Here on the frontier, There are falling leaves, Although my neighbors are all barbarions…And you? You are a thousand miles away. There are always two cups on my table.

Archive for the ‘Problems’ Category

A Man’s Life

My husband is away.

Doing family business. Kind of heroic stuff. So while I sit home and do my small tasks, go to work, annoy the children, and worry my face into a topographical map. He took matters into his own hands.

He sat in the American Embassy for 8 hours to update his passport in one day at a cost of well….don’t ask.

He bought a ticket out of the country. Remembered his blackberry and my laptop and the boy is gone.

So what is a man’s life anyway.

I’m sitting at his desk. As usual it’s a mess. Little papers with names and numbers, messages scrawled all over it. A filing system I bought him for Father’s day sits unused right next to the monitor. Post it notes stuck to the wall!

Hand sanitizer, a mug one of the kids made eons ago filled with maybe 50 pens, most that don’t work, a calculator. His work jacket sits on the back of the chair smelling of trap grease..and him.

My dog Cujo’s cage sits right by his desk with his jar of treats right on the desk. He hates Cujo.

At least he always says he hates Cujo..

My desk is different.

I dust it.

I have a total of 2 pens and a legal pad.

There’s face cream and an eyebrow tweezers.

A jar of Exedrin and vitamin water.

3 pictures of the children.

My laptop.

Zyrtec.

That’s it.

This isn’t what I thought marriage would be like when I was a little girl running around with a pillow case on my head playing ” getting married”.

I never played “marry” with my girlfriends and said “Let’s pretend we have no money, our houses are too small, our children have problems , our husbands never pick up their dirty clothes and don’t even know how to load a dishwasher…yeah let’s do that!!!”

I never thought “marry” would be a messy desk in my ultra clean home, and a stinky jacket on the back of the chair and dust bunnies underneath the desk that look like shag carpeting in the worst color ever.

When I played “Marry” as a little girl I never fleshed out the guy in the fairytale, he was always an obediant shadow person.. you know a silent partner. I don’t think I even envisioned the guy living in the same house. He just brought a diamond ring and that was about it for his part. Ha!

I never imagined the silent partner would turn out to be my  hero.

This is gmom,

peace out.

 

Advertisements

Sex Offender Registry: Check Out Your Neighborhood Today!

One should feel safe in their own neighborhood, wouldn’t you agree?

 In my zip code there are 157 registered sex offenders.

 People (if you can call them that), that have raped children, hurt them

 sexually and get their nuts off on trading pictures of naked children. 

The second thing that bugs me are the innocent parents who stupidly put their children out on nthe sidewalk hailing down cars to buy a cup of lemonade.

I stopped today by a little girl to buy a cup.

 I never got out of my car. She reached in the car window to hand me the cup.

I held back the the money so she had to reach in again.

I asked her, “If I wanted to know your name, or how old you were or where you lived, what would you say?”

“Well I live right here at 34 Ivy Drive, I’m 8 years old and my name is Emily.”

You’re a smart girl. Where’s your mama.

I went to the door.

I tried as gently as possible to talk with the mom.  This neighborhood just isn’t safe for her child to be on the street like that.

“Oh I am watching her from the window.”

Lady, while you’re watching from the window. I’ve hauled her into my car.

Think about it.

I left with a loud “Who in the hell do your think you are!!!” Ringing behind me.

157 registered sexual offenders in my zipcode.

How many in yours?

This is gmom,

peace out.

We Are Family Like That

When my brother’s fatal prognosis was told to our family. We were grouped together surrounding his wife. Hands all around her. On shoulders. On knees. Supporting and holding.

We are family like that. We hold each other up.

We listened intently to everything the doctor was saying not noticing my mother walking away. My elder sister noticed first.

Where is Mom?

We went to the hospital hallway and saw my mother running down the hospital hallway.  For myself, I had a moment of wanting to let her go. She had the right idea. Run Mom Run. But there was no where to run to. We went after her. Like the Keystone cops. We caught her, crying and struggling, out of control. We surrounded her. Someone brought a chair.

It’s okay mom, it’s okay,it’s going to be okay…

We put hands all around her. Held her. Supported her.  All of us, Including my sister in law.

We are family like that.

Now I understand why she ran.

But there really is no running from life.

These 5 revitalizing days alone at the beach have reminded me, that I am not alone in my struggles.  I have hands all around me. Holding me. Supporting me.

We are family like that.

Remembering Jeff: Like A Prayer

This is how I remember it.

This is how it was.

——————————————————–

It’s called a secondary cancer.

A migratory zone.

Where the cells go to garden.

The brain.

We  sat in the waiting room praying for him.  Losing hope as the hours passed,

as the 7 hour surgery turned into 22.

Finally, the surgeon came out and told us what we already knew.

It was not good.

But for now he was in recovery.

My sisters and I stayed at the hospital and waited for a chance to visit him, for the chance to see that he yet existed and was still amongst us.

At some point in the night the nurses removed the breathing tube.

He spoke in a broken record, PeeWee Herman voice not his own.. “tumor tumor tumor”.

“Tumor’s all gone, honey, tumor is gone.”

I didn’t know if he heard or understood me as he continued his senseless mutterings.

Suddenly, he turned towards me and with  eyes unfocused and snapping left-right, left-right said

“Sing sing sing sing”.

So I sang,

to my brother.

““““““““““““““““““““`

Life is a mystery, everyone must stand alone.
I hear you call my name and it feels like
Home.

When you call my name, it’s like a little
Prayer. I’m down on my knees, I wanna take you
there. In the midnight hour, I can feel your
Power. Just like a prayer, you know I’ll take you there

 

The hard part wasn’t his leaving.

The hard part was being left.

He stayed long enough to say goodbye.

This is gmom,

peace out.

The Annapolis Date And The Van-With-No-Reverse

Who drives a van with no reverse???? 

No one in their right mind maybe?

No reverse, that means no backy- uppy.

What the heck? How can the van have no reverse???

Imagine that said in a very loud voice, mine to my mild-mannered husband.

Tell me dear, how long has this piece of crap van not had a functioning reverse?

Weeks??? This is unacceptable. (That’s me being patronizing).

We were in Annapolis on a date. Yes kids even after 30 years of marriage this grandma and grandpa go on dates. That’s all you need to know.

We were going to walk along the waterfront after dropping an oil drum at a restaurant. It was 10 p.m. I was driving the van which had about 8  (200 gallon) empty drums behind the seats. I had pulled in to a parking spot behind the restaurant when my husband started shouting, “Don’t park head in, don’t park head in!!!”

WHY???

“There’s no reverse!!!!”

WHAT????? No Reverse???? Honey that is just messed up….

Too late, I was parked. Husband got out and had to push while I gunned the engine of the van-from-hell to try to force some backward movement. We need help. Some guys walking by came over and put their weight with my husband’s and the van was pushed out of the parking spot.

I climbed into the passenger seat muttering, I am not driving this lousy piece of….

We pulled to an alley behind the restaurant and parked on the street. Husband unloads the drums. It was dark and vacant back there. I kept my eyes open for trouble from the relative safety of the van-with-no-reverse.

“I’ll be right back.” and husband jogs off. What? Where is he going? Leaving me in this dark alley in this good for nothing van! I was outraged.   Until the police car pulled up alongside the van. Great!

I started to get out of the van until the cop shining a flashlight in my face yelled “Stay in your car!”

Okay fine, you don’t have to yell.

Now my heart is pounding in my chest. I am sitting in a dark van with several very large oil drums in it. I have a rag tied around my head.  It’s only been 5 days since Osama was killed, and Annapolis, if you don’t know is neighbor to DC. The security is tight.

I figure I have 2 maybe 3 minutes before the Cavalry shows up and my face is on the pavement. I’m scanning the van to think could Bart or my husband have any weapons on board that I need to declare to the cops  but I don’t dare move, especially not to look for a weapon. No that will definitely raise the ire of the cop watching me and probably get me shot. No I’ll just sit quiet-like and curse my husband for running off and leaving me here.

Then just as suddenly the back of the van flies open and it’s husband grabbing out another drum and talking a mile a minute.

“They need another drum, they are doing a bang up business, saw 2300 people in the last 2 days…” he doesn’t see the cop.

The police car rolls forward as my husband is carrying the clearly empty drum off the van. The cop slowly drives off. I want to cry.

Husband gets into the van. “Now we can take that walk on the waterfront! Romantic!” He rubs his hands together and smiles like a kid.

Take me home.

“What???”

Just take me home.

“I don’t understand you.”

You just ran off and left me here. There was a cop who yelled at me to stay in the van. He thought I was a terrorist or something.

“You’re fine, there’s no cop.”

There was! Now take me home.

“Try to do something nice for you…”

Just drive. Oh and first thing tomorrow this ‘gadawfulpiecacrap’ better be at the mechanics!

No reverse! Give me a break!

“Wow! That’s nice talk dear.”

I can laugh about it now. But at the time? I was fit to be tied. No reverse…who drives a car with no reverse……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Don’t Make Me Call Donald Trump!

If the white house news reports and the subsequent  inconsistencies regarding the raid on Osama Bin Laden‘s compound haven’t caught your attention then maybe you’ve just been too busy with your own life to follow it.

I’m going to link you here to The Roycroft Report which is not fully comprehensive but does offer a nice even handed overview from a swell guy.    http://jroycroft.wordpress.com/2011/05/04/obama-cant-get-the-bin-laden-story-straight/

Here’s my take.

People who have nothing to hide, hide nothing.

Did anyone wonder why it took a “carnival barker” like Donald Trump to make enough noise to finally get the president to choke up a birth certificate?

I laughed at Trump. I am not laughing anymore.

I’m thinking maybe Trump who, oh yeah, lives a whole lot more comfortable then gmom, might know something I don’t.

““““““““““““““““““““““““

So we don’t get to see pictures of the raid on Osama Bin Laden’s compound in Pakistan  cause it might be inflammatory to Muslim extremists.

What about us?

All the raid news information is coming straight from the white house. They are the sole source.

They have the pictures and the sound reel and still can’t get the story straight?

This does not make sense.

Where is Donald Trump when you need him.

Does it take a carnival barker to get us the answers we have a right to?

May God keep you safe.

This is gmom,

peace out.

Osama Bin Laden/Smile For The Camera

US-President Obama.

Image via Wikipedia

I generally don’t write any political post but today I must.

My daughter was living in New York City on 9/11. She saw first hand the devastation.

I remember calling her that morning over and over and not being able to reach her.

My baby was okay.

So many were not.

Today, we are told that the master mind of those attacks has been killed by Navy Seal American forces.

He was shot in the head and dropped in the ocean.

How convenient.

Did our president think we who survived 9/11 might not want to see the proof of the kill???

We are Americans! We hang our hunts on the wall. We measure them!

The worst terrorist in existence and we don’t merit to see him dead????

He killed over 3000 Americans!

One Polaroid maybe?

The president said there were pictures.

I want to see them.

They dumped his body in the ocean? Well okay then. No possibility of pictures after that is there.

Somewhere it said there was DNA evidence it was him.

Where are “they” getting DNA from and comparing it to what DNA?

He was never in jail.

But somewhere we had the DNA of someone we couldn’t catch. He had  only been seen on Al Jazeera news reels but had never been imprisoned in the United States.

How do we know that after being chased through the hills for years Osama, in crappy health, he went to his family, people who are tremendously wealthy, and had the remainder of his life secured in peace with a buy off, and  a promise to never show his face again? To never speak out in public again?

No pictures? Why? Cause he not dead maybe?

Too much smoke and mirrors here.

It’s just too glaring an omission.

But in the end…does it matter anyway…. if it wasn’t him then it wasn’t.

If it was, there will be another to take his place.

May God have mercy on us and keep us safe from evil.

This is gmom.

Tag Cloud