Monday, November 29, 2010

WEEK 14 #1

He lay in the hospital bed unaware of what was happening around him. The team of doctors had given him a powerful anesthetic to put him in a coma. He was oblivious of his pain, his blood, and the chaos that was taking place around him. This room was anything but homey. The walls were white and stale. The floors; cold, white linoleum. The bathrooms were sterile and looked as if no one had ever set foot in there. There was plenty of room to move about, but no how, no way, could anyone get comfortable. No decorations. Everything labeled and nothing out of order. He couldn’t see this though, only visitors were aware of the spotlessly clean, colorless space.

*****

Every few minutes they reduced the amount of anesthetic that was leading to his I.V. They wanted to arouse the coma induced man so they could try and remove his intubation tube and ensure he could breathe on his own. As they waited they took a sample of the mucous from the tube to make certain he didn’t have an infection or pneumonia. As the medicine wore off the man awoke, naive to what was going on or where he was. He tried to rip the tube from his throat, gagging until the nurse and doctor rationalize to the man what was taking place and what was required for him to do to assist them in the process.

*****

His wife; the only person allowed to visit, held his hand tightly as she clarified what had happened the week before. He listened intently, knowing it was serious. His whole life he had been a comic, but at this moment he knew he had to keep the jokes minimal in hopes to not upset his wife. He gazed into her eyes, much in love and was thankful that she was by his side through all of this. With her by his side he was sure he could endure anything life was throwing at him. Asking no questions until she was finished speaking, he tried to wrap his mind around what was happening. He had hydroplaned on the way to work at the mill last Wednesday, and wrapped his wife’s little Toyota around a telephone pole. He had a broken back, severe nerve damage, muscle damage and he had lost almost total feeling in his legs. In the process of the diagnosis the doctors had found a startling discovery. He had the bone density of an 85 year old woman.  At 34 years old he had developed osteoporosis. Typically a female disease and generally wasn’t diagnosed or progressive till the person was much, much older.

*****

He walked stiffly and slowly towards kitchen window. Gazing out, he could see his children in the big backyard playing a game of baseball, using the small apple tree as home base. A sport he played throughout his life and even into his adult years, he could never do again. He wanted to have the joy and experience of physically supporting them when they needed a hand. Not being able to do life’s simplest things, like running and playing, giving his little girl shoulder rides through the woods, pulling them in sleds to check the maple trees for sap, and teaching them to play horseshoes was going to be an obstacle he needed to overcome.

*****
He never displayed his hurt, his bodily suffering or the damage the accident had done to his heart. He was passionately strong for his family. The people he had grown to love, support and to not live without. He needed to teach his children a moral, a life lesson that they would carry throughout their entire lives. One that he had learned at a very young age from his father.

No one really has a bad life, not even a bad day, just moments. Stop dwelling on yesterday because today is a new day. Life is not fair, and if a bump in the road comes, jump it, till you get to the top of the mountain.

Sunday, November 28, 2010

WEEK 13

My son see’s me hold the door for people. At first I didn’t even realize I did it, it become a habit. At six years old he uses his entire mite to hold a door for anyone, even if they are 20 feet away. He enjoys the compliments he gets from the (usually) older adults on how well mannered and nice he is.

*****

Every year after we shop and visit Santa at the mall we head to Dick’s Sporting Goods to check out the tree. It has hundreds of tags littering it. Ages of children and what they wish for Christmas. We always chose two, most of the time a boy and a girl, but this year Riley wanted to pick two boys. They both wanted a simple fishing pole. Something that we take for granted and have many of. We picked them out and paid then headed out of the store as I re-explained to him about the poverty stricken families, how some of them couldn’t afford presents for their children and how we should help out when we can.

*****

My Mom worked at the local nursing home, so the guy we saw in the wheel chair in the street she knew. Since he was holding up lines of traffic my Mom stopped to help the confused man wheel the rest of the way across the intersection. The line of traffic tooted and yelled to my Mom for doing such a good deed. My son was there to witness this and thinks my Mom’s a hero, since in his little head he would have gotten run over if she wouldn’t have helped him. :)

*****

At Wal-Mart, Target, Rite-Aid and many other stores around my area the cashier usually asks for a dollar donation for the Children’s Miracle Network, Toys for Tots and other organizations. Of course I always accept. On average I spend 150 bucks at one of these stores without batting an eye. What’s one dollar? Riley hasn’t gotten the concept of this yet, but he will. He thinks I give the money to the cashier. :)

*****

We drove through Dunkin Donuts drive-thru one day and got a few drinks. The cashier didn’t charge us any money. Apparently the person in front of us had given her a 20 and said pay for the people behind me, and if there’s change keep it going. This stunned me for a moment, but it was an amazing gesture. I was glad Riley was there to witness this also.

*****

I saw a man drop a 20 dollar bill and handed it to him after his transaction was complete. He thanked me multiple times and headed out the door. My son saw this, and now every time someone loses something, even a penny, he taps them and hands them their change with a smile.

*****

I want my son to be respectful and helpful even if it something simple like holding a door for someone. It’s one of the qualities that I think is most important and will stick with him for the rest of his life. Hopefully, it will become routine for him to help others. “Pay it Forward”, is a term I use a lot when I explain about helping others. Maybe someday when they get a chance they will help others too.

Sunday, November 21, 2010

WEEK 12

A name has been changed to avoid identifying the dumb ass waitress. We will call her weird waitress. W.w for short.

*****

Texas Roadhouse was one of my favorite restaurants. Before you are seated you can pick out your own steak. We never do, but some people take advantage of this. I wonder what vegetarians think of the sight of the huge case of bloody animals, when they first walk in. hmm

Texas Roadhouses homemade cinnamon bread is especially yummy when you come in starving.
The dancing of the employees is sometimes really comical. Once, I was really upset at myself for not video taping the line dance.

The peanuts are not really my cup of tea, but everyone else seems to like them. Considering there are bucket loads of shells on the floor. That is strange. Why would anyone want germy, dirty used peanut shell particles floating into everything the eat or drink. Have you seen some people eat peanuts? It’s like they have no food at home. Maybe they don’t so maybe this sounds rude. No wait…why would they be at Texas Roadhouse if they had no money to eat? They wouldn’t! These people stick the shell and all in their mouth, suck off the salt, chew it open and spit out everything but the peanut. Then the leftovers are thrown on the floor for customers and workers to smush and crumble with there dirty shoes. I guess I never really thought of that till now. Maybe I won’t give that place another chance…EWE.

*****

Talkative and almost too friendly she takes our drink order.

(W.w) : What can I get for you today? (she was almost bouncing)

Me: Hmm, I’ll have a margarita on the rocks with salt, please.

Justin: Do you have Pepsi or Coke products? (he always asks. He must know by now that most places sell Coke not Pepsi. We go almost as much as we eat at home)

W.w: We have Coke. I know I would rather have Pepsi too. It’s so much better, but the only restaurants I have found that sells it around her is Kentucky Fried Chicken and Pizza hut, and I don’t really care for them too much.

You might want to take a breath! You might pass out on the spot. And lady, I am pretty sure we don’t give a sweet shit what your favorite restaurant is. I just want food.

Justin: I’ll just have an orange soda, I guess.

W.w: What? Excuse me? I couldn’t hear you. They turned the music up so we could do our line dance, and they must have forgot to turn the music down in this dining room. I’ll have to tell them when I go back out there.

Justin: I’LL JUST HAVE AN ORANGE SODA! (he must be annoyed too)
W.w: Okay, I’ll be back with your drinks in a jiffy! (After this Justin seriously asked me if she was on drugs)

*****

Holy crap, how am I going to concentrate on Christmas shopping after drinking that massive margarita? I’m going to be hammered before I leave. I didn’t know at the time, I would be glad I had alcohol in my system by the end of our dinner.

W.W: Okay, are you guys ready to order or do you need some time?

Me: I’m all set. Do you know what you want?

Justin: No not yet.

W.w: Okay I will give you a few minutes.

Me: Justin hurry the frig up, I’m starving.

Justin: Okay, okay.

*****

About 30 minutes later we still had yet to be waited on. We watched the waitress talk and talk at two different tables. I wonder if those people got as annoyed as we did. We had our drinks, but no rolls to hold us over. The hostess hadn’t brought any to us. We also noticed that the waiter that was taking care of the tables behind us had gone back and fourth about 8 times. I decided to ask him to wait on us. He seemed pleasant, not as talkative, and his tables seemed to be pleased.

Me: Excuse me, sir. Could you wait on us please? We have been her for over 30 minutes and we haven’t ordered yet. We have watched her at two different tables gabbing non stop.

Waiter: Of course I can. I am so sorry. Can I get you guys an appetizer?

W.w: (She came out of nowhere) Oh, I’ve got this! I will buy you guys an appetizer. What can I get you?

She talked so fast I really couldn’t get a word in edgewise. I would have rather had the waiter, but apparently she pushed him to the side, and by the look on his face he wasn’t impressed with her either.
I asked her a simple question about chicken and steak. Which from any other normal person would have warranted a five word answer. Not her though…it seemed like a 10 minute presentation. (have you ever listened to a presentation about something unimportant to you? It was like that.) We finally ordered. Our food came quick. She refilled our drinks, and asked us about 15 times if she could get us anything else and how our food was. (sucking up, maybe?)

Our food was amazing. My portabella mushroom chicken was melt in your mouth good. I couldn’t finish it though. (It ended up in my fridge. I was so excited to eat it the next day for lunch! Too bad a whole container of cool-aid got spilled in the fridge and leaked into the box. Ughh) Everything was cooked perfect and so tasty. How could I complain about our overly talkative, shitty waitress now? I’m not really a big complainer anyways, so I probably needed an excuse to be nice.

Me: Excuse me sir, is she new or is she always like that?

Waiter: No not really. She‘s been here a while, but have you talked to the manager? That might…

Me: Ahhh, she’s right behind you….
 

WEEK 11

 
Our stockings. Wait my brothers. Where are they? I skip most of the stairs as I run back up to wake them.

“It’s Christmas!, “ I chant as I jump on their bed.

Any other time they probably would have threw something at me for waking them. Not today. They were up. I was surprised the smell French toast and bacon didn’t wake them sooner. Or the Christmas music that was blaring, that we had made fun of my Mom for listening too since October. We fight to go through the hall and the stairs at the same time.

It’s stocking time! The one and only thing we could open before our parents were watching. It was usually filled with useful stuff that we weren’t too keen on, like toothbrushes, cards and the lifesaver box…which seemed to be becoming a tradition, but it was still exciting.

*****

We had waited all year for this. The jolly ol’ St. Nicholas had to have came and delivered us everything that we wanted. We ripped open our gifts. Although our parents made us have some kind of order, we had to collect our wrapping paper in a large black trash bag. We all had gotten a few small gifts that we had wanted, but where was our big gifts? Santa always got us the big gift we wanted. We got helmets, but we never went on our Uncle’s snow sled or four wheeler very often. So I figured this was just a mistake on Santa‘s part. We were a little disappointed, but tried not to show it. We opened our new packages one by one. I lugged my new baby doll around everywhere I went. I loved her, so it made me forget about the “big” present I never received.

*****

After the excitement of Christmas wore off, us kids decided we were going to make a snow fort and use our new outside toys. We bundled up like we were headed out in the Arctic. Everything glistened from the new fallen snow. It was beautiful. Wait, but…what the heck was that? Our eyes must’ve shown how excited we were. As we got closer, we noticed it was two new snow sleds, with huge bows attached to the handle bars.

Saturday, November 13, 2010

WEEK 10

“I need help. I need more help than your giving. I am three weeks behind in my writing class. Chemistry is the worst class I have ever taken. My other classes are fine, but our house is a mess, the yard needs to be raked, the trampoline needs to be taken down, and the house needs to be winterized. I did it all last year because you were working away. I can’t do it! I already feel bad because I rarely see the kids. Then when I do, I feel horrible because I can’t split my time evenly. Riley gets screwed. He was an only child for six years and he’s used to the attention, now his baby sister is hogging it all. I feel bad. I can’t do it. I just need help!”

He grinned and leaned over to hug me.

“Seriously, Justin, I don’t need a hug. I need help.”

His grin then turned in to a laugh.

******

I held my foot out to stop the walker and swept up the dirt pile as fast as I could. She follows me everywhere. Which usually makes me happy, but today she’s rambunctious. As soon as I let go, she went for the island. I know she is going to wipe out the shelves.

“Natelee, please don’t do that!“

It was too late. Ugh. For being five months old she was a smart little cookie, she knows what she wants and she goes and gets it. I can’t sweep, can’t empty the dishwasher, and she makes a bigger mess than I just picked up. I give up on cleaning today.

******

“Natelee, no. Don’t eat that! I need that for school. Justin, I need help. She’s trying to eat my note cards!”

He plopped her in her swing, hoping she wouldn’t get into anymore mischief. She didn’t, she fell asleep, but Riley was yelling now. I went to go see what he needed. Usually when he asked for help it was important, so I ran up the stairs.

“Oh my God Riley! How did you manage to flood the bathroom floor?”

“I didn’t mean too. I guess I just used too much toilet paper. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay buddy. Can you help Mama clean it up?

******

“Holy crap, who in the hell? What the…”

“You like it? Today while you were in Bangor with the kids I did it.”

“Of course I do! It looks so good in here. Thank you so much for the help!”

Saturday, October 23, 2010

WEEK 9

Hugs, kisses and alcohol breath. Aunts, Uncles and dim-witted relatives. Dancing, flower throwing and money tree’s. Beautiful baby’s. Men in tuxedos and women in dresses. Excited children and sweaty adults. A mix of music and karaoke that night. Mother-son dance, and father-daughter one too. Lots of photos, smiles and tears.

Week 8

Her phone jingled a tune, one that was familiar. It was only a text message. She would check it after she finished painting this last corner of the red wall.
She checked her blackberry. It was brand new, so she didn’t have any contacts. Just a number would show up when someone was calling or sending a text. It read; Get here fast, Dad hung himself!
She went back to painting. It must have been a wrong number. She didn’t recognize it, and her Dad was too strong to ever even think about something like that. Maybe it was a joke, but who would play a joke like that? She re-checked her phone. She ran down stairs as fast as possible, and compared the number from the text message to her old phone and the numbers of her brother’s. It was from her oldest sibling. She tried to call back. No answer. It was real. She knew in her heart, it was real. She panicked. She walked fast around in circles for a few minutes, into the kitchen, back around to the living room, the dining room, and the bathroom until she finally snapped out of it. She wanted to drive as fast as she could to her father’s home, but she couldn’t. Her five year old was sleeping. She couldn’t leave him here, but she couldn’t take him either. This would scar him for the rest of his life.
She got control of herself for a moment and called her mother. She would know what to do. Her parents weren’t together anymore, she was re-married, but being married for 18 years they had remained friends and had never fought. They had just realized they were better friends than lovers.
The girl ran out the French doors to the backyard, trying to hide behind the tree in case the Riley awoke. She had slammed the door harder than she had liked, but she must not have awoken Riley, because he was nowhere to be seen. Someone answered. Not her Mom. She shakily asked for her mother. Everyone at the nursing home knew who she was. Her Mom was a well respected woman where she worked. She finally answered. The girl blurted out what had happened. She talked too fast. Her Mom didn’t understand. She tried to explain it again, but it finally sunk it. Her father was dead. It was HER father. He was dead. She told the story in hysterics. Her mother agreed to meet her at her fathers house as soon as she could find a replacement. She couldn’t leave the nursing home until then, even in an emergency. She was the charge nurse, so she would receive abandonment charges, and most likely get fired. Good law, it seemed so stupid at the moment. The girl hung up the phone.
 She still needed to find someone to watch her son. She called numbers, anyone that she could remember. Only the numbers she remembered off of the top of her head though, considering her new phone was number-less. She called until she finally reached her step sister. She would be down in a few minutes to get him. She was only up the road visiting her parents anyways. She still had “parents”, and the girl was jealous. She was jealous of anyone with a father. Her father was one of her best friends. One of the smartest people she knew. If she needed advice, help with homework, or wise words of wisdom she knew who to go to. That no longer existed though. What would she do?
At this time, her son peaked his head out the door. He had awoken from his nap. He instantly knew something was wrong. His Mom never acted this way. She was always happy-go-lucky. She rarely ever cried, and never acted nervous and or like anxiety had taken over.
He began to cry. “What’s wrong Mumma?”
The girl had to think quick. She couldn’t tell her son what had actually happened. He wouldn’t understand and it would make him hysterical and not want to be left with a sitter. He was only little, even if she did explain the real reasoning for her shear panic, he wouldn’t comprehend, and it would do more harm, than good.
“Oh honey, Mum is okay. She’s just having a rough day. You know how sometimes are sad and want to hang out with Mum all day instead of going to school? Well, Mum doesn’t want to go to class tonight either, she’s overwhelmed and would love to hang out with you all day, but she can‘t.”
She made a joke, hugged him tight, and laughed with him for a moment. He was all better. He believed the lie. A lie that she thought she would never have to tell. She had never lied to him before, and had drilled it into her son’s head that lying was a horrible thing, but she had just made up the biggest lie of her life.
A few moments later his step-aunt picked him up. He was fine, and pretty excited to see her, since it had been about a month.
The girl grabbed her cigarettes, a lighter, her new and old cell phone and the car keys. She was off to her fathers house. Fast too. She had decided if she got pulled over by a cop she would just keep going. There was no time for tickets or talking. She needed to get there as fast as her Bonneville would take her, and make a few phone calls along the way. Hopefully after getting there it would be a false alarm, but she had a gut feeling that it wasn’t.
When she arrived there was no parking spots in either driveway, so she parked on the lawn in between. State troopers, the local coroner and an ambulance was there. It was real, it wasn’t a joke, and since the ambulance was leaving without anyone in it, she knew that her Dad was dead. They must not have found him in time, like they had a year earlier with her brother. Her brother had tried to kill himself, but was cut down from his noose, revived and release him from the hospital a few weeks later. The only complications he had was some memory loss, which was never fully regained. This was not the case with her father. He had tried, and succeeded.
Her eldest brother looked blank. No expressions. No talking. He was in shock. He had just seen the most horrible thing in his life, and if her son had gone with his Uncle Shane, he would have seen the same. The girl’s mother and other brother had beaten her there. They must have driven fast too, or maybe the girl had taken longer than she had thought. Oh well, she was there now.
She wanted to go in. After knowing and seeing everything that she had, she still needed to see…to see if it was real. The state troopers refused her entry of the large white house.
They simply said, “He has been dead for at least a day, he doesn’t look good, and he doesn’t smell good. I don’t think it would give you any closure, just scar you even more, and we have to investigate before anyone enters.”
They gave their condolences, a half a hug and returned to her fathers house, leaving everyone to stand outside in the middle of the lawn, in front of a house she had lived most of her life. She understood what they were saying, but wanted to see him. She needed to know he was dead. She needed to know what happened. She needed to know why. She needed to know everything. She had hoped it was fake, that as soon as she walked into his house he would be sitting in his favorite chair reading a book, or working on a project. She knew it wasn’t possible, but had hoped that maybe the dead guy inside was someone else.
The family cranked out cigarette after cigarette as they waited for more people to show up. They hugged and cried for what seemed like hours until the state trooper finally showed his face. He came out with the note. No one had known there was a note. Shane had totally missed it, because as soon as he had seen his father he ran. He ran as fast as he could to the neighbors house to call 911, since his cell phone had no service. Or to two neighbors houses because the first had refused to let him in. The smell of marijuana had given him an idea of why. The note read; So depressed for so long, I’ve reached my limit. I love you all. Dad
Everyone was expecting a letter, not a short note like this. Not much was explained. After all of the commotion had calmed a bit, the body was taken away, and all of the authorities had left, the family investigated a little. Dug for any clue, any sign, anything. In the trash, almost to the bottom, with coffee grinds littering it, Shane had found two more notes. One had read; I love you all. Depression is so d…it was really shaky writing, which led them to believe he was really upset while trying to write. The other read; I love all of you. So sorry. The letters never helped, and nothing was ever found in the house to explain what had gone wrong. He had decided he wanted to take his life, and had done it…successfully. No closure. No hugs. No kisses. No advice. No goodbyes.
On her way home, the girl dialed her fathers number in hopes that he would answer…to tell him the news. After the answering service picked up, she realized the person who had helped her through so many tough times in her life no longer could. He wasn’t going to answer, and she couldn’t tell him of the most

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

Week 7

Tee hee hee. I listen to them giggle. It gets on my nerves after a few minutes. Your fricken twelve. Or I assume your twelve, by the way your acting. Why are you wearing coochy shorts and low cut shirts? Black bra, with a white tank top? Hello! You don’t even have any boobs. Have some respect for yourselves.

I cringe as I think of my daughter in middle school. If she acts like these girls, she’ll be grounded for life. I’ll tie her up in the cellar. Not really, but it’s a good thought. Maybe she will skip that stage….

I watch as one of the three girls struts past a teenage boy, her back arched and her hips swaying. He just glances at her and turns to his girlfriend, who is shopping for a new wardrobe. The girls are huddled as if they were on a football team. Whispering loudly. Kind of hiding behind a sale rack of skinny jeans. Probably their size, because I have a hard time believing anyone that has gone through puberty can fit in to a size zero.

They giggled and laughed again and went after their next victims. These two men, (I assume they are men because they have a full set of facial hair and an un-godly amount of cologne on) seem to have the same strut the girls were just practicing, minus the hip sway. Their muscles bulge out of their too small Old Navy tee’s. I am pretty sure I saw one of these guys here earlier with a pack of kids and a woman that I assumed was his wife.

The men notice the girls. “You girls wanna go have a good time?”

“Sure!” they giggle immaturely.

One of the girls seem stand-offish. She is smiling, probably to keep the other’s happy. Her facial expressions and the way she is clutching on to her purse, makes me think she is super, nervous. She doesn’t say much.
After they decide they are leaving she doesn’t budge.

“I’m not going. I gotta get home.”

She whispered into her friends ear. All she got back, was a death stare, and rolling of the eyes. The other’s try and coax her to come, with some peer pressure, but she doesn’t buy in to it. She is left standing in J.C Penney, alone. One of the men winks at her as he exits with the others. She looks like a deer in headlights. She begins to well up. As I walk over, I am glad to see her parents have taught her some type of morals. She didn’t give in, and didn’t go off with her friends with total strangers. They could be child molesters for Christ sakes.

As I walked towards her, she started walking to the nearest exit. She pulled out her cell phone and called someone. Most likely her mother, because after the story was told, she yelled that she was not going to call her friends parents. I left it at that.
 

Sunday, October 10, 2010

Week 6

I instantly became stuffy and I couldn’t breath. It was so hot, yet not muggy at all. I had left Maine eight hours ago and it was 39 degrees. Here it had to be at least 90. I was right; 96 degrees. I had never been this far from home, and the only reason I agreed to come to here, was because I got to miss a week of school. Oh, how I hated high school, so anything to get away from that place would be a vacation.
I was expecting to see deserts and cactuses for miles, which I did see on the way to the house. I found it kind of odd, that in the middle of the interstate there was a large, sign that read, “Do not pick up hitchhikers, ARIZONA STATE PRISON ahead. I had never seen anything like it and it struck me as funny. After that, I fell asleep…the layovers at the airports had did me in.
When I awoke, we had finally reached our destination. My Uncle and Aunts house was a small, three bedroom, one and a half bath, ranch. A lot smaller than the home I had grown up in. For seven days my Dad and I had to share a bathroom with five other people. I also had to share a room with my nine year old cousin. So whenever I got the chance, I explored the outdoors. Of course the children followed, but it’s easier to entertain when your not packed in somewhere like a can of sardines. The fenced-in yard wasn’t very large, but it did have a five foot swimming pool, and a tiny carport-like-garage. Which held a couple four wheelers. Here, they call them quads. I never asked while I was there, but I always wondered why anyone in Arizona would want a fire pit. We never used it the whole time I was there, but that’s probably because we enjoyed site-seeing too much.
Day two, we went to the Grand Canyon. I wasn’t too thrilled with the idea of spending the day looking at a big crater, but I put on a smile for my Dad. It didn’t take long for my grin to become real, in between my shivers. It was cold, yet spectacular. One of the most amazing things I had ever seen in my life. We had stayed till sundown, so it was even more beautiful as the sun was setting. The cliffs and valleys are unexplainable. The mule riders and hikers were barely distinguishable, because the canyon was so huge. The Bald Eagle soaring back and fourth, also wasn’t a clear picture until the photographs were developed. The pictures are gorgeous, but do no justice. They don’t even come close to mimicking the beauty of the rocks, valleys, cliffs, or the way time stands still. At that moment there is no worry in the world.
Another day we had decided to go see some Indian ruins. We saw their mud-walled houses and pueblos. Their cliff dwellings were so neatly constructed and beautiful.
We learned how they survived in the dry, desert heat. How they ate, drank, and got to see some of the most astonishing, intricate, pottery. They made almost everything they used in every day life. It was so neat, yet, no one had an answer as to why the Indians had left the village and disappeared.
My baby nieces first birthday was the next day. We just relaxed all day. We watched her smash her own personal, Elmo cake in her face and open mounds and mounds of presents. We played outside with the children, and enjoyed the nice sunny day. We took turns giving the kids a ride on the quads. I wasn’t used to the weather, so I was sunburned and ill feeling. I am pretty sure the next day, I hung out in my p.j’s all day, drank tons of water, used a whole bottle of aloe and slept a lot.
The Phoenix zoo, excessively large shopping malls, and rides through the desert were on the agenda for the rest of our vacation. It was one of the most memorable vacations I have ever had. Being with my Dad, on a vacation, to visit family, and experience new things; it couldn’t have gone better. Needless to say, I didn’t want to go home, but once I did, I had tons of stories to share, pictures to print, and a dark tan to show off.

Monday, October 4, 2010

Theme week 5

Of course I locked the doors as soon as Justin got out. It’s wasn’t very often that I escaped from my own hometown, so the thought of New York made me cringe. Police men drop like flies out here. I can only imagine how many people get injured or die from the violence. Knowing my luck, out of all of the people here, I would be the one getting mugged or shot at. I am not used to change or trying new things, so this scared me a little. Maine is my safe haven, but I guess Lake George shouldn’t have worried me that bad.
It seemed like an eternity by myself, but he finally came gallivanting out the front door of the Mobile station. I could tell he had something to say. He had the biggest grin on his face. He tried the handle. Oops, I had locked it. I pushed the unlock button….I had to giggle, he looked silly; a 6’3 inch man squishing into a tiny Toyota Scion. It reminded me of Vienna Sausages all mashed in a can. They almost don’t fit.

Justin handed me my Diet coke and two tiny papers.

“What the hell are these?”

“I bought tickets to the rodeo!”

“You bought tickets to the what?!”

“The rodeo.”

“What the fuck did you buy tickets to the rodeo for? We are only here for two more days and you bought tickets to the rodeo? I was thinking more along the lines of Six Flags, the wax museum or skydiving. Not the rodeo. You’re an idiot!”

“No refunds,” he said.

What the fuck? Now I am being forced to go to the rodeo. This was OUR mini vacation. Weren’t WE supposed to decided what to do? What the hell? Why would anyone want to pay money to go see bulls shit all over an arena? Or a handful of hicks get thrown to the ground like a rag doll? Never mind that, who would be dumb enough to do it? And he said, no refunds with the biggest fricken smirk on his face. Sometimes I hate his stupid dimples. Gggrrr He said it like he knew before he had even purchased the tickets, that I would never, in this lifetime, ever, agree to go!

We had made it to the entrance. The combination of the dirt roads and being angry had made my stomach feel a little uneasy. We paid to park and headed on in. We were probably the only out of stater at this fricken place. Who in the hell would come here on vacation? I was still fuming, but when Justin offered me a cup of beer, I cheered up a little. I am not an alcoholic, but never get a chance to drink. I don’t drink in front of my son, so it’s uncommon to be able to enjoy an ice cold Bud Light, so I jump at the chance. The clear plastic cups reminded me of my old high school days of bonfires and keg parties. This made me smile a little too. We squirmed through crowds of people, as I protected my beer with my life, at this time I wanted every savory, luscious bit I could get so I could make it through this god forsaken…thiiing.
The majority of the people were dressed for the occasion. Even the children were sporting the attire. We must have looked like the odd ducks. I don’t even own cowboy boots, hats or flannel shirts. I would never pay a dime for any of it either. Speaking of shopping, oh how I would love to be….


“It’s starting, Ginger!”

I mumbled under my breath. I hadn’t really spoken to him since our escapade in the car, and wasn’t really planning too either. I downed my beer, as we made our way down the metal bleachers and found a seat. This place was kind of large, for pretty much being in the middle of nowhere, and most of the showground was packed,

They had announced over the loud speaker for all children that would like to play a game to head out in the center. They did. What in the world are they doing? Taking off their shoes. Ewwwe! I would NEVER let my child do that. They workers just finished hosing it down. What if they step in crap or get black with mud?
They lined all of the children up, took all their shoes and brought them down to the other end of the stadium and threw them in a pile. They had to run down, find their shoes as fast as they could, put them on and run back. The first one to the finish line won. One child lagged behind because he was so tiny, he almost looked like he was too young to even be walking. Another one had a hard time putting his shoes on, and another fell flat on his face. The crowd roared with laughter. He was mud from head to toe. His big blue eyes were the only indication that has was actually a child. It was really cute watching them scramble in all different directions. They handed out a few trophies to the kids, and started getting the men and women ready for the “real” show.

By this time I needed another beer. Justin had gotten up to buy another plastic cup full for himself and me. Oh my god! He is fricken gorgeous. Can you say ripped? I bet he has a 12 pack under there? Maybe a even more…Why didn’t I want to come here? Such good eye candy! What was I expecting? Puny, little, dorks couldn’t ride, they wouldn’t have enough muscle to hang on.
I quit daydreaming. Justin had made his way back down the bleachers. He sat beside me. I watched the cowboys get bucked off their bulls, after only a few seconds. One had gotten his spur stuck and was being dragged around the arena. It seemed like a long time to me, it must have seemed like an eternity to him. The workers tried, and tried to get the bull to stop, or slow down. He bucked. He ran. He twisted and spun. They tried to grab the cowboy, with no avail. They were chaotically running around with red flags. The men had to just let the spur come loose on it’s own. This had made the show interesting to me. Although I felt sorry for the man, considering he exited like a 90 year old man to the open stall door.

I was on the edge of my seat, by this time. I loved the excitement and the different shows they had for us. There were rodeo clowns, a girls run, bareback bull riding, children’s cow riding, roping, and barrel racing contests. We all cheered on the professional cowboys from throughout the country as they competed. At the end of the night all of the cowboys, and cowgirls lamely walked out into the arena and was awarded their trophies. I will never forget the look on the little girls face that had won the children’s division for cow riding. She was seven years old, probably the youngest in the whole show. She had held on the longest of anyone in ALL of the contests. She proud and grinning from ear to ear and she waved to her parents. I am not really sure who in the hell would let their young child compete in a dangerous sport like this, but you could tell her parents and herself were pleased, as I would be too.

Justin nudged me in the ribs. “You LOVED it!”

“Yes, I’m sorry and thank you. I had an awesome time! Can we come back next year?”

“Hahaha, I knew you would, that’s why I didn’t ask you ahead of time, because I knew you would have said no.”

Justin had won this battle. He had gotten me to like something other than shopping, snowsledding and photos. I went out of my realm and had one of the most memorable experiences of my adult life. Something we still talk about, to this day.
 
 
 

Sunday, September 26, 2010

Week 4

1. Nothing to do, so one of my friends, my son and I decide to head to Bangor for a shopping day. We didn’t have much money, so it was more window shopping than anything. We went to the mall and a few other stores. Then drove to the Halloween store. We heard it was awesome. A little expensive, but worth it. Considering we LOVE Halloween, we decided to give it a try.
We head in the door, and my six year old stops dead in his tracks.
“Mum, this store looks scary.”
“Its all fake,” I say. “None of this is real, and most of it is made up. Kind of like unicorns and Spiderman.”
He shook his head nervously, as if to say okay, but I’m still weary.
We walk past the few really scary things and head to the children’s costumes. He wants to be the Mad Hatter this year. My friend Chelsea help me rifle through the costumes. Of course…nothing. I guess I’m going to have to make it this year.
Since us adults don’t dress up anymore for Halloween, we needn’t look at the adult costumes. We left and found a restaurant to get some grub.
 
2. Sitting around the house on a Sunday morning. Bored out of my mind. My phone rings. YES, it’s Chelsea! I chant in my head.
“You wanna go to Bangor and do a little shopping? Maybe go to the Halloween store?”
“Yes, I don’t have much money, but window shopping beats sitting here bored out of my mind. Hope you don’t mind if Riley comes….It’s so weird I was just gonna call you and see if you wanted to get together.”
“Great minds think alike! I’ll be down in a few to pick you guys up. K?”
“Okay, see you in a bit.”
After singing and talking with Riley for what seemed like days, we finally made it. Once in Bangor, we decided to head to the mall first. By the time we went to Sears, J.C Penney, The Children’s Place, Baby Gap, Dick’s Sporting Goods, Build-a-Bear and Bath & Body Works we decided we had had enough of the mall.
“Wanna go out to eat and to the Halloween store?”
“Woohoo, the Halloween store!” my six year old, Riley, yells. “Let’s go to the Halloween store, and then McDonalds!”
“Calm down Riley and sit down in your seat. Do you want to go to the Halloween store first Chels? I’m not that hungry right this minute, so it’s up to you…”
“Sure.”
As we walk in the door you could see machine made fog, bloody mannequins, and costumes galore. Riley stopped, mid step. He had very little hint of color in his face and he was latched on to my shirt pretty tightly.
“Umm Mum, this place looks scary. I don’t know if I like it.”
“It’s all fake Riley. See this guy? He’s plastic. Feel it. This blood? Its fake. Those alien things over there? There is no such thing. Kind of like Unicorns and Spiderman. They aren’t real, they’re made up. If you don‘t want to go in, we don‘t have too!”
He shook his head, and started his journey to the children’s costumes, but made sure he held my hand tightly the whole time. We all rifled through the costumes in the hopes that we would find a Mad Hatter one in Riley’s size. No such luck. He could be a princess, a brown dog, Super Man, or a whoopee cushion if he wanted…but no Mad Hatter. With a disappointed Riley, we leave and head to the Texas Roadhouse for dinner.


3. Sitting around the house on a Sunday morning. Bored out of my mind. My phone rings. Woohoo, it’s Chelsea! I say dancing around in the living room.
“You wanna go to Bangor and do a little shopping?
“Yes, I don’t have much money, but window shopping beats sitting here bored out of my mind. Hope you don’t mind if Riley comes….It’s so weird I was just gonna call you and see if you wanted to get together.”
“Great minds think alike! I’ll be down in a few to pick you guys up. K?”
“Okay, see you in a bit.”
After singing (or yelling; whichever you prefer to call it) and talking with Riley for what seemed like days, we finally made it. Once in Bangor, we decided to head to the mall first. By the time we went to Sears, J.C Penney, The Children’s Place, Baby Gap, Dick’s Sporting Goods, Build-a-Bear and Bath & Body Works we decided we had had enough of the mall. Exhausted, and very hungry we headed out.
“Wanna go out to eat and to the Halloween store?”
“Woohoo, the Halloween store!” my six year old, Riley, yells. “Let’s go to the Halloween store, and then McDonalds!”
“Riley if you don’t stop I‘ll leave you on the side of the road,” I laugh. ”Chelsea you wanna go to the Halloween store first, since Riley is super excited?”
“Sure.”
As we walk in the door you could see machine made fog, bloody mannequins, and costumes galore. Riley stopped, mid step. He had very little hint of color in his face and he was latched on to my shirt pretty tightly. He looked like he was gonna puke.
“Umm Mum, this place looks scary. I don’t know if I like it.”
“Don’t crap your pants, Riley”, Chelsea jokes. “I don’t wanna have to go to Wal-Mart and buy you new underwear.”
“It’s all fake Riley. See this guy? He’s plastic. Feel it. This blood? Its fake. Those alien things over there? There is no such thing. Kind of like Unicorns and Spiderman. They aren’t real, they’re made up. I don’t want you to have nightmares for a week, so if you wanna leave we can!”
Chelsea picked up a small skeleton, threw it at him. Trying to scare him.
He shook his head, and started his journey to the children’s costumes, but made sure he held my hand tightly the whole time. We all rifled through the costumes in the hopes that we would find a Mad Hatter one in Riley’s size. No such luck. He could be a princess, a brown dog, Super Man, or a whoopee cushion if he wanted…but no Mad Hatter.
“I wanna be a fart cushion!” Riley yells.
Bahaha “Seriously, Riley?”
“No, I was only tryin to make you laugh.” he giggled.
I looked at the price tag, “Fifty bucks, haha, yeah right!”
With a disappointed Riley, we leave and head to the Texas Roadhouse for dinner. On the way he started hysterically crying.
What’s wrong, buddy?”
“It was just scary and I keep thinking that those things are going to come to me in my dreams, and…I think I peed my pants….I didn‘t dare to ask if they had a bathroom, because I would‘ve had to go in by myself, scarrry”
Off to the store to buy more clothes, we go, then to Texas Roadhouse.


Not sure if this is what you were looking for. This was hard, and it sounded like a good topic when I started...not so much. haha



 
 

Saturday, September 18, 2010

Week 3-Set the Scene

Standing outside the restaurant, the bitter air blusters through my helmet, causing my skin to tingle and sting. The coldness has seemed to pervade through my many layers of clothes, making my finger and toes numb. Tiny, icicles start forming on my face shield as soon as I remove my helmet.
My tummy is obviously telling me there is something wrong. I cant wait to get inside and eat some food. It has only been about six hours, but It feels as though we haven’t eaten in days.
I think back; The ride was exhilarating. The ITS trails were amazing and freshly groomed.. The weather conditions were perfect. Everything glistened as the moon shone off the new fallen snow. The fresh cover of snow made the tree’s seem to hug the trail and give you a sense of comfort. Serenity was in the atmosphere….
“Are you guys ready to go in?”
I quit daydreaming.
“Of course we are Dad!”
“I’m not staying out here another minute, I’m ready to run to the door, I’m so cold!” says Chelsea
“I’d love to see you run in those boots and ski pants!” ha-ha ha
“Oh, shut up.” She said jokingly.
We walk in to the restaurant and go to sit down.
“Can I help you?” the waitress asks.
“Yeah, we would like some food. We are starving!”
“Oh I’m sorry, we closed five minutes ago,”
It was one of the most insincere apologies I had ever heard.
“What? I thought the sign said you were open until 11pm?”
“Oh, we usually are, but we decided to close early tonight since it‘s snowing.”
“So can we get anything? Something easy and fast to cook, maybe a hotdog?” Chelsea asked.
“Oh no, we already shut our grills off, but you can go to the store part. There is already made sandwiches out there for sale, but you better hurry, they are closing up also.”
We head to the store. The only sandwiches in the cooler case looked like they had been made 5 days ago, the cheese looked hard, the tomatoes brown, the pickles soggy, and the salami had left a permanent mark on the cheese. But we were so hungry. We made our purchase, trying not to think about how long they had set there. We got sodas (since the coffee was already dumped), sandwiches and a few snacks, and headed out the door.
As the store and restaurant closed up, we were made to stand outside and eat. It was so bitter even our tomatoes started freezing.
“This is nasty, what kind of store would sell something like this?”
“Never mind the sandwiches, what kind of person would make you eat outside in the freezing cold, have a friggen heart, stupid lady?”
“Did you guys see those deer on the ride up? They don’t seem to get spooked by anything, Dad said trying change the subject”
“Nate, who cares about deer? We still have a 6 hour ride home, and they wouldn’t even let us get warm…bastards!”
“Oh, we’ll make it, it’s not that cold out. If it was it wouldn’t be snowing.” he said as he grabbed my sandwich and took a huge bite.
“Yeah right Dad. My cheeks are burning. Are they red Chels?”
“Yeah, a little.”
“If it keeps snowing like this you are going to have to break trail, Ginger.”
“Awe, Dad, I hate breaking trail! Why can’t you do it?” I whined.
“We have been over this many times, Ginger. Your snow sled is made for it, and does a lot better job than mine. If it gets too hard, just pull over and I’ll switch sleds with you.”
“Alright,” I mouthed with a sarcastic tone. “I am chilled to the bone, lets go!”
We throw our trash away. I put my helmet on, find my gloves and pull my neck warmer up over my mouth, in hopes that it will keep my face from turning into a popsicle. We turn the hand and feet warmers on high, and start the sleds. I go first, as they follow. I hope I remember the way.
Down the trail we go, in hopes to find a place to warm up.
 
 
 
 

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Journal 7

9/13/2010
I went with my Mom to the vet today to put her dog down. It was the most horrible experience EVER! I have had animals put down, but nothing like this. To start; we had asked for Blizzard’s (The dog) actual veterinarian. We ended up with a lady, in which we had never met. We didn’t say anything because we had heard good things about her. Goes to show that you should never believe anything you hear. About 18 pricks, 3 vials of drugs and about 20 minutes later; he was finally gone. You don’t know how bad I wanted to take the needle and stick the vein myself. I have never had training with needles on animals, but I have had training on humans. I have confidence in knowing I could have handled the situation a little differently than she did. I am sure she could have had the other Vet come and help her. Then, to make matters worse; she wouldn’t shut up after and kept repeating herself. We don’t care why you couldn’t get the vein or why the first set of drugs didn’t work. We just want to go home. Remind me never to go there again in my life. I love you Mom, so sorry about Blizzard. Fifteen years is a great life for a dog though. RIP Blizzard
 

Sunday, September 12, 2010

Journal 5 and 6

9/11/2010


Had my doubts about God after my father died, but after Justin's heart problems the other day, and one of my best friends and her family hitting a moose today; someone had to have been looking down on them. Justin is home from the hospital and Jenn and her family don’t have a scratch on them. All they have is a freezer full of meat. Even the car is fine. All’s well in this house today. J

9/12/2010

Dear Coffee,

I think I made a mistake when I cut you from my diet. I know coffee and pregnancy don’t mix well, but I haven’t been pregnant in almost four months. I forgot how much I missed thee. Holy shit, I could type for hours. Well, maybe not. I could babble for days I think though. I need to move, I can’t sit still. I have nothing to do though, because you have made me clean uncontrollably for hours. I think tomorrow I may cut back a little on the caffeine intake. All I wanted to say is, thanks for coming back in to my life. I have missed you more than words can say!

Sincerely, Ginger

Friday, September 10, 2010

Journal 4

9/10/2010


Was in a crappy mood, but Natelee cheered me up. We were playing airplane and I not only got lambasted once, but twice with baby drool; right smack dab in the eye. Gross, but she made me smile (after I dug the drool out of my eyeball)! Have to do something to keep her happy, she's so uncomfortable.

I wrote this for the kiddos today:

My heart grows fonder every time they smile, cry, laugh, and every time I look in to their eyes. Time is going by so fast, and it makes me not want to blink, in fear I may miss a beat. I couldn't imagine losing a child, and my heart aches for anyone that has. I love you Riley and Natelee and couldn't imagine life without you! ♥

Oh, and I got this on my facebook today too. It made me smile:

I have to say you’re an amazing person Ginger! You care for your family so much and you work your ass off to make things better for your family! I just thought I should remind you!

Thursday, September 9, 2010

Journal Day 3

9/9/2010


I was thinking of you a lot today Dad while I was headed to visit our family that is up from Florida. On the way there right by your house one of the tapes you used to play when I was younger came on. “Every Rose has its thorns.” Made me smile and cry at the same time. I hope your okay and everything they say about after death is true.

I can’t believe it has been over a year since you have left us. We miss you so much. You would love your granddaughter. She is so amazing, has an exceptional personality and is growing so fast. Riley asks about you often. He picked out a star in the sky and says it’s you. It’s really a planet, but we won’t tell. J RIP Dad, we miss you so much.

P.S You would be so proud. Justin took Riley target practicing with his b.b gun and he loved it. He hit the target more times than he missed. He was having a hard time though, so we think we may have to buy him left handed guns; which kind of sucks, because he was going to inherit your guns when he got a little more responsible. Wish you were here, you were supposed to be the one teaching him how to shoot a gun…

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

Writers Autobiography

First Person


Headed through the woods with my Nikon camera, and my favorite 70-300 lens attached, I snap photo after photo of bear, moose, trees, acorns, or even just the sky. I know how to stand, I know how to angle the camera, I know how to examine even the tiniest spectacle and maintain a good picture. As I step over twigs, between puddles or over the tallest grass I have no care in the world. It doesn’t matter who is looking over my shoulder or critiquing my every move. I ignore all that’s around, and focus on my passion; photography. All my worries and problems have been left behind, almost like the Sony Cybershot that I no longer desire. I have bigger and better.

Writing is nothing like photography; to me anyways. I need critiquing; I desire a better writing stance. I know my journals and poetry don’t compare to that of William Shakespeare, but I attempt to get A’s and try my hardest. If I am writing, please don’t look over my shoulder. I don’t have the confidence in writing as I do photography. I know in my blogs and journals I have mountains of room to grow, and I expect criticism.



Second Person

You are headed through the woods with your Nikon camera, and your favorite 70-300 lens attached. You snap photo after photo of bear, moose, trees, acorns, or even just the sky. You know how to stand, you know how to angle the camera, you know how to examine even the tiniest spectacle and maintain a good picture. As you step over twigs, between puddles or over the tallest grass you have no care in the world. It doesn’t matter who is looking over your shoulder or critiquing your every move. You ignore all that’s around, and focus on your passion; photography. All your worries and problems have been left behind, almost like the Sony Cybershot that you no longer desire. You have bigger and better.

Writing is nothing like photography; to you anyways. You need critiquing; you desire a better writing stance. You know your journals and poetry don’t compare to that of William Shakespeare, but you attempt to get A’s and try your hardest. If you are writing, hopefully nobody looks over your shoulder. You don’t have the confidence in writing as you do photography. You know in your blogs and journals you have mountains of room to grow, and you expect criticism.



Third Person

She was headed through the woods with her Nikon camera, and her favorite 70-300 lens attached, she snaps photo after photo of bear, moose, trees, acorns, or even just the sky. She knows how to stand, she knows how to angle the camera, she knows how to examine even the tiniest spectacle and maintain a good picture. As she steps over twigs, between puddles or over the tallest grass she has no care in the world. It doesn’t matter who is looking over her shoulder or critiquing her every move. She ignores all that’s around, and focus’ on her passion; photography. All her worries and problems have been left behind, almost like the Sony Cybershot that she no longer desires. She has bigger and better.

Writing is nothing like photography; to her anyways. She needs critiquing; she desires a better writing stance. She knows her journals and poetry don’t compare to that of William Shakespeare, but she attempts to get A’s and tries her hardest. If she is writing, please don’t look over her shoulder. She doesn’t have the confidence in writing as she does photography. She knows in her blogs and journals she has mountains of room to grow, and she expects criticism.

Journal

9/7/2010


I am hoping everything goes okay with the cardiology appointment next week, so we can have some income coming in to the household. We had to decide whether to buy food or pay the electric bill. Of course we bought some food and diapers so we can keep the kiddos healthy. It sucks to lose an income that large. If Justin doesn’t get cleared to go back to work I may have to quit school and find a full time job. Or try and juggle all of it. It is difficult to work, go to school and find time for your family. I hated it, but I had to do it the first two years I was taking classes. Everything was going great this year, so I got done work; which wasn’t worth it in the end anyways. Babysitters are expensive. So I’m keeping my fingers crossed that Justin will be released to work soon and we can resume our normal lives.



9/8/2010

So, we were riding in the car today and that old lady McDonalds sweet tea commercial came on. Riley says, "Does BFF mean best friend forever?" I said, "Yes" He says, "Then you’re my BFF!" I felt special for a minute until he started naming off everyone else and their brother that was his BFF. Way to ruin a good moment Riley! bahaha He says, “Your my BFF, Natelee's my BFF, Justin's my BFF, Daddy's my BFF, Nana's my BFF, Mema's my BFF, Pappy's my BFF, Bampy's my BFF, Cheryl's my BFF, Nykson and Ethan are my BFF's, Josh is my BFF, Hunter, Mason, Emmah and McKenna are my BFF, that guy that gave me 5 bucks is my BFF!” I heard this for about 10 minutes straight. God, I love him! 