Okay.....A quick thank you for stopping by! Also, a great, big, huge and gigantic THANK YOU to all my loyal readers!
In addition, because of the new internship I have taken on I have not been able to log onto MySpace very often. I apologize to the people whom I subscribe to. I try to log on when I can to read your blogs, but not as often as I used to. Because of this I can no longer accept new invitations to anyones blogs. If you would like me to read one of yours, PLEASE send me a personal message and I will be sure to take a look! As for the subscriptions I already have, I will remain a loyal subscriber....just bear with me if I don't get a chance to read them all! Thanks! :)
I am really REALLY trying to get those of you who requested to be on my preferred list on there.....
When I recieved the first few request I tried......I REALLY did! However, it's not working.
So, in the meantime I will simply write some that all can view for the time being. I actually have one in mind for today but I need permission from someone before I do. I'm just waiting to hear back from them now.
So, please give me some time to figure this all out.....even if it means throwing my computer against the floor I SHALL succeed in figuring this out! :)
While typing up my last blog I realized that I couldn't continue to the next one unless I knew for sure that a few people (you know who you are) couldn't have access to it.
I'd set my profile to private to cease this problem.....but, how would I get my daily laugh at seeing these people viewing my profile sometimes five or six times a day?!
Sooooo.....SOME of my blogs will have to be posted as private. The only way I can still have my loyal readers and friends read these is to ask you to send me a personal message asking to be added to the list of those who CAN read them. (My preferred list)
Sorry to be such a pain in the ass......but, after I post the next blog I'm sure you will all understand WHY I have to do this......
Thank you! :)
~Missie (Munchie)
Currently
listening
:
Phobia
By
Breaking Benjamin
Release date: 08 August, 2006
Motherhood.....part one - Daily Living
Current mood: cheerful
Category: Life
Motherhood….. part one –
Daily living
I like to believe that for the most part I am a good mother.
I get up each morning and make sure that the three munchkins living under my care are clean, brushed their hair and teeth, put their deodorant on and that they are wearing decent clothes instead of trying to pull a fast one by wearing their play clothes.
While they are at school and because I'm out of work (still), I clean the house. I pick up all the little toys that my son and youngest daughter leave around the house. I vacuum all the leaves that made their way into my living room, the crumbs the kids left on the floor from the meals the day before, and the deep down 'hidden' dirt that never goes away. I do laundry even though once I'm done I'm really not. I make the house presentable even though the children don't really care one way or another.
When they get home I make them sit down and do their homework immediately. My oldest seems to have hours of it nowadays since starting middle school. She comes home an hour before the others and this is the hour I begin the daunting task of trying to understand what she's so confused about. When the other two get home it's a little easier. I give my youngest daughter a spelling test once a week, correct it and go over the words with her a few more times that week to be sure she knows them. She has an occasional math paper that I can still correct without the use of a calculator. My son is only in first grade so he comes home with one paper a night. Most times it's done in five minutes. Sometimes, he gets absolutely frustrated and it takes an hour, especially when he has to write his five sentences and I tell him he spelled something wrong.
After homework is finished I lay out the chores that need to be completed before playing. The chores are all the same. Emily does dishes and cleans the counters. Sometimes I ask her to bring the clean wet clothes to the dryer in the basement. Amy has to pick up the living room and dining room and take the garbage out. Brian has to bring the dirty clothes down from upstairs and take the garbage out of the bathroom.
After about 15 minutes of chores (if that) the children are free to play as they please until dinnertime. The only issue I may have is if the girls argue about who's using the computer to play on their Webkins. Lord, I cannot wait until we get another one!
While the children are off playing whatever it may be they decided to play at the time, I'm starting dinner. Dinner used to be easy in my home. I'd pull some sort of box, bag, can or jar out of my cabinets and in 20 minutes (sometimes 30) voila! Dinner! Not anymore. Since the husband moved out and the boyfriend moved in, dinners now involve great skill of which I have slowly acquired. Chris taught me how to enjoy cooking instead of looking at it like just another duty that HAS to be prepared. So, here I go. I make sure all elements of a balanced nutritional meal that will leave my children not only full, but healthy end up on the dining room table each night.
Then:
Now:
We eat dinner at the dining room table EVERY night. Every so often, depending on how aggravated I am after the homework fiasco, Chris and I will eat dinner in the living room AWAY from the children. However, ninety percent of the time we are all sitting in our now unintentional assigned seats at the table enjoying idle conversation.
After dinner all the children must take showers. Starting with the youngest I send them upstairs to clean all the dirt, seen and hidden, for a fresh start the next morning.
Once all the children smell like children rather than something I may find under their beds, they have enough time to either play a little longer or watch television.
Eight o'clock on the dot it's time for the youngest to head to bed. Hugs and kisses are mandatory and then upstairs to brush their teeth and hit the hay. The oldest goes to bed at nine and usually we don't see her until we call up to her it's time for bed. She's at that age where she'd rather be in her room listening to music or writing "I love Nick" all over something.
After an hour or two it's time for Chris and me to go to bed just to get up in the morning to start everything all over again.
It's all a routine by now. Each day goes the same as the last with all the finer and unpleasant elements of life mixed throughout, to blend up the monotony.
I am a mother. I am their agent telling them what they should and shouldn't do. I am their maid, hygienist, dry cleaner, teacher, personal chef, taxi, lawyer, banker, and employer. I not only want them to listen, look up to, and come to me, I NEED them to.
All these things, I feel, are some of the main components to being a mother. It's my job. It feels unrewarding, the pay is terrible, everyone takes advantage of the things I do, and it makes me feel like tearing my hair from the roots sometimes. But, it's my job.
I'm okay with this though……
Tomorrow……Part Two!
Currently
listening
:
Better Than Me
By
Hinder
Release date: 07 August, 2007
The Lemonade Stand
Current mood: cheerful
Category: Life
The Lemonade Stand
It's hot out today. Not so much hot as it is muggy. You gotta love the New England weather.
My hunny and I were inside getting the air conditioners cleaned up and ready for me to install while he goes to work. Of course, one decides it doesn't want to work and we spent a good amount of time taking it apart, fixing it and then putting it all back together. When we finally finished and looked up at the clock it was time to run Chris to work or he was going to be late.
We walked outside to see the cutest thing......
Yes, those are my munchkins and their friends outside selling lemonade. *tee hee!*
So, now that this is going on I can't possibly take them with me to bring Chris to work. I run over to the neighbors and ask them to watch all the kids while I run out real quick.
I return 20 minutes later to a car in my driveway buying a cup of lemonade and two of the kids running up to me screaming they already made nine dollars.
I think back to my childhood each time my children do things like this. I grew up in a section of Plainfield Connecticut that had about 10 cars go down the road a day.....two of them being my parents. But, when I was a kid I tried my hand at a lemonade stand anyway.
My lemonade stand wasn't all that great.....first off, I had no lemonade. I had that blue koolade they used to make (do they still make that stuff?). I didn't have a table.....it was more of a piece of wood on a crate if I remember correctly. I made a sign on another piece of plywood and sat in the hot sun for hours waiting to sell my blue koolade.
Ultimately I made five dollars. I was selling the stuff for twenty five cents but the five customers I did get paid me a dollar each time. I remember a car with two guys in their early twenties stopping and looting their car for change to come up with the payment.....
My kids on the other hand seem to be doing quite well. They ran out of lemonade so I made them a ton of iced tea. Their selling this stuff (and water) for the hefty price of seventy-five cents! Can you belive it!
We have two factories down the road from us so we get a lot of tractor trailors coming up and down all day. Every so often when I look out my window I see a huge rig parked in the front and a guy out by the table paying for a cup of iced tea.
Last time I asked they were up to a $15 profit and they want me to bring them to the store later to buy more supplies for tomorrow.
Mother's Day Card
Current mood: contemplative
Category: Life
Mother's Day Card
This morning my son looked over at me and asked, "Mommy, do you have a piece of paper for me?" When I questioned why, he responded with, "I want to make you a Mother's Day card."
I melted. My little man wants to make me a card for Mother's Day. He so sweet and thoughtful and, he's only six years old.
He picks me dandelions every day before school. They just recently popped back up in the yard. I think it was last week when he came running to me with a huge smile on his face saying, "Mommy the flowers are back! Now I can pick them for you everyday again!"
Last summer my son came in shouting, "Mom! This is for you! I had to pick all the ants off first! There were lots!"
My son little acts of kindness makes me sit back and reflect all the time that despite all the bullshit, I've turned out to be a pretty damn good mother.
A little over eleven years ago I was fifteen. I was young, stupid, foolish, and a royal bitch to anyone that cared about me. I did unintelligent things; things that make me cringe with fear now.
At fifteen I had to tell my parents I was pregnant. That was the last year that I was ever a child. I was SO in love and had the fairy tale ending all mapped out in my head. I was going to have a baby. Me and my love were going to get an apartment, get married and live happily ever after.
Boy! Was I wrong!
Nine months later and just a few months after my sweet sixteen I had my baby girl, Emily. Six months later my fairy-tale dream became a nightmare.
Emily after her first opening day. She's three here...
Emily's father left and a few months later moved out of state entirely. Since then, child support comes once a year when they take his income tax. As the years pass I receive less and less. She'll be eleven in June and with the whopping $52 a week he's supposed to pay me and the few checks I have gotten he's about seven thousand behind. Pretty pathetic. I got in touch with him three years ago and tried to bring him and his daughter together a little bit. It lasted for about a month. He would call and talk to her, she would call him. Then his wife got mad and Emily hasn't been able to get a hold of him since. It's a shame because he's really missing out on a sweet little girl who seems to be becoming a woman faster than I want her to.
Emily on opening day.....she used to love to fish. Now it's 'cooler' to just sit in a tree....*sigh*
So then the ex came into my life. I had two children with him. I had my youngest daughter, Amy, when I was 18. My son, Brian, came around when I was 21.
Me & Amy the day she was born....
Brian at just a few months old....
At this time I was still on the brink of disaster when it came to motherhood. My ex was abusive in all ways towards me. He was an addict and an alcoholic and my children seen all of this. There was nothing that I could do. I was depressed, my self-esteem was shot, and this caused my parenting to be lacking in a lot of ways. Staying with my ex was a waiting game. I was to wait until he left, or I was dead. There was no way he was going to allow me to leave. Fortunately, I'm still alive which means he finally left.
Since then I've done everything in my power to repair the damages in my children's lives that maybe they don't see now, but will later.
My oldest is much better than she used to be and she and I actually have a good relationship. We can talk to about anything and we are there for each other. Emily is grown beyond her years because of the life we used to have. While we still have the time to bond, before she thinks I'm an idiot, I'll take every chance I can with her.
Emily 5 years old
My youngest daughter, she's my tough one. She's an emotional little one who cries and whines at the drop of a dime. She thinks the world of her father, the man whom I hate, and that's hard for me. I can't possibly tell her what he really is but, at the same time it's hard to smile when she talks about him.
Amy 3 years old.
My son, well he's my champ! He was little when the ex finally left and wasn't exposed to all the abuse. This I am thankful for. My ex was just like his father. When I was told I was having a boy my first fear was that he would turn out like his father. My ex complains that he can't bond with Brian. In a way it's sad. But, I'm happier that my son sticks to my boyfriend like glue where he sees how a woman SHOULD be treated.
Brian around one years old
Despite my mistakes in life, my mistakes in parenting, and my mistakes in men, I think my children are pretty great compared to most.
There are days that my children drive me absolutely crazy. There are days they make me re-think the fact that I had three. There are days where I sit and wonder, "What the fuck am I doing wrong NOW?" There are days where I am embarrassed that I am their mother.
Then, there are days like today. Days when one of my children does something so sweet and so unexpected that I KNOW I'm finally doing everything just as I should.
Eventually there will come the day when I say goodbye to all my children. Those will be the days when I think back of moments like the day Emily was born and her and I almost died. How I almost lost Amy with a threatened miscarriage. How my water broke 6 weeks before Brian was due. Their first smiles, first laughs, first steps and first words.
Emily 3, Amy 1
I'll think about Emily's first day of kindergarten and how I cried as she walked onto the bus for the first time. And her first concert, how I secretly cried that day too. The day she brought home a flute from school and wanted to learn how to play because I used to play the flute. The basketball games I rushed to see her in. Her first 'date' with her boyfriend to go rollerblading.
Emily & Brian
I'll think of when Amy went in for her eye surgery and I sat outside hysterical. When she woke up finally and cried when she couldn't see Winnie the Pooh on television and my heart sunk. But the joy I felt afterwards when she could see better. Her first day of pre-school as I watched once again one of my little ones climbing the stairs of a bus as my eyes tried not to show the tears building up. The look she gave me when I told her my hand was burnt because I tried putting a fire out with my hand.
Amy's first day of kindergarten....
And my son, how relived I was when he was fine after being born prematurely.I'll think about his first day of school and how by that time it was a relief rather than sorrowful. His long stories he always tells. The way he always picks those flowers for me and just recently when he peed in his eye. (See my blog, Boys will be Boys, for explaination of this!)
Brian around 2
Soon there will be girlfriends & boyfriends, high school, proms, college, weddings, grandchildren. Soon my babies won't want me to call them my babies anymore.
When it's all over, when the joys and sorrows of being a mother to young children are done…..I hope they can someday look back at me and think fondly of me. I hope they will understand what I went through to give them the best damn life I could give them. I hope they will be proud that I am their mother because no matter what, I will always be proud that they are my children.
Emily on opening day this year.....she looks SO happy huh? another *sigh*
Amy on opening day this year....at least she smiles!
Brian on opening day....he's always the happy one....
This movie was an inspiration to me in another way as well.....let me explain.
As most of you know from my prior blogs, I was layed off from my job as a painter from Electric Boat. The up-side to the lay-off was that Electric Boat and the Unemployment office had a great deal of money for those of us who wanted to seek training for another field.
I took the opportunity to once again take, and this time finish, the Paralegal classes I had started years ago. A few years back when I was still with my ex-husband I had taken three of the eight needed courses to obtain a paralegal certification. Due to my ex's undying need to spend all our money on drugs, alcohol and gambling....along with his desire to make me fail at everything I tried to accomplish in life, I never finished what I wanted so badly.
This time, with a newly aquired sense of self-esteem and Electric Boat paying for the classes....I'm almost done.
Electric Boat even paid for the computer that I now use in order to take the classes! Yipee!
From the beginning I found myself in front of a roadblock that seemed nearly impossible to hurdle over. ABSOLUTLEY NO laywers want to hire a paralegal with NO experience. Yeah, yeah, they say they do.....but, they don't.
I have submitted resume's galore to numerous firms not only for a job....but an internship....anything! Anything to get my foot in the door. I even asked my divorce attorney if I could come to her office and just WATCH how things were done, to which her reply was no.
My mother , God bless her soul, was at an appointment with her attorney the other day and mentioned I was looking for an internship.
Her attorney agreed to have me as an intern in his office!!!
Now here I am stuck in the same prediciment as seen in the movie.....no pay.
So, I'll juggle my life around a little bit in order to pursue and achive my happiness. Thankfully my loving boyfriend, Chris, is here to make sure the kids and I don't go homeless as well.
It's taken years of nothing but hardships, tears and pain for me to even remotely look inside myself for the strength to carry on with my hopes and my dreams. I have allowed many roadblocks along the way stop me from my crusades to happiness move any further.
I no longer have those roadblocks in my way. I no longer can come up with lame excuses for not doing what I want to do. I finally have a man who supports me instead of pulling me farther back from my dreams. My children are growing and no longer need me at their sides day in and day out. My financial situation is fine, but can only be better with a real job....the job that I am working so hard to obtain.
So here I go! I'm finally on the right road to my eternal happiness!
A few weeks ago I was messaging one of my friends, Jamie, about French toast. I made some the following day because of the conversation.
Today, I decided to once again make some French toast for my little munchkins and myself. I figured what the hell! They all had the day off from school which meant I could still sleep in and make them something better than their usual cereal.
While pondering over how I could make it more fun, more special, French toast worth remembering, I began to remember my mother.
My childhood is filled with many warm memories. Some of those memories are of the breakfasts that my mother would make for me.
Usually, as I do with my children, it was cold cereal and milk. My mother was against 'sugary' cereals so the choices I had were limited but filled my tummy just the same.
There was always bread for toast. We sometimes had bagels from the freezer to pop into the toaster. Sometimes there would be pop tarts and eventually came the toaster strudels.
Some mornings I would wake up to the smell of hot oatmeal. My mother would add walnuts and brown sugar and top it all off with a bit of milk or cream.
Then there were grits….yes, grits. Although my mom didn't make them as they are usually made. They were creamy, and butter and sugar were added.
Occasionally, she made me cream of wheat.
These breakfasts are not the ones that I can remember with added amounts of love though. Yes, I can still sense the aroma the hot oatmeal, or the sweet buttery essence of her grits. I still get a warm feeling inside thinking of her smile in the mornings when I woke from my slumber. She always seemed to beam when she made me something different. But no, these aren't the best morning memories, only the really good ones.
The best memories are when she put in just a little additional consideration to get a little bit of an extra smile from me.
There was the time she went out and picked some huckleberries from the bushes in our side yard to make me huckleberry pancakes. The pancakes were bursting with the berries and the flavor, I can still taste it. Perfect pancakes. They were dark purple from the berries. Golden brown, flawlessly round, perfect pancakes.
There were the mornings she would surprise me with pancakes with funny faces made from fruits.
There were also the pancakes made for the holidays….pink hearts for Valentines day, green clovers for St. Patrick's Day.
Then there were the mornings I would wake up to hot, just out of the oven, homemade muffins! Corn, blueberry, strawberry, pumpkin, chocolate chip!
Her potato pancakes were, and still are, my favorite. I have never been able to duplicate them. My mothers always came out golden brown and bursting with the flavors of potatoes, garlic, and onions. Mine…..well mine are just sad and usually taste horrible.
There were the mornings that she would have a whole plate of bacon, eggs, sausage and biscuits…..all formed to make a silly face.
Mornings that she made her homemade cinnamon rolls were filled with smiles and laughter as we tried to pull them from the pan without getting all sticky.
She would make me French toast and buy different flavors of syrups for me to try instead of the same old maple stuff……
Ahhh yes, these are the breakfasts that I loved. My mother went to college when I was younger and then went on to working as most mothers now-a-days NEED to do. But, on her days off I went from the cold boring box of Cheerios to something from the heart.
In this day and age where there are what seems like thousands of cold cereals to choose from, instant everything, cereal bars, breakfast bars, powdered milkshakes, and so on….well it seems that not too many take the time to make those meals from the heart anymore.
My children get cereal. During the week the schools here provide breakfast so I have them eat there. Even at their school though, it's cold cereal, muffins or bagels.
Today, I wanted to take a piece of my mother's love and pass it on to my children. So, I made French toast. But, it was not ordinary. It was extraordinary!
Yeah….it was made the same as usual….eggs, milk and vanilla. But, then I sugared some fresh strawberries, raspberries, and blackberries. I was going to stop there but decided to add some bananas to the mix as well. When the toast was all done I sprinkled powered sugar, put a design of maple syrup around the plate, added the fruits and then dabbed some of the sugary sweetness of the fruits on top of the syrup.
In the end it looked like something you would see on those fancy cooking shows and my children as well as the neighbor, who came over to eat once she saw what I was doing, enjoyed them thoroughly!
Yes, it took a little bit of my time. But in the end, I hope my kids will remember it for years to come as I remember the efforts of love from my mother.
So, now that I've told my story, what's your favorite breakfast from childhood?
And yes, these are pictures from this morning's breakfast.....
Where's Your Compassion? UPDATED w/comments
Current mood: sympathetic
Category: Life
A Quick Note To All:
I did not think that the response to this blog would be as vast as it was. (I have only a few readers) There are those of you who still feel the need to write comments that are un-proven and downright mean. I had to delete one it was so bad.....shame on you! But, to those that have experienced the feeling by either being homeless and/or working with or around them, your comments were true and heartfelt.
This blog wasn't intended to start a debate, only to inform people of the heartless acts I had witnessed. I tend to ramble and did towards the end of the blog about my thoughts on the whole situation.
Thank you to all those who shared their stories and thoughts on this blog.
Where's Your Compassion?
My earliest memory of a homeless person brings me to a trip my father and I took to Pennsylvania to see my family one Christmas. We were on our way to the mall for some last minute shopping. The snow was coming down quite hard, wind blowing it this way and that. You could feel the bitter chill of the air even inside my father's warm truck.
Standing in the middle of this dreadful condition was a man. He wore a dark jacket, not warm enough for the snow that had to be chilling him to the bone. He was layered underneath with some ratty looking sweatshirt and possibly a few other t-shirts and such under that. He wore a black winter cap and no gloves. In his hand was a sign….Will Work For Food – Merry Christmas & God Bless.
My father shook his head. Pulled into the nearest lot and pulled up close to the man. He pulled out his wallet and handed the man some money. I don't know how much, but I do remember that our trip to the mall was cancelled. If it was because he gave this man all the money in his wallet or the fact that we had to actually see this man standing out there bothered him to much, the trip was cancelled.
When he got back into the truck he mumbled a few words. I remember "bullshit" and "in this country."
Although my father may not remember this and even though I was so young, maybe nine or ten, this recollection has been trapped in my mind and heart since.
I witnessed something today that flooded this memory back.
I witnessed something that I as a small woman couldn't stop, and was terrified to even try.
Either last year or early this year there was an article about a man who was homeless in Norwich, just about fifteen miles from the town I live in. This man apparently chooses to be homeless. His time at the YMCA ran out quite some time ago and because all the shelters in Connecticut seem to be full, he is living under the bridge right next to the YMCA.
Why he chooses to be homeless I guess I will never understand, but from the articles I read about this man he seems to be a good soul. He has been all around the country and for some odd reason has been here in Connecticut for over a year.
He is not the only person living in Norwich homeless. He is not the only person living in Connecticut homeless. But he is the only person living homeless in Connecticut that I felt sorry for today.
My boyfriend had an appointment today in Norwich and I decided to park in the Y's lot and pay the money to the meter rather than look around everywhere for a spot on the road.
Right in front of me was the bridge that this man lives under. To the left of me I could see where he slept. There was a tarp, some blankets, bottles of water, a flashlight, and a few other items and garbage bags scattered in one small area.
I thought nothing of it. This was the second time I had parked in this exact spot and the man was not there this time or the time before. Maybe he was out holding one of those signs I had first seen with my father years ago. Maybe he was at the nearest soup kitchen trying to keep warm and fill his stomach. Maybe he was just wandering the streets of Norwich.
I looked over and saw his things. I thought of how terrible it is that ANYONE has to live this way. He says it's by choice…..does anyone believe this? Selfishly I began to play on my cell phone in my warm car, drinking a smoothie I had just purchased at Dunkin Donuts.
Only a few minutes had passed when I saw three men, two on bikes, head over to this man's belongings. Once again, I thought nothing of it. I considered that maybe this man has some friends; I thought that they were going to leave something for him, food, money, blankets.
I was wrong.
I sat in watched in horror and fear as these three men began to hurl this man's possessions down the cliff in the ThamesRiver. His tarp for shelter and cover from the weather went first. Then his blankets and a sleeping bag. Garbage bags with contents unknown to me went flying up, then down the cliff. These men were laughing and shouting as they tossed around anything they could find.
About ten minutes passed when the finally took this mans water bottles and threw them into the concrete of the bridge with such force that the bottles exploded.
I was scared. Not of a homeless man that may be lying under the bridge, but of these men that had not a care in the world to toss someone's only goods around as if it were nothing. I locked my doors, rolled up my window, and called one of my friends.
I knew nothing else to do.
After these men finally left I looked around my car. I wanted to leave SOMETHING but, there was nothing to give. My drink would have spoiled, if I left money chances are it would have been stolen and all I had on me was a pathetic amount of change, I had no blankets, or a tarp, or clothes, a sleeping bag….nothing.
My boyfriend finally came back to the car. I told him what I had just witnessed…..
PURE LACK OF COMPASSION
He shook his head and asked me what was wrong with people now-a-days. A few moments later I pulled out of the YMCA parking lot with an overwhelming feeling of guilt.
This picture is of a man living homeless in Norwich, Connecticut
As the day has gone by I still cannot get those images out of my mind. But, honestly, there is nothing I can really do. In my life the weekly paycheck my boyfriend brings home is good money, but it just gets us by. We cannot afford great luxuries. We can only afford to live.
As society changes, life itself is harder and harder to manage. Rents & mortgages, gas, electricity, food, medical….the prices of these are going higher and higher as peoples wages at work stay the same. It is difficult to try to afford the American dream these days.
Driving into Groton the other day there was a man I have seen many times before standing with a cardboard sign. I find myself looking away in shame. Shame for the reason that there is nothing I can do.
During my trip to Seattle last year there was a bridge with over twenty homeless people living under it. I was scared. I was scared these people may hurt me. Why?
In today's day and age this type of living is just unacceptable. There is no reason these people should have to live like this. There is no reason why our country can't help these people.
But, looking at my monthly bills….if the prices keep going up it could be me in this type of situation. It could be my mother, my father, or my friends.
I don't know what I can possibly do to help anyone homeless…..but, it's worth looking into. I need to stop looking at these people in fear. I need to stop looking dishonorably away.
A Video For You.....
Here is a video of some of our country's finest and what they CAN and obviosly WILL do to the homeless.....around here they just arrest the homeless for panhandling....
A while back my father was trying to explain men to me. He boiled it down to "Men like to fix things, anything." Now, I understand he meant not only personal possessions but he also meant if something was going wrong in their love's life….well, men want to fix that too.
Being only 27, I have only a basic understanding of this expression he used. I do see men 'fixing' things. When it comes to their 'woman' having problems that need fixed, at my age most men, especially the younger ones try to 'fix' things with their fists or a whole shitload of swearing a little too much. I think this continues no matter the age but, I will assume most grow up. As for material possessions of theirs or even someone that they are helping, there are those men out there that really know how to do most anything. My dad and my boyfriend are just two of these men out of millions. These two men, that mean more than anything to me, are also very good at trying to fix the problems in my life.
But, this is NOT what this blog is about…..
This blog is about the men who think, try & want to fix things but, never accomplish anything but making a mess and possibly causing serious damage to just about anything or anyone. This blog is not about fixing anyone's problems….although maybe the perpetrators of these serious life risking, once put in their hands, tasks can find some sort of Mr. Fix It's anonymous. Hehe! Lol!
We've all met, have good friends, are in love with, or even are this type of person. We've even seen these types of men on television…..Everyone has seen the show Home Improvement? Yeah! You know you have! For those who STILL insist that they haven't, here is a video to catch you up to this millennium…….
Yes….we all have had the Tim Taylor types sometime in our lives. Mine was my ex-husband. He was the kind of guy who sees something on the side of the road that has a "FREE TAKE ME!" sign on the front of it. Once he sees this! Well, he's just gotta have it! He brought home an array of JUNK from washers and dryers, electric weed-wackers, a really large fish tank and stand, and so on and so on.
My ex would then get all puffed up and tell me how he was going to fix these items and how much money he just saved us. Most of the time the garage, basement, or any other room in the house he started these projects remained cluttered with the pieces of a once great bargain. The things he thought were fixed after all the time he spent on them….well…..there was usually a POP!, BUZZ!, SIZZLE!, BANG! sometimes followed by a little smoke.
This video is a little something I found to reenact what usually happened….
I still remember him pulling into the yard with the fish tank on the hood of his escort and the stand in the hatchback…..oh my! These are not fond memories. The fish tank was probably a two hundred gallon tank. It was unable to hold water due to a crack in the glass and it needing the aquarium calk ripped out and re-done. We had that thing in our basement for nearly two years…..he never fixed it.
Anyway, there is an actual story I wanted to share with you. It's a good one……
When we first moved into our house there was a problem with the shower in the main bathroom. For some reason it would get scalding hot after only a few minutes. Even turning the water down to the coldest setting would still result in getting burnt.
We went to Cheapo (a.k.a. Home Depot) and picked up a new shower kit thingy. We discussed that on my next day off we would try to figure out how to replace everything.
Apparently, our discussion made no difference…..
I worked second shift at Electric Boat at the time. I usually arrived home around 12:45am because of the long ride home. I was about 20 minutes from home one night and my phone rang. My ex was on the line freaking out because he decided to fix the shower and all that had resulted so far was our bathroom and hallway were flooded and the water in the whole house was now shut off until we (yes! WE) figured out how to fix this.
I remember the night at work even to this day. I had been in the aux six tank all day needle gunning and burring. I repeatedly had problems with my tools and found myself going in and out of that sub with heavy tools at least four times. I was dirty. No….I was filthy! I was covered head to toe with black dust. I had a respirator on most of the day but my face had dark black rings where my sweat and the dust had gathered around the mask. The LAST thing I wanted to do is fix the bathroom when I got home. I VERY LAST thing I wanted to do was fix the bathroom when I got home WITH my ex!
As I pulled in our driveway and then walked up the pathway to the door I feared the worst. When I opened the door….my fears became reality……
The kitchen cabinets had been removed and there was sheetrock all over the floor. As I headed up the stairs I noticed the huge hole that looked to have been hammered out of the wall. The hallway was drenched with water and went 'sploosh, sploosh' as I walked into the bathroom. The faucet and handle had been removed from the shower and now there were only two copper pipes protruding from the wall.The bathroom floor had about fifteen towels, all soaked, along the floor. The ceiling and walls were still dripping from the water that had apparently flowed from those two copper pipes.
It seems that he had been trying to solder (saw-der) the new fittings onto the old pipes. He had been doing this for hours and each time had resulted in a leak. The disaster that caused the flood occurred when he turned the water back on and the fixture blew off and water went everywhere without him noticing it until he went upstairs from the basement.
The hole in the kitchen wall…..well, he had to get to the pipes! Heaven forbid he cut a nice even square…..No! No! It was better to use a hammer to get that hole. His reasoning? No one will ever see it…..all we have to do is put the counters back….Geez! Why didn't I think of that?!?!
So anyhow, we began the process of trying to solder these damn pipes. Now, take in mind….I have never done this! I am NOT a plumber! So we are heating up the solder and then putting it on the pipe. This is only resulting in a silver, globby mess. We try and try and it still leaks.
bitchy
determined
amused
cheerful
contemplative
excited
full
sympathetic
