

no 1pm tomorrow

can I send a note with him?  

no you have to come in person to sign a note saying you will be back to pick him up,  otherwise he has to get on the bus it's the law,

 oh ok,  so a phone call? email?  hand writeen note?  not good enough?

nope,  you have to sign it in front of us. 

 really?  

yes really?  what else? 

 uh nothing,  I kind of feel bad for my kid though,  because you're not a helpful or kind adult and he is stuck around you 8 hours a day,  but I  guess thanks for your awesome customer service,  have you considered a job at ATT?

Today I blew my cover in my super secret world wide Gang..   Damnit.   All because I ran in a store to grab my mom a treat.   I'm not Darkwing Duck, I am...  e.v.e.r.y.w.h.e.r.e.

Dear punk teenagers with the crotch of your pants lower than your knees, with a cigarette hanging out of your mouth and your shirt flung over your should showing off what might one day be a chest:

Visual Example:

if the stupid look is in this season you are freaking NAILING it

The second I walked in, I saw panic in the poor elderly woman behind the counter. haven't we all? I mean I'm sure in her day she didn't see a mans ass crack and drawers until after dark on her wedding day, but I am forward, I've got kids, I am cool and down with it, I can totally bridge this culture gap of generations no problem, let me slip on my cape.

I walked closer and I hear her voice quivery with a mix of fear, with a dash of authority. I can't quite make it out, she makes only brief eye contact with you and repeats her words, and tone. I get closer to the counter where each of you are on separate sides, like a courtroom or even a crazy dance scene from west side story might break out, and lucky me, woot woot, front row seats to this off off off off off Broadway production.

As I grow closer though, she glances at me, with fear and pleading in her eyes. I look over to sum you up again, and you have a lighter, and you are flicking it, your cheap ass lighter that's grinding oddly on that crooked flint throwing a faint spark as you steadily flick flick flick flick.

Then out of the corner of your 14 or 15 year old mouth that isn't holding a cigarette you are trying feverishly to light while standing across the counter from a lady working a restaurant. WOW,  NO FN WAY ?  I must have heard that wrong, surely your little boy butt did not just put vocal thrust behind the F^$* YOU! you just spewed at this elderly lady working.

Now I hear and see, she is saying, " no smoking, no smoking, you can't smoke here, please leave, no it's illegal, please please just leave me. English isn't her first language, she may speak it fine normally but maybe her being so scared and upset is making it choppy, but not to choppy to misunderstand the meaning, and I certainly understand smart ass teen, and what you said to that lady was wrong.

I stood back, waiting, to see if you 2 human beings from such different times, who have had such different lives can come together to communicate, without any escalation. I mean honey please, your tennis shoes and watch probably cost more than this ladies car, and I'm quite sure your comfy little "pseudo" hard life was  obviously way worse than whatever this woman went thru 50 years ago in another country she left to move to this one full of strangers,  strange language,  crossing an ocean to bust her ass to work in the food industry and be intimidated and cussed by a little spoiled puke poser like you.

Uhm no. You can't. because in walked your 2 little spoiled punk boyfriends. with your shirts off, and your pants around your ankles which pretty much ensures no matter my current physical state of health I can disable each of you with little effort as basically you have tied your ankles together.. genius move dorks..

I tried, I did. I honestly tried to stay out of it. But my mom really really really wanted a food item from this location, and since even though I am an adult I do want to see my mom smile I had left her in the car while I ran in to grab what she wanted. I wanted to be some sort of bridge for you to to communicate across.  DAMN YOU !  I already had my stupid cape on and now, I have to step in.

Sadly, I left my "little prick to English dictionary" in the car. So when your little boyfriends came in, holding their regions that might one day turn into a gender, and you yelled, " F &^% YOU, followed by a racial slur as you made another round of attempts to light your cigarette, I remembered I may not speak little prick, but I speak mom.

So son, when the fat old white lady in capris and flip flops with her hair in a clip who looks like every other old white soccer mom on the planet reached up and slapped that cigarette out of your mouth today, I saw you recoil in fear, I understand when your little boyfriend bowed up like he forgot his common sense at home in his upper middle class 2 parents home with a landscaped yard and thought he was going to run his mouth in my direction, yeah yeah I stepped at him, and used my best loudest, out door  MOM voice to scream while pointing. " BOY DON"T YOU DREAM IT!! I KNOW YOUR MOMMA !! I WILL KNOCK YOUR SMART MOUTH INTO NEVERLAND IF YOU DON"T STRAIGHTEN UP AND GET OUT NOW ! in that split second dumbass 3 took off as fast as he could possibly waddle with his pants around his ankles towards the door, dumb ass 2 started backing himself toward the door like a duck backing away from a croc, and you, you I never broke eye contact as I growled, " DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM? you blinked, I had you.

I had you, and I made you apologize, I made you throw away your ILLEGAL smokes and lighter, and I made you pull up your pants and walk out.   Of course you do NOT know who I am,  for I come in many forms.

Here's the deal my little friend. Those of us "old ladies" you think you strike fear in? Baby boy, we been playing this game so long, we can flip it like a light switch.. Do you doubt me? Find any mom in the stands at her kids sports game, she will come completely OFF THE DAMN chain over a bad call by the ref. That mom, yeah that's the same mom, that by one look and without saying a word can make your grown father cower off to the pantry to empty the trash.

There are ways to spot us. We keep our pants pulled up. often our hair too. we wear gang related clothing, often it's like capris or yoga pants with a hair band around our wrist, you come across a mom with more than one hair band on her wrist? you are doomed, they are like belts in martial arts. Just quietly, and respectfully back the hell away. 

Of course you don't know who I am son, because I am " every mom " the mom you thought was at work, or at home or busy, and trusted you and your little friends to go walking a strip mall while she got a pedicure. I am the shadow in the closet, I am the cop at the door, I am the glass of water that braves the dark at 2am when you were too scared to speak.  I am the Doctor who nursed your wounds, the Teacher that helped you sing the ABC's.  I am the mother in labor, and the mother who keeps selected baby baby clothes in a keepsake box.  I am the Judge, the Jury, and I poses a pair of eyes in the back of my head I allow your mother to channel.  I will watch your precious little ass for her, if her eyes aren't near.  If she has misplaced trust in you, I will point out kindly how you are tying the damn rope around your neck yourself.  

 I have faith that any mother of any child who was trying to play big bad ass criminal man, and scaring an old lady today,  would have knocked the shit out of you so hard you would be back in diapers.  If  I am wrong about your mom,  if.  IF.  If I am wrong and your mom thinks it's fine for her little boy half naked to have ciggerettes, a dirty mouth, break laws and treat another human like trash,  well then son, you need me more than you will ever know, and I'm sorry that your mom wants to be your friend more than she wants you to be a good person.  Just remember..   We are a world wide network,  we are trained,  you wont ever know who is watching.  So don't be a little shit.  m'kay?

Love Always !

PEACH OUT

I will cut a bitch

DON'T   TOUCH   MY   DAMN   PIE ! 

I make stellar deserts, cakes, chocolates, candies, cookies, pies.  I'm really awesome.  I make them for people who need a pick me up.  I make them for birthdays, favors and gifts.

Sometimes I make a cake or pie for no special reason other than the wonderful smell and the fact I know someone will smile when I offer them a piece ( or 2).

One of the best parts of making pies, is sharing them.  I love to share my pies.  I will share an entire pie, not even keeping a slice for myself.  It's easy for me to make a pie, maybe not so easy for them.

However.   I will not have anyone  break into my house and steal my pie or even a piece of it.  I will stab them with a batter beater, or shoot them with a deadly spit ball fired at lightening speed.  

Seriously,  I will make pies if I have ingredients and time and skill,  and I will give them to family, friends, strangers and give the whole pie or the last slice.  But don't fucking tell me who get's my pie.  

If you can see the logic behind the above Pie story.  I hope with all my heart you understand exactly what is happening in our country.

You work for the money to buy the ingredients,   you work to bake the pie, and then, in front of your face, a stranger will walk in and take then entire damn pie.

It could be a murderer or a drug dealer, or a construction worker turned rouge burglar since jobs are short, and frankly just walking in my house and taking the pie without permission is a helluva lot easier than  carrying a kabillion tons of shingles up and down a ladder in the blazing sun.  Stealing the pie so much easier.

So we change the law so that it's no longer illegal to break and enter if you are only burgling pies. Because honestly everyone,  everyone deserves a pie,  what kind of monster thinks that they deserve a pie and someone else doesn't?   My god think of the children who have no pie.  it's in the damn constitution,  equal pie for everyone.  ( except for the bitch who made it)...

I'm too tired to fight, and can't stand the constant going without once my pies are stolen.  It's hard work,  I mean it costs money for the ingredients so we have to work, and then I have to shop, oh how I hate walmart.  Then making and cooking the pie, and the dishes oi vay!  I hate dishes.   Plus I have been making all these pies and all these people are taking them since it's legal and they deserve pies so my family hasn't actually gotten to eat a pie in months.  It seems like everyone has pie all the time, except us, no matter how many I bake.

Eventually all the other pie makers will become unhappy that they forgot what pie tastes like even if they bake 15 a day...  So slowly, one by one..  We each stop making pies.

OMG it's so awesome.   Since we stopped making pies,  I have been able to walk in and just take a pie from a stranger.  It's so awesome, so easy, and costs nothing.   WHY THE HELL HAVE I BEEN BAKING ALL THESE PIES FOR YEARS..

I was so stupid, I will never make a pie again, making pies is for pie suckers !  hahahah.  suckers...

( I hope they don't all wise up and stop,  but they probably will, because they are evil and don't care about all of us that have a right to a pie...   but I'm sure the Government will make sure we all get out pies from somewhere,  and it won't cost anyone anything.

it's like pie- fucking- magic....   free pie fucking magic.

Awesome.  I'm sure this will work out just fine.

xoxo
PEACH OUT

Being smoking hot, and married.

Well well somebody is going to get lucky!


So me and my tolerant hubs stop in the local joint and grab a bowl of tepid egg drop.. blah whatever.
They give me a fortune cookie and half assedly I barely even care about opening it.  I'm that defeated.


The past few years I have noticed that fortune cookies don't really give you a fortune anymore, they just give you some  blah blah quote shit.  That's not a fortune that's a freaking phrase, quote or saying.

Also I don't want you giving those damn "lucky numbers"  because they don't have a lottery in this state so just quit reminding me I wont get a fortune and I can't even take a stab at it with a lotto ticket.


The air was sucked out of my lungs and my eyes about popped out of my head  when I saw this !

I know everyone has been hurting with the economy, but seriously I thought my ramen noodle suffrage was over when I got that Masters degree...   No one ever warned me that a major in Beer Pong wasn't all that employable.   So this is it, this is that moment,  WE ARE SO LUCKY !!!

I show it to my husband...

His eyes get huge, really huge, and he spits out his wanton and looks at me and says,

"OH SHIT I'M GOING TO DIE!"

Seeing the fear in his eyes and the terror in his voice,  I had to quickly redirect him, like any good wife would.  I had to save MY MAN !

I threw my non existent pride under the bus to break the tension ( like always ).

I looked him in the eye, waived the fortune cookie in front of his face, and then watched his eyes follow the fortune cookie down my cleavage and under the table in probably the sexiest move I have pulled off since the old tying the cherry stem in a knot with my tongue trick back in the day. which I am sure looks so much cooler in my memory since I was drunk

Then, channeling my best, "when Harry met Sally" spirit, I went for the Oscar.

I grabbed the table with both hands looked him in the eyes and quietly started breathing a little harder, and moaning, but just for a second.. because we've been married so long foreplay isn't something we dedicate a lot of time to,  I started alternating the "oh yeah's" and "mmm baby"  with each round getting louder.

At first he looked like he was trying to figure out if he should call 911.   Which if you know me, is pretty much the "go to" first step.  You just never know if I am an going to start flopping on the floor like a a salmon   flung out of stream by a bear.  

I had to dig deep and bring more sexy..   so I brought a little throaty purr and with a sexy flick of the hair looked him in they eyes to make double sure he knew the jig and would get it.

He took his eyes off of me, and was looking behind me like Dr Who was on or something and so I turned my purr into a growl.  

It was at that moment the sweet non english speaking lady that works there came from behind me with a glass of water,  put her hand on my shoulder,  motioned with her hands, the universal sign for choking, followed with the universal sign of drink water.

Which I followed with the universal sign of,  "oh yeah I'm totally freaking choking thanks so much for this water. cough cough.

Which my husband followed with the universal sign of,  ROARING LAUGHTER that made the windows shake.

My job was done...   He had totally forgotten that seconds before he was in fear for his life, 

We got in the car- 

him:  giggle giggle

me:  giggle giggle

him:  shakes his head giggle giggle

me: did you get it ?

him: giggle giggle,   get what?

me:  the fortune duh!

him:  what are you talking about?

me:  the fortune?  me COMING into a fortune...  duh....

him: the spelling is different that's not what it meant.

me: wow. so seriously, you didn't get it?

him:  you must be so embarrassed...

Oh yeah people clearly I am still smoking hot. 

 Don't hate me because I'm this sexy.

 Cause I am fixing to be rich bitches!

xo PEACH OUT

Apocalypse How?

This was originally posted 2/2/11 by me, the artwork and concept is mine, yes it's sad that I am proud of this  Also, I really really hope I am right about this one.

A lot of people are freaking smooth out because of the Mayan Calendar.  So I used my Government Experience to come up with a more feasible explanation of what happened.











That's the  mystery behind they Mayan Calendar. Now you know.

.

XO

PEACH OUT

Your kind of event !

This conversation  took place between me and my husband while he was at work this morning on chat.   There was a story on the midday news about an "event" coming up, and 2 people were there representing the event and giving information about it.  It so happens that my husband enjoys these types of events but has NOT been to one in the over 15 years we have been married because he had the common sense to completely avoid letting me be aware of this until I had invested way too much time and gained too much weight to go back in the dating pool.   The names and places of the event have been changed to protect the creepy people that may or may not be innocent... allegedly.

Peach- it was just on the news the local dude, I guess it lasts 24 hours straight and they camp out??? seriously?? anyway the 2 guys on totally look like text book pedophiles, I'm sure they are super skilled at social settings, anyway it kicks off with a free pic nic & food at noon on "insert date", then they start " insert activity" at 1pm, then the continuously "insert activity"t until 1pm on sunday, they are encouraging families to come out, they will have "insert 3 kinds of modern and not modern technology", "insert awards" for kids to make contact, and "other stuff" whatever it's called it took me a minute to figure out they weren't profiling serial killers. here's the site they gave "insert website" and I could only write down 1 guys phone number fast enough "insert guy who gave his personal cell phone on the news "it's in "insert town"

Droid- yeah, we can go check it out if you want. Unless its a big "insert word that implies that this event could be bigger" event it will be fairly boring....I have been in many "insert event" as an " insert term for person who spent time at these". I even had a pic of me and Pat Sherrill at one of the events.lol

*** If you don't know who Pat Sherril is, but have used the term "going postal" at this point I will wait while you go and google Pat Sherril because you need to understand that there is a picture of my husband WITH this person????"

Peach- oh we totally need to find that picture because that is probably the ONLY thing that would make those people less creepy

Droid- Well It had pat standingin front of one of the emergency op vans...

Peach - but yes we should go, it does sound like fun, and it would be cool for you and "the prince" to do/see, plus we really don't get out and I will assume that it's free... and they probably have candy in their pockets or vans

Droid- black and white thing.. might be in that red photo albmun or something somewhere

Peach - their rape vans

Droid- oh it will be free, trust me, they WANT the public to see it, and hopefully get some new meat interested in "insert hobby/obsession"

Peach- yeah you said meat,

Peach-  ok well I guess we will go, I've never been, I'm up to trying new things, that don't involve me or my kid getting murdered.  Do you think the Prince is too old to wear a leash?

Peach-  I think I will dress like a cop just in case  or do you think that would make people less or more likely to kill/injure/kidnap me?

Peach-  not sexy cop, like in a mini skirt and boobs out and high heels, but like a manly cop, with a bullet proof vest so you can't even see my boobs cause they are mashed down. Never mind that sounds really uncomfortable and if I am uncomfortable I wont have a good time no matter how awesome and friendly these people who avoid all human contact are.  Do you think that's why some cops seems grumpy?

Peach-  Never mind the cop thing, " the prince"  is a green belt now so I wont worry about the leash plus we had that gps chip implanted in him when he became a tween anyway.   Plus it will probably be really hot out, so I might wear something like the thing Princess Leia wore when she was chained to Jabba the hut.  WAIT  I have it, you wear the Princess Leia slave bikini thing and I will go as Jabba the hut and you can be chained to me, that way you will be like bait and I can eat all the free food they have there.  That's the plan ok?

Peach- I thought about I will pack us a lunch their food probably has ruffies in it.  That would totally suck if we got ruffied and then " the prince" had to drive us home because he still has a couple years before he can get a license and he nearly drove into the house on the riding lawn mower this weekend,  how does that happen?  I mean he has 2.5 acres to drive around the house is not in the way.  So yeah he's totally not driving us, but I don't want to pack a lunch, so here's the deal, YOU don't eat there, I will, because honestly I don't care what you do if I am ruffied as long as you don't sell me to anyone or something, but since I will be dressed like Jabba the hut I will probably be good.

Peach-  do you think we can rent one of those scooter things?  I mean if I get ruffied it would probably be better to have a scooter so you could just drive me around rather than drag me since you will be dressed in a bikini like Princess Leia.

Peach-  ok so we will go to this thing,  we know what we are wearing, who is eating, transportation,  it's all set,  do you realize how hot our UPS guy is?  Seriously?  that guys is flat out smokin' hot,  he just came by but we didn't get anything he was on the wrong road which is his code for,  " hey baby want some afternoon UPS guy?" and I was like oh yeah you know it,  then I told him I would be all ruffied up after this event, and he gave me that look and said he would be back,  even if I have to send something to myself.  Are you even listening to me?  WTH are you doing?

Droid-  yeah baby I'm listening,  sounds good looking forward to it,  I'm eating a Beef Stew MRE for lunch, it's pretty good.

Peach-  MRE?  uhm your a computer guy in a downtown complex with 5 restaurants within walking distance?   I have to go. I think the cat did bath salts it's trying to eat the stairs, which I guess to a cat on bath salts looks like a human face.

Have a great week...

xo
PEACH OUT

A heartfelt letter from a sweet little old lady.

enjoy your day,

xo
PEACH OUT

Talking Dog 4 Sale

DOG FOR SALE . . .

A guy is driving around the back woods of Montana and he sees a sign in front of a broken down shanty-style house: 'Talking Dog For Sale 'He rings the bell and the owner appears and tells him the dog is in the backyard.

The guy goes into the backyard and sees a nice looking Labrador retriever sitting there.

'You talk?' he asks.

'Yep,' the Lab replies.

After the guy recovers from the shock of hearing a dog talk, he says 'So, what's your story?'

The Lab looks up and says, 'Well, I discovered that I could talk when I was pretty young. I wanted to help the government, so I told the CIA.

In no time at all they had me jetting from country to country, sitting in rooms with spies and world leaders, because no one figured a dog would be eavesdropping.'

'I was one of their most valuable spies for eight years running...

But the jetting around really tired me out, and I knew I wasn't getting any younger so I decided to settle down. I signed up for a job at the airport to do some undercover security, wandering near suspicious characters and listening in.

I uncovered some incredible dealings and was awarded a batch of medals.'

'I got married, had a mess of puppies, and now I'm just retired.'

The guy is amazed. He goes back in and asks the owner what he wants for the dog.

'Ten dollars,' the guy says.

'Ten dollars? This dog is amazing! Why on earth are you selling him so cheap?'

'Because he's a LIAR. He's never been out of the yard'

and on the 8th day he created idiots.

A Lawyer help the Government understand history...

Part of rebuilding New Orleans caused residents often to be challenged with the task of tracing home titles back potentially hundreds of years. With a community rich with history stretching back over two centuries, houses have been passed along through generations of family, sometimes making it quite difficult to establish ownership. Here's a great letter an attorney wrote to the FHA on behalf of a client:

You have to love this lawyer...

A New Orleans lawyer sought an FHA loan for a client. He was told the loan would be granted if he could prove satisfactory title to a parcel of property being offered as collateral. The title to the property dated back to 1803, which took the lawyer three months to track down. After sending the information to the FHA, he received the following reply:

(Actual reply from FHA):

"Upon review of your letter adjoining your client's loan application, we note the request is supported by an Abstract of Title. While we compliment the able manner in which you have prepared and presented the application, we must point out you have only cleared title to the proposed collateral property back to 1803. Before final approval can be accorded, it will be necessary to clear the title back to its origin."

Annoyed, the lawyer responded as follows:

(Actual response):
"Your letter regarding title in Case No.189156 has been received. I note you wish to have title extended further than the 206 years covered by the present application.
I was unaware any educated person in this country, particularly those working in the property area, would not know Louisiana was purchased by the United States from France in 1803, the year of origin identified in our application. For the edification of uninformed FHA bureaucrats, the title to the land prior to U.S. ownership was obtained from France, which had acquired it by Right of Conquest from Spain. The land came into the possession of Spain by Right of Discovery made in the year 1492 by a sea captain named Christopher Columbus, who had been granted the privilege of seeking a new route to India by the Spanish monarch, Queen Isabella.
The good Queen Isabella, being a pious woman and almost as careful about titles as the FHA, took the precaution of securing the blessing of the Pope before she sold her jewels to finance Columbus's expedition. Now the Pope, as I'm sure you may know, is the emissary of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, and God, it is commonly accepted, created this world. Therefore, I believe it is safe to presume God also made the part of the world called Louisiana. God; therefore, would be the owner of origin and His origins date back to before the beginning of time, the world as we know it, and the FHA. I hope you find God's original claim to be satisfactory. Now, may we have our loan?"
The loan was immediately approved. 

Are you shitting me?

Have you ever wondered who uttered the phrase, "You gotta' be shittin me" the very first time?

Well, it just so happens to have originated through the Father of Our country, way back when George Washington was crossing the Delaware river with his troops.

There were 33 (remember this number) in Washington's boat. It was
Extremely dark and storming furiously and the water was tossing them about.

Finally, Washington grabbed Corporal Cox and stationed him at the front of the boat with a lantern. He ordered him to keep swinging it, so they could see where they were heading.

Corporal Cox, through driving rain and cold, continued swinging the lantern back and forth, back and forth.

Then a big gust of wind and a wave hit and threw Corporal Cox and his lantern into the Delaware. Washington and his troops searched for nearly an hour trying to find Corporal Cox, but to no avail. All of them felt terrible, for the Corporal had been one of their favorites.

Sometime later, Washington and his troops landed on the other side, wet and totally exhausted. He rallied the troops and told them that they must go on.

Another hour later, one of his men said, 'General, I see lights ahead.'
They trudged toward the lights and came upon a huge house.

What they didn't know was that this was a house of ill repute, hidden in the forest to serve all who came.

General Washington pounded on the door, his men crowding around him.

The door swung open, and much to his surprise stood a beautiful woman.

A huge smile came across her face to see so many men standing there.

Washington was the first to speak, 'Madam, I am General George Washington and these are my men. We are tired, wet, exhausted, and desperately need warmth and comfort.'

Again, the Madam looked at all the men standing there, and with a broad smile on her face, said, 'Well, General, you have come to the right place.
We can surely give you warmth and comfort. How many men do you have?'

Washington replied, 'Well, Madam, there are 32 of us without Cox.’

And the Madam said, 'You gotta be shittin me"

Don't act like you don't know

To say this Peach is a feeling a tad bit fed up, well that would be like saying the Titanic took on a little water.


Sometimes you invest so much time in trying your damndest to make those you love happy, healthy or even just not biting your damn head off for breathing you forget that you are the HBIC. ( That's head bitch in charge for those playing along at home)


Even if you are juggling Eightyseventykabillion and 53 balls in the air for like 3 decades if you gently ask or hint, or think that the OBVIOUS  begging for someone else to simply pick one of those balls up and throw it back into circulation for you it appears that's way too much to ask, so you don't.  Well then 1 day you just snap and start running naked thru the local mall throwing waffle cones at old people speed walking.  Or you can go ahead, take a deep breath, remember who you really are, and that you have been juggling all those balls since you could walk and that the world can line up and take turns kissing your ass.




Or you can make it simple and just print this out and staple it to your forehead.

I find it works better when you ball it up in your fist and smack the shit out of them.

You are welcome..

xo

PEACH OUT

living while waiting....

For a very long time, I have had to live while waiting for the other shoe to drop.

I say living but it's really just existing with spurts of me faking living when I can muster the strength to push the elephant in the room to the back of my mind.

When someone you love with all of your soul makes horrible choices, you have to make a choice.

I made a choice to love from a distance, allow that person to do things at their will, wherever they wanted. The condition. I would not support that person, their activities or their train of thought, not emotionally and definitely not financially.

Of course that comes with what is often emotionally a higher consequence for me, a soul eating mind boggling, hellish existence.  Torn when the phone doesn't ring.  Then furious and emotional and again torn when it does.  There is no happy medium there is no mutual enjoyment of life and it's experiences.  It is what it is.  An inner ring of hell.

It's odd how the human brain learns to process things that are so completely outrageous and unacceptable if they happen enough.  Literally the brain removes any logic to save the heart.  It's like the brain knows if one more little piece of your soul falls to the floor you will collapse with all breath gone and fade away.

Things you never in your life thought you would hear,  become somewhat expected.  Disappointing? Well of course.  Fear inducing, almost every time.   Seeing red with angry,  your brain somehow melts it to where a simple wash of un-easy gently rolls off your back.

You can't fix it, they don't want to be fixed, no matter how absolutely insane and ludicrous the situation you can not even point out how completely illogical the situation is, let alone offer solutions.  There are no less than 683 million reasons why all of your ideas are completely stupid.

You learn to focus not on the highs, not on the lows,  not on the shocking news,  but only on the fact that you love that person.   You make sure whatever you say wont offend them, or their choices, and you make double damn sure that person knows you love them, you love them deeply, you love them completely, you love them from your soul.  You only want the best for them, safety for them, happiness for them.

You see no one really has the same idea of happiness..  It took me 43 years to realize that.  Another thing this person taught me.  Just because it's " the normal" thing that you are sure would make anyone happy, happy and delighted and feeling so very lucky,   that can seem like hell on earth to someone with a completely different view of happy.  Their view of happy would be most peoples view of hell on earth.  So who am I to attempt to enforce my cookie cutter ideal of happy on anyone, any adult on the planet.  Simply put, I am no one.  I am just a daughter, a wife, a sister, a mother, an aunt, a friend.

I am made up as we all our of a unique cocktail of our childhoods, our teachers, our elders, our peers, our own life lessons, co workers, books we have read, shows we have seen.  Just a big casserole of a human being trying to find "happy".  When I achieved happy I assumed that would be wonderful,  more than wonderful, and that in turn everyone would become happy, everyone would see how hard work brings happy, how loving each other brings happy,  how walking the right road, singing your own theme song, and smiling would obviously land you in happy.

I had a really hard time the past 20 years trying to shove people into the happy, I tried to drag them into happy, push them in, beg them, lure them,  slide shows of happy,  hand made cards, long emails, song dedications, heart felt talks and hugs, I could surely get them to happy, and then once they saw happy they would be like DUH clearly I want happy too !  

I was wrong, their happy was so different than mine or most of societies so I had to do one of the hardest things on the planet and accept they would not be in my happy with me.  Maybe they were taking a different route, and we would meet up in happy.  Maybe their happy just meant more pit stops, more experiences, different criteria,  maybe  their happy would never lead to the same location as my happy, not even in the same area and I could never see them from my happy, what would I do then?

So then slowly you say, well they aren't in my happy or headed that way,  but their happy could be really good for them, and so I will work on being happy for them in their happy.  little crumbles of your heart fall, and your soul tears a little more.  But in the end all you really want is for them to be happy, even if it's not your happy.  So you convince yourself not to be such as narrow minded selfish ass who demands everyone's happiness is within arms reach of your happiness.  Don't be such an idiot to think we are all alike, what a boring world that would be right?  Keep telling yourself that, it makes it easier and you can persevere your heart, mind and soul a little more.  Plus it does make them happy that you are happy for them in their happiness.  It is painful but it's good for them and for the relationship.


Then a call comes, it's not happy call, you are prepared because when this disease spins round and round the calls come in 2 forms and 2 forms ONLY.  On top of the world best thing ever, everything is beyond amazing.  The next call could be in a week, or within 20 minutes of the first call  the world is ending, completely ending, there is no hope, there is no escape, there is nothing that can make it better, you can only listen, and try not to cry and remember to love, offer helpful solutions, even offer to make arrangements or calls even though miles separate you the internet can allow you to help, you do what you can and it's usually for nothing,  it never works out, but you make damn sure they know you love them, you love them so much you can't breath when they are in pain.

The calls- you see the caller id, it's a number from a state that you don't know, ever. But you know who is on the other end, you don't know what kind of call it will be, but you take deep breaths and you prepare to play the roulette game that is literally their life.  What kind of call, what kind of incredibly fantastic nearly ludicrousness words of grandeur  or is it going to be the gut wrenching heart breaking sobbing pleads for help.  You don't know, but you answer the phone, inviting the insanity, the roller coaster of love and hate and pain into the mundane yet happy that you are attempting to convince yourself of daily.


Nothing surprises you now.  Literally,  as long as it's their voice on the end you are prepared.  Simply because it's the common procedure.  You've learned to stop yelling, begging, urging, and just learned to focus on conveying the fact that you love the elephant in the room, and you love that elephant when your eyes open in the morning, and you love that elephant when your eyes wont close at night without a tear quietly running down your cheek.  No one see's your tear. No one hears your cry and no one, no one on the planet can understand why this elephant is needed so deeply and is somehow comforting.


Then as you are in your happiness on the back porch wind blowing you sit with your little family, cross legged looking at your happiness, eating sandwiches and thinking how peaceful and loving and happy this all is.  The phone rings.

The elephant steps outside.  With 1 sentence the elephant sits on your chest, takes your breath, and overcomes your world as it's sucked away by the crushing.  But sometime when that elephant climbs on your it compartmentalization your body,  the soul, the heart, the brain, are functioning separately.  This is good for you, it allows you to attempt to speak in a sane, calm, tone, using gentle words, no blame, just love.  The call ends, with mutual " I love you's"

The happiness is gone for them. Now faced with a very adult matter that simply can't be "worked away".

You don't remember the rest of the happy picnic,  the people in your happiness with you do not have a conversation with you in regards to it.  You move on as you do after every call.   But something is wrong.  Very wrong

You can't tell anyone, yet you don't cry, you don't sob, you don't fall to the floor throwing up, you don't steal a car and get to the elephant just to hold them.

What the hell is wrong with you.  Why are you not responding like a human,  why not like all the times you had hard news before.  You haven't fallen apart yet.   Will you fall apart?  Will this change your ability to move forward?  Will this person now want back in your happy?  If this person comes back can you handle it, can the happy team handle it,  what will be the cost of the elephant if you don't?  What will be the cost of happy if you do.  

I know the other shoe will fall, It has to, there is just no way to process this without dying more inside,   maybe I am out of soul, heart, tears..  Maybe I have been cried out, maybe I am stronger, maybe my brain is trying to protect me.

I am very much not ok.  Mostly because I feel ok,  there is no way I should feel ok.  Why am I not shaking sitting in the shower crying and sobbing and vomiting like I have done so many times before when the not happy, no ok news came in.

I'm not even shaking.

The shoe will drop, I hope, I beg, I have the strength, the knowledge, the wisdom, the compassion, the ability, the life experience, balanced with the brain, the heart and soul, to take this journey.  To share my happy,  to understand their happy, to make a new happy, but most of all, to convey they undying, deepest of love and the basic humanity to make their happy the best happy I can make it.

          photo credit to www.myniceprofile.com/broke-heart

please find your happy, please let everyone you know how much you love them, even if their happy is so completely different than your happy.


XO
PEACH OUT.