tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38794577603042379872024-02-20T14:17:40.497-07:00Sober, Chronic, FABULOUSI do a lot of bitching here because the older I get, the stupider people in general seem to get. But I also believe that laughter is the hemorrhoid cream of the soul. So, I try to find humor in my life daily. I also believe that problems are mostly a matter of perception. If I shift my perception, the problem either disappears, or becomes something I can live with.Lana Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03850380834970000772noreply@blogger.comBlogger92125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3879457760304237987.post-70024603877814922502011-12-13T10:44:00.000-07:002011-12-13T10:44:37.934-07:00Write on Wednesdays with Soozy Says Stuff<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Okay, so it's not due for release or anything cool like that...but it's a work in progress. From my own brain, as yet, untitled:<br />
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<i>She gingerly touched a finger to her cheekbone just below her left eye. The ice had kept some of the swelling down, but it still ached and throbbed with a pulse of its own. She didn’t dare look in the mirror. The look on Caleb’s face told her all she needed to know. </i><br />
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;">She was vaguely aware of the sliding glass door opening and closing behind her. He tried to walk softly but she knew it was him by the sound of his boots on the boards. </span></i><br />
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">He stopped beside her and just stood there for a moment, as if unsure about what to do next. She got the feeling that dealing with women in tears was not one of Chance’s strong points. So, when he simply lifted her up and slid her onto his lap and into his arms, she melted into them. He let her bury her face in his chest and just sat there with her. She could tell he wanted to say something – maybe he didn’t know what to say or maybe he just didn’t want to say the wrong thing. As always, he seemed to just know what she needed when she needed it……and just gave it to her.</span></i></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 17px;">And from my current read by an Actual Real Life Writer.....Stieg Larsson's <i>The Girl With The Dragon Tatoo:</i></span></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbNlqp3XrwSBaQoOXK1vMdCqtZiO446DxJ-v9C5TrOiFWWeCgwsPvagO4f_e1m9x4HB7mscjKn5lRgEujykaEVCj2bmvg7nz0R1rDLDlZMmMdz38cH0yNKSofwe86oMrwGIpca6yOazAI/s1600/dragon+tattoo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbNlqp3XrwSBaQoOXK1vMdCqtZiO446DxJ-v9C5TrOiFWWeCgwsPvagO4f_e1m9x4HB7mscjKn5lRgEujykaEVCj2bmvg7nz0R1rDLDlZMmMdz38cH0yNKSofwe86oMrwGIpca6yOazAI/s1600/dragon+tattoo.jpg" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 17px;"><i><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 17px;"><i>It happened every year, was almost a ritual. And this was his eighty-second birthday. When, as usual, the flower was delivered, he took off the wrapping paper and then picked up the telephone to call Detective Superintendent Morell who, when he retired, had moved to Lake Siljan in Dalarna. They were not only the same age, they had been born on the same say - which was something of an irony under the circumstances. The old policeman was sitting with his coffee, waiting, expecting the call.</i></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 17px;">I have to say, I'm having a little trouble really getting into this one. I like to read books BEFORE I watch the movie because the book is inevitably better than the movie. And I really want to see this movie...the trailers look quite interesting and Daniel Craig...well, enough said!</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 17px;">Happy Write On Wednesday everyone!</span></span></div>Lana Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03850380834970000772noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3879457760304237987.post-22103074271153192802011-12-12T06:00:00.001-07:002011-12-12T23:30:27.786-07:00I've Figured Out the MANswer!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">For no other reason I can think of besides needing some noise in the background while going about the business of my evening - cleaning, cooking, bathing children and sending them off to bed, surfing the internet for .... well let't just leave it at surfing the internet - I had the TV on Spike TV and MANswers was on.<br />
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I am simultaneously disgusted and amused and even - once in a while - laugh out loud entertained by this show. This particular evening was all about "boobage" and what can and cannot be accomplished with them.<br />
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The question of the hour was how big can the boobs be in order to be the perfect handful? According to some very, VERY scientific findings, the perfect handful of breasteses would be a C cup. Although, if those young ladies were C cups, then I must be freakin' Dolly Parton!<br />
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Also, in order to screw in a lightbulb with your knockers - should you find yourself in the dark with your hands duct taped behind your back - you would need to be a least a D cup. Whew! What a relief to know that I could handle that obstacle!<br />
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Maybe this is why the under 30 men-people are so stupid! They watch MANswers and their IQ drops at least 10 points with each answer they get!</div>Lana Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03850380834970000772noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3879457760304237987.post-10175623779224512502011-12-11T23:46:00.000-07:002011-12-11T23:46:00.526-07:00MEET ME ON MONDAY!!! YAY!! #61<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
<center><a href="http://nevergrowingold.blogspot.com/search/label/Meet%20Me%20On%20Monday"><img border="0" src="http://i1230.photobucket.com/albums/ee487/nevergrowingold/MeetMonday-1.jpg" /></a></center><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e06666;"><b style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black; color: #e06666;"><b style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">Questions:</b><br style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;" /><b style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">1. Tomorrow I'm going to _________?</b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black; color: #e06666;">Get my kiddos off to school and then bake my butt off!! The Holiday season is short, but furiously busy for me!!</span></span><br />
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</b><b style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">2. Pudding or Jello?</b></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black; color: #e06666;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black; color: #e06666;">That depends on what we are doing with the pudding or the jello. To eat, pudding - it's creamy and comforting and Butterscotch is my favorite. For wrestling, definitely Jell-O.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black; color: #e06666;"><b><br />
</b><b style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">3. What book are you currently reading?</b><b style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"> </b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black; color: #e06666;"><i>The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo</i> and <i>Bag of Bones.</i></span></span><br />
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</i></b><b style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">4. What is the first concert you went to see?</b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black; color: #e06666;">Joan Jett and the Blackhearts at Northern Montana College (now MSU-Northern). She was and still is freakin' awesome!! I dig the chicks that ROCK!</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black; color: #e06666;"><b><br />
</b><b style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">5. What is your current weather?</b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black; color: #e06666; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Cold, but not intolerable. And there's no snow yet which is kinda weird. Soon enough though, soon enough.</span></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black; color: #e06666; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Want to play along???? Follow the linky for the instructions....</span></span></span><br />
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</span></span></span></div></div><script type="text/javascript" src="http://www.simply-linked.com/listwidget.aspx?l=2f0c6bce-25b5-4d0d-a512-9dce3a5c0afb" ></script>Lana Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03850380834970000772noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3879457760304237987.post-74987308200476237542011-12-11T19:53:00.000-07:002011-12-11T19:53:35.087-07:00Christmas Party......Community Corrections Style<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e06666;">This weekend, the little dudes, my step-daughter, and I spent some time in Great Falls visiting the Former Supposed Spouse. He has been released from the State Prison and is now residing in a Transition Center. This is a much MUCH improved situation. He's happier. We're happier. All in all it's a good thing.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e06666;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e06666;">But make no mistake, this is a Secure Facility. I would have liked to have taken pictures of my children running up to get their presents, but, The Rules do not allow cell phones inside The Facility. The kids didn't care - when their dad's name was called out, the hollered and cheered and clapped and when their names were called the ran full speed to the front of the room to claim their prizes. After the presents were distributed, we went to the dining room for cookies and snacks and juice and coffee. It was nice. The FSS had purchased two football uniforms from Scheel's - one Steelers and one Vikings - for each of the dudes....</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvCPXcudjKjw6sQWKPl7rBxHZiODu4KWQMXjLikhKxiND_QyRBc18DsM35673cdt6OvrDh3srpgHIHXgjOUIIoPBRiYy0CfTlmomrOm4riqSUnsb2P0gLnCDzSnWdw2Sd_blbIMXoJlgc/s1600/Photo0358.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvCPXcudjKjw6sQWKPl7rBxHZiODu4KWQMXjLikhKxiND_QyRBc18DsM35673cdt6OvrDh3srpgHIHXgjOUIIoPBRiYy0CfTlmomrOm4riqSUnsb2P0gLnCDzSnWdw2Sd_blbIMXoJlgc/s320/Photo0358.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig9U-gxYby3xwrYXOcldVWw0gsje9Y5JwthLxU4G8ayfOiJkFH6yvzeOelstxOL7txqowQM_P585icIX35DBmbJn57b0pPW5DPWg9lwvOwMwrmLE7NJzwzU7eMPPGw6Ob9bY8rGDjlnY4/s1600/Photo0359.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig9U-gxYby3xwrYXOcldVWw0gsje9Y5JwthLxU4G8ayfOiJkFH6yvzeOelstxOL7txqowQM_P585icIX35DBmbJn57b0pPW5DPWg9lwvOwMwrmLE7NJzwzU7eMPPGw6Ob9bY8rGDjlnY4/s320/Photo0359.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e06666;">And they immediately ripped them out of the boxes and put them on over their clothes and ran amok (well, as amok as was tolerated in a Secure Facility) around the joint. They were the stars of the show. And I'm so glad they had fun.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e06666;">We also got to spend some time outside of the Secure Facility. For 12 hours at a time, we are allowed to go to up to four places so we got to do some Christmas shopping, have a nice dinner together and play in the pool at the hotel, lay around and watch t.v. and just kind of almost be a normal family again. It was nice.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e06666;">I would also like to give a great big shout-out kind of thank you to the local businesses who donated presents for the kids. They were all awesome and they were all a giant hit!</span></div>Lana Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03850380834970000772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3879457760304237987.post-39121907721959010862011-12-11T01:37:00.000-07:002011-12-11T01:37:44.889-07:00Oh yeah, And......<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;">.....I promise I will post something more positive tomorrow. It was an awesome day in the Falls with the dudes and the Girl. Yes, and the Former Supposed Spouse.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;">So yes - positive thoughts tomorrow.</span><br />
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</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;">Regardless of what Tiny Little TROLL BOY has to say!</span></div>Lana Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03850380834970000772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3879457760304237987.post-37356865021699805692011-12-11T00:55:00.001-07:002011-12-11T01:50:29.674-07:00Trolls......FUCK 'em!!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;">I love Trolls. </span><br />
<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;">They think they Bother Me. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;">They think they will Get Under My Skin and fester there like the proverbial thorn in the lion's paw. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;">They think the words they fling at me <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">ANONYMOUSLY</span></b> can somehow hurt me and make me retreat into my Bitch Cave and collapse there in a quivering heap because **GASP**</span><br />
<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;"><br />
</span></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">Someone Doesn't Like Me!!</span> </span></b></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;">(Sarcasm. That was sarcasm in case you didn't notice. How I wish there was an app for that!!)</span><br />
<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;">For those of you who don't know what a Troll is, let me define it for you....</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;">From <a href="http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=troll" target="_blank">Urbandictionary.com</a>:</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;"><br />
</span></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;">Troll: A dumbass who makes idiotic posts in message boards or newsgroups for the sole purpose of pissing people off, often lacking in intelligence. Sometimes compared to people who pass you by on the the sidewalk then grab you in inappropriate places.</span></i></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;"><br />
</span></i></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;">I guess have one of these now.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;">I find it amusing - in fact, <b>downright</b> <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">fucking</span></b> <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">hilarious</span></b>. I look forward with anticipation to see what utterly unoriginal way this ass hat is gonna try and put me in my place. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;">And much as this idiot would apparently like me to, I am NOT losing any sleep over it. I'm not angry about it - I laughed my mother-effing ASS off over the latest flame he posted.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;"><br />
</span></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999; font-size: x-large;">Bitch, PLEASE!</span></b></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;">You will not now, nor will you EVER make me feel inferior for who I am - A Damn Fine All-Fucking-American BITCH! I know I am a bitch, and yeah, probably some would even call me a whore - and that's just fucking FABULOUS! </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;">My choices, my actions, my relationships, my successes, my failures, my loves, my losses, my thoughts, my dreams, even my fears - are MINE. They make me who I am today. It's okay that you don't like me. You don't have to. That's the beauty of living in America - you can shout your opinion as loudly and as stupidly as you want. And, I can shout mine back just as fucking loudly and a helluva lot smarter than you.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;">But the one thing you will never get me to do is <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">APOLOGIZE</span></b> for who and what I am.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;">So........BRING IT, BI-OTCH! I put my on Big-Girl Panties and eat my Bitchy O's every day. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;">I can fucking take it!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;"><br />
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</div></div></div></div>Lana Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03850380834970000772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3879457760304237987.post-1090379873169973782011-12-09T15:21:00.002-07:002011-12-09T15:42:23.105-07:00Slammed by Some Very Bitter Spam!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I always get excited when I see I have comments to my posts. It makes my day a little brighter because I know that someone has taken the time to read what I have written, identify with it, and give me enough time to say something. It kinda rocks! And really, truly, makes my day.<br />
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So, imagine my surprise when I opened up my comments and found THIS drivel....<br />
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<a href="http://soberchronicfabulous.blogspot.com/2011/12/christmassy-feeling.html#comment-form">http://soberchronicfabulous.blogspot.com/2011/12/christmassy-feeling.html#comment-form</a><br />
<br />
I won't re-post it - it's a solicitation and I refuse to subject anyone else to that nonsense. Examine the link if you want. I thought it kinda funny and kinda sad at the same time.<br />
<br />
I know people - several people in fact - who put so much time and energy into being miserable that there is no room for AN-Y-THING else in their lives. It matters not what the topic of conversation might be, there is always something bad, or wrong, or evil or stupid about it. There's always a reason to avoid it because it's going to F things up.'<br />
<br />
And I feel sorry for those people. They have seriously lost the ability to be joyful about anything anymore. No one should have to live like that. And the fact that they seem to choose to - in fact revel in - walking around under a black cloud all the time just, well, it just astounds me.<br />
<br />
And then there's this guy with his rant against us spoiled, cheating, mentally unstable, irresponsible blah blah blah de effing blah American women. As an American woman, I take offense to this. And truly do feel sorry for him because what kind of Hell on Heels must have done a number on him??!<br />
<br />
So I'm inclined to leave his comment on my page, even though it is spam, and just pray for him.<br />
<br />
Do you hear me Mr. Anonymous aka John Rambo?? I'm saying a frickin' prayer for you and hope that you find your dream girl. I'm thinking us American whoers wouldn't want you either!</div>Lana Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03850380834970000772noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3879457760304237987.post-27019486887324225412011-12-08T06:00:00.001-07:002011-12-08T06:00:06.088-07:00Christmassy Feeling.....<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">These last two Chrsitmases have been exceptionally hard. The Former Supposed Spouse missed last year and will miss this year as well. Lately I have been feeling more keenly aware of his absence than ever. I'm not sure if that's just because it's coming on Christmas, or because .... I just miss him. Or maybe a combination of the two. At any rate, instead of feeling all excited and expectant and happy, I'm feeling all melancholy and I really hate that.<br />
<br />
I did manage to get something accomplished today......<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNswh1808xVTQ4PYgXL45h5fZHgZLOftghqTs03G8FROtTfpdIHU5JxbtbKi7bSxrnYdlM3YyofiwXsN8PABTbNPJWyCnysAQx2gOSbTe1qpxFrYgzA2D5RNmZJQHye82k3UNKO3RYHG8/s1600/Photo0348.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNswh1808xVTQ4PYgXL45h5fZHgZLOftghqTs03G8FROtTfpdIHU5JxbtbKi7bSxrnYdlM3YyofiwXsN8PABTbNPJWyCnysAQx2gOSbTe1qpxFrYgzA2D5RNmZJQHye82k3UNKO3RYHG8/s320/Photo0348.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crumkake - A Norwegian Christmas Treat</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
For those of you who don't know, these are one of the pain-in-the-ass Norwegian goodies that I make every year. Why do I make them if they are such a pain-in-the-ass? Well, one, because they are really Really GOOD and b) people pay me to because they are such a pain-in-the-ass. And they are really Really GOOD! And even if they are a hassle to make, they were one of the first things my grandmother taught me to make along with lefse, fattigmand, rosettes and sandbakkles. (All gigantic pains-in-the-ass to make.)<br />
<br />
It's Tradition. And tradition is important.</div>Lana Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03850380834970000772noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3879457760304237987.post-20484730730335985772011-12-07T09:00:00.000-07:002011-12-07T09:00:02.981-07:00Super Complicated & Spectacular<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I read the best quote this morning on Facebook:<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>"Women are super complicated and spectacular.....like a Rubik's cube loaded with C-4: One wrong twist, and your head gets blown off!" </i></span><br />
<br />
And, by the way, if you would like to laugh more (at yourself, other people, life in general) this chick is one funny bitch! <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Functional-Insanity/201244936603518">https://www.facebook.com/pages/Functional-Insanity/201244936603518</a><br />
<br />
Spectacular - I like that. "marked by or given to an impressive, large-scale display; dramatically daring or thrilling." Note, it doesn't say anything about a pleasant display - only that it's big and dramatic. I can do that. I like to throw things. Or slam doors. Or cupboards. Until I can elicit some kind of response and THEN let loose with all the minor annoyances that now have built up into a Great Big Shit Storm.<br />
<br />
And complicated - "composed of elaborately interconnected parts; complex. Difficult to analyze, understand or explain."<br />
<br />
Yeah, sometimes I don't even get me. A thing that bothered me yesterday, may not be a big deal today. And, the thing that was no big deal 5 minutes ago might now be the next Great Big Shit Storm.<br />
<br />
Honestly, I sometimes Do Not know how the people in my life live with me. And generally I only come to this realization AFTER the GBSS has come and gone. I have a moment to reflect and think to myself, "Wow. That was a bitchy thing to say. Perhaps I should apologize for that."<br />
<br />
And I'm really quite distracted today. I'm sitting here on the sofa with the lap-top looking out the window. It's snowing - the kind of snow that just floats down from the sky and let's you catch flakes on your tongue. The wind isn't howling for a change and it's not a lot of snow......but it's very pretty. It's ALMOST putting me in the mood to do something Christmasy.<br />
<br />
Almost.</div>Lana Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03850380834970000772noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3879457760304237987.post-7772301329676810412011-12-05T10:46:00.001-07:002011-12-05T11:17:36.188-07:00MOVE......that body!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
So, one of my favorite songs lately happens to be Nelly's "Move That Body."<br />
<div>
<br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DZ_gP_hFOss&ob=av2e">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DZ_gP_hFOss&ob=av2e</a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It's on my MP3 playlist that I listen to when I take my walk every morning. I'm sure the people in the neighborhood have decided that I'm off my rocker because I just CAN-NOT not sing along. With the headphones in. Full blast. So I can't hear myself. I can just hear them.....here comes that nut in the Steelers sweatshirt who sings out loud.....quite a sight I'm sure!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I have long resisted the idea that exercising was going to do me any good. In the past, attempts at it only caused me more pain. But, since the last time I was at the good Doctor's office, the number on the scale had climbed yet again, I decided it was time to do something. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So, instead of going back to bed in the morning when the dudes go to school, I go for a walk. It's not much, but it's a start. And even though I was a little stiff and sore the first couple of days, now, I really do feel a little better. I sleep better at night - probably mostly because I'm not sleeping all day. Go figure! It's amazing what you can accomplish when you are awake and alive with the rest of the world!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So, now, all I want for Christmas? Zumba for Wii. And a gym membership. (7 degrees is just a little chillier than I like to be outside in!) And a Jared Allen jersey.</div>
</div>Lana Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03850380834970000772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3879457760304237987.post-56887446073371943452011-12-01T09:40:00.001-07:002011-12-01T10:54:16.363-07:00Change is good......really....really?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Top of the list.....apologies for the prolonged absence. Chronic pain sucks and being treated with narcotic medication has a tendency to turn one into something of a zombie - everything seems to move in slow motion and when there's never enough time for everything anyway, only the bare essentials get done. Mostly. And sometimes not even those.<br />
<br />
So, me and Doc are working on doing something different. And let me tell you friends and neighbors, detoxing off hydrocodone is a real treat! PMS was bad, but this? That was a special kind of HELL! Chills, shakes, sweaty, nauseated, crying one minute, and just a little edgy the next. Okay, so I was a MONSTER bitch for about a week. My apologies to those who had to live with me. I'm sure I owe several of you many apologies for a long time to come.<br />
<br />
But, I cannot tell you how much better I feel now. I still hurt, to be sure, but my outlook and attitude has vastly improved. I'm sleeping better - for the most part - I have some ambition for the first time in I can't remember when, I actually feel like getting out of bed and - maybe even - wait for it - LEAVING THE HOUSE!<br />
<br />
It's funny. When you have a chronic illness - mine is Fibromyalgia with a healthy side of chronic fatigue syndrome - everybody and their brother has advice on what you need to do to feel better. Eat better. Exercise. Sleep more. Sleep less. Drink this once a day. Get your Green Card and smoke a big fattie every day. Stop smoking. And the list goes on and on ad infinitum.<br />
<br />
Somewhere in all of this there has to be a magic combination that will work for me. Wish me luck. I'm off for my walk.</div>Lana Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03850380834970000772noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3879457760304237987.post-86981734841385520682011-04-12T01:22:00.001-06:002011-04-12T01:22:28.793-06:00H is also for Hiatus...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Just a short one.....It's been a rough few days pain wise, but it's slowly getting better. As a result, I have fallen behind on my posting. Another day though, and I should be back at it.<br />
<br />
Cheers-<br />
Lana D.</div>Lana Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03850380834970000772noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3879457760304237987.post-52979031648290142362011-04-09T00:23:00.000-06:002011-04-09T00:23:45.415-06:00My Apologies for The Eye Strain!!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Sorry everyone for any eye strain I may have inflicted upon ya'll!! I copied and pasted from word so I could have the fancy font and forgot to change the text color before I scheduled the post! For some reason, blogger doesn't default that particular font to the correct color. But, I fixed it! So, if you would like to read it again <a href="http://soberchronicfabulous.blogspot.com/2011/04/g-is-for-gratitude.html">CLICK HERE!</a></div>Lana Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03850380834970000772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3879457760304237987.post-9059823007935441962011-04-08T06:00:00.005-06:002011-04-09T00:18:29.626-06:00G is for GRATITUDE<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black; color: #ea9999;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing"><b><i style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Harrington; font-size: 18pt;">G</span><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Harrington; font-size: 18pt;">ratitude: <span class="apple-style-span">The state of being appreciative of benefits received; affording pleasure or comfort.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></b></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black; color: #ea9999;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="background-color: black; color: #ea9999; font-family: Harrington; font-size: 14pt;">In the face of all of the things that cause me grief or pain or stress or anger, it is very often difficult to remember how many good things I have in my life to be grateful for. I am truly blessed. And things could be so much worse.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black; color: #ea9999;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="background-color: black; color: #ea9999; font-family: Harrington; font-size: 14pt;">I have parents who love and support me. I have friends with broad, strong shoulders to let me cry on when I need to. I have two beautiful, healthy, happy children who drive me crazy sometimes, but more often, make me laugh until I cry. I have known what it means to be loved and to be in love with someone else. I have a home that’s not underwater or in danger of being washed out to sea.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black; color: #ea9999;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="background-color: black; color: #ea9999; font-family: Harrington; font-size: 14pt;">I may have an illness but it is only chronic. Not progressive. Not terminal.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black; color: #ea9999;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="background-color: black; color: #ea9999; font-family: Harrington; font-size: 14pt;">And, as of yesterday, I once again have a refrigerator that actually refrigerates things!</span></span><span style="color: black; font-family: Harrington; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div></div>Lana Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03850380834970000772noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3879457760304237987.post-35890431868381289812011-04-07T06:00:00.002-06:002011-04-07T06:00:02.314-06:00F is for Faith, Forgiveness, and Fear<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Harrington; font-size: 18.0pt;">Faith: <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A firm belief in something for which there is no proof; belief, trust in and loyalty to God.<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Harrington; font-size: 18.0pt;">Forgiveness: <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Being willing or able to allow error or weakness.<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Harrington; font-size: 18.0pt;">Fear:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To be afraid of; to expect with alarm.<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><u><span style="font-family: Harrington; font-size: 16.0pt;">Faith:<o:p></o:p></span></u></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: Harrington; font-size: 16.0pt;">First and foremost, I have faith in a power greater than myself. I choose to call that power God, and I have accepted Jesus Christ as my personal savior. There are days, especially recently, when my Faith is the only thing that has carried me through.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: Harrington; font-size: 16.0pt;">“For I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord. Plans for good and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.” Jeremiah 29:11.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: Harrington; font-size: 16.0pt;">So, even though I am walking through something of a nightmare right now, I know – I KNOW – I am not walking through it alone.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><u><span style="font-family: Harrington; font-size: 16.0pt;">Forgiveness:<o:p></o:p></span></u></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: Harrington; font-size: 16.0pt;">I also know that I have to find it within me to forgive Jon for the things that he has done and said that have hurt me. And, probably more importantly, forgive myself for the things that I have done and said that have hurt him. And, yes, there are lots of things in that category. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: Harrington; font-size: 16.0pt;">I need to let myself off the hook for the choices he has made. I understand it intellectually that he didn’t drink BECAUSE of me or anything I did. He drank because that’s what alcoholics DO. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: Harrington; font-size: 16.0pt;">“I didn’t cause it, I can’t control it, and I can’t cure it.” From Courage to Change – an Al-Anon daily devotional.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><u><span style="font-family: Harrington; font-size: 16.0pt;">Fear:<o:p></o:p></span></u></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: Harrington; font-size: 16.0pt;">Finally, I think most of my actions and reactions and feelings are firmly rooted in fear. I don’t do well with change and when things are changing constantly, it sends me into kind of a tailspin. Before long, I find myself in a very dark and scary place. Even when things are going well, I always seem to have this feeling of “waiting for the other shoe to drop.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: Harrington; font-size: 16.0pt;">The last time Jon came home, I was constantly on edge, waiting for that day he came home drunk again. Hoping against all evidence to the contrary that it would never come, but knowing in my heart of hearts that it would.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: Harrington; font-size: 16.0pt;">Life is much too short to live in that constant state of high alert.<o:p></o:p></span></div></div>Lana Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03850380834970000772noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3879457760304237987.post-51080577426185613132011-04-06T06:00:00.002-06:002011-04-06T06:00:06.480-06:00E is for Ephemeral<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><b><i>Ephemeral: lasting a very short time.</i></b></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><b><i><br />
</i></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Yes, I know, ephemeral is not strictly an emotion. It is relevant nonetheless.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">I have a tendency to get mired down in my negative emotions. When what seems like a thousand different things go wrong all at once it gets a little difficult to see past them. The sadness moves in like a summer storm and swallows me whole. Tears fall like rain, my emotions swirl like a twister and my body feels like it's been beaten up by golf-ball sized hail.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">But, just like those summer storms that come out of nowhere, a rainbow almost always follows. The storm moves on, the rain stops, the wind dies down and the sun comes out again.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Even though I am living in the middle of the storm right now, I do know that all of this is temporary. Jon is halfway through his incarceration and - whether I let him come home or not - he will once again be here to help me, even if it's just to take these kids for a while so I can get a break. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">The next court date for "Karla" and her kids is in May - a little over a month from now - and hopefully, her kids will be able to go back with her and the trauma of life with "Etta" will be over. Or, I will be able bodied enough by then that I can take over and they can come and live with me.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">And, as ALWAYS, every time I get mired in my own mess, I am reminded that I could have it SO. MUCH. WORSE. I could be homeless. I could be terminally ill instead of chronically ill. I could live in Japan.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">As I said in a <a href="http://soberchronicfabulous.blogspot.com/2010/09/thing-about-addiction.html">previous post</a>......IT'S ALL TEMPORARY!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Nothing lasts forever, not even the crap!</span></div></div>Lana Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03850380834970000772noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3879457760304237987.post-37227237295517428302011-04-05T06:00:00.037-06:002011-04-06T06:37:17.064-06:00D is For Delusional<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Delusional. The abnormal state marked by a persistent, false, psychotic belief regarding the self or persons or objects outside the self that is maintained despite indisputable evidence to the contrary. </span></b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></b><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">I think maybe we are all guilty of deluding ourselves at some point in our lives. I know I am. I know my Former Supposed Spouse is. We tell ourselves lots of things - not necessarily totally false things - in order to get through the day.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">I have always believed after each incarceration and treatment program that Jon would "get it" this time. That "click" would happen and he would be able to maintain his sobriety for longer than a few months. He asked me to marry him about 6 years ago, the first time he was locked up. I had told him that if he could give me 6 months sober on the outside where he wasn't monitored and supervised 24/7 that I would.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">We're still not legally married. The longest he managed to stay sober was about 4 months. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">We have a child together and have lived in the same house and have presented ourselves as husband and wife so I would say that the State of Montana considers our relationship a "Common Law Marriage." But we never signed the papers or took the vows.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">There's a big part of me that wants to cling to the delusion that this time will be different. There's a part of me that is desperately afraid to be alone and because of that, I'm tempted, always, to continue buying into the delusion. Even though the "indisputable evidence" tells a different story.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Actions speak a thousand time louder than words.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span></div>Lana Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03850380834970000772noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3879457760304237987.post-65155359818515843062011-04-04T15:54:00.004-06:002011-04-04T15:57:59.679-06:00Meet Me On Monday Blog Hop #41<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #f4cccc; font-family: Harrington; font-size: 16pt;">Okay, peeps. I know you all are so looking forward to tomorrow, it being Monday and all. But maybe I can lighten the load a little with the latest edition of Meet Me On Monday. Okay, probably not, but even just a little smile will help.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #f4cccc;"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #f4cccc; font-family: Harrington; font-size: 16pt;">My friend Java at <a href="http://nevergrowingold.blogspot.com/">Never Growing Old</a> host this blog hop that keeps growing every week. Join in the fun. You might even stat looking forward to Monday!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #f4cccc;"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #f4cccc; font-family: Harrington; font-size: 16pt;">This week's questions are:<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #f4cccc;"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #f4cccc;"><span class="apple-style-span"><b><span style="font-family: Harrington; font-size: 16pt;">Questions:</span></b></span><span style="font-family: Harrington; font-size: 16pt;"><br />
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<span class="apple-style-span">1. If you had to eat only one food for the rest of your life, what would it be?</span><br />
<span class="apple-style-span">2. Do you write your blog posts in advance or the day you post them?</span><br />
<span class="apple-style-span">3. Have you ever ridden in an ambulance?</span><br />
<span class="apple-style-span">4. What is your favorite candle scent?</span><br />
<span class="apple-style-span">5. Coffee or tea?<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #f4cccc;"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #f4cccc;"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #f4cccc;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: Harrington; font-size: 16pt;">1.<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span></span></span><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: Harrington; font-size: 16pt;">If you had to eat only one food for the rest of your life, what would it be?<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #f4cccc;"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: #f4cccc; font-family: Harrington; font-size: 16pt;">It would have to be meat of some sort – probably beef, having been raised in the heart of Cattle Country. I don’t think I could pick one TYPE of beef though. If I had to, I guess it would have to be nice thick, beautifully marbled, medium-rare rib steaks. They have always been my favorite and lately, a rare treat.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #f4cccc;"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #f4cccc;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: Harrington; font-size: 16pt;">2.<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span></span></span><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: Harrington; font-size: 16pt;">Do you write your blog posts in advance or the day you post them?<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #f4cccc;"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: #f4cccc; font-family: Harrington; font-size: 16pt;">Until this month, I have always written them on the day that I post them. During April, however, I am participating the the A to Z Blogfest hosted by, among others, Arlee Bird @ Tossing It Out. Each day in April, except Sundays, I will be posting a blog on a given letter of the alphabet. 26 letters = 26 posts. Coincidence? I think not! So Because of that, I have been writing those posts ahead of time and scheduling them to automatically post on the appropriate day.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #f4cccc;"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #f4cccc;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: Harrington; font-size: 16pt;">3.<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span></span></span><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: Harrington; font-size: 16pt;">Have you ever ridden in an ambulance?<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #f4cccc;"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: #f4cccc; font-family: Harrington; font-size: 16pt;">Thankfully, no. That is not to say that I have never seen the inside of an emergency room either for myself or someone else. I almost got to ride in the Mercy Flight helicopter when my boyfriend at the time had to be air-lifted from the little tiny medical center in Chester to the VA Hospital in Helena. But there wasn’t enough room for me, the flight nurses, and the boyfriend. So, I drove. Probably in record time. That was scary. I thought I was going to lose him. His lung had collapsed and the doctors weren’t sure he would make it to Helena in a regular ambulance. He did survive though, and we had another couple years together before we went our separate ways.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #f4cccc;"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #f4cccc;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: Harrington; font-size: 16pt;">4.<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span></span></span><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: Harrington; font-size: 16pt;">What is your favorite candle scent?<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #f4cccc;"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: #f4cccc; font-family: Harrington; font-size: 16pt;">The candle in my bedroom is Clean Cotton, in my living room is Hazelnut Latte and in my kitchen is Warm Apple Pie. I also have a set of reed diffusers in my bathroom that are also Clean Cotton. These are my top three that I buy all the time. I also like Buttercream by Yankee but it was banned in my house by the Former Supposed Spouse. Hmmm. I might have to go get one now that he’s gone! hee hee.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #f4cccc;"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #f4cccc;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: Harrington; font-size: 16pt;">5.<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span></span></span><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: Harrington; font-size: 16pt;">Coffee or Tea?<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #f4cccc;"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: #f4cccc; font-family: Harrington; font-size: 16pt;">Coffee, mostly. Especially in the morning! I can’t function without my coffee in the morning! But every now and then I like a cup of tea. My favorite is Good Earth Sweet & Spicy. Not only is it yummy, but on each of the tabs on the tea bags are some little words of wisdom. Celestial Seasonings has them too, printed on various places on their boxes.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #f4cccc; font-family: Harrington;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 21px;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #f4cccc; font-family: Harrington;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 21px;">Come and join the fun, won't you?!</span></span></div></div><br />
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<script src="http://www.simply-linked.com/listwidget.aspx?l=293c6a13-476d-4d0d-86d9-061a63a252a9" type="text/javascript">
</script></div>Lana Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03850380834970000772noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3879457760304237987.post-24172674646677864592011-04-04T06:00:00.006-06:002011-04-04T06:00:13.279-06:00C is For Confusion, Conflicted and Concerned<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><b><i>Confusion. A state of being disturbed in mind or purpose.</i></b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><b><i>Conflicted. Experiencing or marked by ambivalence or a conflict, especially of emotions.</i></b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><b><i>Concerned. Anxious, worried, interestedly engaged, culpably involved.</i></b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><i>Initially, I had planned to only post about a single emotion on a given day this month. C however, required more than one, and I have a sneaking suspicion that some of the others will as well.</i><b style="font-size: x-large;"><i> </i> </b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><b style="font-size: x-large;"><i><br />
</i></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><u>Confusion...</u></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Some days, it seems that confusion can swallow me whole. I have fibromyalgia, and that not only makes my body not work well, but it also messes with my mental function. I forget things. A lot. So I make a lot of lists. And then promptly forget where I have written them down or where I have put them. Which leads to confusion as to what I am supposed to be doing, where I'm supposed to be going and when I'm supposed to be there. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">My former supposed spouse is also an enormous source of confusion. I have no doubt that he loves me and cares for me. How then can he keep making the same choices that take him away from me? From us? How does he process his actions and his choices so that he can let himself believe that he can do whatever he wants and get away with it? I don't understand. (Perhaps I'm not as much an addict as I have led myself to believe!)</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><u>Conflicted....</u></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Show me a fence, and I will show you how to walk it. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">One minute I'm so angry at him that I really believe he is lucky to be behind Plexiglas or at the other end of a phone line because I swear to the heavens above if he were right in front of me, I would chock the ever loving shit out of him.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">And in the very next breath, I want to believe that this FINALLY is the time he gets it and we will have our happily ever after. He is my heart's desire. I love him. I miss him. I want him to come home.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><u>Concerned...</u></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">In the midst of the FSS's extended absence, his ex-wife has come completely unraveled to the point where her kids have been removed from her care and placed in the temporary custody of my Former Supposed Mother-In-Law.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">And THAT has been a nightmare in and of itself. She's having a great deal of difficulty with "Colton." He's defiant. He's oppositional. He's just flat out effing PISSED! And who can blame him? His mother is unable to properly care for him, his dad is behind bars again, and he's stuck with his Grandma who won't even let him go outside and play. I'M pissed, and I'm a grown-up (in theory, anyway) and I don't even know how to process all of MY emotions. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">I imagine that for a 7-year-old it all translates into one thing - FEAR. And how does he express that? Anger.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">But when he's at MY house? He's a completely different kid. He laughs. He's funny. He does what I ask - sometimes more than I ask. He does his homework. He takes his shower. He eats his dinner. He goes to bed. WITHOUT the big ass melt down.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">My heart breaks for him. I love him like he is my own and my heart is just breaking for him.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Oh who am I kidding. My heart is broken for all of us.</span></div>Lana Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03850380834970000772noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3879457760304237987.post-44794028362940277262011-04-02T06:00:00.033-06:002011-04-02T06:00:03.525-06:00B is For Betrayal<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><b><i>Betrayal. To fail or desert especially in time of need.</i></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Yes, he has betrayed me. By his own actions, he has deserted me. He keeps telling me it wasn't his choice, that he doesn't WANT to be where he is at. It was the cops, his probation officer, the judge, his mother. Yes, even his mother because if he hadn't had to go over to her house and take care of her, then he wouldn't have been driving.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">But that's not really true. He was headed to her house the night he was arrested. However, he CHOSE to stop at the bar first. He CHOSE to start drinking again long before that night. He CHOSE to drive even though he wasn't allowed to do so without the ignition interlock device required by the court.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">And we all need him in some form. His ex-wife and his mother are both disabled and need his help physically. I am in limbo while Social Security tries to decide whether or not I am disabled enough to receive benefits. He was my sole source of income.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">He made CHOICES that got him where he is at today. They are an endless list of broken promises. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">I made my OWN choices that got me here, as well. I CHOSE to let him come home again and again. I CHOSE to believe the empty promises. I CHOSE to turn myself upside down and inside out in an effort to "save" him. But he didn't want to be saved - didn't think he needed to be saved. And even if he did, I CANNOT do it for him.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">I think maybe we've betrayed each other. And I'm not sure if that can be fixed. I'm not sure I want to fix it if it can.</span></div>Lana Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03850380834970000772noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3879457760304237987.post-53501948282748569572011-04-01T06:00:00.002-06:002011-04-01T06:00:09.526-06:00A Is For Aftermath<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Aftermath. The period following a usually ruinous event.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">This is where I have taken up residence. In the abyss of the abrupt departure of my alcoholic former supposed spouse. Adrift in an ocean of tears with no shoreline in sight. Enwreathed in a shroud of anguish so thick and dark that even the horizons have disappeared. It is arduous even to breathe.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">This latest catastrophe is nothing new. Of the seven years we've been together he has spent nearly half that in some form of incarceration - county jail, treatment centers, pre-release centers and now, finally, State Prison. The times we've spent apart and those we've spent together have become so jumbled that for every event, I have to stop and think - was he home when that happened? Or did I have to handle that one myself?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">I keep telling myself that this is the last time I live here - in the aftermath. This time, I'm not simply killing time until he comes home again. This time, I'm breaking the cycle. This time, I'm moving on.</span></div>Lana Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03850380834970000772noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3879457760304237987.post-48562856852875571262011-03-31T06:00:00.002-06:002011-04-02T05:51:55.792-06:00A to Z Blogging Challenge<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">So, tomorrow begins the A to Z Blogging Challenge. Since this has been year of emotional upheavals, downturns and loop-the-loops, I have decided to blog an emotion - or twelve - for each letter of the alphabet.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">I expect this to be a very personal journey. I sometimes have great difficulty dealing with my emotions. I don't always acknowledge all that I feel. My hope is that by challenging myself to write about them daily, I will be able to feel my way through it, so to speak. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">We can't fix what we don't acknowledge. I know, I know, that was WAY too Dr. Phil of me. (This is one thing he is right about, though.) I have a tendency to make things someone else's fault. Usually, my Former Supposed Spouse gets the brunt of it. But it "takes two to tango" as they say, and so this Challenge is me taking responsibility for my part in things and cleaning up my side of the street.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span><br />
<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">I will also be hopping on to do all the regular stuff too - Meet Me On Monday, Captcha Balderdash, etc.</span></div></div>Lana Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03850380834970000772noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3879457760304237987.post-43342087476950785002011-03-28T13:55:00.002-06:002011-03-28T13:59:06.239-06:00Meet Me On Monday Blog Hop #40<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px;">Meet Me On Monday is hosted each week by Java at Never Growing Old. Check her out when you have a minute! This week's questions are:</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"><b><br />
</b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"><b>Questions:</b><br />
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1. Crunchy or soft tacos?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">I like soft tacos, but I like soft corns shells. I like them best when I make them at home. I buy raw corn shells and fry them in the hot oil just long enough to get them nice a hot, a little crispy around the edges and nice and chewy in the center. Mmmmm. Now I'm gonna have to make some!</span><br />
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2. Do you scrapbook?</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">I do not. I have no patience for futzy stuff like that and I am no where NEAR organized enough to keep all of it together where I could get anything done. My mother on the other hand, is TOTALLY addicted to scrap booking, stamping - she actually belongs to a Stampin' Up group that meets the first Monday of every month.</span><br />
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3. Do you take any daily medications?</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">Don't even get me started on medications. My head board in my bedroom looks like a small pharmacy. I have been trying, mostly in vain, to find a medication that works for me without causing debilitating side effects. Some have helped my pain only to make me so tired and out of it, that I cannot function. Others wire me to a point where sleep is impossible and THAT makes me tired so I cannot function. Others till have reduced me to a pile of sniveling, sniffling, useless tears. A happy medium would be nice. An even emotional keel would be nice. Someday, maybe.</span><br />
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4. What is your favorite sound?</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">I love the sound of a thunderstorm in the distance, growing louder and stronger as it gets closer and closer. I love the sound of the first raindrops as they begin to hit the windows and the roof and then gradually grow into a down pour until it starts running out the downspout into the catch bucket. It kind of almost makes me a little sad when the time between the lightening flashes and the rolls of thunder begins to get longer and longer until the storm has completely passed. But, then I am left with the smell of the freshly cleaned air and it's okay.</span><br />
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5. Where were you born?</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">I was born in the same town I live in. A little town in northern Montana - only about 40 miles from the Canadian border. Kind of in the middle of nowhere. There are probably more cows around than people and lots and lots and lots of acres of wheat farms. I used to dream of getting out, getting away, getting anywhere but here. But, now that I've been a few places, I've decided there really is no place like home.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">And, if you would like to check out some of the totally awesome, hip, cool, radical peeps who also participate in MMOM, here's the linky!</span><br />
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</span></div><script type="text/javascript" src="http://www.simply-linked.com/listwidget.aspx?l=19007b72-b559-4d32-9917-69b7c9129afd" ></script>Lana Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03850380834970000772noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3879457760304237987.post-61084999982333457692011-03-25T06:00:00.001-06:002011-03-24T02:40:21.489-06:00Certified To Lie Memetastic Award (Yeah, I KNOW right? Another Award!)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">The untruths contained in my previous post are added in <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">red at the end of the story. Cheers and Happy Friday!</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">So, you may recall that a while back I participated in a "Two Truths and a Lie" blog hop. Well, just today, my Ahhsome friend Sandi bestowed upon my the "Certified To Lie Memetastic Award" because I was so very convincing the first time around. Ha.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8-qPVgahHk3ax7jmidPBKb6HFeGMgqw0C4Z42MM5EcDEDh8n-WMrg-rIx3pzlPK3KSbihBwdavsu9sjlxFqCNAJDjnRyTsRuV8hJ-YsSf8KhrBqJIoy-_fdXADRAoyGFu3UNqAuOdCE0/s1600/certified-to-lie-memetastic-award.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8-qPVgahHk3ax7jmidPBKb6HFeGMgqw0C4Z42MM5EcDEDh8n-WMrg-rIx3pzlPK3KSbihBwdavsu9sjlxFqCNAJDjnRyTsRuV8hJ-YsSf8KhrBqJIoy-_fdXADRAoyGFu3UNqAuOdCE0/s1600/certified-to-lie-memetastic-award.jpg" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
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</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">At any rate, here is the challenge. First, I am required to formulate not one, not two, but three LIES about myself and only one truth and then bestow the same award on 5 additional bloggers.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">My choices for the five bloggers are:</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">The Whispering Writer @ <a href="http://whisperingwriter.blogspot.com/">Airing My Dirty Laundry, One Sock At A Time</a></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">The Impulsive Addict @ <a href="http://confessionsfromanimplusiveaddict.blogspot.com/">Confessions of An Impulsive Addict</a></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Aunt Becky @ <a href="http://www.mommywantsvodka.com/">Mommy Wants Vodka</a></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Chana @ <a href="http://mammatown.blogspot.com/">Mama Town</a></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">The Dreamer @ <a href="http://pbjdreamer.blogspot.com/">PBJDreamer</a></span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">And Why? Because these women totally, completely ROCK! None of us get out of the Mommy Life unscathed or unchanged and these ladies really know how to find the funny in what otherwise might just drive us stark raving mad! Please take some time and check them out!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Okay. So, let the fibbing begin! And, keep in mind that every good lie contains an element of truth!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
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</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><b>1. The Jessica McLintock First Day of School Frock</b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">When I was going into the 6th grade, my grandmother was bound and determined to teach me to sew. My grandmother took me to the fabric store to pick out a pattern and then showed me how to read the pattern label to determine how much fabric, what kind of fabric, and all of the notions needed to complete the finished product. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">At the time (late 70's early 80's - ish), Jessica McLintock was a popular "designer" for very pretty, fancy schmancy, ruffly, frilly dresses. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI1hp7OwGXVqUizLq1M_1eZEcTC0BF4vbkodX7_7jkXVDxmkUXlKD6ib0sESkujiXbceWmI3yZxMqV8dZ1rDuGBWGMraA-MfZcvWsbuEGh9fDQVQTfS0m8fMXy52fttW2yJOo_35V9MsE/s1600/Gunne+Sax+Dress.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI1hp7OwGXVqUizLq1M_1eZEcTC0BF4vbkodX7_7jkXVDxmkUXlKD6ib0sESkujiXbceWmI3yZxMqV8dZ1rDuGBWGMraA-MfZcvWsbuEGh9fDQVQTfS0m8fMXy52fttW2yJOo_35V9MsE/s320/Gunne+Sax+Dress.jpg" width="257" /></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Gunne Sax Prairie Dresses. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Decidedly NOT a beginner's project. But, my grandmother went with it and patiently stood by while I labored on this thing for 2 months in order to have it ready for the first day of school. She even helped me add about 4 inches to the bottom when we found that I had grown about 3 inches over the summer! <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">The dress really was made only my Grandmother ended up finishing it because my 6th Grade Self crapped out after cutting out the pieces and sewing the skirt together. It was truly a thing of beauty. I will see if I can find a picture of it.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><b>2. My First Car Wreck</b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">When I was sixteen, I was given my mom's old car to drive. It was a very large, very long, 1976 Ford LTD Brougham. It was generally parked in the garage. One summer evening, while my mother was out of town, I decided to take said car to go to the local drive-in, get a pop, and go for a cruise (of course, I was going to do this all without my dad being any the wiser!) So, I waited until he left to make a run to the dump, jumped in the car, and proceeded to back out of the garage. Only, the door was not open. So I didn't so much back OUT as I backed THROUGH the garage door. Oh yeah, and my dad wasn't so much GONE as he was just on the other side of the garage. How does a person do that, you might ask? In my defense, the sun was going down and was exactly level with the windows in said door so when I checked my rear view, it LOOKED like the door was open.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">And my dad? Well, let's just say angry was an understatement. I think his exact words were "Go away. I don't even want to look at you right now!" <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">This one is actually completely true, sadly enough. What's even funnier is that my mother has also done it once and my DAD has done it TWICE! And the new garage doors didn't have any windows in them.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><b>3. The Great Water Tower Caper</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">One night, in the dead of winter, me and some of my friends decided it might be fun to scale the fence around one of the water towers in town and make it our own. Let me tell you, the walkway around the outside of one of those things is A <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">LOT</span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">HIGHER</span> than it looks from the ground! We did manage to leave our mark - a big DK (Dead Kennedy's) symbol, all our initials and the year we graduated from high school. When we were done, we made our way back down, and made our escape. A couple of days later, the cops came knocking on our door. Seems someone in the house right next door to the tower had spotted us and reported us. And the license plate of the getaway car. And since we all had the teenage brilliance of leaving our REAL INITIALS, we were oh so very easily identified. And we all ended up doing about a gazillion hours of community service for our antics. Yeah. Another shining moment of pride for my dad, who, by the way, was a city cop in my home town for all of my growing up years. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">This actually happened, I just wasn't a part of it. I don't know where I was, but I wasn't there and so didn't get in any official trouble but I did get lectured about participating in such "unsavory" activities.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red; font-size: large;">4. First Time Caught Drinking</span></b> </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">I was a junior in High School and me a two of my friends pitched in to have someone buy us two pints of Everclear. I brought along the only pop we had in the house - Diet Shasta Grapefruit - and we proceeded to swig & chase while another friend drove us around town. We ended up going roller skating - I know, right? Teenage brilliance ("Let's get sloshed and put wheels on our feet and try to remain upright!") at its best! One of my friends got fed up and walked - drunk off her behind - to the bar where her mother was drinking and ratted us other two out. Her mom called Sheila's mom and Sheila's mom called MY mom and we were all in hot water. My dad found the extra bottle of Everclear stashed in my roller skate at the bottom of my closet. Being the cop that he was, he called his cop friends and had me charged with "Minor In Possession." And to this day, neither Sheila nor I talk to the other girl. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">This also happened, only I was a Freshman in high school and my dad didn't really call his cop buddies to have me charged. Amazingly, and ONLY by the Grace of God, I never "officially" got caught drinking by any law enforcement agency. It's a wonder me and all my friends lived to tell the tales, really. And I did find where my dad had hidden the Everclear (HE DIDN'T EVEN DUMP IT OUT!!) and when one of my friends came home from college the following summer, we took the water bottle off of the water cooler, mixed up a spodie in it and put it back on the cooler. Instant cold drinks, no ice required.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"></span></div></div>Lana Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03850380834970000772noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3879457760304237987.post-35206904784948578062011-03-25T01:06:00.001-06:002011-03-25T01:07:10.364-06:00Four, Going On Forty - Some Pearls of Wisdom From Bug Boy<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">My youngest son's nickname is Bug. We call him Bug because when he was born, summer was just beginning and in Montana, summer means skeeters. Admittedly, there are places much MUCH worse for the pesky little critters than where I live, but we have our share. After spending just a few minutes out in the yard enjoying the warm, late spring evening, any and all patches of exposed skin were dotted with skeeter bites.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">And he reacted to them. Badly. Big red welts. One got him on the eyelid and just about swelled his eye shut. And so he was labeled "The Bug Boy" which we have shortened to just "Bug."</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">That was our very first trip to the emergency room with him. He's been something of a handful from the moment he was conceived. Yes, I said conceived, not born. At one point early in my pregnancy, I was overcome by such tremendous pain that I was convinced he was ectopic. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">No, Dr. assured me, he's just kicking on a nerve somewhere. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">And so began my journey with Bug. He continues to be a handful. But he has moments when he can be so sweet he makes my teeth ache! (And I don't even HAVE real teeth anymore!) Like when he gives me a hug in the morning before he runs out to his bus, puts his little hand on me, pats my back and says "You know? I love you Mommy!" Sometimes he doesn't say anything. He just throws his little arms around me and pats me on the back as if to say, "It's okay, Mommy. It's all going to be okay."</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Tonight he shared these little tidbits with me while he was cuddled up on my lap. I love the way his little mind works. I just know he spent a good long while thinking about these things. And I feel so privileged that he chose to share them with me.</span><br />
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"Dora, The Explorer is not in the Bible. She is only on TV. Only Jesus is in the Bible. Jesus is not on TV."</span></i><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>" 'Soil' " is another way to say 'dirt.' Water and sun will make plants grow in the soil."</i></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">And this last one is my favorite one. We have had more than our share of sad things happen over the last year. Lots of tears. Lots of frustration. Lots of drama. I worry about how my little guys are coping with the FSS's absence. I worry that I am so not setting a good enough example for them.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">He came up with this one "just for you, Mommy." He came and crawled up in my lap, put his arms around me and gave me a big Bug hug. Then he took my face in his little hands, looked me right in the eyes and said......</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><i>"When you feel lonely, Mommy, just think happy thoughts."</i></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Bless his little heart.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">And pass me the damn Kleenex!</span><br />
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</span></div>Lana Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03850380834970000772noreply@blogger.com2