Playing Taps For Jackal

January 10, 2008

I’ve been trying not to write this post since 3:oo pm this past Saturday.  That’s when the unthinkable happened. 

It had been an incredibly successful day up until then.  Rocky, The Buddha, Princess Bella and I had finally gone to find a house for Rocky to put on our land.  It was the first time we went to look for one in person.  We had previously looked on Craig’s list, on the internet, ect.  However, Christmas is over, everything has settled down and it was finally time.  We left with only about an hour to spend in the actual process of looking once we got to our destination.  This was to be a half assed attempt at best.

We got to the lot, saw a gorgeous place, went inside, Rocky fell in love, the rest of us fell in love, the kids picked out their sleeping quarters for when they spend the night, and it was on.  Rocky asked the price.  The guy left to find out and we slumped.  We knew it was going to be WAY out of her price range.  We steeled ourselves for the letdown. 

He came back with a lot of explanations about how it had just come onto the lot, they didn’t have it on the website yet, once people found out about it it would go fast, you know, salesman talk.  Rocky and I looked at each other thinking that the price was going to draw blood when he finally spit it out.  Then he asked his final question: are you planning to finance it or will this be cash?

Rocky says cash.  I swear I think the man had an organism right there on the spot.  Then he told us the price.  I think WE had organisms right there on the spot.  He recited exactly the price Rocky was wanting to pay for a place.  My game face went out the window on the spot.  Rocky lit up like a Christmas tree.  Rocky put down a deposit to hold it until we could get it checked out by My Dearest Husband who is versed in all things mechanical.  We left singing and doing the car seat dance all the way home.

And that’s when things got ugly.

As we pulled into the lane, all of the hill dogs came running to escort us up the driveway.  One of them was Jackal.  Jackal loved to ride in the truck.  He would jump in to go with you every time you got in the truck.  It broke his little heart if you left home without him. 

The dogs run circles around you when you’re driving up the driveway.  I was going about negative five miles an hour up the drive when I feel the right front wheel rise and fall.  At that point all hell broke loose.  Jackal started to scream.  All the other dogs broke and ran.  The kids started screaming from the backseat, “You ran over Jack!  You ran over Jack!”

I lost it.  I put the truck in park and jumped out.  I ran over to Jack, who is half sitting/half laying on the ground, squealing.  I started to check him out when I notice that one of his testicles is hanging out.  Nothing is broken, he can walk, all that seems to have happened to him is that his scrotum has split open and his testicle has squeezed out.  I’ll wait for a second while all the guys catch their breath.

I’m crying, I’m apologizing to him over and over for running over him, I’m afraid I’ve killed him, I drive a Suburban for God’s sake!  Jack is screaming, the hill dogs want to smell him and every time I push one away three more take it’s place.  MDH is sleeping, the door is locked, Rocky is trying to keep the dogs away, the kids are hysterical.  It was a mess.

Finally, The Buddha gets the keys out of the truck and goes to get MDH out of bed.  We bundle Jack up to the house in a towel, I give him Benedryl, (yes you can, by weight just like a kid) and aspirin for the pain, (again yes you can, it only kills cats) and start the vigil.  I don’t have the cash for an emergency visit to the vet.  Call me callous if you want I have a house payment and kids to feed, I’m not going into debt for an animal.

Jack spent the weekend watching all the pretty colors that the Benedryl showed him, sleeping when the aspirin kicked in, and crying.  It was horrible.  I spent the weekend laying on the floor of the laundry room with Jack petting him and giving him subliminal suggestions not to die while he was sleeping.  When he wasn’t sleeping, crying, or tripping he was running around outside like nothing ever happened.  I, on the other hand, spent the entire weekend crying. 

On Monday morning first thing Jack went to visit the vet.  The vet tells me, surprise surprise, that his testicle has squished out.  Um, DUH!  He said that he could take them both out if I wanted him to.  Now, I worked at a vet.  I was a surgical assistant for six months.  This ain’t my first rodeo.  But I’m flummoxed.  So, against my better judgement I feel compelled to ask.  “What other possibility is there?”  He informed me that he could remove just the one.  Or…….get this……we could just leave it like it is and he’ll eventually just chew it off.   That’s right!  Another moment for yall to catch your breath.

You okay now?  Alright, so I tell the vet that I would prefer that he simply remove both testicles please.  Cripes almighty!  Like we weren’t all traumatized enough already.  Now I’ll forever have that image floating around in my head! 

Now Jackal, during the weekend, had to go outside to do his business at one point.  His stupendously large cojone was hanging out, but the Benedryl is doing it’s work and he’s moving around at a pretty good clip.  Our other dog, Sugar Plum is in heat.  Thaaat’s right.  Jack discovered his “special purpose in life” just as SugarPlum comes wandering by and, nut hanging, starts trying to hump her!!!!!!!

Jack is a MAN!  The boy had nuts the size of…..of….let’s just say they are HOOOGE!  Or at least they were.  And I didn’t get to bring them home in a jar.  I wish I could of because I’m pretty proud of him.  He hasn’t realized yet that he’s got no bullets in his gun.  He’s still trying to hump SugarPlum.  But we’re not playing Taps for Jackal. 

I sure was afraid we would be.  I keep having these horrible images of that huge suburban running over one foot tall Jack.  It makes me shudder.  I also keep having terrible images of Jack chewing off his nut.  Holy Crap I’m glad I’m not a dog! 

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Random Questions of a Musical Nature

January 9, 2008

If I shot the sheriff, why wouldn’t I shoot the deputy?  Was the deputy even shot?  If I didn’t shoot the deputy, who did?  And why not shoot the deputy if I already shot the sheriff and I’m willing to admit it? 

What on earth was Phil Collins talking about on “In The Air Tonight”?  I mean, that song is so full of ……insinuation, you know?  There are just all kinds of evil things running through my mind every time I get into an elevator now.  It’s just creepy.  Come on, Phil!  Spill it.  It’s time to finally give up the answer to the riddle.  I mean, “I was there and I saw what you did, I saw it with my own two eyes”?  Sheesh!  What did you see?  Who did you see do it?  And why are you so pissed off about it?  I need the dirt, man!  Give!

What the hell was Bob Dylan talking about on (insert any Bob Dylan album/song/ditty/poem here)?  Especially Lily, Rosemary and the Jack of Hearts.  Now don’t get me wrong, I was all about the Bob when I was younger.  He was Myth personified.  If you don’t count the Rolling Thunder Review, anyway.  I’m not really sure what the hell that was.  He was all so angst ridden and shit, you know?  And mysterious.  And Joan Baez was running after him like a starving dog after a meat wagon.  But what did it all mean???

Steve Miller…….the WHAT of love?  pompetous?  prophetess?  wtf?  I’ll have what ever he was smoking when he was recording that one! 

Did Clay Aiken sing the stalker’s anthem, or what?  “If I was invisible    Then I could just watch you in your room.”  How the fuck creepy is THAT??????   That boy always made the hair on the back of my neck stand up anyway, but this goes too far!

Michael Jackson, did you really think that we would believe Billie Jean if she told us she was your lover???  No freakin way, dude!  And the child is only yours if you were a sperm donor.  We don’t believe for one single second that you are having sex with women. 

And speaking of MJ:  Lisa Marie, Honey, just between you and me, what were you thinking?  I mean seriously, what was that all about?  Or Nicholas Cage for that matter? 

Last but certainly, certainly, certainly not least, who in the name of GOD said that it was alright for David Hasselhoff to get up in front of people and sing?  That person should be imprisoned for the remainder of their natural life, frozen and stored until a future date when we can reverse the effects of aging, brought back to life and imprisoned for the rest of their natural life AGAIN for letting that miscarriage of justice happen!  I get embarrassed for him every time I see him do it.  No wonder the man drinks!  I would too.  Why didn’t Kit tell him to stop?  If I was his car and I could talk I would have told him!  Hell if I was his dog, I would have bit him!  And I know he’s a big hit in Germany.  However, being of German descent, I can tell you that we Germans are naturally so mean that if we can’t be mean to some one else, we will be mean to ourselves and listening to David Hasselhoff is how we are accomplishing that feat.  Hell I’m so mean that when I shave my legs I have to hold a gun on myself to keep me from cutting my own throat.  I know what I’m talking about.

I’ve said this before but it still holds true:  Nice girls don’t blog after their meds kick in.  I’m leaving now. 

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I Only Left Home For A Little While

December 19, 2007

Yesterday was one of those days that reach out of the nether regions of the cosmos and pinch you right on the butt when you’re raising kids.  The only thing I had to do was take His Highness The Buddha to his counseling session, pick up a few things from the grocery, then pop back home for the rest of the day.  Simple, right?  HA!  Not even a little bit.

It started out normally enough, but I had one extra thing to do……call and make an appointment for Princess Bella at the Doctor.  She got into an altercation during “Fun Friday” at school and had a sore wrist.  Now Bella is the ultimate drama queen.  You have to borrow a super mega mondo microscope from NASA to see most of the “savage” injuries that she gets.  When she comes into the house screaming about how she is bleeding to death I usually have to pull a tiny corner off of a paper towel to pretend to blot up the microscopic drop of blood off of the alleged cut.

However, since she has Medicaid and we answer to that higher power at all times, I decided to cover my proverbial and prodigious ass and take her to be examined.  To my surprise we were sent to have X-rays and she ended up with a broken wrist!  Exactly what she said she had!  Which she has reminded me of every half hour since, by the way.  Now she is sporting a jaunty little Carolina blue cast on her arm and garnering untold amounts of sympathy.  She’s in heaven!  I’m up shit creek for not believing her.  *sigh* 

The original counseling appointment was scheduled for 10:00 AM.  Bella’s first appointment was scheduled for noon.  And it proceeded from there.  By the time her little cast was put on and we had our instructions, it was after 5:00 PM.  I’m beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel when The Buddha pipes up with………”Oh!  I forgot!  I have a band concert tonight at 6:30.  I need new dress pants because we aren’t allowed to wear jeans.”

When the cartoons show stars spinning in a circle around the cats head?  That comes from real life!  I saw stars.  I knew it was going to be a long, long time before I saw home.  We need sustenance, we need dress pants, we need children’s Motrin, we need to go to a band concert at school.  Also, I need a quiet place to have a small, quick little nervous breakdown.  We proceed to the nearest Chinese food buffet, speed eat, go speed shopping for dress pants, drive like we’re running through hell in gasoline britches to the school in order to get there on time, sit through a heavenly performance that was truly worth all of the hurry, then return home almost exactly twelve……thaaat’s right, twelve hours after we left.

I’m exhausted again just telling you about it.  In the process of all that, I wore a bra for twelve solid hours!  Do you have any idea how horrifying that is for a true child of the sixties and seventies????  The only reason I even OWN one now is that people gave them to me after the fire.  I was never so glad to get loose in my life! 

So, next time I leave the house for just a few minutes, I’m packing a survival kit.  It will include a good book, some of my favorite snacks, bottled water, help signs, a portable bed, some nice comfy jammies, my house, a coffee pot, my TV, a pillow, a blanket, my cell phone all charged up, my puppies, my fridge, the laundry, the washer and dryer, my computer, my favorite chair, My Dearest Husband, my mommie Rocky, Buddha, Bella, and some big fat fluffy socks.  I’m sure I forgot something that I’ll really need but that will do for a start.

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Thoughts For The Day – October 26, 2007

October 26, 2007

Zero Tolerance = Zero Common Sense   This is just an excuse to keep from having to think for yourself.  Anytime a second grade student is suspended for a freakin stick figure drawing and children are banned from playing cops and robbers, we have gone way too far.

Chernobyl spread radiation through the atmosphere and it infested the wombs of all child bearing women as well as anyone with a functioning brain cell and we are seeing the results of that today in the following ways: Homeland Security, Political Correctness, the attack on smokers by lying drunken sex abuser politicians, the American people allowing this to happen, the fact that we allow sports figures to make millions of dollars to play a game but the people who educate our children barely make a living wage.  I could keep listing things until your momma spits up, but you get the point.

Fire should be regulated and taxed.  We should put Homeland Security on that right away. 

It is my own personal belief that Homeland Security is about as useful as windshield wipers on a cat’s ass.

It is also my own personal belief that Homeland Security will probably come knocking on my door some day because I’m a threat to…..well…..homeland security, due to my subversive nature.  And the fact that I have the audacity to say they are a crock of shit on the internet.  And that I believe they are the single greatest threat to the American people since 1776.  Any time Homeland Security is in charge of who gets to join the Mile High Club, you have a problem that needs solving, boys and girls.  Think about it.  Lucky for Homeland Security, not many of you read my blog!

If Homeland Security really wanted to secure the homeland, the first thing they would do is execute every treasonous bastard that had a hand in forming that organization in the first place.  Then they would arrest themselves for treason, and then vaporize the organization for all time.  THAT would be some homeland security!

Don’t let other people tell you what is okay and what isn’t.  Political Correctness is just someone else’s way of saying “Do what I want you to do or I’m going to make you feel bad about yourself.”  It’s schoolyard bullshit in it’s most refined form.  Don’t fall for it again.

FINALLY!  Someone had the dump-truck sized balls to say something in Blackwater’s favor!  Give that man a medal!  It’s the saddest thing in the world when it takes balls to say the simple truth.  Americans used to be known for that.  Now we’re not.  What does that say about us?

We need to take care of our soldiers and our veterans.  We need to take BETTER care of them.  We really don’t need to have this explained to death do we? 

Don’t be greedy.  It’s unattractive in the extreme.  Nobody likes that about you but you. 

Don’t be selfish.  It’s unattractive in the extreme.  Nobody likes that about you but you.

What goes around comes around.  Don’t be surprised when it comes back on you.  You might think you’re being slick right now, but it won’t look so good when you’re on the receiving end.

Play fair.  You learned this in first grade.  It still applies.  The rules didn’t change when you hit twenty-one.

If you can’t tell your grandma about it, you probably shouldn’t do it.

The spell-checker on a blog should include the word “blog” in its’ dictionary!  Seriously!

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Court Ordered Child Abuse

October 4, 2007

I watched the news today and saw a story about a foster child being sent into court ordered risk of child abuse.  I have first hand experience with exactly this issue.  It is both astonishing and sickening how many people will blindly send a defenceless child into danger simply because the letter of the law says to do so.  It sounds eerily similar to the Nazi’s claiming that they were only following orders. 

In the case of the foster child, he is 2 years old and has lived with the foster parents virtually his entire life.  His parents have lost all parental rights and the foster parents want to adopt him.  The birth father, a convicted pedophile who is a Mexican national, stated in court that when released from prison he intends to return to Mexico to live with his mother.  His birth mother never showed up for the hearing. 

However, before the foster parents can adopt him the state must try to find a blood relative who is willing to take him.  After a 2 year search, the mother of the pedophile finally agreeed to take the child.  Yes, this is the same woman that the pedophile father will be living with when he gets out of prison.  In another country.  Where the United States, the birth country of this 2 year old child, will have no jurisdiction.  And the state is actually defending their position of sending this AMERICAN child there and not letting him be adopted here by the only family he has ever known. 

He will be taken away from the only parents he has ever known and sent to a country he has never seen to live with people he doesn’t know, who speak a language he doesn’t understand.  And why are they even thinking about doing this?  Because the stated goal of Social Services Departments in this country is to keep families together.  NOT……I repeat NOT the welfare of children.  Look it up.

If this isn’t a case of court ordered child abuse I’ll kiss your ass on the courthouse square at high noon.

Did you know that if you have a child crossing a county line for visitation and they are abused, if you do not see the abuse yourself, and there is no physical proof of abuse, you cannot report it in your county?  Because YOUR county doesn’t have jurisdiction in any other county.  Think about that for a second.  This means that you have to literally stand outside the windows on the sidewalk peeking in and witness the abuse yourself in order to report your child being abused in another county.  Scary isn’t it?

Can you imagine what it would be like for a child to be sent into another country?  No offense to Mexico, I happen to love that country.  The fact that it’s another country just makes it exponentially more likely that he’ll be lost.   

We wonder why people are so much more violent than they were in the past.  It isn’t the availability of guns.  It isn’t violence in movies and on TV.  (although it might have something to do with the JackAss movies and Bam, but that’s another blog)  It isn’t even drugs.  For the most part those things are all symptoms and tools.  Until children are big enough to DO the things that catch our attention, we allow the most atrocious things to happen to them and we hide behind the letter of the law like that makes it alright.

It took My Dearest Husband and I years of anguish and pain, along with the help of an incredibly wonderful counselor who was willing to actually DO something, to finally get our daughter out of a sentence of court ordered child abuse.  And now we are seeing all the unfortunate effects of the time she spent in that hell.  She will never be who she could have been if there had been more people like her counselor.  She will never be the happy, light hearted little munchkin she was the first time I saw her.  With alot of hard work, she CAN be a fantastic, wonderful, caring, happy woman.  Unfortunately, she will have to fight a fight she had no business having to fight.  She should have been protected.  She wasn’t.  She was tossed under the wheels of the bus by the Social Services system who believes that the law is more important than the well being of children and that blood is more meaningful than love to a child.

What the hell are we thinking?

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Random Thoughts October 3, 2007

October 4, 2007

Life is perception.  How we perceive an event is our reality of it.  One man’s ceiling is another man’s floor.  One man’s trash is another man’s treasure.  What you perceive as meaningless, someone else might perceive as the most meaningful thing in their life.  Pay attention to how those important to you perceive the events in your lives.  It counts.

Inaction is an action all by itself.  It indicates indifference on a massive scale. 

Why in the hell would anyone in this country with even ONE functioning brain cell think that Hillary Clinton would make a good president?  This is a woman whose self esteem is so low that she stayed with a man who cheated on her in front of the entire world on more than one occasion.  This can only mean one thing:  He will pay in front of the entire world, and he will pay big!  So, let’s put her in the White House?????  Is she planning on giving her VP a BJ on TV during a State of the Nation Address?  (Do you think I used enough acronyms in that sentence?)  Women who stick around after being treated that way have one thing in mind: revenge.  If Bill is smart (I know, I know, but it’s only a figure of speech) he would do something searingly outrageous and destroy her chances.  It might save his life.  And speaking as a woman myself, I can tell you this: Hillary remembers every one of you who have screwed her over.  You might not even be aware that you did. *see paragraph one*  And you will not get away unscathed either.  Kenneth Star, I’m especially talking to YOU!  She will smile for the cameras while she is listening in her earpiece to them tell her that the “package” has been deposited.  That will be you in the East River wearing a pair of cement overshoes, going to sleep with the fishes.  But only after she has caused them to make you scream like a girl.  Think about it guys.  Women are by far more vicious than men will ever be.  And we never forget a slight.  We certainly never forgive one.  Putting Hillary Clinton in the White House is like dressing up Brittney Spears and putting HER in the White House.  Sounds good, don’t it?

I wonder if the people that Blackwater were hired to guard and protect in Iraq want them gone?  I haven’t heard anyone ask them.  I haven’t heard any of them say.  I would love to hear the answer to those questions.  I also wonder who it was that Blackwater had with them at the time of the last big incident that caused all this hooohaaa.  I hate magicians because I feel like misdirection is inherently dishonest.  So this last big deal over Blackwater makes me wonder who was there and why all the fingers are pointing in so many different directions, but no one is saying who was with them. 

Why are children always at their most obnoxious when my head hurts?#$%^&*

What parents say and what kids hear are two completely different things.  example: Me-“Hi Honey, how was your day?”

Them-“Why R U gettin all up in my KoolAid?”  That wasn’t a good exchange at all was it?  We had no exchange of information, no exchange of pleasantries at all.  That’s because what they hear is not what we said.

Me-how was your day       translation:  What did you do that was wrong or that I’m going to get a call from your school about before the day is through?

No wonder the response is so vehement!  I have no solution for this distortion as yet, however I am working on it and as soon as I perfect the formula, I will put it on a paid programming commercial at 4:45am and you too can have it for 6 easy payments of JUST $19.95 plus shipping and handling! 

When we were kids our dad used to wake us up every morning and whip us before he went to work.  He did this because he knew that before he got home that night we would have done something to deserve it.  He was right.  I’m thinking about reviving that old tradition.  Either that, or take up drinking.  I’m not really sure which way I’m going to go yet.  I’m leaning towards the whipping, but I’m not sure I could stand all that whining and crying.  But after the first time or two, I’d probably cowboy up and stop doing that.  On the other hand, drinking would be so much less work for me.  *sigh*  decisions, decisions

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Princess Diana

October 3, 2007

She’s dead.  Leave it alone.  No matter how many times you investigate it, she’ll still be dead. 

On the other hand, everybody loves a mystery, right?

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Blackwater

October 3, 2007

Blackwater was hired as an independent contractor to guard and protect visiting dignitaries while they were in Iraq.  That’s my take on it, anyway.  If I’m wrong, please disregard the following.

Would you rather they wait to return fire until all the Iraqi citizens are out of the way?  I’m sure Condoleeza Rice won’t mind waiting under the Hummer until they all scurry inside first.  What’s a little dirt and oil up her nose, right?  I mean, that’s just par for the course when you’re visiting a war torn nation.  You really don’t expect to go from one place to another without hitting the dirt several times on the way, right?

It’s not like they have roadside bombs going off over there every day, right?  I mean please!  Show some restraint guys!  Let Condie get a graze at least before you start return fire!  She’s a right tough little cookie!  She won’t mind!  Hell the Secretary of State would be willing to take one for the team before you actually start firing back.  He’s a generous kinda guy. 

And if Hillary ever comes over, you can just put a stick up her ass and wave her around like a target peace flag and see if that works out for you.  If she comes back full of bullet holes, maybe that was just an accident and you can try again with Bill.

I just don’t understand why you guys automatically assume that when a vehicle bursts out of traffic and starts towards you at a high rate of speed, it must be a threat!  Jeeze maybe it’s just some Iraqi guy who’s late for work.  I mean, gun barrels bristling out the windows don’t necessarily haveto mean that they are being aggressive do they?  Maybe they’re just going skeet shooting at the country club.  Did you ever think of that?

And what are a few mis-aimed bombs between friends?  Jiminy!  You would think that they were attacking you or something, just because they bombed a few barracks and killed a few people.  You guys have got to lighten UP!  If you don’t do that soon, people just might think you have a job to do there and that you take it seriously.  God knows, we don’t want THAT to happen!

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Just Because Everybody Loves A Mystery

October 3, 2007

Kennedy Assassination 

 I don’t want my mysteries solved.  I want to ruminate about them over a nice hot cup of java on crisp Sunday mornings while I’m sitting on the porch swing with My Dearest Husband watching the sun come up over the valley.  It gives us something to really sink our teeth into without getting too full, if you know what I mean.

Like, I prefer the lone gunman theory for the JFK shooting.  I’ve seen alot of stupid fast shooters in my time.  It would be just about like Lee Harvey Oswald to be one of those gun nuts who put in enough hours and had just enough natural ability to pull that off all by himself.  If you’ve ever been all hyped up on the A-line you know how things just seem to move in slow mo while everything is happening, while in reality it’s all moving in hyperspeed.  If Oswald happened to be in just that frame of reference, he could have pulled it off easy.  All by his lonesome.

My Dearest Husband prefers the group theory.  More to keep the argument going than any firm belief in it I think. 

We went to Dealey Plaza in Dallas, stood on the grassy knoll, actually stood on the X they have marked on the road where Kennedy took the shot.  Kinda creepy how it’s all laid out there like that.  We stood on that X and looked back at the windows of the School book depository where Oswald would have been shooting from.  It would have been a clear and easy shot.  Not near as complicated as it was always made to seem. 

The fact is, he had easier shots at Kennedy while he was coming straight towards him.  My guess is that he chose not to take them because so many people would have been looking right in his direction at the time of the shots.  It would have been so much easier to see him(Oswald) there.  By waiting until Kennedy turned the corner and was moving away, all faces and cameras would have been pointing away from his location. 

Could easily have been one man.  It could easily have been Oswald.  Or someone one else.  Who knows who it was.?

Robert Garwood

Bobby Garwood walks out of Viet Nam more than ten years after he was captured and held as a POW.  He begins to tell about other US service men still in camps in Viet Nam and other countries in Southeast Asia.  But Bobby Garwood is an embarrassment to the US government and they don’t like him.  So what he says has to be kept quiet. However, what he says can be proven.  Google him.  Look him up. 

Read everything you can find out about his disappearance, his captivity, and his return home.  Then think about what you now know about our involvement in Southeast Asia.  Think about all of the despicable things our government did to the very soldiers they sent over there to fight.  Then decide what you think about what a man did to survive his captivity in the hands of the enemy. 

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Reunions

September 28, 2007

Our oldest daughter came home yesterday.  It’s been three years since I’ve laid eyes on her.  My heart has seen her twenty-four/seven but my eyes have hungered for her non-stop.  Going long periods of time between physically seeing her is normal.  She is a natural born gypsy.  She comes by that honestly. 

I never seem to be prepared for just how overwhelmingly happy I am to see her.  I kept poking her on the arm.  She kept looking at me.  Finally, the last time I did it she said, “Believe I’m really here yet?”  There seems to be a Birdie shaped hole in my being when she isn’t with me that immediately fills up when she comes home. 

It’s like that with all my family and to a lesser degree with my friends.  I’m like a puzzle.  I’m this huge picture.  I know what it is, I know what it looks like.  But I’m only really complete and the whole big picture when everyone is together.  I almost had it this Labor Day. 

Labor Day marked the one year anniversary since the house burned down.  All in all things have progressed fairly splendidly since then.  We moved into what seems to us to be the perfect house in which to finish raising the kids, finish growing old, hobble around awhile, become a burden to said kids, make them change our diapers just like we did theirs, and eventually be remanded to an old folks home, there to linger and molder away, forgotten and neglected while the aforementioned kids are happily enjoying the life of Riley back at the old homestead.  So we decided it was time to conduct a good ol fashioned throw-down. 

The icing on the cake was that my mom (you remember her, I am now the proud owner of her hands) and my brothers and my sister(in law) and my niece(my GOD I love that kid) all came up from good ol FLA to attend! AND My Dearest Husband’s Grandma came from 250 miles away along with his mom.  Most of our closest friends were able to attend.  The few that weren’t were in our thoughts.  Our new neighbors were here.  We had just the best time ever!  The best count we could get was approximately 47 people.  Not bad. 

The kids all played and didn’t fuss and fight.  The grownups all played and didn’t fuss and fight.  Even I was nice! (I think) It lasted from around noon until way, way late.  Actually it lasted until way early the next day.  We had two chefs that cooked on the grill for us.  OMG  They ruled!  My Dearest Husband’s Aunt and Cousin brought some kick ass goodies.  We cooked.  I say “we” as if I actually helped any!  LOL  I didn’t!  Don’t let me fool you.  I was absolutely NO help of any kind at all.  My help consisted of staying out of the way and trying not to talk too much.  Because by the day of the party I had been off my meds for a fair amount of days ( another story for another time) and I was having major difficulties even saying words.  Mostly I just wandered around aimlessly.  But at least I wasn’t destructive.  That in itself was helpful.

The bros and the hubbie knocked out a couple horse shoe pits and everyone threw some shoes.  Down here in Carolina you ain’t had a party if you haven’t threw the shoes.  After everyone left, my little brother, Pony, got out my guitar and he and my older brother, Pork Chop, and I sat out on the front porch and sang all the old songs while the dogs lay around under our feet.  Pork Chop said it was like being in Mayberry. 

The puzzle was mostly put together that day.  Only a few missing pieces.  It was good to have everyone here.  It’s been awhile since we’ve been able to do that. 

Big party, lots of people, food, beer, family, friends, no bloodshed = success. 

*sigh* (insert big sappy grin) I love reunions.

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