"SKY-ROCKETS IN-FLIGHT!" ...

Remember when you were a kid, and your mom would pull the 'old Kirby vacuum out? (Or Hoover, whichever.)

We always had the 150-pound, industrial-strength, steel-plated Kirby...with the massive grille, single headlight, bag--for which disposable inserts had not yet been invented, so it was a nightmare to empty...eliciting a big mushroom-cloud of debris, cat hair, and skin cells.

Hmmm...those Kirbys were DOOZIES! I can recall when my mom's best friend, and cousin by marriage, had plugged that bombastic machine into the wall, to have a go around the living room at the Farm.

Well, the Farm, being what it was--which was essentially a weekend destination at that time, for hunting, fishing, drinking, cattle herding, hay-baling, deer-driving, frog-gigging, tick-picking (from your own head...blechhh!!!), etc., etc. -- was not the most pristine of environs...hence no one was too surprised when Debbie proceeded to vacuum up an un-spent pistol bullet! ...Well, save for Debbie herself, who about shit when the bullet exploded within the vacuum.

However, the 'ole Kirby took it's licking, yet kept on ticking. Amazing...also quite the boon that cousin Debbie was not taken out by said bullet. ;) Good thing it wasn't a 22-cartridge.

Yes, yes...so the Kirbys were quite the thing...and LOUD!...Even without the added accessory of the bullet.

So, to get back to the apex of this particular triangle...remember when your mom would vacuum, and you would place your hands over your ears, and then proceed to rapidly "smack" at your ears, Hummingbird-esque? (Okay, when I say "smack", you are getting the mental image here, right?)

Anyway, the intent was to make the vacuum sounds "vibrate", and fade in and out in rapid succession.

You DID do this, right? I am NOT the only one??? Hmmm...

Okay, if you refuse to admit that...how about when you do not want to hear a particularly ICKY anecdote--or you already HAVE heard said anecdote--resulting in cringing, wincing, curdling of the stomach, butt tingling with that weird pain spasm?

Oh, I know you have that, too. Like when you you see or hear something which makes you particularly squeamish...like if you watch the needle slowly slide into your arm when you have blood drawn...(what sadist would actually WATCH that? My eyes are always clenched tightly shut!)

Or--OMG!!!--IF YOU HAVE EVER HAD A "BLOOD GAS DRAW" INFLICTED UPON YOU! OMG!!!...OMG...!!!...OMG!!!--Gotta' be, without a doubt, one of the most painful events you will ever have to voluntarily subject yourself to. (Mmmm...having your knee drained is no picnic, either!)

Yes, "Blood Gases"... an experience which you have to soldier thru, with really no big pay-off at the end.

At least (I guess) when a woman has a child, she is "rewarded" with said little "bundle-O-joy" at the culmination...ummm...apparently, this is the way in which things are supposed to work. Mother Nature has instilled those yummy endorphins and an episodic amnesia of the event within the X-chromosomes of the lasses. Makes it a slight bit easier to continue with the propagation of the species.

However, "blood gasses"...Mother Nature has bestowed no such luck in that department. *SHUDDER*...Yup...no anesthesia, big HUGE hollow needle S-L-O-W-L-Y inserted into the artery within the side of your hand.

Ooooooooohhhhhhhh...sooo not a good time, lemme' tell 'ya. Take it from someone who uses the ER as their primary care physician, and the ICU as their bed and breakfast (mmm...usually of the clear liquid variety)...YOU WANT TO AVOID THIS EXPERIENCE AT ALL COSTS.

The collection vial fills excruciatingly slow...as each beat of your heart pumps just a wee bit more of your life into the damn thing. Oh, yeah, and did I mention that you have to remain TOTALLY CALM AND STILL??? Just about freaking impossible to do...but you still have to, for if you do not, then the artery will collapse, and they will have to do it all over again. "Relax your arm"...MY ASS!

Which leads me right back to the squeamy, entire body shudder which apparently hosts its epicenter somewhere in your butt. Yup...we all got it...whether you want to admit it or not.

Okay...we are riding the apex of this tangent to the top yet again...So...

When you encounter these particularly stomach curdling, psyche-scarring events, you sometimes tend to place your hands over your ears and do the rapid-pace "ear smack"-thing, right? ... While at the same time chanting "LA-LA-LA-LA-LA!!!!!"

OKAY! Now I see that realization has finally dawned for those members of the group who were lagging behind, still dealing with the butt-shivers back in the "stab lab", with the sadistic phlebotomist.

So, apparently the "LA-LA-LA!!!" thing is the universal antidote to being subjected to the snake bite venom of the ICK-stuff of the world.

Oh yes...you KNOW you do it, too. Nothing to be ashamed of there...no 12-step program to scurry off to. This is perfectly acceptable behavior...ingrained within us since way before ancient Paleontological eras...hearkening back to when we were all descendant from those pioneering amoebas which washed ashore and evolved as our ancestral tadpoles. You know..."Big Bang Theory", the "primordial soup" mess, and all that.

Mmmm...okay, if you would rather imagine that Eve had to resort to this when Adam was being particularly juvenile in the ways of men since the Dawn of Time...

...which ever suits your fancy.

Yes, maybe the ear-smack-thing was more effective, as well as socially acceptable to be seen performing in public, when you were a kid. However, we all have retained this bit of homeopathic knowledge in our repertoires since childhood; and I find that if saved for only those most crucial of occasions, whipped-out with lightning speed and extreme deftness, then it still holds its magical powers to obliterate said ICK-image from your mind.

However, there may still be a few lingering, scattered bits of the image leaving an unappealing film of ICK-residue on the outer layer of your psyche. Which, in time, should slowly erode away, with the help of a bit of self-induced, memory-repressive therapy...

Hmmm...as well as, maybe, a bottle of wine... or a few shots of Patron!

Or...a bottle of Patron...and a few shots of wine...whichever works best. In the end, hopefully your memory will be obliterated by your wicked hang-over.

While I did not resort to the Patron cure, the bottle of wine and a few (THOUSAND) "LA, LA, LA'S!!!" seemed to do the trick rather nicely.

Oh yes...the "EVENT"!...The event which made the eyes of my inner, most active, in full- techni-color imagination GO BLIND!...

I was up at the bowling alley the other night with my mom and sister...watching them bowl, and enjoying the hell out of my soft-baked pretzel with its accompanying side of imitation nacho cheese goo...

...when my Mom, after having started on her third beer (who usually ONLY has two!)... nonchalantly assails me with a sheer DELUGE of rapid-fire information. Now, keep in mind that, between my mom, sister, and I...THERE ARE NO SECRETS.

Much to my dismay, at times.

Also, much of the information which she availed me of was all quite along the "hip, hip, horray!...goodie for you!" line...but by the same token, I JUST DON'T NEED TO KNOW EVERYTHING, ALL THE TIME!

*Begin "butt-shudder" now* ;) ...

So, Mom's opening monologue went something like this:

"Oh, they took the (colostomy) bag off of Dad the other day." :O ...HUH?????

"Apparently, his intestines do not seem to be leaking anymore, so hopefully they are healing on their own." :-) ...OMG! How cool is that?

"Oh, we are even going up to the farm this weekend." :o} No way! Awesome!

"Oh, yeah...and we had sex today... for the first time in 3 months." ;O ...My eyes! My eyes! I'm blind! LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OMG! Make it stop! Shots! Where is that waitress with the tequila shooters! Ughhhhhh.....!!!

Mom smirked, calmly lifted her beer to her lips, and sealed my eternal innocence to it's doomed fate with her final nails within my pristine coffin...

"And my vibrator, which I secretly ordered, should be delivered to your sister's office any day now." :O ... :O ... :O AAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!! Medic! Tequila...RAPIDIMENTE, por favor!!!

"With the tube of sensitizing cream!" She delivered with glee. :o{ OXYGEN! Nurse! Dr. Doogie Howser! Dr. Phil! (Hack that you are)... SOMEBODY!...Make it stop!!!

So, there I sat...butt muscles spasming and clenching uncontrollably, ears roaring, mind's eye gone all Helen-Keller on me, as the LA-LA's ceased to elicit their mojo. The sound of bowling pins crashing-to-hell, cast as the symphony of my soundtrack...my vision tunneling-down into mere pin-points of light, as I proceeded to choke on my soft pretzel with the imitation coagulation of cheese goo.

Mom tried to contain her smile behind another sip of beer, as I fought back from all of the reeling-in-shock, to try to effectively hush her...for the perverted old geezer looming over our shoulder was getting quite the ear-ful!

*SIGH*...Alas...the gals in our family tend to PROJECT our voices rather well...we have no secrets within our little coven of black-haired vixens, nor a whole lotta' shame around the general public...and we definitely tend to become a bit more brazen when even just "teetotalling".

Case-in-point, my sister and I had once met for a late lunch (hey, who am I kidding...let's just call it "Happy Hour", okay? ;) ...anyway, it was at a Mexican restaurant...so, of course there was tequila involved...we DO adore our Margaritas! ;)

We were seated in a booth, which was not a bad thing, in-and-of itself. However, the booth in question was situated at the head of the room, raised up on a 10-inch pedestal, and within an arched cubby-hole...

An "ARCHWAY", for God's sake! :O The very last thing we need, is to be sucking up the Margaritas like we are actually on the beach on a secluded island, happily and carelessly mowing our way thru bushels of chips and millions of tiny ramekins of fresh salsa...while seated:

**In a busy FAMILY restaurant...

**At a point in the room which was apparently designed to have all eyes focus upon it...

**On a freaking dais...

**Within a stuccoed ARCHWAY!!!

Do you have any idea of what the super-sonic levels of ECHO-EFFECT we were able to attain in that particular situation???

Pretty damn high. Chuck Yaeger surely had nothing on us, in the light-speed/sound barrier / shock-and-awe department! ;)

Sooo...at least I know I come by it naturally...this predisposition for blunt, forth-rightness...my ability to filter myself when needed...yet still bare my very soul to those select few.

'Eh...the details which I spew forth like balls of colored fire from a Roman Candle, may be censored for some, more for others...yet I still will just "let it fly" at will.

Sometimes this is totally cool...and sometimes, possibly "not so much". Mayhap leaves the listener wanting to resort to some LA-LA-LA-LA-LA's of their own!

So, the best I can do is try to judge my "audience" carefully, when making the determination of whether they: "Just CAN handle the truth"...OR NOT.

Hopefully, I do not err too much...and when I do, just hope that the listener/reader has gotten at least a good chuckle out of my Roman Candle-ish burst of honest experiences and observations.

After all...a bit 'O bursts of revealing light once in awhile will usually result in either forging a stronger, closer bond between parties involved...OOOORRRRRRRRRRRR...it will completely make them butt-shiver, gag, and LA-LA-LA! themselves right out of your life. At least then you know who has the fortitudinal staying-power, 'eh?

So, yeah...my Mom had laughingly blinded me, yet it is but a temporary affliction.

The LA-LA's did not quite do their trick...however, when I yelled at my sister: "OHMIGOD, you have got to get over here and listen to THIS!"...I was able to effectively diffuse much of the butt-spasming and clenching, and deflect the remaining fall-out onto her un-suspecting ears!

Hee-Hee!...There was quite a bit of satisfaction knowing that I was now on the delivery side, and able to witness her sudden attack of psychosomatic blindness.

Did she not know about the LA-LA-LA's??? Damn, what household did SHE grow up in?

Ah...she took a deep pull on her Bud Light long-neck, and managed to gasp out as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, "Whaaaatttt???"

And there goes Mom's Roman Candle!

Hmmm...I prefer to think of my own penchant to SHARE-ABOVE-AND-BEYOND-THE-CALL-OF-DUTY as my: "SKY-ROCKETS IN-FLIGHT!" ...

...DUCK AND COVER!!! ;o}

"Maxin' and Relaxin'...with Skittles...Taste the Rainbow!...Or...Bite the Dust!"... ;o}

So, I thought I would give ya'all the 'ole "411" on Daddy-O...things have been crazy as usual...however, he IS home and stable...well, as "STABLE" as one can BE in our family, anyway! ;-}

I cannot seem to remember WHAT I write WHERE these days...it is all such a jumble. I feel quite addled in my dotage! :o}

And, as usual, this is a meandering collage of Skittles of various hues and flavors. So, pop a piece of that most wondrous, chewy, fruity, bit of Candy-Nirvana into your mouth, and read-on, whilst your sugar-buzz is still bursting!... ;o}

"Things" ARE kinda "okay"...we are in a wait-and-see holding-pattern...all that we can ask for, really. Every new day is a better day...I hope. That is my plan, anyway. Just gotta' convince myself of it now!

So...Dad IS finally home...they never could operate on him...he would not survive another surgery, and his intestines were too thin to hold a suture anyway. So, after another week+ in the hospital, (still with the colostomy bag on)...he was able to eat regular food...so the doctors decided that he could lie in bed at home as well as he could in the hospital. So...they shipped him outta' there.

He still has the colostomy bag on...Mom is his 24/7 nurse/slave/indentured-servant, etc. He is super weak...yet he does walk a few laps around the living room every day. He still has the clots in his legs...I guess with the meds they are slowly being absorbed.

A nurse comes every couple days, and they have to go in to the doctor at least once a week.

Mom said that he has zero interest in anything...not the farm, not the dogs, NOTHING. She took him off the anti-depressants, because she said he was just a zombie while on them...was kinda dizzy when he walked, and could not really focus on anything.

Now, he just seems really down. I mean...who can blame him, right? This whole deal has been one nightmare after another for the past few years. It took him so long to struggle back from the brink last time...and now he has to try and do it all over again...under even worse conditions.

I have always seen my dad as Superman...ageless, timeless, and without weakness. Now, I am trying to see what outsiders see...and what he is seeing in himself. And that is apparently an old and sick man. But that is NOT who he really is! He may be 73 years old...but that is just a number. My dad has ALWAYS been strong, healthy, brilliant-beyond-belief, sharp, quick, and the center of everyone's universe.

He is NOT this sick, old man who is suddenly a stranger to me...to all of us. I wonder if he is now a stranger to himself, too.

He is not the easiest person to talk to. He has always been the one doing the talking... ("lecturing", is more like it! ;) ...Or, just telling stories, in general.) He has never had a whole lot of patience...and if he did not want to listen to what we had to say, if it held no interest for him--because it was really so far below his intelligence level--his eyes would just glaze-over, and we would immediately get the hint that the conversation was over.

Well, now...he has no interest in ANYTHING ANYONE has to say...EVER. He just kinda lies there in his recliner and shrugs if asked a question, or told a brief story. It is rather unnerving...I just feel like an idiot...and like I am bothering him.

Mom says that he does not really talk...hardly ever...about anything. He is just a ghost going through the motions.

He thinks he is not getting any better. But I think that he is...Mom thinks so too. Less fluid is draining out of his abdominal cavity now...and that surely must mean that his intestines ARE finally healing themselves a bit. It is just going to take time...and lots of it.

At least he his HOME now...that certainly has to account for A LOT. ...Hospitals SUCK!... Plain-and-simple...Unless you are the doctors who make a flippin' FORTUNE there (even accounting for their exorbitant mal-practice insurance co-pays!)...or if you are parents bringing a baby into the world...

...(what am I saying?..."Parents"...I SHOULD SAY: "Unless you are a WOMAN, giving birth to her child!" When men say that they are "having a baby", they are FULL OF SHIT! THEY are NOT "having a baby"...THEY were the "sperm-donors"...period...THEY do NONE of the work! "Men--having a baby...my ASS! ;O}

Anyway...NO ONE wants to be in a hospital. MISERABLE...PERIOD. And I KNOW! *SHUDDER*

Now, Dad can barely speak above a whisper when he does speak. I think that when they had to entebate him when he coded, that they damaged his vocal chords. Also, since he has barely spoken in months, his muscles are atrophying.

Mom asked him why he can barely speak...what was "wrong with his voice?"...and he just shrugged again. I told her that he needs to start exercising his vocal chords, they need to get stronger too.

When Boomer had a few vertebrae in his neck fused--a couple years before we met--the doctors had to go in thru his throat to perform the surgery. Well, they DID damage his vocal chords...and he could not speak at all for a month...had to ring a bell to get his wife's attention. (It got to the point where his wife and kids were making fun of him and his little bell! Gawd...I am sooo glad I was not around for THAT!) :~O

Then, he could not speak above a feeble whisper for 6 months after that. He worked for another painting company at that time...was a foreman. He was trying to run the jobs, manage his crew, and be a firm leader...yet had to whisper all the time! Yeah...that did not work out so well, as you can imagine! :o}

As a last resort, he had to have another surgery...one where the surgeon tied his 2 vocal chords together to make 1 stronger vocal chord. Well, once that healed, it worked! However, his voice apparently used to be REALLY deep...and now is not. (Although it is still pretty deep.) He also cannot sing anymore...cannot sustain the notes, and his voice cracks...he ends-up coughing. There are no longer 2 separate vocal chords to vibrate against each other...and while the 1 is strong enough to enable him to speak, it is not strong enough to allow him the ability to sing.

Sooo, I really do believe that SOMETHING happened to Dad's vocal chords during the entebation.

However, no one will ever listen to me. And, apparently, Dad does not really care to speak anyway. They all frustrate me. Dad is morose, Mom is indifferent--she has apparently seen so much of all of this, and has had to take care of him thru it all--that she is not fazed by any of it...does not think it is a major deal...and, I guess, is just waiting for SOMETHING to happen...either way.

My brother is a mess. He has always had "Daddy Issues"...always striving for approval that he thought he never received...and resented Dad so much for it...yet still came back for more. My brother is too dumb to see past the end of his 7 year-old nose (even though he is 47!)

I have always tried to tell him that Dad worships his first born...his son!...And I have pointed-out to him the many ways in which Dad has shown him his love. I have also tried to explain to him WHY Dad is the way he is...WHY he runs his family like he does...and HOW he shows his love.

Dad was born in 1934...dirt poor...lots of kids...and a strict father. That was an ENTIRELY different time! Men showed their love and approval in TOTALLY different ways to their families. Dad behaved sooo much like HIS dad did...just, maybe toned-down a tiny bit...but not by much! Oy-Vey!

Anyway...Grandpa raised a strong bunch of kids himself, with the help of Grandma. They were married for over 60 years before he passed from Heart Disease...he was over 90 years old. ..that was in 1996. Grandma is still alive...and she is about 93 now. All of THEIR kids went on to have strong, successful marriages...and kids which they raised in the same manner which they were raised in: "Spare the rod, spoil the child."

That is just the way it was. Period. Nothing is ever going to change that...nothing is ever going to change the past...yet, Dad did mellow with time. He even regrets many of his parenting choices of the past...and has told my brother that. However...the past is the past...get over it! Move on! Qwitcherbitchin'! Ughhh...

I, being the "baby", had it MUCH easier! Believe me! PLUS...my brother was a rebellious, moronic, hellion...and my sister NOT much better...BOTH of them TOTALLY deserved whatever punishments they received! I, on the other hand, was an ANGEL! I also learned from watching THEIR mistakes, and just generally stayed in my room--and out of trouble--and READ all the time! (Wrote too!) ;o}

So, anyway...where was I??? Ughhh...it is the wee morning hours, and I have zinged-off into various directions again, huh?

I am SURE I will be getting a call from my sister after she read this!...To chew my ass out, and point-out to me the "error of my memories!"...That I was the thorn in her side from Day-1!...

...Yeah, yeah...I have heard ALL ABOUT how I RUINED her Halloween in 1969...the day I was born! She and my brother were supposed to have gone trick-or-treating as the "Banana Splits"...however, the "little miracle the was I" :o) was born, and it was "all-over" for them...I ruined the rest of their lives!...Yadda, yadda, yadda...heard that song-and-dance a million times! ;)

I am just REALLY glad that my brother has NO IDEA I even HAVE a blog, much less any idea of what a blog even IS! He would DEFINITELY kill me...YEEK! :O

Well, that's the way I wander sometimes! Sorry! I may as well just keep-on yakkin', if anyone is still paying attention! :-O

So...yeah...my brother is a moron who is still hung-up on all of that crap...and he has totally twisted it in his head how it REALLY was...such a WHINER! His maturity level, and his social skills were definitely stunted and retarded at an early age...really...and he has never gotten past that.

I think it is because, once my Dad and Mom made their fortune...and only had 1 kid at that point--my brother--they spoiled him to death! OMG! That kid wanted for nothing! And, that was one of Dad's ways of showing his love...since HE never had ANYTHING when he was growing up...he wanted HIS kids to have it ALL.

So...my brother DID...and he appreciated NONE of it! Disgusting, really. And he still whines about it. Nothing super traumatic ever happened to him. He was just a spoiled rich kid who raised hell, and did not want to pay the consequences. Now that he is an adult, he is all stuck in a time-warp.

And, now that Dad is so sick...my brother is terrified that Dad is going to not make it...and he is finally realizing that even though he has protested how much he: "Hates the 'Old Man'" all of these years...Gawd, how I HATE that term! :o( ...he now realizes how much he loves his "Daddy"! ...

...Ughhh!...I have TOLD him for YEARS that he would be a screwed-up mess if anything ever happened to Dad, and they did not rectify things. That he needed closure on all of that crap from the past, or else he would NEVER be able to be "whole"...and if something DID happen to Dad, then he would NEVER have the opportunity to ease him soul, and get his life together.

Well...of course...he NEVER believed me! NOW, however, he is all in a panic. I could wring his idiot neck. He always thinks it is all about HIM.

My sister--the middle child--has always been the "cool one"...not Daddy's favorite...not Mommy's favorite...Both of those titles were reserved for ME! Yes, my siblings HATED me and resented the heck out of me while we were growing-up! I probably was a precocious little "Cindy Brady"...but I always hear about how "darned CUTE I was!" ;o} ...Hee-hee! And, they TORTURED me mercilessly because of it! THAT is a whole entirely different blog...BELIEVE ME! Ooof! :-O

Anyway...my sister has never really sought EITHER of my parents' approval...just always did her own thing, and was fine with it all. She married...a few times!...had 4 kids...and has just rolled with the flow all the while. Not phased by much, and really quite a strong, together gal. Yeah...she has her ups and downs...don't we all? However, she is way too wrapped-up with her OWN kids to worry about whining about when SHE was a kid! Hey...she had it PRETTY DAMN GOOD--we ALL did--and she realizes that.

Actually, just tonight I was hanging-out up at the bowling alley...

YES!...I said: "BOWLING ALLEY"! Sometimes..."it is what it is"...'ya know? That's where my mom, sister, and sister-in-law bowl on a league, and so that is where I go on Thursdays to hang-out and have a couple drinks with the gals in my family...not a bad time...considering all the smoke, the drunk hoosiers, and the screaming kids. Oh! ...Sorry! That is just OUR family's presence up there!...WHOOPS! ...

...Ugh...sometimes I SWEAR I was either adopted...switched at the hospital by a hung-over, still-drunk-from-the-night-before nurse...or left on the door-step of the largest house on the street! WHO ARE these people?...And what happened to my "real" family??? ;)

ANYWAY...just tonight, my sister, Mom, and I were rehashing the "good 'ole days" of our youth....Mom had brought a STACK of old photos to give to us, that she had found while cleaning-out various nooks and crannies of the house...and it was AMAZING to see our little fledgling family in all those Black-and-Whites! Yup!...I KNEW it!...I was ADORABLE!!! :)

Well, we were all laughing over the crazy times we had growing-up...and my sister's hell-raising ways...and she said that she had thought the other day: "What would have happened to her...WHAT would Dad have done--if he had discovered her doing ANY of the devilish things she used to do as a teen??" ...Things she knew damn good-and-well that she would have gotten her ass kicked for, all the way to the Farm and back! Yet, she had no fear...Sooo DUMB! And sooo LUCKY! OMG...she was BAAAAADDDDD!

...And, I...SEEING what she was doing...KNOWING she would kill me if I uttered a peep...continued to hide in my room...reading and writing...and waiting for the explosion to come...determined to seek shelter from any potential fall-out! Holy-smokes! WILD CHILD! Aaaannnddddd...probably one of the reasons why she is now kinda "together" and semi-well-adjusted! She was a "normal" teenager...er...KINDA!

I was a frightened rabbit...aaaaannnnndddddd...as much as I would love to run "free"...still...kinda' timid.

I was never allowed to ride my bike past a certain tree near the end of the driveway when I was a kid...so I didn't. My parents drilled it into my head to never strike-off with my friends somewhere we weren't supposed to go...so I didn't.

I cannot tell you how many times my mom would drive my girlfriends (the neighbor twins) to the skating rink, the movies, or the local dance club--in Jr. High-- (it would be THEIR mom's turn to pick us up)...and the twins would get a wild-hair to walk to McDonald's, or something...IN THE DARK, NOT CLOSE-BY, ALONE!!!

Yeah...RIGHT...like I was REALLY gonna do THAT! So, my traitorous friends (man, I REALLY needed a "twin" of my own...They apparently stick together, thick-as-thieves, dammit! There's no breaching those defenses.)...they would take-off without me...and I would have to call my mom to come and pick me up...even though she thought she had already done her duty...her share of the driving. Think again!

Hey, they always warned me of all 'O the mad rapists out there...apparently they are just hangin' from the trees...and about ending-up: "Dead in a ditch somewhere!" :O

Let me tell you, if I have heard the "Dead in a ditch"-thing, ONCE...I have heard it a million times! Obviously, that image held great terror for me...apparently, BAD THINGS HAPPEN IN DITCHES! And, I wanted no part of that.

So, like a moron--ditched (no pun intended!) by her squirrely friends YET AGAIN!--I would place that collect-call at the disgusting, germ-ridden, sticky pay-phone, and listen to Mom exasperatedly tell me that her and dad were just sitting-down to watch "Jokers' Wild!", and "Tic Tac Dough"!...Boy...was she mad! Every time! I am surprised that they kept letting me go anywhere with those two.

I hope my parents were at least happy that all of their "Rapist"-sermons, and the "Ditch"-mantra had made such an impact. ;) I STILL tend to stay away from all the "Ditches" in life...still too timid, I guess. Well, I AM a product of my upbringing...could be worse, I guess...??? ;)

And that leads this little journey to...ME!...The "baby"...the last little bird to leave the nest...and never really left all the way. I speak to my Mom EVERY DAY...always have...and see her almost every day. I talk on the phone to my sister almost every day...email her a lot...and see her a couple times a week. I talk to my brother maybe once or twice a week...and see him when I am at my parents' house (he and Dad have their business based out of the house)...or when he comes into my bar.

I see Dad when I go over there a couple of times a week...yet it is awkward and stilted...sometimes he just goes into his bedroom when I come in...I know he just does not want to have to deal with "people". Since when did I become "PEOPLE"?!

Huh...I also just realized that I referred to my parents' house as...just that..."my parents' house"! That is a HUGE switch for me! I have ALWAYS referred to it as: "HOME"! ...That used to drive my ex-husband NUTS! When we were arguing (because he was such a complete JERK!), I would always refer to their house as "home"...because it WAS! And it always WILL BE!

My ex would get all incensed, and say that was NOT my "home"!...My "home" was supposedly that cockroach-infested cubicle of an apartment which we lived in. :-( Um, yeah...DON'T THINK SO! (Yeah...THOSE were some good times! Ughhh... :-O Yep...wasted too many years on him...OMG, you would NOT BELIEVE!)

Anyway...yeah..."HOME"...it always will be...to me anyway. "Home is where the heart is"...and my heart is where my family is. I guess one of the problems I have, is that I have never built a family of my own...just my little family of fur-balls...who are PERFECT AND WONDERFUL IN-EVERY-WAY!!! However, and I cringe in-fear to even think of it...they eventually will cross over the "Rainbow Bridge"...and what will I have then? Where will my home be?

So...this ramble has been just fulla' bits and pieces of the wanderings of my mind in the middle of the night...when my mind tends to ramble the most and wander the free-est...(AND, apparently, tends to MAKE-UP its own words...Hee-Hee!!).

I guess nothing ever REALLY ever gets resolved...I just become more aware of WHY I am a nut-case! No luck yet on figuring-out HOW to become more main-stream...don't think I would want to be, actually. Although, it would make things a touch easier....for the other "main-streamers" around me.

I am just tired of "being on the outside and looking-in...on my OWN life!" :~( Guess I just suck at being my own motivational-speaker...THAT was always my DAD'S job! I always succeeded the most, and soared the highest, when he was the one pushing, prodding, coaching, encouraging, yelling, shoving, and cheering me along-the-way. It was always so much more "fun" and "meaningful" when he was a part of "it"...a part of my life...a part of ME. (Aaaaannnnndddddd...so much more difficult to kick YOURSELF in the ass...when you are not really sure WHERE to kick! :-0 )

I know the baby bird is supposed to "fly" on its own at SOME point! I just never really thought that meant ME, too! Don't like THAT deal, at'tall! Hrmppphhhhh!!!...

That ground down there looks REALLY HARD! :-O

Um...maybe if I stick a whole bunch of MAXI-PADS all over my body...I am sure that would help! Wait a minute...they have "WINGS", right???!!! ;) So...they could either enable me to FLY! (not likely, huh???) ... help to cushion the blow, or SOAK-UP THE BLOOD!!..*YIKES!* ;) ...{Do they even SELL those anymore??? Does anyone even USE those anymore??? ..Or, did Maxi/Mini-pads go the way of the "Beta-VCR's"? "Beta"...HELL!...ALL VCR'S, now... YE-GADS... :-O }