Well! The last few days have been interesting to say the least! The out pouring of acceptance and love, yes love, from you my fellow bloggers was overwhelming to me. To say only thank you seems so very weak in response to your love, but can not find any other words that come close to expressing my feelings for you. So, until such a time as I can come up with better words for this emotion in my heart and mind, know that I am saying it with the deepest regard and friendship.
Thank you!
So, now on to straighten out some misconceptions that seem to be floating in the air. Yesterday, I spent more hours than I ever had before chatting, mostly answering the same questions from everyone. So, for those of you who read me, and do not chat with me, I'll answer the most common questions here for you.
1) Do you want a sex change operation?
No, I do not. I am transgender, not transsexual. The easiest way to describe this is thus. Sex, is about what is between your legs, gender is what is between your ears. The definition of a transsexual is a condition in which an individual identifies with a physical sex that is different from their biological one. And for the most part, I have been ok with my body, not a perfect harmony, but not ever unhappy with my physical sex. The times I am happiest with my body is when I am just me. Not having to fit some sort of cookie cutter female mold. But allowed to dress as I wish, act as I wish.
2) Do you want to live as a man?
No, I do not. If I was to live wholly as a man, then that would make me unhappy. I am both male and female genders, and they both want to be expressed. My male side is more pronounced, but I am a female also. The reason it pinches so to identify as a female/woman is that it's not really how I feel about me. If I had to identify as a male/man, it would feel as wrong.
3) Do you want to have sex with women, or threesomes?
Absolutely not! Well, ok a threesome? Sure, but only with two guys.... ;-p My sexual orientation is straight. I have no interest whatsoever in sex with women at all.
4) Do I want to look like a man?
No, no I don't. But am I comfortable in extremely frilly feminine clothing? No, I'm not. I do wear dresses and such, when the occasion demands it. But it feels like a costume, and it takes me quite a while to ignore what I have on, and relax enough to enjoy the occasion. And if I go shopping with other women they are forever forcing me into clothing that I am just not comfortable in. Sometimes, I am a doormat enough to buy what they are pushing me into. Rarely if ever do these clothes get worn.....
5) Do I like anything that is considered girly?
Yup! I have a huge, and I do mean huge, thing for Hello Kitty!! OMG! She is so cute!! Yes, I know she is pink, but cute!!! Kawaii!!!!!! I love bracelets of all kinds! Especially the thin metal type, I love the tinkling sound they make when I move my arms. Earrings are also something I love. However, I don't like the large, showy chandelier type. I do wear dangling ones, but they are fairly plain, and not showy. So, I do like girly stuff, just on a much more muted level than many girls. And for the most part can live without it, if I had to.
6) Do I do anything that is feminine?
Yeah, I do. I love to knit! So, much fun! I like to sew and embroiderer, and a few years ago learned to crochet. I only really play girly type of games on my DS and my game cube. But, rather than it being a function of femininity, it is rather more of a inability of mine, to enjoy killing things.... which most male games seem to be based on. Is my issue with killing things a gender thing for me? No, it is a byproduct of my abuse as a child. It has left me almost unable to hurt others, even with speech. The only times that I have hurt someone, is when they have hurt my boys. Because no one hurts my babies!
So, whew! I think that answers most of the questions that I have been asked. If you think of any others that you would like answered, just let me know. And if you want to chat with me to ask me more, please feel free to do so. My addy is in the side bar over there --->
And now on to the cookies!
These are the best peanut butter cookies ever!!! Why? Because they taste like peanut butter! No, I didn't forget the flour, these are flourless cookies.
1 cup smooth peanut butter, 1 cup sugar, 1 egg, 1 teaspoon vanilla.
Preheat oven the 375. Mix all together in a bowl. On a small saucer pour a small amount of sugar. Roll the dough into smallish balls. Roll really well, to make sure the cookies hold together after baking. Roll them around in the sugar from your saucer, place on an ungreased cookie sheet. Lightly flatten with a bottom of a flat glass. Bake for about 11 minutes. The tops of the cookies should be lightly cracked, and the edges are a slightly different color. Cool for a few minutes on the cookie sheet before moving them to a cooling rack. Enjoy!
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
I'm just a painting that's still wet.....
So, yeah now you know.... sorta, kinda. It is very hard to really explain how it feels to know you are different, and not really have the ability to express it others. Why can't I express it to you clearly? Because I have no experience as anything else than what I am, and you only have experience as to what you are.
I have been told, "What's the big deal? You're just a tom boy." Umm, no tis so much more than the enjoyment of participating in masculine activities. It isn't a physical expression, but a mental one.
"That's just weird!" Sigh. That one? Yeah, that one hurts, quite sharply actually. Don't you think I know it's weird to not be any one gender? To know that I don't 'fit' in? And, to know that I'll always feel some sense of alienation by people of the same sex as my self?
To clear things up, here is a handy way of looking at the difference between sex and gender. Sex? Basically it's what's between your legs. And gender? It's what's between your ears.
Technically? I am a transgendered person. This is what wikipedia has to say about transgender. "It's a general term applied to a variety of individuals, behaviors, and groups involving tendencies to diverge from the normative gender roles. It's the state of one's 'gender identity'. A self-identification as woman, man or neither." Does that mean that I chose this gender identity? No, what it means is that for some reason, people like me don't take our gender identities from our sex.
How long have I felt this way? As long as I can remember..... I don't ever remember looking at any female, ever and thinking that I wanted to look like or to be like them. It was always males that I wanted to look like, act like, to be. Tough, cool, and oozing maleness....
It has always..... pinched, itched, didn't fit/feel right to be identified as female/woman..... never been comfortable marking that box. Chick is about the only female word that I am comfortable with. Do I use she? Yeah, am cool with she, her, etc.
Until a short time ago, I had never met anyone who was like me, at least not knowingly. And finding this new friend has allowed me to talk to someone who truly understands what I feel. And he has been educating me, holding my hand and helping me come to terms with it. What his friendship has meant to me, is beyond words. I'm not sure that I have ever met a sweeter kinder gentler person, ever. There isn't enough words to ever express what he means to me. My kk lol ;-p friend.
For years, I just let it lay in me, occasionally it would bubble up to the surface and I would feel so....... stifled by my sex and without an outlet for my gender, it would lead to bouts of short temper and depression, and tears.
Does T.H. know? Yeah, he does. Understand? Not really, but how can he? When I would be upset and rather manic about it, his only response, which didn't help at the time, but was the only way he knew how to 'fix' it was to tell me over and over that he loves me just as I am, and wouldn't change anything about me, and that he loves, loves, loves me. And how much more can I want? Nothing.
This post title? It's a lyric from the song "Leave a Scar" by Marilyn Manson. Why did I choose this as my title? Because, at some level, I feel unfinished, waiting for some undefinable something...... So, I am still in the process of learning to be me. Learning what it means to BE me. Learning, well me.
I have been told, "What's the big deal? You're just a tom boy." Umm, no tis so much more than the enjoyment of participating in masculine activities. It isn't a physical expression, but a mental one.
"That's just weird!" Sigh. That one? Yeah, that one hurts, quite sharply actually. Don't you think I know it's weird to not be any one gender? To know that I don't 'fit' in? And, to know that I'll always feel some sense of alienation by people of the same sex as my self?
To clear things up, here is a handy way of looking at the difference between sex and gender. Sex? Basically it's what's between your legs. And gender? It's what's between your ears.
Technically? I am a transgendered person. This is what wikipedia has to say about transgender. "It's a general term applied to a variety of individuals, behaviors, and groups involving tendencies to diverge from the normative gender roles. It's the state of one's 'gender identity'. A self-identification as woman, man or neither." Does that mean that I chose this gender identity? No, what it means is that for some reason, people like me don't take our gender identities from our sex.
How long have I felt this way? As long as I can remember..... I don't ever remember looking at any female, ever and thinking that I wanted to look like or to be like them. It was always males that I wanted to look like, act like, to be. Tough, cool, and oozing maleness....
It has always..... pinched, itched, didn't fit/feel right to be identified as female/woman..... never been comfortable marking that box. Chick is about the only female word that I am comfortable with. Do I use she? Yeah, am cool with she, her, etc.
Until a short time ago, I had never met anyone who was like me, at least not knowingly. And finding this new friend has allowed me to talk to someone who truly understands what I feel. And he has been educating me, holding my hand and helping me come to terms with it. What his friendship has meant to me, is beyond words. I'm not sure that I have ever met a sweeter kinder gentler person, ever. There isn't enough words to ever express what he means to me. My kk lol ;-p friend.
For years, I just let it lay in me, occasionally it would bubble up to the surface and I would feel so....... stifled by my sex and without an outlet for my gender, it would lead to bouts of short temper and depression, and tears.
Does T.H. know? Yeah, he does. Understand? Not really, but how can he? When I would be upset and rather manic about it, his only response, which didn't help at the time, but was the only way he knew how to 'fix' it was to tell me over and over that he loves me just as I am, and wouldn't change anything about me, and that he loves, loves, loves me. And how much more can I want? Nothing.
This post title? It's a lyric from the song "Leave a Scar" by Marilyn Manson. Why did I choose this as my title? Because, at some level, I feel unfinished, waiting for some undefinable something...... So, I am still in the process of learning to be me. Learning what it means to BE me. Learning, well me.
androgynous me
So yesterdays post, was a keeping everyone at arms length way of talking about me.... I have been slowly telling people in blogland, and sometimes it is just very hard to get people to understand what it really means, to be androgynous. And how it has made me feel..... different my whole life.
Did you know there are actually four components of gender? Identity, presentation, performance, and role. Gender identity concerns how you think about yourself. Presentation describes how you look. Performance is how you act. Role is what you do for a living, and domestically. The last three is gender expression, which is external. Identity is internal, how you feel.
Gender should not be thought of as binary construct, because everyone is a blend of both masculine and feminine traits. Some of express more from one end of the continuum, some are more blended, and some like me are in the middle. Neither quite female nor quite male, but somewhere in the middle, but for the most part I lean more towards the male side.
I had two dolls that I loved to death, Suzy and Scotchy. Suzy was a baby, and she was fairly small. Scotchy was a toddler type of doll, and I loved him to death. But, to me? They weren't dolls, but my babies, and every day I would wash their faces, and change their dresses. Yes, Scotchy was a boy, but he wore a dress.
My favorite toys though were cars of all sorts, mud, the woods and my bike. I loved climbing trees, jumping the fence to get away from the cows that we had riled up. We loved to throw cow patties at each other! My aunt hated it, made us stink like you wouldn't believe, cause we didn't always use the dried ones.....
In high school there was no dress codes, unlike in junior high. Needing school clothing I started looking at the clothing, and nothing seemed right to me at all. To flowery, to frilly, to pink (shudder), and then I found a cool tee shirt. Had a graphic design on it, in shades of black and grey. I tried it on, and it fit perfectly! So, back to that area again and started picking up shirts and pants, and everything not only fit my outsides, but made me happy as to what I looked like in them. They were all boys clothing. In fact I saw several of my shirts on guys at school. And everyday was happy to get dressed, unlike in previous years. I ended up getting boy tennis shoes and several jackets.
This was a bad time period for me at home, and I was drinking quite heavily. There were several times, I allowed guys that I had just met to take me home with them. Yeah, home. I usually dated out of high school aged guys. And several of them, were surprised as hell that I was a girl, when they got my clothing off. Some of them got my clothes back on just as fast, and others, well....... The one thing this group of guys all said, was that I didn't seem or act like a girl. And I took that to be a compliment.
Through out all of my years of school, including my year of college, I have been severely bullied by girls. I have no idea why they don't like me, maybe they sense the difference in me? I don't make friends very easily with women, and the few that I have had, all have turned on me, in a very cruel and unnecessary manner. To be honest? I don't understand women at all! They for the most part are a complete and total mystery.
Most of my true friends have always been male, always. I understand guys, they make sense to me. And when I am with guys? I am at ease, and my full personality comes blooming forth. I am relaxed and happy, and that is a very unusual state for me to be around women. After knowing me a little bit, most all guys tell me that I am not like any other woman they have ever met. They say I make sense, and why can't all women act like me. Maybe because I'm not fully a woman?
The only full on female part of me? Is being a mom. And yes, I know guys can be very nurturing, but honestly? I think those men, have a great amount of female in them. I love and cherish my job as a mom. It is the most important thing I have ever done or will ever do. And funnily enough? All the boys have told me that I am not a woman! And then they feel the need to fix it up, thinking they have hurt my feelings, and they add, your just mom to us.
Do I hate my body? For the most part no. I out grew that when I had my first baby. I came to love my female body at that point, and was totally awed and amazed at the wonder of growing a new life inside of me. Before? Yeah, I was never fully comfortable in my body, it always felt not wrong, but not right either.
So, that is me.
Did you know there are actually four components of gender? Identity, presentation, performance, and role. Gender identity concerns how you think about yourself. Presentation describes how you look. Performance is how you act. Role is what you do for a living, and domestically. The last three is gender expression, which is external. Identity is internal, how you feel.
Gender should not be thought of as binary construct, because everyone is a blend of both masculine and feminine traits. Some of express more from one end of the continuum, some are more blended, and some like me are in the middle. Neither quite female nor quite male, but somewhere in the middle, but for the most part I lean more towards the male side.
I had two dolls that I loved to death, Suzy and Scotchy. Suzy was a baby, and she was fairly small. Scotchy was a toddler type of doll, and I loved him to death. But, to me? They weren't dolls, but my babies, and every day I would wash their faces, and change their dresses. Yes, Scotchy was a boy, but he wore a dress.
My favorite toys though were cars of all sorts, mud, the woods and my bike. I loved climbing trees, jumping the fence to get away from the cows that we had riled up. We loved to throw cow patties at each other! My aunt hated it, made us stink like you wouldn't believe, cause we didn't always use the dried ones.....
In high school there was no dress codes, unlike in junior high. Needing school clothing I started looking at the clothing, and nothing seemed right to me at all. To flowery, to frilly, to pink (shudder), and then I found a cool tee shirt. Had a graphic design on it, in shades of black and grey. I tried it on, and it fit perfectly! So, back to that area again and started picking up shirts and pants, and everything not only fit my outsides, but made me happy as to what I looked like in them. They were all boys clothing. In fact I saw several of my shirts on guys at school. And everyday was happy to get dressed, unlike in previous years. I ended up getting boy tennis shoes and several jackets.
This was a bad time period for me at home, and I was drinking quite heavily. There were several times, I allowed guys that I had just met to take me home with them. Yeah, home. I usually dated out of high school aged guys. And several of them, were surprised as hell that I was a girl, when they got my clothing off. Some of them got my clothes back on just as fast, and others, well....... The one thing this group of guys all said, was that I didn't seem or act like a girl. And I took that to be a compliment.
Through out all of my years of school, including my year of college, I have been severely bullied by girls. I have no idea why they don't like me, maybe they sense the difference in me? I don't make friends very easily with women, and the few that I have had, all have turned on me, in a very cruel and unnecessary manner. To be honest? I don't understand women at all! They for the most part are a complete and total mystery.
Most of my true friends have always been male, always. I understand guys, they make sense to me. And when I am with guys? I am at ease, and my full personality comes blooming forth. I am relaxed and happy, and that is a very unusual state for me to be around women. After knowing me a little bit, most all guys tell me that I am not like any other woman they have ever met. They say I make sense, and why can't all women act like me. Maybe because I'm not fully a woman?
The only full on female part of me? Is being a mom. And yes, I know guys can be very nurturing, but honestly? I think those men, have a great amount of female in them. I love and cherish my job as a mom. It is the most important thing I have ever done or will ever do. And funnily enough? All the boys have told me that I am not a woman! And then they feel the need to fix it up, thinking they have hurt my feelings, and they add, your just mom to us.
Do I hate my body? For the most part no. I out grew that when I had my first baby. I came to love my female body at that point, and was totally awed and amazed at the wonder of growing a new life inside of me. Before? Yeah, I was never fully comfortable in my body, it always felt not wrong, but not right either.
So, that is me.
Saturday, December 26, 2009
What's your gender?
"Gender identity (otherwise known as core gender identity) is the gender(s), or lack thereof, a person self-identifies as. It is not necessarily based on biological fact, either real or perceived, nor is it always based on sexual orientation. The gender identities one may choose from include: male, female, both, somewhere in between ("third gender"), or neither."
Are you curious now? Take the test, it's very simple, fairly quick, then tally your score. Ready? Bem Sex Role Inventory test
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Merry Christmas, Everyone!
Merry Christmas!!!
I hope you have a wonderful day, and that all of your heart wishes came true!
Hugs and best wishes!
Biki
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Four Delicious Hours of Freedom
Ok, here is my dirty little secret, I am housebound for much of the winter. Several years ago I noticed that as the temps dropped I felt less and less well, and yes that IS staying in the house. Going outside at cold temps stiffens my muscles up, hurts to breathe, and makes my mind super sluggish. But, what is even weirder is that the cold temps bother me in the house as well. Warm house, warm clothing, still not feeling well. Anything above 0 for me is a day to celebrate! And life below -25 is not much of a life. So... yeah.
Anyway, the temps have kept me in the house now for around 6 weeks. And let me tell you that is a very long time not to leave your house. But, yesterday, oh glorious yesterday! I have a little routine in the morning, turn on iphone, check to see if I have mail, and then to the temps. Mail, read...read...... humm interesting. Opened the weather app..... great wonders of wonders! It is above 0!! OMG! I am so leaving the house today!!!
So, here is my wardrobe to leave the house, underwear, long johns, jeans, heavy sweater, snow pants, heavy parka, boots, mittens, hat and scarf! As long as I don't fall down? S'all good!!!
So, off to the movies it was. Hum what to see, what to see........ I decided on A Christmas Carol. I love Dickens, add in animation, yeah then add in Jim Carey? That was just the whipped cream on my sundae of yummy! The movie was wonderful. The animation honestly just blew me away. And they made Scrooge look old, not like sorta old, but actually old. Knobby fingers, long nose, wrinkles, and the back of his hands were perfect, ropy, wrinkly and definitely old. Some movies are meant to be seen on the big screen and thought that movie deserved to be seen LARGE.
After the movie, T.H. and I went out to eat. There is this totally funky, completely Alaskan restaurant on the edge of town. And while some Alaskan places put on a show of rustic for the tourists? Yeah, this place just is home grown funky.
Anyway, the temps have kept me in the house now for around 6 weeks. And let me tell you that is a very long time not to leave your house. But, yesterday, oh glorious yesterday! I have a little routine in the morning, turn on iphone, check to see if I have mail, and then to the temps. Mail, read...read...... humm interesting. Opened the weather app..... great wonders of wonders! It is above 0!! OMG! I am so leaving the house today!!!
So, here is my wardrobe to leave the house, underwear, long johns, jeans, heavy sweater, snow pants, heavy parka, boots, mittens, hat and scarf! As long as I don't fall down? S'all good!!!
So, off to the movies it was. Hum what to see, what to see........ I decided on A Christmas Carol. I love Dickens, add in animation, yeah then add in Jim Carey? That was just the whipped cream on my sundae of yummy! The movie was wonderful. The animation honestly just blew me away. And they made Scrooge look old, not like sorta old, but actually old. Knobby fingers, long nose, wrinkles, and the back of his hands were perfect, ropy, wrinkly and definitely old. Some movies are meant to be seen on the big screen and thought that movie deserved to be seen LARGE.
After the movie, T.H. and I went out to eat. There is this totally funky, completely Alaskan restaurant on the edge of town. And while some Alaskan places put on a show of rustic for the tourists? Yeah, this place just is home grown funky.
Don't you love the top of the tree running across the ceiling? Total lack of anything that could be called pretentious, but hella good food. Burgers, cheese steaks, pizza and really good steak. To celebrate the out of the house me, I had steak. T.H. had crab stuffed chicken. I had some really yummy Black Butte Porter, so great with a steak and baked potato!
On the way home, we dove around and looked at the Christmas lights. A few were really car stopping wonderful! But, then tired and full of wonderful things to remember, home we went. A very, very happy girl indeed. Oh, and don't feel sorry for me, honestly. Every day is a gift, and I treasure it!
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Getting ready for Christmas
This week T.H. and Son #4 went hunting for the elusive perfect Christmas tree. It was a typical early winter day, -16 f or -26 c, with crystal clear blue skies, and for us? That is warm weather for this time of year While driving around the woods, up one trail and down another, they enjoyed a nice visit. After finding two trees that fit the bill, home they returned with red cheeks and sparkling happy eyes. They helped each other get the trees in the stands, first at Sons home then ours. Teasing, laughter, happiness!
Son #4 gave us the best gift ever when he told his dad on that tree hunting trip how wonderful his childhood was. This is an edited version of what he said. No no, not edited for content, but for typing on my phone.
"Dad, I admit I'm a selfish person, I want for my kids to have what I had growing up. And until I can afford for Lovely to stay home with our children, I dont want any. We didn't have as many toys as other kids, or the expensive clothes, but what we had was so much better. You came home everyday day for lunch. No matter how bad the day had been, coming home to you and mom, made the rest of the day bearable. After school, mom was always home and wanted to hear about our day. We knew within a few minutes when you would come home after work, and no matter how bad your day had been, we took priority. Dinners were almost always at the table, and were filled with spirited debates, but what I remember most was the laughter. We knew that the most important thing in yours and moms life was us boys. Being loved like that, how can I want anything less for my kids?".
Like I said earlier. Best. Gift. Ever.
Cookie baking season is upon us! Hopefully we can get a start on it today. I think we'll start with gingerbread, which is my fav. But that's not the reason I make those first, letting them sit well wrapped up, allows the flavors to mingle better, and makes for a better cookie. And then to iced sugar cookies. Which by the way, I despise, but everyone else in the family loves. Why don't I like them? Way way way to sweet. And then off to shortbread, killer peanut butter cookies, and pecan puffs.
Update on the computer... Twas the hard drive, one is ordered, e.t.a. for the finished computer looks to be right before Christmas, or immediately after.... sigh......
{}(^_^){}. ( me in ear muffs )
The Biki weather report.... currently it is -32 f or -36 c.
Yeah that IS cold! Cars need to be either kept in a garage or plugged in. Oh, plugged in? Well, all cars here have a block heater, which is a heating coil that fits into the block of the engine. When you park, an extension cord, heavy duty, is ran from an outlet to the grill of your car. It keeps the engine from being so hard to start, or allowing it to start at all! We also have a battery blanket, and an oil pan heater. These really add years of life to an engine.
Christmas hugs to all of you! Your friendship means the world to me!
Love and hugs,
Biki
Son #4 gave us the best gift ever when he told his dad on that tree hunting trip how wonderful his childhood was. This is an edited version of what he said. No no, not edited for content, but for typing on my phone.
"Dad, I admit I'm a selfish person, I want for my kids to have what I had growing up. And until I can afford for Lovely to stay home with our children, I dont want any. We didn't have as many toys as other kids, or the expensive clothes, but what we had was so much better. You came home everyday day for lunch. No matter how bad the day had been, coming home to you and mom, made the rest of the day bearable. After school, mom was always home and wanted to hear about our day. We knew within a few minutes when you would come home after work, and no matter how bad your day had been, we took priority. Dinners were almost always at the table, and were filled with spirited debates, but what I remember most was the laughter. We knew that the most important thing in yours and moms life was us boys. Being loved like that, how can I want anything less for my kids?".
Like I said earlier. Best. Gift. Ever.
Cookie baking season is upon us! Hopefully we can get a start on it today. I think we'll start with gingerbread, which is my fav. But that's not the reason I make those first, letting them sit well wrapped up, allows the flavors to mingle better, and makes for a better cookie. And then to iced sugar cookies. Which by the way, I despise, but everyone else in the family loves. Why don't I like them? Way way way to sweet. And then off to shortbread, killer peanut butter cookies, and pecan puffs.
Update on the computer... Twas the hard drive, one is ordered, e.t.a. for the finished computer looks to be right before Christmas, or immediately after.... sigh......
{}(^_^){}. ( me in ear muffs )
The Biki weather report.... currently it is -32 f or -36 c.
Yeah that IS cold! Cars need to be either kept in a garage or plugged in. Oh, plugged in? Well, all cars here have a block heater, which is a heating coil that fits into the block of the engine. When you park, an extension cord, heavy duty, is ran from an outlet to the grill of your car. It keeps the engine from being so hard to start, or allowing it to start at all! We also have a battery blanket, and an oil pan heater. These really add years of life to an engine.
Christmas hugs to all of you! Your friendship means the world to me!
Love and hugs,
Biki
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Swan Dive
Well, yesterday morning T.H. said "The computer has this weird spinny
thing and won't let me do anything.". Now I do love that man of mine,
but honestly? Yeah, he is so not good with computers. After a brief
check, I realized it didn't look good.
thing and won't let me do anything.". Now I do love that man of mine,
but honestly? Yeah, he is so not good with computers. After a brief
check, I realized it didn't look good.
Eldest son, who used to fix Apple computers for a living, took a look,
did some stuff including wiping the hard drive, and yeah the hard
drive has suffered an early death. I have three things going in my
favor! ! !
1. The computer is still under warranty! So, free fix! I do love the
word free!
2. I have a back up, so all of my data is saved!!!
3. I can Internet on my iPhone! So won't need to be hosiptalized for
extreme web withdrawls, and can still chat!! While reading blogs can
be a pain, due to slow loading, some times commenting can be a pain.
See ya soon!!
iPhone blogging Biki!
Sunday, December 13, 2009
For me? Really? Thanks!
Family - Ahh, my family..... they are really the center of my world. The four boys are just so much fun to be around! And yes, they are all my favorite! No, really! This summer my youngest took me for a short ride on his crotch rocket motorcycle... telling me to hang on tight, he punched it and we went from a slow poking speed, to flying along the road! The sheer exhilaration of the speed pulling at me made me so happy, that I couldn't control my laughter. When we got home my joy of the ride made his eyes twinkle. I couldn't stop hugging him and kissing his cheek! Such a happy mom! Each of the boys have taught me so much of their world of work. What have I learned from them? Super computers, servers, basically anything computers, he is the one who taught me to love computers and what they can do. Sat me down and helped me get my first email account, and how to use it. And he was the very first person I ever chatted with! son #1. Life in Japan and all of the interesting differences, do you know it's rude to eat or drink while walking in Japan? son #2. What it is like to live and work on the slope at Prudhoe Bay. He has worked outsides at temperatures as low as -70 below, for 14 hours! He has seen arctic fox, musk ox, polar bears, and caribou. Welding, being a server, and what it is like selling cars. son #4 And T.H. he shared his love of the great outdoors, how to read footprints left in the mud, took me white water rafting, camping and shooting. Your Biki is a hella good with a rifle! And, he taught me my worth and how to love myself.
Laughter - I love to laugh! Love to make others laugh. Hopefully they are laughing with me and not at me, they claim they aren't but who knows. We have this one friend, and when he gets down in the dumps he calls up T.H. and says to him, "Is Biki busy? No? Then let me talk to her." Which means what he really wants is for me to make him laugh, and so I do. He laughs and laughs, becomes happy again, and then off he goes until the next time.
Games - I love card games, board games, video games, ds nintendo games, and yes even games on my iphone. Now having said that, I totally crash and burn at any game that is strategy based, chess, checkers, and that sort. And I do not mind in the least loosing, unless you are a cut throat player, and are mean and nasty about it. I will finish the game, but that will be your last with me. I play to have fun, to laugh and visit, not to annihilate fun.
The need to know - Reading, watching something on t.v,. a question someone asks me, and I need to know! I have been known to jump up off the sofa during a commercial break to pick up more info about ... the subject, the director, an actor.... really just name it, the need to know burns in me bright and hot. And a fellow blogger had a giant email from me answering his questions about Alaska. My dream job before moving from Hell Town, was as a librarian. It was a dream job for the intersecting of many of my loves. Kids, books, gathering info for patrons, and leading kids to books that 'fit' them, and then seeing the joy in their faces when they discovered the love of reading.
Life - I love life, period. Meeting new people, going places, trying new foods, watching the wind blow the summer leaves on the trees, and listening to the song the wind coaxes out of the trees. As one of my boys says, "S'all good!" And it is! I honestly can not remember the last time I was bored. I find pleasure out of just being alive. Waking up in a warm and cozy bed, soft pillow under my cheek, blankets so cuddly comfy. Peeling apples for a crisp, opening the dryer to the wonderful scent of fresh clean clothes.
Washing dishes, chatting on the phone, chatting on the web, watching sunsets, hearing water chuckling along a rocky creek bottom. All of this feeds my soul, feeds my heart, and gives me joy. Giving hugs, holding someone close, letting my arms tell them how much they mean to me. Kissing, cuddling, spooning and other fun couple sports with T.H. Waking up each morning wondering what this day will hold. Where will it find me at the close of the day? Who will I have met? What will I have see, or accomplished? Every day is open with possibilities, that I just can't wait to begin.
So, and now without further ado..... my blog list!
Gay family values blog, you might remember them from their videos they made and posted on Youtube during the fight for marriage rights in California. I like their blog, their family, and I always seem to learn something.
I Should Be Laughing Bob is a very interesting guy. There are often many posts each day, some long and very thoughtfully written, and others just plain fun. Stop on by for a laugh, listen to his the music videos he embeds, read what he has to say.
The Twins and the Sailor Bigct is one hell of a great, fantastic writer. Go. Read. And drop him a comment. I can almost guarantee you will not be disappointed.
The Black Man Next Door Kevin is a very interesting guy. Stop on by and give him a read. He always has something interesting to say. Part political, part personal, and the rest? Just a great read. Stop on by and give him a visit.
Funny Odd Thing How on earth to describe David's blog? Humm, he is never boring, and you will never know what he is going to post next! The last two videos he has embedded were the Muppets, and Stephen Colbert.... yeah he is all over the map. Stop on by and give him a try.
Enjoy!
Saturday, December 12, 2009
6 new random things
When my blog first hit 10 followers, I did a 10 random things about me. And thought since there are now a robust 6 new followers, it was time for an update! After sitting looking at a blinking curser for endless moments, have decided that I am just not that interesting! Nothing to see here folks, keep moving, you in the back, yeah you! Back in line! No stragglers..... Cliff notes would be nice! Then I could just read what others would find interesting.... but until that date, I will have to go it alone!
1. When T.H. asked me what I wanted for my 30th birthday, I was ready, had a list and everything! Go Me! And was promptly shut down! No! Bad Wife! Bad! What did I want, that would have caused so much excitement, and a total shut down? I wanted to pierce my lip, nose and eyebrow..... Needless to say, my face is hole free..... sigh sigh
2. To say that I am sarcastic would be putting it mildly. I have been know to rip, rend and completely eviscerate with it, when the target completely deserves it. I usually do play nice, but some people!
3. I get totally addicted to one musical artist, and while under the thrall of that artist, just don't even try to listen to someone else. The time of addiction varies, really without a rhyme or reason, seemingly. Right now, it is Marilyn Manson 24/7. I did listen to some Korn yesterday, so maybe my current addition is waning..... we shall see.
4. Cooking is a passion. Not so much desserts, maybe because I really don't have much of a sweet tooth? I enjoy reading cookbooks from cover to cover. My current go to cuisine is Thai. The complex layering of flavors fascinates me. What don't I like to eat? Hominy and stewed okra comes right to mind. A friend tells me hominy is good with green chili and cheese..... is that to hid the flavor???? And any food that produces it's very own snot, like okra does? No thank you! If you are a lover of rice? Find a Japanese rice cooker. No really, best rice ever!
5. The title of my blog a reference to the fact I get lost while out driving all the time. Not as in, wtf where am I? But, as in always in the wrong lane, thinking I need to turn left at a cross road, instead of right..... sigh. So, to make it sound better, I am always taking the scenic route every time I leave the house! "No, really I usually always go this way. Why? Umm, this is the scenic route...." And I normally don't plan on getting lost, so my getting lost is.... unscheduled!
6. I would love to travel! Where? You name it, and most likely it is on my list of places I want to go. If I had piles of unused money just laying around, it would be spent on travel. Where would I want to go first? Ireland, UK, New Zealand, Australia, Spain, Egypt, China. Why these? All of those places are a triple threat, scenery, history, and food.
Curious about me? Wanna know something that you have been wondering about? Just ask me. I might not answer your question, but chances are I will. So, ask away if you wish!
spiffy day everyone!
Biki
1. When T.H. asked me what I wanted for my 30th birthday, I was ready, had a list and everything! Go Me! And was promptly shut down! No! Bad Wife! Bad! What did I want, that would have caused so much excitement, and a total shut down? I wanted to pierce my lip, nose and eyebrow..... Needless to say, my face is hole free..... sigh sigh
2. To say that I am sarcastic would be putting it mildly. I have been know to rip, rend and completely eviscerate with it, when the target completely deserves it. I usually do play nice, but some people!
3. I get totally addicted to one musical artist, and while under the thrall of that artist, just don't even try to listen to someone else. The time of addiction varies, really without a rhyme or reason, seemingly. Right now, it is Marilyn Manson 24/7. I did listen to some Korn yesterday, so maybe my current addition is waning..... we shall see.
4. Cooking is a passion. Not so much desserts, maybe because I really don't have much of a sweet tooth? I enjoy reading cookbooks from cover to cover. My current go to cuisine is Thai. The complex layering of flavors fascinates me. What don't I like to eat? Hominy and stewed okra comes right to mind. A friend tells me hominy is good with green chili and cheese..... is that to hid the flavor???? And any food that produces it's very own snot, like okra does? No thank you! If you are a lover of rice? Find a Japanese rice cooker. No really, best rice ever!
5. The title of my blog a reference to the fact I get lost while out driving all the time. Not as in, wtf where am I? But, as in always in the wrong lane, thinking I need to turn left at a cross road, instead of right..... sigh. So, to make it sound better, I am always taking the scenic route every time I leave the house! "No, really I usually always go this way. Why? Umm, this is the scenic route...." And I normally don't plan on getting lost, so my getting lost is.... unscheduled!
6. I would love to travel! Where? You name it, and most likely it is on my list of places I want to go. If I had piles of unused money just laying around, it would be spent on travel. Where would I want to go first? Ireland, UK, New Zealand, Australia, Spain, Egypt, China. Why these? All of those places are a triple threat, scenery, history, and food.
Curious about me? Wanna know something that you have been wondering about? Just ask me. I might not answer your question, but chances are I will. So, ask away if you wish!
spiffy day everyone!
Biki
Friday, December 11, 2009
Gianormous Hugs and Thanks!
I entered the blogger world as a lurker.... reading, reading, never ever commenting. But, then one day, I became brave and left a comment. I left my first comment with Dodger, he was my first chat too! So, I guess you could say that Dodger deflowered this virgin blogger of her cherry! But, as time wore on I got some brave in my pockets and started leaving more and more comments, and a few emails. And if you are wondering, yeah, Dodger got my first email too!
What have I gotten out of blogworld? Wonderful friendships that I couldn't now imagine living without. I am someone who loves to talk, loves to learn what others think and feel. The sharing of lives and hopes, sadness and joy, is what gives our life flavor, a flavor I can not image living with out now.
Thank you so very much for all the blog love!
With much love,
Biki
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
A fleeting moment of freedom
Well all, the stories of my capture and imprisonment are all true. Now, now don't get all upset with him, to be fair I did bring this on myself. He had cracked the global weekend weather conspiracy, and had to disappear. Even though I was ever so carefully disguised as a gentle grandmother with a pair of oh so innocent knitting needles, he has a keen mind and sharp eyes, and my evil was discovered.
So this then was to be the end of my long career, I am still ready and able to serve my leaders, but at least was meeting my end by a very worthy adversary. I was ready to lay down my life for the cause, when a question rang out from across the dungeon, with my eyes blindfolded the voice sounded even more menacing, than when he had captured me.
"Can you cook?" The dark voice growled from across the length of the dungeon.
"Why are you asking?" It was hard to reply thru my cracked and bleeding lips.
"My last cook had an unfortunate accident, shall we say."
This was not sounding promising at all, an accident? Yeah, right. But, it would at least give me a chance to escape at a latter date. And maybe find a way on my way out to finish him off.
"Yeah, I can cook. What do you like to eat?"
"Well, just the usual things actually. I am very particular about my apple pie. You are to make me an apple pie, and if it isn't up to my standards, you will be a pile of moldering bones at the bottom of the nearest ravine. And no funny business. I will be watching your every move."
I made him his apple pie, he was well pleased, and that is why I am still alive. While the merc is out completing nefarious deeds, I have decide to sneak onto his computer to let you kno
So, this is my attempt at being funny...... so just a flight of fancy..... just wanting to post something with really nothing to say really....
So this then was to be the end of my long career, I am still ready and able to serve my leaders, but at least was meeting my end by a very worthy adversary. I was ready to lay down my life for the cause, when a question rang out from across the dungeon, with my eyes blindfolded the voice sounded even more menacing, than when he had captured me.
"Can you cook?" The dark voice growled from across the length of the dungeon.
"Why are you asking?" It was hard to reply thru my cracked and bleeding lips.
"My last cook had an unfortunate accident, shall we say."
This was not sounding promising at all, an accident? Yeah, right. But, it would at least give me a chance to escape at a latter date. And maybe find a way on my way out to finish him off.
"Yeah, I can cook. What do you like to eat?"
"Well, just the usual things actually. I am very particular about my apple pie. You are to make me an apple pie, and if it isn't up to my standards, you will be a pile of moldering bones at the bottom of the nearest ravine. And no funny business. I will be watching your every move."
I made him his apple pie, he was well pleased, and that is why I am still alive. While the merc is out completing nefarious deeds, I have decide to sneak onto his computer to let you kno
So, this is my attempt at being funny...... so just a flight of fancy..... just wanting to post something with really nothing to say really....
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
How I am going to die!!
Death through Sex!
You are going to die by having a heart attack during sex. This is probably because it fills up so much of your time now that if you died doing anything else, it would be going against the odds.
Well now, that was kinda a no brainer huh? Now I am wondering if I should expand my horizons and at least try some new hobbies. Hum, what on earth else is there to do? Quilting? Those needles are sharp! If I prick my..... ok no. Cooking? I do love massaging meat... well damn! READING!! There! I could read as a hobby.....ohh look at all the yummy porn stories..... There is no hope for me at all.... Wanna see how your going to die? Take this quiz!
Monday, November 30, 2009
Life is better!
After lancing the poison about living my life in wee segments in my last post, life is better. I took a huge step for me, and emailed the first three chapters of Break Free to our oldest son. So, far his life has been full of chaotic days and nights and has not had a chance to read it, but what was important to me, was that I took the step! And in a few days if he still hasn't read it? Am working up the courage to ask him to take a few minutes to at least TRY it. I don't really care if he enjoys the story or not. But, I want him to see a different side of me.
Blogging and chatting has caused some minor friction between T.H. and me. He is insanely jealous of my chat friends. Two of my fav chat boys, make me laugh out loud, and I often do while madly typing LOL LOL LIL LIL, and I keep getting the LOOK from T.H. He asks what we are chatting about, and I comply by reading him the funny part of the chat..... Chat Boys and my humor? Yeah, couldn't be farther from T. H.'s if we tried, so he doesn't think what I am giggling about is even vaguely funny. And has even gone to far to ask if I am having an online affair...... Yeah, let me think about this for a minute..... Chat Boys are in their early 20's, and oh, that's right, GAY. The last time I checked, was a girl. Hang on a moment......'k I checked (censored so as not to cause ewwwwww's) and yup still a girl. The only thing that my Chat Boys are interested in? Hellz yea my fabulous personality!
To a very, very, very special guy, shit dude, I can not believe how close we have gotten in such a short time. Life is so much better with you as my friend, much, much better! And let me know when you need my evil and I will be extra good!
I have gotten so much out of my short time in blogland, it is just completely unbelievable. Met some super people, shed buckets of tears for some of you, and had sleepless nights worrying about if you will be ok. Spread tons of comments around, hoping that some of my advice helps. Sometimes I think my different view as a mom, gives me a different spin on things.... course I might be wrong!
And what have I gotten back? Loads of support! Box cars full of smiles, hugs, giggles and yeah, LOVE and acceptance! Living in Hell Town was very unhealthy for my self esteem. For 29 long years, living somewhere that tore me down, made me feel bad about myself, always being on the outside, ripped my always fragile self esteem. And these last two months? I am slowly patching the rips, rents and tears. And I won't lie to you, it has been hard. Pulling out the dross that unkind and hateful people have filled me with. And as I find the dross, it goes right in the rubbish bin. A work in progress, someone that is just not going to idle in the slow lane, but I wanna cruise down the road, flirting with redlining the engine, flat out fast, out loud. Fully ALIVE.
And to a newly found friend, I want my vanilla sandwich cookie!
And sweetie boy, the first person in blogland to see me, love you! Just because you are last? Yeah, so, so not least at all! And hey, without a doubt you are cute!
*LIL = Laughing Inappropriately Loudly
Blogging and chatting has caused some minor friction between T.H. and me. He is insanely jealous of my chat friends. Two of my fav chat boys, make me laugh out loud, and I often do while madly typing LOL LOL LIL LIL, and I keep getting the LOOK from T.H. He asks what we are chatting about, and I comply by reading him the funny part of the chat..... Chat Boys and my humor? Yeah, couldn't be farther from T. H.'s if we tried, so he doesn't think what I am giggling about is even vaguely funny. And has even gone to far to ask if I am having an online affair...... Yeah, let me think about this for a minute..... Chat Boys are in their early 20's, and oh, that's right, GAY. The last time I checked, was a girl. Hang on a moment......'k I checked (censored so as not to cause ewwwwww's) and yup still a girl. The only thing that my Chat Boys are interested in? Hellz yea my fabulous personality!
To a very, very, very special guy, shit dude, I can not believe how close we have gotten in such a short time. Life is so much better with you as my friend, much, much better! And let me know when you need my evil and I will be extra good!
I have gotten so much out of my short time in blogland, it is just completely unbelievable. Met some super people, shed buckets of tears for some of you, and had sleepless nights worrying about if you will be ok. Spread tons of comments around, hoping that some of my advice helps. Sometimes I think my different view as a mom, gives me a different spin on things.... course I might be wrong!
And what have I gotten back? Loads of support! Box cars full of smiles, hugs, giggles and yeah, LOVE and acceptance! Living in Hell Town was very unhealthy for my self esteem. For 29 long years, living somewhere that tore me down, made me feel bad about myself, always being on the outside, ripped my always fragile self esteem. And these last two months? I am slowly patching the rips, rents and tears. And I won't lie to you, it has been hard. Pulling out the dross that unkind and hateful people have filled me with. And as I find the dross, it goes right in the rubbish bin. A work in progress, someone that is just not going to idle in the slow lane, but I wanna cruise down the road, flirting with redlining the engine, flat out fast, out loud. Fully ALIVE.
And to a newly found friend, I want my vanilla sandwich cookie!
And sweetie boy, the first person in blogland to see me, love you! Just because you are last? Yeah, so, so not least at all! And hey, without a doubt you are cute!
*LIL = Laughing Inappropriately Loudly
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Shards in Boxes
My life is shattered into small shards of access. There are only a few who have ever seen all of me, all parts of me, not just what they were allowed to see. I keep myself 'safe' that way. If they only know what they are allowed to see, then my real true me is safe from them.
I think that being unloved and beat as a child by my mother, caused me to protect as much of me as I could from any more hurt. Trying to keep what was happening at home a secret, was my first box, my biggest box, the box that I still have, and only T.H. and you my fellow bloggers know about.
Why is it a secret? I have opened up that frightful box to several people through out the years, and have gotten a weird responses, causing me to shut my box up tight again. What kind of responses have I gotten that would convince me to keep silent all of these years? I will give you just a few.....
When I was 8 my maternal grandmother passed on. She reined in to a great degree the severity of abuse that was dealt out to me. Afterwards my mother came completely unglued, unhinged, and uncontrolled. This time period was without a doubt the darkest of my days. The beatings became nightmarish. Pulling a drawer out of a dresser and beating me with it, until she broke the drawer. And then beating me with the pieces, because I had broken the drawer..... This became the time period that I began to fear the iron. If she was ironing, she always would burn me with it, and laugh at my tears, or even worse beat me because I tried to get away from it. And she had this belt......
At some point in that school year, I couldn't take it any longer, and needed to be rescued from her. She had cut off all contact with her family, so no help from them. I stayed in at recess one day, I had decided to tell my teacher, because they had always told us children if you need help tell your teacher, or a policeman. To say I was nervous does not even come close. I was humiliated about my abuse, and went to great lengths to hid the evidence. Shaking and quivering I walked up the the teacher, who gave me a rather cold look and asked why I needed to see her..... I told her, and she didn't believe me! The only way I could think to convince her, was to show her how my mothers rages had painted me with bruises. Deeply shamed, I lifted my skirt to show my upper legs, and the teacher laughed and told me to stop fishing for sympathy.
I have been told I am a lier, and to stop whining everyone got spanked as a child. To stop exaggerating. I have had it thrown back in my face. Using it to make fun of me. In someways from the reactions I have gotten, it somehow becomes my modifier. As if that is all that is important to know about me. I have become a one note human. And so, I stopped telling people, and closed that box for good.
As our children grew up, I could never figure out the right time or the right way to tell them about my childhood. And now they are all grown, and I have said a few small things, but the large ugliness? No, and never. What good would it do? How would it help them? I can see only that it would hurt their very soft hearts. I was bruised enough, I do not feel the need to pass the burden of my past to them.
I had a very best female friend in high school that never knew I used drugs. Didn't know I had sex with many a boy, and never knew what was truly going on in my home, and the deep core of despair within me. Bubbly silly girl stuff was placed in one box. Drugs and carrying a bottle of Jack Daniels in my purse to keep a constant buzz, a different box. Porn Boy knew more about me than any one in high school, he knew about the boys, and the drinking, and if suspected anything about my home life he never said.
And if my life was scattered among many a box before, moving to a small town where there was not even a hint of a slot for me to fit in, caused me to build more boxes. For years there were only party lines in Hell Town. And people were so not shy about listening in, as in they would yell out to their kid to stop doing whatever. And use their names. And would often break into the conversation to add their own views on the current topic....... Causing me to bundle up more and more of me, to keep me safe. But, no matter how many boxes I built, how tightly I closed down and hid more and more of me, it didn't help one bit. One very socially powerful woman took some very innocent comment made by me the wrong way, and set out to destroy me.
She told everyone that I was going down to the local bar and jumping into the back seat with any and every guy I could find. Now you have to remember Hell Town is small, no like small small. Around 300 people. Most of the people that frequented that bar were all military men who had no other connection to the town except for the bar, so who was to say that she was lying? Right, no one. Three long torturous months went by, when I rarely if ever left our home. And when I did, whispers followed. I did finally figure out a plan to discredit her, it took months to come to fruition, but the rumors were always there.
So, here I am, at 50. And am getting very tired of hiding so very much of me. T.H. has asked me not to open some of the boxes for the boys. The sex, the drugs, the drinking, keep the box closed on those dear. I am sick of hiding my blog, sick of hiding the fact I am writing a blog. I friended The Gay Onion, on my now old Facebook account, and when I realized that it led right back to this blog. I almost had a panic attack. Now to be harshly honest, I found the whole Facebook thing boring and dull as hell.
But, when my freedom here to blog out my true feelings, without having to edit, was threatened, my heart froze. And I quickly dumped my account. Except for three people, all of rest of my "friends" on Facebook, were people who weren't even nice to me when I still lived in Hell Town. Luckily, for the past few months I have been complaining about not enjoying the whole Facebook experience, and have spoken more and more about dumping my account.
So, is there anyway of dismantling any of these damned boxes? I have been throwing away boxes that were built for living in Hell Town, and to tell you the truth, T.H. isn't happy about some of them. I have become more open about somethings with the boys, and he is so not pleased. I have stopped a great deal of the self editing, and am saying things that cause me to get the "Look" from him. I am trying to unpack me, trying to finally attempt to express the true and real me. Wanting to have as few boxes as possible. A very upsetting side effect of me opening up to the boys, is that when we are allow without T.H., we act differently, than when he is with us..... So, I suppose I have just built a new box? Why do we have to act differently around him? Because he feels that some of the things we talk about are inappropriate. Are they? I do not know, to us they are not, but to him, yeah they are.
One blog friend has said that my blog is so wholesome, but my chats are anything but. And that struck me hard. I am still living in those fucking boxes. From here on out? Yeah, I am going to attempt to show more of me, open up more as my whole self, not just a box or two. And maybe practicing with you my blog friends, will teach me how to live without my boxes in real life.
I think that being unloved and beat as a child by my mother, caused me to protect as much of me as I could from any more hurt. Trying to keep what was happening at home a secret, was my first box, my biggest box, the box that I still have, and only T.H. and you my fellow bloggers know about.
Why is it a secret? I have opened up that frightful box to several people through out the years, and have gotten a weird responses, causing me to shut my box up tight again. What kind of responses have I gotten that would convince me to keep silent all of these years? I will give you just a few.....
When I was 8 my maternal grandmother passed on. She reined in to a great degree the severity of abuse that was dealt out to me. Afterwards my mother came completely unglued, unhinged, and uncontrolled. This time period was without a doubt the darkest of my days. The beatings became nightmarish. Pulling a drawer out of a dresser and beating me with it, until she broke the drawer. And then beating me with the pieces, because I had broken the drawer..... This became the time period that I began to fear the iron. If she was ironing, she always would burn me with it, and laugh at my tears, or even worse beat me because I tried to get away from it. And she had this belt......
At some point in that school year, I couldn't take it any longer, and needed to be rescued from her. She had cut off all contact with her family, so no help from them. I stayed in at recess one day, I had decided to tell my teacher, because they had always told us children if you need help tell your teacher, or a policeman. To say I was nervous does not even come close. I was humiliated about my abuse, and went to great lengths to hid the evidence. Shaking and quivering I walked up the the teacher, who gave me a rather cold look and asked why I needed to see her..... I told her, and she didn't believe me! The only way I could think to convince her, was to show her how my mothers rages had painted me with bruises. Deeply shamed, I lifted my skirt to show my upper legs, and the teacher laughed and told me to stop fishing for sympathy.
I have been told I am a lier, and to stop whining everyone got spanked as a child. To stop exaggerating. I have had it thrown back in my face. Using it to make fun of me. In someways from the reactions I have gotten, it somehow becomes my modifier. As if that is all that is important to know about me. I have become a one note human. And so, I stopped telling people, and closed that box for good.
As our children grew up, I could never figure out the right time or the right way to tell them about my childhood. And now they are all grown, and I have said a few small things, but the large ugliness? No, and never. What good would it do? How would it help them? I can see only that it would hurt their very soft hearts. I was bruised enough, I do not feel the need to pass the burden of my past to them.
I had a very best female friend in high school that never knew I used drugs. Didn't know I had sex with many a boy, and never knew what was truly going on in my home, and the deep core of despair within me. Bubbly silly girl stuff was placed in one box. Drugs and carrying a bottle of Jack Daniels in my purse to keep a constant buzz, a different box. Porn Boy knew more about me than any one in high school, he knew about the boys, and the drinking, and if suspected anything about my home life he never said.
And if my life was scattered among many a box before, moving to a small town where there was not even a hint of a slot for me to fit in, caused me to build more boxes. For years there were only party lines in Hell Town. And people were so not shy about listening in, as in they would yell out to their kid to stop doing whatever. And use their names. And would often break into the conversation to add their own views on the current topic....... Causing me to bundle up more and more of me, to keep me safe. But, no matter how many boxes I built, how tightly I closed down and hid more and more of me, it didn't help one bit. One very socially powerful woman took some very innocent comment made by me the wrong way, and set out to destroy me.
She told everyone that I was going down to the local bar and jumping into the back seat with any and every guy I could find. Now you have to remember Hell Town is small, no like small small. Around 300 people. Most of the people that frequented that bar were all military men who had no other connection to the town except for the bar, so who was to say that she was lying? Right, no one. Three long torturous months went by, when I rarely if ever left our home. And when I did, whispers followed. I did finally figure out a plan to discredit her, it took months to come to fruition, but the rumors were always there.
So, here I am, at 50. And am getting very tired of hiding so very much of me. T.H. has asked me not to open some of the boxes for the boys. The sex, the drugs, the drinking, keep the box closed on those dear. I am sick of hiding my blog, sick of hiding the fact I am writing a blog. I friended The Gay Onion, on my now old Facebook account, and when I realized that it led right back to this blog. I almost had a panic attack. Now to be harshly honest, I found the whole Facebook thing boring and dull as hell.
But, when my freedom here to blog out my true feelings, without having to edit, was threatened, my heart froze. And I quickly dumped my account. Except for three people, all of rest of my "friends" on Facebook, were people who weren't even nice to me when I still lived in Hell Town. Luckily, for the past few months I have been complaining about not enjoying the whole Facebook experience, and have spoken more and more about dumping my account.
So, is there anyway of dismantling any of these damned boxes? I have been throwing away boxes that were built for living in Hell Town, and to tell you the truth, T.H. isn't happy about some of them. I have become more open about somethings with the boys, and he is so not pleased. I have stopped a great deal of the self editing, and am saying things that cause me to get the "Look" from him. I am trying to unpack me, trying to finally attempt to express the true and real me. Wanting to have as few boxes as possible. A very upsetting side effect of me opening up to the boys, is that when we are allow without T.H., we act differently, than when he is with us..... So, I suppose I have just built a new box? Why do we have to act differently around him? Because he feels that some of the things we talk about are inappropriate. Are they? I do not know, to us they are not, but to him, yeah they are.
One blog friend has said that my blog is so wholesome, but my chats are anything but. And that struck me hard. I am still living in those fucking boxes. From here on out? Yeah, I am going to attempt to show more of me, open up more as my whole self, not just a box or two. And maybe practicing with you my blog friends, will teach me how to live without my boxes in real life.
Monday, November 23, 2009
The Twins and the Sailor
I found this wonderful story blog last night, and sped thru all of the available chapters. A navy pilot comes home after a tour of duty, and is greeted with the horrible news that his sister and her husband have died in a car accident. Only there is a shining bright spot in Cam's heart, his twin nephews were at home, when their parents died. The boys move in with him, and the story spools out from this point. The story is warm, heartfelt and full of complex emotions. If you enjoy reading, give this story a try, it will prove to be time well spent. Intrigued? Click here, The Twins and the Sailor
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Adventures with Porn Boy
In high school, a great many of my best friends were guys. We would endlessly debate about topics such as, quarterbacks, the NFL draft, engines and the like. I do have to admit that the topic of basketball was a total snoozefest for me, and I would defect to the girls or to the more nerdy end of the boys table. Science is fun!
One of the gang o' boys that I hung out with had a real thing for porn magazines. He had some friend or other who worked at an adult store, and would give/sell him mags. Now, Porn Boy carried all of his collection with him at school. His mom had come across them before and tossed them all out. When he had tired of a mag, he would sell it. Porn Boy and I were closer than the rest of the boys were.
We had the same twisted sense of humor, and yes we both hated quarterbacks... Until Brett Favre came along that is...
Porn Boy and I only shared one class together, and I sat behind him. For two reasons, he was a great shield and I could get in a wonderful nap, and, yeah the porn was interesting. We had a system set up, if I touched his shoulder, it meant don't turn the page until I tapped him again. After Christmas our schedules changed and most of his classes were at the opposite end of the school from his locker. And yeah it was a pain to shlep from one end of the school with all of those damed books. So he shared my locker, and life was good.
Until one day he came running up in a total meltdown panic. Turns out there was a rumor going about the school that a locker check was supposed to happen soon. A few years before, some boys had been caught with porn mags, and the school couldn't do anything about it. Why? Well, there wasn't a school rule about it. They quickly plugged that error hole quickly. Why didn't he just take them home? I asked him that as well, he explained that ever since the Grounding of Forever as PB put it, she routinely went thru his room. He couldn't trust his buddies to give them back. So, what to do??
You want to put them in my locker?? Are you insane? No, you are right there is no rule against girls having porn...... But, still like.... yeah I like to look at them too....but nah no I am in trouble enough as it is. So, you owe me one, who cares! No! You are right tho, how much trouble could I get into anyway..... no school rule against me possessing porn on school property....even if they did catch me..... what the hell, yeah put them in my locker. Just take your school books or they will know they are yours.
You read all of that right. I went from being against it completely to going along with the whole thing. I swear to God, someone dropped me on my head or something as a baby. In went the porn, out came his school books, and honestly the topic flew right out of my head.
The next day I am sitting in homeroom, when the office runner came with office notices, and my name was called. Huh? Why am I going to the office? Not one clue in my head. So, on the long walk to the office, I was going over my sins that I could think of. No absences, so no forged notes from home. Smoking at lunch, but that was an instant office visit. Humm, I seem to be clean! Must not be in trouble after all! Yay me! Light heart, clean conscience me, turned in my note and took a seat. Quicker than usual I was ushered back into the Dean of Girls office.
As I entered the office my heart plunged down to the molten core of the earth. Sitting on her desk was Porn Boy's stack, of well porn. Time for some first class, gold plated bullshit. And so the third degree began. Who did the pornography belong to. Me. Really? You like to look at naked women? Now what is the correct answer to that one? Because honestly, I only enjoyed the action shots porn shall we say. Never was interested in looking at girls naked. So, screwing up my courage, I answered. Yes, I like looking at naked women. A really funny look crossed her face. Let me get this straight, this is your porn and you enjoy looking at naked women? Ya know the saying about rats leaving a sinking ship? My head was the ship and my mind, yeah the rats. Empty of any good BS at all. Nodding my head like some sort of moron, lack of any words available to me. Finally some rats came running back to the ship, and I found my self telling her it was not against the school rules for me to have porn on school property. After a good haggle, leaving me drained and limp, I got out of the office, and yeah I did try to get the porn back, before leaving the office.
Lunch time rolled around, and I gave it to Porn Boy with both barrels. I shot him so full of holes he was out of blood to leak. But, at least unlike other trips to the Dean of Girls, no detention! So, yay me! He apologized to me, we were solid again and the rest of the day spooled out.
Next morning, home room, office runner, again my name was called. Now, if I was confused yesterday, today I was totally lost. I get to the office, and I have an appointment with the guidance councilor. Whatever, so I wait for my boring midyear class check. Slumping in my seat, getting comfortable for what was usually a long wait. Before I got quite settled in, my name was called. Damn, I usually wait for 30 minutes or longer for a 5 minute meeting. Humm, this does not bode well for yours truly. Into his bomb shelled office, I sit rather gingerly, wondering what is going on, because suddenly the memory of already having my midyear class check pops into my head.
After hemming and much clearing of his throat, and never once meeting my eyes, he was seemingly fascinated with his pen. Finally after 12 of my lifetimes, he comes out with it. So, I am attracted to girls? At first his sentence made no sense at all to me. What? Why would you think that? Then in an explosion of understanding, I am again so full of anger at PB that had he been in there, I could have cheerfully removed every trace of his genitals! No, I am not attracted to girls. Why do I like to look at naked women then? Now that was a really good question. Digging up some diamond plated BS, I came up with that I wondered what it would be like to look like a more usual girl. Because truth to tell, no hips and the breast fairy hadn't dropped off much of a delivery. And then the big guns came out, and shot me down. Why did I need I need porn-o-graphy for that? Any women's magazine would do. Rat-a-tat-tat, and just that quick my BS was shot down. Did he want me to scheduled an appointment with my parents to discuss my..... individuality? Huh? What? Ahhh! No! No! That's fine! Promising to not bring any more porn on campus I ran from his office.
Spending most of lunch yelling at Porn Boy, who for some unknown reason, found the idea of me being a lesbian hysterical. I finally forgave Porn Boy, and we were solid, again. A few days later, a new student stood with his tray trying to decide where to sit. Oh, honey come sit with me. An asbestos suit was needed to just look at him! Hot! Hot! Hot! Thinking what the hell, I jumped up and pulled him over to our table. Well, over the course of the next few days, things heated up fairly quickly between us. Our school had a no kissing policy, one that I was always in trouble for breaking. I served more detention for kissing than you can believe. Pulling me into the dimmer part of the locker area, Hot Boy and I proceeded to bruise, bend and outright shatter several school rules. Oh, but Hot Boy was so worth it! A teacher walked by, stopped and then backed up. As he got closer to us, he looked at me, then looked again, turned around and walked away. To say I was confused, would be putting it mildly, he had caught me many times in the past. After kissing Hot Boy all over campus and never getting into trouble for it, I decided that they were trying to encourage me into kissing the "correct" sex! Things fizzled out with Hot Boy fairly quickly. I think his hotness had burned out any semblance of personality. And after kissing several different guys, my get of out trouble kissing card disappeared. I guess they had decided that I was "fixed".
One of the gang o' boys that I hung out with had a real thing for porn magazines. He had some friend or other who worked at an adult store, and would give/sell him mags. Now, Porn Boy carried all of his collection with him at school. His mom had come across them before and tossed them all out. When he had tired of a mag, he would sell it. Porn Boy and I were closer than the rest of the boys were.
We had the same twisted sense of humor, and yes we both hated quarterbacks... Until Brett Favre came along that is...
Porn Boy and I only shared one class together, and I sat behind him. For two reasons, he was a great shield and I could get in a wonderful nap, and, yeah the porn was interesting. We had a system set up, if I touched his shoulder, it meant don't turn the page until I tapped him again. After Christmas our schedules changed and most of his classes were at the opposite end of the school from his locker. And yeah it was a pain to shlep from one end of the school with all of those damed books. So he shared my locker, and life was good.
Until one day he came running up in a total meltdown panic. Turns out there was a rumor going about the school that a locker check was supposed to happen soon. A few years before, some boys had been caught with porn mags, and the school couldn't do anything about it. Why? Well, there wasn't a school rule about it. They quickly plugged that error hole quickly. Why didn't he just take them home? I asked him that as well, he explained that ever since the Grounding of Forever as PB put it, she routinely went thru his room. He couldn't trust his buddies to give them back. So, what to do??
You want to put them in my locker?? Are you insane? No, you are right there is no rule against girls having porn...... But, still like.... yeah I like to look at them too....but nah no I am in trouble enough as it is. So, you owe me one, who cares! No! You are right tho, how much trouble could I get into anyway..... no school rule against me possessing porn on school property....even if they did catch me..... what the hell, yeah put them in my locker. Just take your school books or they will know they are yours.
You read all of that right. I went from being against it completely to going along with the whole thing. I swear to God, someone dropped me on my head or something as a baby. In went the porn, out came his school books, and honestly the topic flew right out of my head.
The next day I am sitting in homeroom, when the office runner came with office notices, and my name was called. Huh? Why am I going to the office? Not one clue in my head. So, on the long walk to the office, I was going over my sins that I could think of. No absences, so no forged notes from home. Smoking at lunch, but that was an instant office visit. Humm, I seem to be clean! Must not be in trouble after all! Yay me! Light heart, clean conscience me, turned in my note and took a seat. Quicker than usual I was ushered back into the Dean of Girls office.
As I entered the office my heart plunged down to the molten core of the earth. Sitting on her desk was Porn Boy's stack, of well porn. Time for some first class, gold plated bullshit. And so the third degree began. Who did the pornography belong to. Me. Really? You like to look at naked women? Now what is the correct answer to that one? Because honestly, I only enjoyed the action shots porn shall we say. Never was interested in looking at girls naked. So, screwing up my courage, I answered. Yes, I like looking at naked women. A really funny look crossed her face. Let me get this straight, this is your porn and you enjoy looking at naked women? Ya know the saying about rats leaving a sinking ship? My head was the ship and my mind, yeah the rats. Empty of any good BS at all. Nodding my head like some sort of moron, lack of any words available to me. Finally some rats came running back to the ship, and I found my self telling her it was not against the school rules for me to have porn on school property. After a good haggle, leaving me drained and limp, I got out of the office, and yeah I did try to get the porn back, before leaving the office.
Lunch time rolled around, and I gave it to Porn Boy with both barrels. I shot him so full of holes he was out of blood to leak. But, at least unlike other trips to the Dean of Girls, no detention! So, yay me! He apologized to me, we were solid again and the rest of the day spooled out.
Next morning, home room, office runner, again my name was called. Now, if I was confused yesterday, today I was totally lost. I get to the office, and I have an appointment with the guidance councilor. Whatever, so I wait for my boring midyear class check. Slumping in my seat, getting comfortable for what was usually a long wait. Before I got quite settled in, my name was called. Damn, I usually wait for 30 minutes or longer for a 5 minute meeting. Humm, this does not bode well for yours truly. Into his bomb shelled office, I sit rather gingerly, wondering what is going on, because suddenly the memory of already having my midyear class check pops into my head.
After hemming and much clearing of his throat, and never once meeting my eyes, he was seemingly fascinated with his pen. Finally after 12 of my lifetimes, he comes out with it. So, I am attracted to girls? At first his sentence made no sense at all to me. What? Why would you think that? Then in an explosion of understanding, I am again so full of anger at PB that had he been in there, I could have cheerfully removed every trace of his genitals! No, I am not attracted to girls. Why do I like to look at naked women then? Now that was a really good question. Digging up some diamond plated BS, I came up with that I wondered what it would be like to look like a more usual girl. Because truth to tell, no hips and the breast fairy hadn't dropped off much of a delivery. And then the big guns came out, and shot me down. Why did I need I need porn-o-graphy for that? Any women's magazine would do. Rat-a-tat-tat, and just that quick my BS was shot down. Did he want me to scheduled an appointment with my parents to discuss my..... individuality? Huh? What? Ahhh! No! No! That's fine! Promising to not bring any more porn on campus I ran from his office.
Spending most of lunch yelling at Porn Boy, who for some unknown reason, found the idea of me being a lesbian hysterical. I finally forgave Porn Boy, and we were solid, again. A few days later, a new student stood with his tray trying to decide where to sit. Oh, honey come sit with me. An asbestos suit was needed to just look at him! Hot! Hot! Hot! Thinking what the hell, I jumped up and pulled him over to our table. Well, over the course of the next few days, things heated up fairly quickly between us. Our school had a no kissing policy, one that I was always in trouble for breaking. I served more detention for kissing than you can believe. Pulling me into the dimmer part of the locker area, Hot Boy and I proceeded to bruise, bend and outright shatter several school rules. Oh, but Hot Boy was so worth it! A teacher walked by, stopped and then backed up. As he got closer to us, he looked at me, then looked again, turned around and walked away. To say I was confused, would be putting it mildly, he had caught me many times in the past. After kissing Hot Boy all over campus and never getting into trouble for it, I decided that they were trying to encourage me into kissing the "correct" sex! Things fizzled out with Hot Boy fairly quickly. I think his hotness had burned out any semblance of personality. And after kissing several different guys, my get of out trouble kissing card disappeared. I guess they had decided that I was "fixed".
Friday, November 13, 2009
My Most Favorite Pair of Jeans
These torn, ripped and quickly heading for the trash are my favorite pair of jeans. Why? Because they just fit perfectly. Tight in all the right places, loose enough to sit and be happy. These were my go to jeans for years. Lately every time I drop them into the laundry basket, I give thought to throwing them away. I have had them in my hand poised above the trash, but was just unable to let them go..... They haven't left the house since earlier this summer, that was before the one rip got so large. Now they are at home jeans.
Today I got the large rip caught on the cupboard handle in the bathroom, and finished blowing out that large rip, so now instead of two rips, it is one giant hole...... Their time is up I'm afraid.
In high school I was a bit of a fashion maverick. I used sandpaper on my jeans, to make them super soft. After sanding them, would put them on, and with a razor blade modify them by cutting horizontal lines across the thighs. Then I would sand the cuts to make them fray.... If you are wondering about cutting myself while doing this, yes I did until the trick of how hard to push was learned. Steep learning curve that one was! Girl jeans never fit me, too long, were wide in the hip, something I didn't have until I was almost 25. So, jean shopping was always carried out in the boys department, where jeans are labeled with sense. Add a pair of high top converse in black and a many size to large long sleeved tee and I was good to go! Or how about the days I dressed kinda like a girl? Tights, short skirts, long sweatshirts or tees. Several of my shirts were almost as long as my skirts, causing some interesting looks let me tell you.
I went thru a period of wearing black nail polish and black lipstick...... Hair in a on purpose fizzy perm, substitute teachers always gave me the eye. And when I answered the questions or added to the discussion in an intelligent manner, it was obvious they were surprised. There was no doubt they were judging this book by it's cover. And the two didn't add up.
You would think dressing like a freak-a-zoid that the boys would avoid me at all costs. And except for the black lipstick time, and to be honest, there was one guy who really got off on that...... But anyway, because I didn't act silly and could talk about things they were interested in, football, cars, etc., they saw me first as a friend. And that would sometimes evolve into dating, not always, but sometimes. I remember one lunch where we got into a kinda heated argument about mufflers. Glass packs and cherry bombs and oh were we opinionated on which we liked better. Me? Oh I was a glass pack fan. Loved the crackle sound they made.
But honestly, most of these guys were nothing more than friends. And the better the friend, the less liable I was to date them. Cause to be honest, dates were cheap, but friends were priceless. Never falling in love before meeting T.H., I picked up and dropped boys as my fancy wandered to fresher fields, none of them ever really meant much to me. There were a few, very few but even with them it wasn't even close to love.
And to be brutally honest about myself, if I felt them start to cling, or I thought they might be falling in love with me, they were let go quickly. I never wanted to give someone that power over me. I barely had a hold on my self at this time, and was afraid to open up that far, and let anyone in. Unloved at home, unable to find anything lovable within myself, this was not something I was comfortable opening and examining. Besides if someone tells you they love you, and then later that day, beats you with a belt until you are bruised and sometimes bleeding, love is not something you are looking for. It is something to run from.
Learning to love myself is a constant process. T.H. pried the lid off of my heart, but the boys cut the can into pieces an scattered them far and near. From being afraid of the perverted love of my mother showed me, to having a warm and open loving heart, that is honestly overflowing with love. Once my love bubbled up and that well started to flow, it hasn't slowed at all. In fact the flow from it has increased day by day, until love is an easy emotion for me to express. What a long way from a pair of ripped jeans, huh?
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Photogenic Alaska, mountains
The first blogger that I exchanged emails and chatted with, has requested photos of the real Alaska. All of these pictures were taken by The Husband. If you enjoy this post it could be a monthly post. Because believe me when I tell you I have thousands of pictures. It is hard to aim your camera at something that is not beautiful.
My header picture was taken at -20 below, out on the trail T.H. (The Husband) was snow machining on.
This area is where T.H. goes moose hunting. This is sometime in September. And yes, the snow is typical for this time of the year. Honestly? I have seen every month of the year. Not left over snow, coming from the sky snow... I was in total shock seeing snow in June, July and yes August.
High foothills around Mt. Denali. In the Healy area. This is also around the middle of July. Looks smooth doesn't it? Those 'short' bushes are mostly dwarf willow, and are around waist high. Blueberry bushes also grow in this area. Alaskan blueberries are very different from what you are used to seeing. They are smaller and bursting with flavor. After eating an Alaskan blueberry, the lower 48 ones are tasteless and watery.
High mountain sheep country. This was the middle of July. T.H. and #3 son were on a sheep hunting trip in the Tok area.
Prince William Sound by Whittier. This is one of the nameless creeks that tumble down the mountain sides that ring this area. Some of our family went shrimping for the day. We used cat food to bait the shrimp traps. It was a wonderful trip, we stayed in a pop up camper, two of our sons came, we got the sillies and just couldn't stop laughing that night!
I am not a good sailor, I just had to remember to never look down, or every thing I had ever eaten wanted to leave me.
My first thought after deciding to do this, was how to choose from the zillions of pictures we have. I decided to do a theme post. Did you enjoy? What would you like to see next? Would you like to see animals next?
My header picture was taken at -20 below, out on the trail T.H. (The Husband) was snow machining on.
This area is where T.H. goes moose hunting. This is sometime in September. And yes, the snow is typical for this time of the year. Honestly? I have seen every month of the year. Not left over snow, coming from the sky snow... I was in total shock seeing snow in June, July and yes August.
High foothills around Mt. Denali. In the Healy area. This is also around the middle of July. Looks smooth doesn't it? Those 'short' bushes are mostly dwarf willow, and are around waist high. Blueberry bushes also grow in this area. Alaskan blueberries are very different from what you are used to seeing. They are smaller and bursting with flavor. After eating an Alaskan blueberry, the lower 48 ones are tasteless and watery.
High mountain sheep country. This was the middle of July. T.H. and #3 son were on a sheep hunting trip in the Tok area.
Prince William Sound by Whittier. This is one of the nameless creeks that tumble down the mountain sides that ring this area. Some of our family went shrimping for the day. We used cat food to bait the shrimp traps. It was a wonderful trip, we stayed in a pop up camper, two of our sons came, we got the sillies and just couldn't stop laughing that night!
I am not a good sailor, I just had to remember to never look down, or every thing I had ever eaten wanted to leave me.
My first thought after deciding to do this, was how to choose from the zillions of pictures we have. I decided to do a theme post. Did you enjoy? What would you like to see next? Would you like to see animals next?
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Fun with Truck
When I married The Husband he already had this truck. No, it was new then, this picture is about 20 years down river from then.
This was his pride and joy. He loved this truck and when it fell to pieces, and the kids were all in high school and money was so tight we didn't have the funds to repair it, so he parked it for good. I thought he was going to cry. He still has it, and is talking about getting it going again. I hope he does, this hunk of metal holds so many wonderful memories.....
When we met, I was living in Indiana, and after we decided we couldn't live without each other, he gave me the bad news. He wouldn't even think about marrying me unless I came to Alaska first. Many marriages go belly up because the wives couldn't take living in Alaska, let alone in a remote village. A long, long plane ride, and then finally! Joy! We fell into each others arms, which had been so empty without each others warmth. And that is my first view of the Truck. Sitting in the airport parking lot, gleaming in the midnight sun, he had washed and polished and vacuumed Truck into cleanliness.
A week or so later, we are taking a ride down on the Denali Highway. If ever a road was misnamed, it has to be this one. It is gravel and dirt, and washboard.... Anyway, being young, and in love, kissing was a major part of this day. He kept pulling over to let me look at glaciers (awesome!) and the over(out?) looks, impressive, and of course kisses were exchanged. Each and every time we pulled over to look and kiss, this old truck would pass us by. And later on they would be pulled over, and we would pass them. This continued for miles, and miles. We finally arrived at the roadhouse for lunch, and were sitting at at table waiting for our meals, when who should walk in? Yup! The man from the other truck. Seeing us, he asked if all that kissing made us hungry?
A while later, I needed the truck to go to the next town over, they have a small grocery store. This place is like something right out of the movies. Dark almost black wooden plank floor, that creaks when you walk. And a little bit of everything. Food, ammo, gloves, puzzles, pots and pans, light bulbs, pants roofing felt, etc. At lunch I rode back to work with him, and then at quitting time, would come back to pick him up. Kisses! And then he was gone.
At this point very few people had met me. He worked on a military base. Him being 6 ft, and me a foot shorter, I had to move the seat forward. I jumped out of the passenger side, the truck was lifted and was easy to get out of, but I had to climb up in it. So, around the truck, open drivers door, and begin to work the seat lever to move it forward. Finally, after putting up a valiant fight, I won and the seat slid forward. Climbing in, getting the pillow on the seat, clicking shut the seat belt, ready for take off. I throw the gear shift into reverse, the truck lurches, and into reverse we go. And not just the truck! The seat slides back, taking me with it! The truck is still going slowly in reverse, and I can't reach the pedals! Finally getting the seat belt undone, pulling my self forward with the steering wheel, I can reach the brake, and stomp it. Throwing the truck back into park, I look around. Whew! Thank heavens he didn't like to park up close!
Opening the door, jumping out, war on the seat begins. Shaking and pulling, pushing and cursing, the seat gives up and moves forward again. Whew! Yay! Giving it one last shake, jerk, to be assured that is is indeed locked into place, it makes a comforting twangy sound. Climb in, pillow under me, the hell with the seat belt for right now. Hanging on tightly to the wheel, yeah that is right I have not trust for this seat now, drop it into reverse, lurching! And then, the seat goes sliding back again!!!! Now the truck is beginning to fill with noxious fumes from all of the cursing taking place. Opening the door, little birds flying by fall from the sky from the fumes... Out I jump, and the war begins anew.
Making the angels cry with my foul language, I shake and jerk, getting into the truck at one point, kneeling on the floor board pulling the seat. Hearing that twangy sound again, but this time I was not going to be deceived by that placating sound, and continued to work the seat over. And then I heard it! A deep thunking sound! Yes! Fist pumping in glee, so full of adrenalin, I jump in! Sticking that damned pillow back on the seat, I hang on for dear life, and drop her into reverse, hoping the seat will hold. It does! Angels weep for me again! Stopping, putting on my seat belt I head off to town!
I only get to the guard shack on my journey, when I am stopped by the M.P.'s. They all knew The Husband's truck, but not me. Unbeknownst to me a M.P. had been watching me the whole time. They had called ahead to stop the truck and had already called The Husband. Turns out they thought some kid was trying to steal The Husbands truck! He still teases me about it to this day!
A few years down stream, we are out cutting fire wood. There there is a jolly big swamp between the cutting area and the rest of the trail. Our first baby is with us, he is all of 20 months or so. We cut get to the area The Husband likes to cut firewood without any problems. On the way back the truck is overloaded with wood. And we get stuck. From years of experience, The Husband cut fire wood in truck lengths to make it easier to unload and reload the truck in the swamps if he got stuck. So, we empty the truck, quick work, jump in, and vroom, we are free, bouncing and jumping, leaping and bucking we make it thru the swamp. Leaving 1st in the truck, we begin the long work moving the wood up to the truck. Meanwhile 1st falls asleep, and sleeps thru most of this activity. Then he wakes up, moves around the cab, and manages to lock all the door locks! Moving yet another load of wood to the truck we find that we have a crying baby, he wants out, he wants us! We can't get the doors opened, The Husband had left the keys in the ignition! He finally pries the sunroof open, reaches in, and pops the door open. A very tearful boy fell into my arms. He was soon soothed and all was sunshine and rainbows again. Lesson learned, we never left the keys inside the truck again!
Sunday, November 8, 2009
silly me
am feeling under the weather and while trying to send someone an message under the friend connect managed to add me as a follower....... could someone send me a how to so i a can un-follow myself?
back to the blankets!
hugs and kisses
biki
back to the blankets!
hugs and kisses
biki
A most unusual mom
From the very first moment we brought home our first baby, the most common refrain I have heard, was how unusual of a mom I am.... when said by other parents, the unusual wasn't a compliment, and when kids said it to me, it was. And, I didn't really ever understand until I aged along with our boys. While I politely listened to all of the advice all new moms receive, I thought it was all rubbish! Utter and complete rubbish. Here is some of the "wonderful" advice I received.
I was told again and again to let the baby cry, it was good for him! WTF! So, I am to allow a raw and new creature who is out of his natural element, and who must be experiencing some sort of distress cry? Alone? He has not been alone since his conception! For the first time since his ears starting working, he does not hear the thump of my heart, the whoosh of my lungs, the gurgle of my lunch. And everyone added that it was important to keep the noise level as far down as possible. I am to leave a small being alone and in the quiet with his distress? FFS NO! I carried my new baby around with me everywhere. I sat him on the counter while I did the washing up. And even though dogs howl at my singing, baby boy seemed to enjoyed it. I laid him on my lap while I folded the laundry, and would talk to him, and kiss his sweet little face. And in the afternoons I would lay on the sofa watching after school toons, and would strip him down to his diaper, and pull off my shirt and cuddle him against me, and cover us both with a warm blanket. Those few hours of toon watching was some of his happiest hours of the day. He would be so relaxed the rest of the afternoon and evening.
I was told to start toilet training baby boy at the tender age of two. Two! He still had issues working a spoon, and getting the food into his mouth every time. If operating a spoon was tough work for a two year old, how is controlling his bladder supposed to accomplished? I required a short hospital stay of three days when baby boy was just past two. My mother in law took it upon herself to begin toilet train my dear son. After coming home after only three short days, I had a child beside himself! Clingy, fussy, and fearful of his before beloved grandmother. He wouldn't let her hold him for a very long time after that. She was spanking him each time he would wet his diaper! He. Was. Two! Weeks went by before my sunny little boy came out from behind his cloud. You can just imagine the amount of abuse heaped on my head for not allowing her to keep him again after that, and for not toilet training. I waited until he was three, and that first night went to bed in his brand new undies, and that was that!
If they want to wear a superman shirt and swim trunks with their fuzzy slippers, who cares? Is there some child fashion police that monitors my house that I wasn't aware of? Why do people seem to need to break their child's spirit so quickly? They are not horses that need to be broke to harness! Small people, middle sized people, large size people need to exercise their sense of silly. We all grow up and get on with life with all of it's seriousness, but why do some of us feel the need to start their wee feet on that path so early? If it is not endangering them, only feeding their sense of play, and adventure, I fail to see the harm.
I sat on the floor for countless hours, coloring, building with legos, racing cars making car sounds, and stacking blocks with them. We just played, giggled, laughed until tears came out of our eyes, and our bellies hurt from laughing, cheeks tired from smiling so hard. I was always their mom, never wanted to be a friend, but a playful, joyful mom. We had lunch under the table, in closets, on a blanket in the living room. Packed the lunch into a pack and went climbing mountains, forging raging rivers, fighting bears, dinosaurs, and all manner of beasts. Our dinner was shot in the hallway many an evening, and then drug into the kitchen to cut up and cook.
Countless books pooled their way into our afternoons, and evenings. Reading aloud to them, allowing them to stop the story and add what they thought was important to the exchange. But, those afternoons were so not about the book really, just the being together. Making cookies, where we had more flour on us and the floor, than in the batter. Misshapen cookies that tasted all the better for their deformity. Letting them choose dinners, the choosing, made them so proud of the dinner. "Me picked da green beanies and and peas, and mash-ed poptatos, and you like mac-roni wiff cheese daddy?" Yes, weird odd dinners, but the smiles, oh the smiles on their little faces as they told daddy all about what was for dinner.
Now, they are older, and summer vacation looms ahead of us, ripe with days of adventures, and surprise. I would write out clues and hide them around the yard, pack their lunch and hide it at the end of the clues. They would range back and forth across the yard. They always said those lunches tasted the best! Winter has her cold cruel claws into our months, to cold to go out and play, to far to drive for a movie and a pizza. So, we would borrow movies from our friends, and I would make pizza, we would eat on blankets on the floor in front of the tv with the lights off, soda pop to drink, and ice cream with toppings for dessert. Bed time would be pushed back, and fun would be the word of the night.
I only told the kids to clean their room, if they needed help in finding something in their jungle of a room. Or unless it flowed out into the hallway, and yeah it happened a few times.. Their room, and if it didn't bother them, why should it bother me? They did have to bring me dirty clothes and their sheets. Messy is one thing, dirty is another. And weekends were devoted to video games, snow machines, four wheeling, fishing, camping, closing the curtains and watching all day marathons. We played together, giggled together, teased each other, and respected each other. Were their groundings? Yelling at offsprings? Days of frustrations? FFS! Of course. But under the normal life of raising four healthy male teens, the rowdiness, the wonderful noise level, late nights of playing video games together with them until the wee hours of the morning, was love.
High schoolers in a tiny town, with most of the adult population impaired with one or more substances, our worry that our boys would fall prey to the disease of altering their minds to ease the boredom of their bodies. So, our house became the place to hang out. Pizza Fridays, Mac and cheese and hot dogs Saturday. The boys would take over the living room and the dining room, for their weekend long activities. Alaska in the winter is often to cold to go out and muck about. The table would be filled with computers. These boys would lug towers and monitors, and miles of cable to our house, and would set up a lan party playing one game or another. The living room would host the nintendo, and the flocks of boys would flow from room to room, sharing all the equipment, and being loud, silly and nothing but fun. They neighborhood boys would often pull The Husband or myself into a quiet corner to have a private chat about something they needed help on.
We allowed them the freedom to make mistakes while we could still help guide them back to safety. When they got to high school, they were no longer asked about their school assignments being completed. It was time to learn some personal responsibility, and it is much easier to learn from tiny easily corrected mistakes than to hold their hands until they are, how old? Did they stumble? Yes, did they learn? Sometimes it took getting burned more than once before they learned their lesson. And while we allowed them to fail, we never allowed them to grieve about it on their own.
I have been asked how old our boys are, and have been cagy about answering.... why you are wondering. To be honest...... the few I have told have been surprised at my age..... and I am enjoying the friendship so much I am afraid of loosing it, but being friends means being honest with each other, so here we go. I turned 50 this summer.
I wrote this post for several reasons. One to just come clean about the whole age thing, it has been bothering me, I felt like not saying anything was the same as lying to all of you. The ones I have chatted with, it seems to have come up in the conversation, and I have been honest with each of them. What is funny even though I plainly and clearly state my female status in life, I still get asked if I am indeed a girl. Even as a small child, girls never really took to me, something I have never been able to understand. It was always the boys who were my pals, best friends, confidantes, and shoulders to cry on. Second just to talk about my views on how children should be raised. As if they are the most precious substance in the world, oh yeah, they are!
I was told again and again to let the baby cry, it was good for him! WTF! So, I am to allow a raw and new creature who is out of his natural element, and who must be experiencing some sort of distress cry? Alone? He has not been alone since his conception! For the first time since his ears starting working, he does not hear the thump of my heart, the whoosh of my lungs, the gurgle of my lunch. And everyone added that it was important to keep the noise level as far down as possible. I am to leave a small being alone and in the quiet with his distress? FFS NO! I carried my new baby around with me everywhere. I sat him on the counter while I did the washing up. And even though dogs howl at my singing, baby boy seemed to enjoyed it. I laid him on my lap while I folded the laundry, and would talk to him, and kiss his sweet little face. And in the afternoons I would lay on the sofa watching after school toons, and would strip him down to his diaper, and pull off my shirt and cuddle him against me, and cover us both with a warm blanket. Those few hours of toon watching was some of his happiest hours of the day. He would be so relaxed the rest of the afternoon and evening.
I was told to start toilet training baby boy at the tender age of two. Two! He still had issues working a spoon, and getting the food into his mouth every time. If operating a spoon was tough work for a two year old, how is controlling his bladder supposed to accomplished? I required a short hospital stay of three days when baby boy was just past two. My mother in law took it upon herself to begin toilet train my dear son. After coming home after only three short days, I had a child beside himself! Clingy, fussy, and fearful of his before beloved grandmother. He wouldn't let her hold him for a very long time after that. She was spanking him each time he would wet his diaper! He. Was. Two! Weeks went by before my sunny little boy came out from behind his cloud. You can just imagine the amount of abuse heaped on my head for not allowing her to keep him again after that, and for not toilet training. I waited until he was three, and that first night went to bed in his brand new undies, and that was that!
If they want to wear a superman shirt and swim trunks with their fuzzy slippers, who cares? Is there some child fashion police that monitors my house that I wasn't aware of? Why do people seem to need to break their child's spirit so quickly? They are not horses that need to be broke to harness! Small people, middle sized people, large size people need to exercise their sense of silly. We all grow up and get on with life with all of it's seriousness, but why do some of us feel the need to start their wee feet on that path so early? If it is not endangering them, only feeding their sense of play, and adventure, I fail to see the harm.
I sat on the floor for countless hours, coloring, building with legos, racing cars making car sounds, and stacking blocks with them. We just played, giggled, laughed until tears came out of our eyes, and our bellies hurt from laughing, cheeks tired from smiling so hard. I was always their mom, never wanted to be a friend, but a playful, joyful mom. We had lunch under the table, in closets, on a blanket in the living room. Packed the lunch into a pack and went climbing mountains, forging raging rivers, fighting bears, dinosaurs, and all manner of beasts. Our dinner was shot in the hallway many an evening, and then drug into the kitchen to cut up and cook.
Countless books pooled their way into our afternoons, and evenings. Reading aloud to them, allowing them to stop the story and add what they thought was important to the exchange. But, those afternoons were so not about the book really, just the being together. Making cookies, where we had more flour on us and the floor, than in the batter. Misshapen cookies that tasted all the better for their deformity. Letting them choose dinners, the choosing, made them so proud of the dinner. "Me picked da green beanies and and peas, and mash-ed poptatos, and you like mac-roni wiff cheese daddy?" Yes, weird odd dinners, but the smiles, oh the smiles on their little faces as they told daddy all about what was for dinner.
Now, they are older, and summer vacation looms ahead of us, ripe with days of adventures, and surprise. I would write out clues and hide them around the yard, pack their lunch and hide it at the end of the clues. They would range back and forth across the yard. They always said those lunches tasted the best! Winter has her cold cruel claws into our months, to cold to go out and play, to far to drive for a movie and a pizza. So, we would borrow movies from our friends, and I would make pizza, we would eat on blankets on the floor in front of the tv with the lights off, soda pop to drink, and ice cream with toppings for dessert. Bed time would be pushed back, and fun would be the word of the night.
I only told the kids to clean their room, if they needed help in finding something in their jungle of a room. Or unless it flowed out into the hallway, and yeah it happened a few times.. Their room, and if it didn't bother them, why should it bother me? They did have to bring me dirty clothes and their sheets. Messy is one thing, dirty is another. And weekends were devoted to video games, snow machines, four wheeling, fishing, camping, closing the curtains and watching all day marathons. We played together, giggled together, teased each other, and respected each other. Were their groundings? Yelling at offsprings? Days of frustrations? FFS! Of course. But under the normal life of raising four healthy male teens, the rowdiness, the wonderful noise level, late nights of playing video games together with them until the wee hours of the morning, was love.
High schoolers in a tiny town, with most of the adult population impaired with one or more substances, our worry that our boys would fall prey to the disease of altering their minds to ease the boredom of their bodies. So, our house became the place to hang out. Pizza Fridays, Mac and cheese and hot dogs Saturday. The boys would take over the living room and the dining room, for their weekend long activities. Alaska in the winter is often to cold to go out and muck about. The table would be filled with computers. These boys would lug towers and monitors, and miles of cable to our house, and would set up a lan party playing one game or another. The living room would host the nintendo, and the flocks of boys would flow from room to room, sharing all the equipment, and being loud, silly and nothing but fun. They neighborhood boys would often pull The Husband or myself into a quiet corner to have a private chat about something they needed help on.
We allowed them the freedom to make mistakes while we could still help guide them back to safety. When they got to high school, they were no longer asked about their school assignments being completed. It was time to learn some personal responsibility, and it is much easier to learn from tiny easily corrected mistakes than to hold their hands until they are, how old? Did they stumble? Yes, did they learn? Sometimes it took getting burned more than once before they learned their lesson. And while we allowed them to fail, we never allowed them to grieve about it on their own.
I have been asked how old our boys are, and have been cagy about answering.... why you are wondering. To be honest...... the few I have told have been surprised at my age..... and I am enjoying the friendship so much I am afraid of loosing it, but being friends means being honest with each other, so here we go. I turned 50 this summer.
I wrote this post for several reasons. One to just come clean about the whole age thing, it has been bothering me, I felt like not saying anything was the same as lying to all of you. The ones I have chatted with, it seems to have come up in the conversation, and I have been honest with each of them. What is funny even though I plainly and clearly state my female status in life, I still get asked if I am indeed a girl. Even as a small child, girls never really took to me, something I have never been able to understand. It was always the boys who were my pals, best friends, confidantes, and shoulders to cry on. Second just to talk about my views on how children should be raised. As if they are the most precious substance in the world, oh yeah, they are!
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