ADD and ADHD – Or “Boy Do They Have It All Wrong”

May 28, 2008

Princess Bella has “ADHD” or Attention Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder. 

Let me take a pause here to decide just where to start this blog, because I have so many things to say and I’m not sure just what order I want to put them in.  Hey there’s a bird out there picking on the dogs!  Cool!  Anyways, as I was saying, I think they totally misnamed this stuff. 

People with ADD and ADHD do not have a deficiency of attention.  What they have is an overabundance of attention.  Their attention is captured by EVERYTHING at all times!  They don’t miss anything at all.  There is not one thing that goes on in this universe that they miss.  It might not make the top 10 on the list of important things they give notice to, but they didn’t miss it, I guarantee you! 

What happens is, they don’t focus on the things that other people  want them to focus on.  This is not a deficiency.  This is a failure to come to an agreement on what constitutes the most important thing.  That is a whole other ballgame.

It is my own personal opinion that ADD and ADHD are old ……..  for lack of a better word…..conditions.  And I use the word condition here NOT in the sense that it is something that needs to be “fixed”, but that it is possibly outside the norm.  I believe that we can lay our very existence at the feet of someone back in the misty long ago who was blessed with ADD or ADHD.

I say this because…..imagine this:  Our little cave-group is sitting around the fire in our pitiful cave, noshing on a few ptarmigan, all happy and stuff.  All of a sudden…..GROWLLLLL…..SNARLLLL!!!!….and whatever other mean nasty things happen when a sabre tooth tiger comes skulking out of the dark.  EEEKKKK!

Now!  Who do you want in your midst most: The cave-dude with ADD/ADHD who’s gonna whack that sabre tooth over the head with a big ol club, or the logical thinker who is going to weigh all the consequences of his actions before he does anything?  MY vote goes for the ADD/ADHD guy!  I believe with all my being that it was those people who acted first without thinking it all out, whose attention was on everything, who were watching it ALL and not missing anything,  that not only kept us alive but advanced us to the point that we can now consider their gift a problem and chastise them for it.

Because it is only now, at the advanced point our civilization has reached, that the gifts of ADD/ADHD become a “problem.”  Only now do we have to sit un-naturally still for hours on end as small children day in and day out for months at a time.  Only now do we have jobs that require us to be indoors all day long every day all year long.  Only now does the watchfulness and quick action inherent in ADD/ADHD become unnecessary.

Instead of calling ADD/ADHD a problem or making people with it feel broken, we need to name streets after them, have a national ADD/ADHD holiday, and celebrate the fact that it exists at all.  Because without it, we very well might not be here at all!

 

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On Being Hacked On eBay

May 16, 2008

On the 24th of April we were hanging out at the old homestead, doing nada.  I was probably trying to make my way back to the end of the internet again.  The telephone rings.  I didn’t recognize the number so I answered it.  Normally I don’t do that.  However I live on my instincts and this time something told me to see who it was. 

Some lady asked me if it was MDH’s residence.  I said yes it was.  She asked if he was selling anything on eBay.  I said not that I knew of but that he had a way of surprising me sometimes so I had better let her ask him about that.  I took him the telephone and went back to my e-travels.

Not long after that he comes into the room looking more bewildered than he has since Possum projectile vomited when she was two.  (THAT was a HOOT!)  He tells me I need to check our eBay account.  Sure enough, someone has listed some hoity toity crap on our account for sale!  The lady on the phone bid on it and won.  I’m not sure what happened on her end to raise her hackels, but she somehow got a hinky feeling and decided to check it out.

What to do?  Well, on the home page of eBay is a link that says “Live Chat” or something to that effect.  I clicked on that link. 

And here begins the saga of the eBay bogus seller fees.  For some reason they decided that I was responsible for the fees that the bogus seller incurred.  I decided I was not.  I decided that if it was necessary, I would close out my eBay account and just do my business on Craigs list if I had to.

Well, it just so happened that every time I had time to try to resolve this issue, it would be bad weather here.  And unfortunately my internet connection is through satellite.  *sigh*  I talked to three different people in ten minutes in one conversation one day because my connection kept going down. 

The last guy I talked to that day kept telling me that I had to pay the fees I incurred when I listed the items for sale.  I kept telling him that in the first conversation I had, which I had printed out, we had already established that my account had been subject to unauthorized activity.  Therefore I was not responsible for the fees.  I was getting dizzy going around in circles with this guy.  Thank God the connection went down again before I succumbed to apoplexy! 

So, tomorrow, the 17th, is the day the fees were to be charged to my bank account.  I decided to give them one last chance to rectify the situation before I called my bank to tell them not to pay the charges.  I click the Live Chat link on the eBay home page.  I got connected to the right person the first time.  She asked me what the problem was, referred back to the previous conversations I had had with all the other people there, read the messages and alerts that eBay had sent me in regards to the unauthorized use of my account, and fixed the problem in less than five minutes.

I was blissed out!  I gave that little darling about a thousand atta girls, wished her a raise, a wonderful life, a jump in Karma and just about every other good thing I could think of! 

All I could think of was how glad I was that I had been pleasant to all of those other people I had talked to before her!  Because it could have turned out so different if I had blessed out her best friend in the chat center the last time I was on!

I guess patience really IS a virtue.

 

But you know what?  I’ve been thinking about it today.  I know my side of this equation inside out.  They don’t know ME from Adam’s house cat.  I could be anybody.  I could be just trying to get out of paying fees that I really did incur.  I’m sure people do it all the time.    And it wasn’t their fault that the weather intervened the first few times I tried to get this done.  On their end, it must have looked like I was backing out of the conversation every time things got sticky. 

So, in the end, when I had a chance to stay on the conversation, it took eBay a full five minutes to fix a problem for me that could have been a disaster.  And they did it with good grace and were very pleasant about the whole matter.  Not bad for a place that you absolutely cannot contact on the telephone.

Now, if I could just figure out how on earth that lady got my phone number to call me in the first place I think I could lay this whole thing to rest.

 

Things I’ve learned: 

1. Change your passwords often.

2. Be pleasant to the people you want something from.

3. Change your passwords often.

4. Try to see the situation from the other point of view as well as your own.

5. Change your passwords often.

6. Don’t give up.

7. Change your passwords often.

It sure made my day when she said it was all taken care of and my account had been credited.  I just love it when something like that happens.  It just starts my day out right!

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On Being “Nice”

May 14, 2008

I think people today have the wrong idea about what “nice” is. 

I cannot convince my kids that setting boundaries with other people isn’t mean.  Let me give you a hypothetical conversation to illustrate.

Daughter: We split up.  I feel bad about it because he really wants us to stay together but I just don’t love him anymore.  Now he won’t leave me alone.  He calls me all 50 times a day, he comes to my work and causes trouble and I’m about to get fired, I just don’t know what to do.

Me: It’s my opinion that any contact you have with him at this point is only encouraging him to believe that there is still a chance for the two of you.  Are you sure that there isn’t?

Daughter:  Absolutely NO chance.  I really tried.  I don’t hate him, but I just don’t love him anymore. 

Me:  I think the best thing right now would be just to tell him that you have to stop having any contact with him.  There isn’t any reason to talk to him.  If you’re done, it’s only dragging out his agony to continue.  Simply tell him its over and stop taking his calls.

Daughter:  But that’s so mean!

Me: What’s mean about telling him the truth?

Daughter: Well it sounds so harsh.

Me: It’s not harsh, it’s called honest and to the point without alot of superfluous crap added in.  Set your boundaries and stick to them.  The sooner you do that the sooner he will get it and move on.

Daughter:  It just sounds so mean to drop him like that.  I don’t want to be mean to him, I just want him to go away and leave me alone!

Me:  And you think that the way to accomplish that is to continue talking to him?  As long as you do that without setting limits, he will think that you’re doing it because there is still something left for him to say or do to get you back.

Daughter: I don’t want him back, but I don’t want to be mean to him either.

< insert the sound of me banging my head against a brick wall here>

 

Since when is honesty mean?  Since when is setting boundaries mean?  Since when is setting limits mean?

Why is it that people suddenly believe that they should sacrifice their own peace of mind on the alter of someone else’s hopeless dream?   That doesn’t make sense to me.  That kind of “nice” is inherently dishonest.  That kind of “nice” is meanness in its worst and most underhanded form, because it delays the inevitable and holds out false hope.  What it really is, is the refusal to stand up and take the heat for your own feelings now, by putting the other person off until they end things themselves because they feel the dishonesty and can’t tolerate it.  It’s cowardice. 

 

My definition of being nice is being honest even if it isn’t the most comfortable thing at the moment.  It saves hard feelings later on down the road. 

If I know what my limits are, but I refuse to tell you, then I have no room for complaint if you cross them.

So how is setting limits mean?  I just don’t get it.  What’s so “nice” about  dishonesty?

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Word Play

May 9, 2008

Speaking of words…..not that we were……But anyway

Let’s play with words today, just because I’m bored and I have nothing better to do except housework and I avoid that like the plague.

Grumptious-Someone who is grumpy but in a delicious way.

Wit for Brains – Some one who is witty but in a shitty way.  Shittily witty.  Or wittily shitty.

Bother in-law – An in-law (or out-law) that won’t leave you alone.  This one is a unisexual term that can be used for all in-laws of any persuasion.

Pooppees – It’s what puppies are until they are housetrained.  Count on it, I know!

Crapromise – That’s a promise someone makes but they have no intention of keeping it.

Crampromise – Along those same lines, a compromise that never really pans out.

 

Alright, I ran out already.  But I just got to thinking about the word “bill”.  It can be someone’s name, it can be the long hangie-out piece on the front of a hat, it can be the really long hard lips on the face of a fowl or a platypus, it can be something you send to congress, or it can be something you have to pay.  We really make our words work hard don’t we?  

I love words.  They are some of my favorite people.  And since my brain got smushed, they have become a source of endless amusement for many people, including me.  For instance, the time at the Pawn Shop, in June, when a customer was leaving and I told him to have a Happy Thanksgiving.  I have NO idea where that came from.  I was trying to tell him to have a good weekend.  My brain has a mind of its own, though.  That’s probably why I told another customer to have a good idea instead of a good afternoon!  Although having a good idea is never a bad idea, after all.  And then there was the time I was trying to tell someone about Princess Bella’s latest accomplishment.  “She can ride a horse without training wheels”  Hmmm  No, that’s not quite right is it?  I tried it three times and bike came out horse every time.  Finally Bella had to say it for me. 

Now you’re going to see a horse with training wheels all day long aren’t you?  *giggle*  Good!  Me too!  Now, at least I won’t be the only one! 

It just goes to show you, a word is worth a thousand pictures. 

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Random Thoughts May 2, 2008

May 3, 2008

MY LIFE IS SO BORING   BUSY I HAVE NO TIME TO WRITE. 

That’s the excuse I’m giving myself for having nothing to say. 

I hate politics.  Just vote for the liar who’s ass you like best. 

Every time a political ad comes on TV it reminds me of an old Saturday Night Live show.  Dan Ackroyd was the Jimmy Carter-like president who was just elected.  During his inaugural address he tells the nation that, due to becoming privy to information he was NOT privy to before becoming president, he will no longer be able to keep ANY of his campaign promises.  ROFLMAO!  

Privy.  What an odd word.  That’s an outhouse, right?   I need my OED for some background info here.  I love to find out the origin of odd words or phrases that we use all the time but never really think about.  For instance: “In cahoots with”  Back during the old days, criminals lived in shacks down by the river.  They were called cahutes(French) or kajuits(Dutch).  When crimes were commited, the POPO knew that all they had to do was go down to the river and the culprit would most likely be there.  They were “in cahoots” with all the other criminals!  I love this stuff!  *sigh*  I’m such a nerd.  A word nerd.  Dang!

WTF is up with the Austrian dude who kept his daughter and his incestous offspring (some of them at least) captive in the freaking basement for 24 years?  TWENTY-FOUR YEARS!!!!!!!!  And, not to make disparaging remarks about the intellect of the mother here, but how the hell did she miss that????  I mean, the guy was taking food to them daily!  She and the “children” were forbidden from going near the area where the door was located.  Huh?  I mean, just how smart do you have to be to figure out something is wrong?  Here he is telling her that the daughter ran away.  Okay, not so suspicious there.  But sometime later, she “drops off” three of her kids.  No contact with mom, only dad.  No bells yet?  How old were the children when he brought them out of the basement?  Why didn’t they ever say, “Hey grandma, can I go downstairs and say hi to Mom?”  That is a perfect case of someone being deliberately obtuse! 

Obtuse.  Another favorite word of mine.  Look it up, Muttonhead.  I’m not doing ALL the work for you!

So, my neurologist ran away and didn’t tell me.  I get my meds through one of those online thingies.  I was up for a refill, which required my neuro to re-authorize my scripts.  No biggie, we do this all the time.  NOT!  The online meds thingie sends me a message saying that they cannot renew my scripts.  I have to contact my Dr.  Okay, a little strange, but I’m about due for a visit anyway.  I call up and get no answer.  No answer, no answering machine, no answering service, no nothing.  For days on end.  I have no idea what’s up, but I’m not really stressing too much because I never liked the jerk anyway. 

So I talk to some other doctors, trying to get a few referrals so I can find a new neuro.  One of them tells me that my neuro has moved to the mountains.  No shit?, I say.  Yep, she says.  He sent a letter to all of his current patients telling them that he was leaving and to come get their records.  I never got my letter!  *insert sad face here*  This is the point where I start to feel a little ……..um…….well, left out.  I mean, just because I’m not at his office once a month, that doesn’t make me chopped liver!  I really  never liked that guy. 

I’m now on a quest for a new neurologist.  *sigh*  I hate this medical crap more than I can tell you.  I can’t remember things well enough to be coherent when it comes time to give a timeline/symtom list.  Luckily, MDH comes with me most of the time.  I can’t remember because I have scar tissue in the memory centers of my brain.  Whatever that means. 

It’s fascinating to listen to MDH tell about it, though.  I have no idea about alot of the things he tells them.  I am apparently very different from what I used to be like.  I don’t remember who I used to be, so it’s like listening to a story where part of the time I was the main character and part of the time my understudy took the stage for me.  She had a lot of fun times!  They sound fun, anyway.  It makes me sad that she got to do that stuff and I didn’t. 

I get all emotional about it because I wonder how people see me now, compared to how they used to see me.  I don’t feel any different.  But I must be really  different, because I used to have lots of friends and now I don’t have any.  I guess people get tired of seeing that blank look on my face every time they talk about something we did and I don’t have any idea what they mean.  I understand that because it frets me something terrible when it happens.  I feel like a partial amnesiac.  I remember just enough to know that I don’t really remember much.  I had a whole other life that I have totally forgotten. 

The cool part is that at one time I was a pretty cool old broad.  I wish I had had a video camera on me at all times.  Then I could see me doing all that stuff and maybe I would remember it then.  I wonder how sad it makes MDH, having to keep the memories alone.  That frets me too. 

This is why I hate the medical stuff.  Because I am confronted with the stranger I used to be whenever I have to go.  It gets me all emo.  I used to tell people that I lost the eighties.  They thought it was a joke.  It wasn’t.  I don’t remember the music, the television, the movies, the major events in the news.  They are gone. 

Most of the time I can sit up here on the hill and be whoever it is that I am now and not think about whatever it was that I lost.  But I think that mostly I sit here and don’t think at all.  Most of the time I run just beneath the surface and I’m not really all that aware of what’s going on around me.  I try to be, but it’s hard to do because I have no idea what I’m missing.  I don’t know what I’ve forgotten that I’m supposed to be remembering.  Whenever I go into town, people that are complete strangers to me always wave, stop and talk, and I have no idea who they are.  I smile and nod my head and I have no idea who the hell they are or where they know me from.  It’s creepy in the extreme.

Sometimes I think that I should go out and make new friends that didn’t know me before.  Then I remember that I don’t know who knows me and who doesn’t.  Makes it kind of hard to do. 

Anyways, that might explain why sometimes I’m HERE and sometimes I just have nothing to say. 

Anyone else out there have something like this going on?  How do/did you handle it? 

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Let’s Catch Up

March 2, 2008

In case you haven’t noticed by now, I have a tendency to vanish occasionally.  Don’t despair!  I shall return.  This may or may not be a good thing.  I leave it up to you to decide.  I have my own doubts about that on occasion: Particularly when I wake up in the morning, stumble into the “library”, look into the mirror and scream because there is some strange elderly lady looking back at me from my eyes. 

If sleeping is supposed to be so darn good for me how come I always wake up looking like I’m just coming down off of a thirty day drunk?

Sometimes I wish I had been born rich instead of so damned good looking. lucky. with such a hot body. 

Sometimes I wish I had been born rich.

You know you live in the south if your heart gets blessed at least fifteen times a day.  

You definitely know you live in the south if someone can bless your heart in such a way that it makes you feel like smacking them in the mouth.  No one can be more ruthlessly kind than southern women.  A southern woman will invite you to dine in her home precisely because she hates you with a passion that exceeds her love of fried foods.  She will then be so drippingly kind and considerate of you that it will make your skin crawl. 

I stay home most of the time.  Luckily however, I am also rarely invited into the homes of southern women.  In the immortal words of Martha Stewart (a Yankee woman with a southern soul if ever there was one)…..That’s a good thing!

You know you live in a small, small, small southern town if every business on Main Street is closed on Wednesday but open on Saturday.  (The explanation for this is so that folks that work for a living can do their business on Saturday but the employees can still have two days off each week.  I know, right?)

The Buddha is an exceptionally accomplished driver for a young man of twelve years.  Living out here in the boonies is good for that.  He can drive all over the hill because it’s our property.  He will have all the wild oats out of his system by the time he gets his license and will be a safe responsible driver.  That’s the lie I’m telling myself.  Now shush up and don’t bust my bubble by telling me the truth. 

Princess Bella had us standing around with our mouths open like fly traps the other day when she sprang her latest hidden talent on us.  A gentlemen on some game show, probably Jeopardy, said the alphabet backwards.  As soon as he started doing it, she started doing it.  As soon as she started doing it I shushed her.  Then it soaked into my brain that she was actually doing it right.  I told her to do it again.  She did.  Turns out that the little jasper can spell anything, and I mean anything at all, backwards.  If she can spell it forwards, she can spell it backwards just as well.  And she can spell like a demon.  I’m in the process of teaching her to spell supercalifragilisticexpealidocious.  I can’t waitto hear her spell that one backwards!  Incidentally, I spelled that phonetically, so if I spelled it wrong, please let me know!  I’d rather hear it from you than have her find out that I taught it to her wrong, then have her roll her eyes at me.  You know what I mean?  I already went through that with the word “ablutions”.  I spelled it “abloutions”.  Lord, you would have thought I spit on the flag or something!  Cripes!

She has just been accepted into the Academically and Intellectually Gifted class at school.  She’s stoked.  Me too.  The kid’s got more intelligence in her pinkie than I have in my whole body.  Learning is one of her favorite hobbies!  One day when we were at the counseling center she was reading The Count of Monte Cristo to me.  She’s like having my own personal audio books.  Gradually all of the adults gravitated to the side of the waiting room we were on and sat down listening to her read.  She was so engrossed in the book that she didn’t notice them.  They thought she was a midget, not a seven year old kid.  I’m really jonesing for her to start on The Iliad and The Odyssey.  I think they’ll hold her interest. 

When we asked her how she learned to spell things backwards she told us that she just always knew it!  Duh!  I guess that was just a dumb question, huh?

Rocky is having a hard time adjusting to the far FAR more relaxed pace of country living.  She’s used to being able to hop in her car and be anywhere to do anything in fifteen minutes tops.  Here, it takes more than fifteen minutes to get to town!  Where she lived in Florida, it never got dark, it never shut down, it was never quiet, and there were always, always, always people in your line of sight.  Here, after the sun sets, it is totally dark until the sun comes back up again.  The stores and fast food joints shut down by eleven, and there is no one to see but us.  While in my own humble opinion we ain’t nuttin to throw rocks at, it is JUST the four of us here.  If she wants to see people, she has to do some traveling. 

Gee Toto, I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore!

We have some births coming up.  Two of the dogs are pregnant.  SugarPlum is significantly pregnant.  She’s eating for twenty now.  Poor thing can’t even squat to pee without her belly dragging the ground.  DeeDee is also pregnant.  I’m not sure she knows what caused that, or what exactly that is.  She seems mystified by the changes her body is going through.  She is fat and clumsy.  She keeps trying to jump up onto the back of the chair I’m sitting in, then she can’t quite make it and she slips off.  Then she will stand there looking around like, “How the hell did I get here?  I’m supposed to be up there!”  It’s funny as hell and kinda pitiful at the same time.  I called her a tub of lard the other day and I swear she knew what it meant.  She got this hurt look on her face and lay down on the couch, then put both paws over her eyes.  I felt so bad I gave her people food to comfort her.  Now every time I turn around she is hiding her face and looking pitiful.  I think I got played. 

I have this little kink about birds.  I love em!  So I have all these bird feeders outside where I can watch the birds eat.  Did you know that birds are hogs?  Those little buggers can knock back some bird seed!  Last Saturday all the neighborhood kids were at our house playing.  We jammed with Guitar Hero.  His Highness The Buddha kicked our asses.  We played card games.  We played board games.  They ate me out of house and home like a plague of locusts.  They played on the swing-set out back.  Then they got pissy.  You know how kids are when they’ve been together for too long? 

I decided to make them be useful.  I got out the big ass bag of bird seed and let them help me refill all of the bird feeders.  Here’s a little math question for you!  Red has six kids at her house.  Each kid has two hands each.  Red has one big ass bag of bird seed.  Each kid puts two hands into the bag of birdseed in order to refill the bird feeders.  How much bird seed gets into the feeders?  Answer: Only fifty percent of the birdseed removed from the bag will actually make it to the feeders.  The balance will be smashed into someones face, dumped down someones back, tossed into someones hair, fed to the dogs, and tossed around on the ground for the birds to eat. 

So, this week every-time I look out the window all of my feeders are hanging around sans birds and the birds are on the ground munching on the seed the kids spilled.  WTF?  It’s a clear cut case of nature over nurture!  When the seed on the ground is gone they’ll go back to the feeders!  But holy crap the birds are beautiful!  I have blue ones, yellow ones, red ones, orange ones, and every combination in between.  My very favorite, most beloved non-hummingbird bird is the indigo bunting.  It is awesome!  It’s like those cars with the paint that changes colors.  It’s feathers change colors with every move it makes.  Google it.  The pictures are gorgeous. 

Which reminds me, I need to go to the Dollar store and pick up some after Christmas tinsel on sale and hang it up for the crows.  They are my totem animal.  And just like me, they are captivated by shiny objects.  I figure the tinsel is harmless and they will like it for building nests.  You know, just a lil bling bling for the crib. 

I’m planning on planting a small veggie garden in straw-bales this year.  It’s something new.  I’ll let you know how it goes.  And because we’re in a drought, I have to figure out a way to water the bales so that they aren’t so wasteful of water.  This water waste is a major downfall of the straw-bale system.  I have an idea.  I’ll let you know how it goes.  I’m planning on putting out tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers, summer squash, and some gourds just for fun.  I already have a grape vine.  And of course the plum tree out front and a peach tree out back. 

I might have to start another blog on my veggies and fruits.  I’ll be busy with them.  I’m going to dry a lot of them.  String beans!  They are very easy to make into leather britches!  You take string beans after you have pulled them off the vine, wash and dry them, then take a needle and thread.  Make it a long, double thread just like you were going to sew something with it.  Then one by one you poke the needle through the string beans, in the middle of each one.  You leave enough string at the top to tie them to whatever you’re going to hang them from.  Hang them in a cool dry place until dry.  Then store in an airtight container until you are ready to use them. 

When you want to cook them, take down a string of leather britches, cut the knot off the bottom of the string, and pull the beans off.  Rinse well.  Soak in a bowl of cool water for about an hour.  Then place in a pot, cover with water and cook until tender.  Season to taste. 

Okay, now I’m hungry and it’s the middle of the night!  Sheesh!  Hmm, middle of the night and I’m still up.  I’m still up and on the computer and thinking about eating.  Could this have anything to do with the fact that I look like the bride of Frankenstein when I wake up in the morning?  Just another one of those questions that nag me in the middle of the night like: Why do tornadoes always touch down in trailer parks?  And who is the braille for at the drive through teller machine at the bank?  And is rehab really just for quitters?  And why don’t people eat turkey eggs?  You could get a whole damn pan of scrambled eggs with just three of those babies I bet!  And why don’t we grow wheat in the dividers of the interstates?

And last but certainly not least, now that I’m back, don’t you wish I had stayed away just a teensy bit longer? 

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Meanwhile, Back At The Ranch

January 25, 2008

So, thanks to you all for my 15 minutes of fame.  It’s been heady stuff.  Now I’ll be all into the news looking for some more famous mysteries to solve.  I’ll have to get a Sherlock Holmes hat (I look really good in a hat), one of those ever so cool curvy pipes, and start talking all intelligent and stuff.  It’ll be great.

Then we’ll all sit around here talking about what’s not right with the latest case in the news.  We’ll sip brandy or sherry or port or whatever it is that mystery solvers sip while mystery solving.  We’ll smoke our pipes……….or we’ll light them and then let them go out and light them again which is what it seems to me that pipe smokers do.  Do we need smoking jackets?  Do they even make those anymore?  Yall rich folks can let me know this one.  What are smoking jackets for, anyway?  I never really understood the purpose of that particular garment.

I don’t have any wing-back chairs anymore.  I used to have one but it got burned up in the fire.  It would have been uncomfortable for more that a few of us to try to use it at one time anyway.  It was a fairly small wing back chair and a second hand one at that.  But it wasa wing-back so that counts. 

Maybe someone can invent a blowup wing-back for us.  Then it will be BYOWbC.  I think the blowup part would be implied.  We’ll solve the Black Dahlia case.  That should get us started out good.  Then we’ll be able to pick and choose our cases from there. 

I was listening to Starr Jones on truTV today, formerly known as Court TV, talking about a case in which two attorneys had a client whom they knew to be guilty of a murder.  Another man had been tried and convicted of that crime and was in prison for years on that conviction.  Due to the laws governing attorney/client confidentiality, they were not at liberty to say that this man was in fact NOT guilty of the crime he was in prison for.  The best they were allowed to do was secure from their guilty client a waiver saying that, in the event of his death, they had his permission to divulge his guilt of the murder and secure the release of the innocent man!  Their client eventually did die and they were allowed to release the information.  The innocent man is in the process of getting out of prison now. 

If the two attorneys had said anything at all about the innocent man being innocent before their client had died, they would have been disbarred and probably faced charges for it.  Isn’t that sad?  That doing the right thing to keep an innocent man out of jail would cost people their jobs and possibly send them to jail in the process?   Seems to me like they could have at least been released to say to the investigators or a judge or someone that the man being tried was not the man who committed the crime and that they needed to investigate further. 

However, I can see how that would be like telling on him.  It’s a catch 22 isn’t it?  I wouldn’t have wanted to be in the position of the two attorneys. 

Intyways, as The Buddha says, I just wanted to say thanks for the participation! 

Meanwhile, back at the ranch………

Rocky and I picked the heathens up from the bus stop the other day and took them with us to go shopping.  As we were riding back home we passed the house of one of Bella’s friends.  She calls out, “Hiiiiii Madison!!!!”   Rocky asks, “Does she live in the place with the lighthouse out front?”  Bella has her MP3 player in her ears and probably jacked up to the max, so she only hears part of what Rocky said.  Bella asks, “The lighthouse?” To which I answer, “Yes, the lighthouse out in the yard.”  Bella replies, “Um, NO, Gramma Toe, she doesn’t live in that little lighthouse, she lives in the great big house behind it!”  Then she proceeds to roll her eyes like Rocky has lost her ever lovin mind. 

Now, Rocky and I have possibly the lowest humor threshold on record.  We can be found laughing at almost anything.  The idea that Bella thought that WE thought that her friend was small enough to live in a decorative, four foot high light house that sits on the lawn just had us tickled to no end.  We giggled and snickered and laughed.  We couldn’t even look at each other for hours because every time we did we would collapse in giggles and we couldn’t function. 

And it didn’t help that earlier, after Bella had gotten off her bus but while we were waiting for The Buddha’s bus to get home, she had caught us with another unexpected visual. 

We have a little saying around here when someone passes gas:  Oops!  I stepped on a frog!  Over time we have expanded on this theme with: Oops!  I swallowed a frog!  for when someone burps. 

Well, the kids love this!  And of course being MY grand-kids, they just ain’t right to begin with, so they’ve thought about this a lot.  And Bella is a very visual child.  She comes by this honestly. 

So, we’re waiting for The Buddha’s bus to come rolling down the road and someone who shall remain nameless, but who isn’t me and isn’t Bella, burped.  Bella pipes up with, “Dang Gramma Toe!  That frog crawled right up your butt and out your mouth!”

Rocky couldn’t even catch her breath enough to laugh.  She just kept squeaking.  The impact kept hitting her in waves.  I was half falling out of the truck laughing my ever loving ass right the hell off.  Because all I could see was these two little frog legs just a wiggling, trying to get up in there so they could make that long journey in order to get out Rocky’s mouth.  I haven’t been brave enough to ask Rocky yet just what visual it brought to mind for her, but judging from those squeaks she was making, I can only guess.  I’m going to rest up real good before I ask her.  Maybe take some vitamins.  Because I’m going to get one hell of a workout laughing when she finally tells me.

2 Comments | Blog, Crazy, Crime, Daily Life, Funny, Kids, life, Random, Uncategorized | Tagged: , , , , , , , , | Permalink
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Maria Lauterbach, Cesar Laurean, Christina Laurean

January 20, 2008

Living in North Carolina gives me a front row seat to the circus on this one.  Amid the incessant round of repeat information today I suddenly had a thought.  I think Christina Laurean is lying about when Cesar Laurean told her about what happened to Maria Lauterbach in their house. 

She claims that it was during a drive to see lawyers about the rape.  I don’t think that’s true at all.  I think he told Christina the story about Maria cutting her own throat with a knife on the same day he beat her to death in his home.  I believe that Christina came home from where ever she had been and walked into a slaughter house.  The explanation that Maria cut her own throat with a knife was the only thing he could think of at the time that would explain the blood all over the ceiling and walls of the house without implicating himself in her death. 

It makes no sense that he could beat Maria Lauterbach to death, wash down the scene, grab a friend, go to Lowe’s, buy a bunch of stuff, then paint the walls and ceilings of several rooms in his house, all while his wife is at a party. 

And that is IF he told her that story at all.  You have to keep in mind that Maria Lauterbach had accused Christina’s husband and the father of her 17 month old child of rape.  There is some question as to whether or not the child Maria was carrying was Cesar’s.  It’s entirely possible that Christina didn’t need an explanation about what happened.  She might have been there when it happened.  That might be why she took an entire 24 hours to go to authorities with her information after Cesar left town. 

Maria Lauterbach’s rape accusation had put Christina’s life and the life of her child in jeopardy.  It’s possible that Christina went to her husband’s Christmas party without him in order to make his excuses and give him time to do what he had to do with Maria’s body and the house.  She could have been covering for him.  She had no reason to like Maria Lauterbach.  In her mind, Maria could very well have been the enemy.  If that was the case, she could very well have aided her husband knowingly in every part of what he did.  He obviously had help from at least one person if not several people along the way. 

He wasn’t alone in Lowe’s, he wasn’t alone at the ATM machine.  He probably wasn’t alone at the Microtel near the airport.  Who is the person he was with at Lowe’s?  Who was he with at the ATM?  Why haven’t we heard anything about these people or what they have to say?

Another thought that gives me a hinky feeling about this whole thing is this:  In the note he wrote to his wife, Cesar Laurean puts himself at the train station with Maria Lauterbach when she bought her ticket to El Paso, TX.  As far as I know, HE is the ONLY source of this particular bit of information.  The question is WHY did he put himself there with her?  Did he see someone he knew there?  Did he think he was seen BY someone who knew him?  Did he think there were cameras there?  Did he take Maria Lauterbach FROM the train station? 

He put himself AT the train station with Maria for some reason.  So far I’ve heard no explanation for why he did it, but he had to have had a very good reason for putting himself WITH her at the last place she was KNOWN to be alive on the day she disappeared.  I’m still waiting to hear about this one too.  Could it be that he kidnapped her from the train station?  Could he have taken her to the train station and somehow forced her to buy the ticket to El Paso? 

And for that matter, no one actually SAW her leave her residence.  All they have is a note supposedly from her.  He could have kidnapped her from her home.  He could have forced her to write the note she left.  He could have taken her to the train station and had her buy the ticket then taken her to his home.  It’s not as far fetched as it sounds.  You have to remember this is the man who beat her to death in his house then took her out in his back yard, burned her body up and then buried her there.  Then calmly proceeded to paint over the blood stains in the house his child would soon be walking around in.

I think when this one’s finally over it’s going to be a stomach turner.  What do you think?

44 Comments | Abuse, Blog, Crazy, Crime, Random, Thoughts, True Story, Uncategorized | Tagged: , , , | Permalink
Posted by thought4food

Thoughts For The Day – Jan. 15, 2008

January 15, 2008

Does it seem odd to you that the CBS morning news should be reporting on Britney Spears court nonappearance in her child custody case?  Are there not a couple of areas in the world in which we are in military combat that might require more immediate attention?  Is there not a murderer on the run somewhere in the world who murdered an eight month pregnant woman, whom he allegedly raped, then burned and buried right in his own back yard in North Carolina?  Are there not weather systems going haywire?  Isn’t there a dog stuck in a well pipe on 7th street in some backwoods town in East Bumphuc Egypt?

And while I’m on the subject, does it constitute a low speed chase if only the psycho paparazzi are involved?  Isn’t it a prerequisite that the legal authorities be involved for it to be classified as a “chase” of any kind and to be shown on the national news, for God’s sake?

And, again, while I’m on the subject, does anyone really have an objection to Britney not being there to fight for custody of her children at the moment?  Before you all get up on your high horses and start to judge her as a horrible example of a mother for not being in there fighting for her kids with all her might, let me set you straight.  Britney did the most motherly thing I’ve seen her do in a long time this morning.  She let her kids go to the best place they can be right now.  Does anyone really think they need to be in Brit’s custody right now? 

Permanent Custody is a relative term in the court system.  Until a child is eighteen years old, or until a parent’s parental rights are terminated, nothing and I mean NOTHING is written in stone.  We’ve seen this over and over in this case already.  This could very well be Britney’s first step towards healing in a very long time.  Let’s keep our fingers crossed.

If I were her and I pulled up in front of that courthouse, with no chance of success inside and that gauntlet of press to run outside, I would probably have done the same thing.  Please note the “If I were her” at the beginning of the sentence.  Because every expression on my face on the way out the door would have been worth thousands to some undeserving asshole whose only ticket in is a camera in his hand and the dexterity to plunge the freakin button on it.  Which means a blind monkey in the right position could make that money shot over and over again.  So much for the “talent” portion of our event.

And that’s all for my Britney rant today.

Next……

The four hundred eighty five things you DID do today don’t count.  It’s the ONE thing you didn’t do that matters.  Don’t forget that.

Crackers trump the electric bill every time. 

You can spend all of your time working on a problem and someone who has never been involved will STILL think they can see it better than you. 

Criticism comes easy from the least expected people. 

Support comes from the most UNexpected people.

People who were deliberately absent when all the work was being done will make sure to point out all of the shortcomings of any project.  The harder the project, the more vocal the pointer will be.

Sometimes I’m a bitch.

7 Comments | Blog, Children, Court, Crazy, news, Random, Seeing Red, Thoughts, Trial, Uncategorized, Whining | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , | Permalink
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New Additions To The Collection

December 11, 2007

We have now added one new human and one new puppy to our collection of beings that we live with.  Our zoo gets bigger.  I’m totally happy about both additions. 

The first one you know about already.  It’s my mommy, Rocky.  <insert huge sappy grin here>  She seems to be settling in well and we’re having a great time burning up the roads and shopping and all that great stuff.  We have trashed a whole giant container of coffee so far this week and we’re making a whopping dent in the mail order coffee I’ve been storing up for months.  Honestly, I’m going to crash like a 747 eventually, but for the moment I’m having the time of my life!

The second addition is a bulldog/hound-dog mix.  It’s a big fat rolly polly little thing that is absolutely darlin to look at and it makes my uterous clench just to hold him.  He is satisfying all my maternal instincts at the moment.  I have to keep a minute by minute check on myself just to keep from going to get his two fat little sisters and bringing them home too.  That’s just what we need, two more dogs.  I’m fast becoming the crazy dog lady of the hill already. 

My Dearest Husband has declared this puppy HIS.  He named him Jeremiah Johnson.  Only MDH is allowed to feed and water him.  This is because the rest of us overwhelm all of the animals with our eternal presence and MDH is left out in the cold because he works at night and sleeps during the day.  This limits his ability to be around during the normal “playing with the animals” hours of the day.  Therefore, we are not allowed to associate with JJ unless it is in MDH’s presence. 

However, as I stated previously, MDH sleeps during the day. <insert evil grin here> That big fat rolly polly little baby needs things during the day sometimes!  I’m sure he does.  (looks all innocent and stuff)  He cries.  He’s a baby and he’s lonely.  If he doesn’t get some company he will fail to thrive.  This is not good.  Hence, for MDH’s sake and for the sake of MDH’s baby puppy, I make the huge sacrifice of spending a lil old bit of time with that fat baby for him.  I only do it because I love him.  I wouldn’t do that for just anyone!

His Highness The Buddha and Princess Bella have both gotten great grades on their report cards.  Or is it progress reports?  They send me too many grades home.  I can’t keep up with what is what.  And they feel compelled to change things too.  Used to be that you got letter grades.  A’s were good.  E’s were very bad.  Now S’s are good.  E’s can be good too.  Maybe E’s are bad, who knows?  All I know is that Princess Bella’s teacher was all smiles and all her grades were either S’s (I assumed from the smiles that these were good) and A’s.  And The Buddha’s name was in the newspaper for honor roll so I also assume that his grades were good, although I have no earthly idea how in hell he does it. 

I feel a party coming on.  Not for any reason really, just because I want one.  I think this one will be a hill party.  We have lots of kids up here now.  And my mommy is here to help me get it all ready.  

And OMG……I found two, count em, two grey hairs in my head!  They were really pretty ones.  Not all dirty grey, but white grey.  I kinda like em.  I liked them so much when I found them that I pulled them out and saved them in an envelope for all time.  I think I will leave the replacements there when they grow back in.  I’m fifty years old now, after all.  I guess it’s time for my hair to start getting a little grey in it. 

Once it goes good and grey, I’ll go ahead and lose some weight because I won’t need the fat to fluff out those pesky wrinkles around my eyes anymore.  And I’ll stop wearing my hair in a pony tail too.  It was time to stop doing that anyway.  I only did it because it pulled the wrinkles out of my face and I had so many of them that I was almost wearing my face in a pony tail with just a little bit of hair hanging of the bottom of it!  THAT was just getting creepy.

However, I have started to think that maybe I need to start wearing my rear end in pigtails. 

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