Oh I can't believe it's Monday already.  I'm totally feeling it, but the weekend went by so fast.  I think we're having a great visit.  I haven't laughed this much in a long time.

David has taken some amazing pictures of the Cumberland Falls area, and he's caught the kids in some of the funniest and sweetest poses.  We're talking hundreds of pictures, and I can't wait to see them weeded out and uploaded to his Flickr account.  I'm not going to put any of them here just yet or even blog too many details because I'm hoping he'll finally update his own blog.  Chances are, I'll get to do all the story telling, though.  He's busy.  And lazy.

And officially older than me TODAY!  I'll spend the next three months letting him know it, too!  Then my number catches up with his, and I have to be quiet again for nine more months.

Having him around has reminded me of why he's one of the best friends I've ever had.  You'd never know the kind of man he truly is by only reading his blog.  Like so many people on here, he usually only posts when something has him all riled up.  You probably wouldn't be able to tell how sweet he is or the neverending depths of his kindness and heart.  There is nothing he wouldn't do for the people he cares about.

Well, except maybe for babysitting!  B has kept them both laughing since they pulled into our driveway, but I'm not sure he'd be quick to take her on alone for a day.  He's a smart man.  He knows she can kick his ass.

I have no idea when he'll get around to reading this, but when he does, I just wanted to say:

Happy Birthday, David!  I love you!  I had a wonderful time during your visit. 

And I promise if I have any say in it whatsoever, you will be white space trash someday.

We've had a very stressful couple of weeks around here, and I'm not even sure it's over just yet.  But hopefully we've reached the top of the chaos and can now coast down the other side.  I'll just say that sometimes it absolutely sucks ass to be an adult.  To have to be mature enough to make the best decisions for your family even though they're going to tear out your heart isn't something a kid dreams of getting to do when they're finally grown up.  Anyway.  The decisions have been made, and now it's just a matter of time to see if they were the right ones.

Right now my house is trashed.  Why do I bring that up?  Because in a few short hours my best friend, David, will be here.  I haven't seen him in over three years.  He's bringing his girlfriend with him.  I've never met her.  I'm nervous.  He's been with her for a long time.  This may be the one considering he hasn't threatened to grow his hair long and walk to Texas yet.  They even live together now.  You'd never know I'm nervous considering my house is trashed, and I'm BLOGGING.  He can thank himself for that.  He's the one who got me into blogging in the first place.  Said it would be good therapy for me.  I think he just wanted cheap entertainment.

We have a tenative agreement to be nice to one another in front of our significant others.  Which means I can't tell her about all the ex-girlfriends he drove crazy (one honestly ended up in an institution), and he can't tell Screw about all the nights I've drunk dialed him and let him talk me out of fucking some strange man in a club parking lot.

The best part about this is that their visit comes at the best and worst possible time.  The worst time because of all the stress around here and the best time because of all the stress around here.  They will be a breath of fresh air... something good to focus on for a few days.

What's even better is that his birthday is Monday which means we actually get to celebrate together!  I usually write a long mushy post about him, but hopefully this year I'll get a good story of him doing something really stupid I can write about.

Oh, and the niece's wedding went off spectacularly.  She was beautiful.  Everything was beautiful.  The kids were so handsome and beautiful.  See?

Please don't think I'm making light of the train wreck in California from yesterday because I'm not.  So many lives lost.  But please, oh please, don't let them find out the engineer missed that red signal light because he was sending text messages.  I'm a text addict, and I don't want anything bad associated with texting.  It seems like everything I enjoy these days ends up being something bad and wrong.  I don't do it when I'm driving.  I don't ignore other people to answer texts. 

I'm addicted to texting.  I don't mean just any texting.  I don't subscribe to any of those forums or automated text sites.  I don't get the joke of the day or daily horoscope or anything like that.  I text with friends and family.  I stay in touch with my husband and my kids throughout the day with text messages.  It's so much easier for one of the kids to remind me of an after school function with a text between classes rather than get permission to call me. 

I'm trying to make it sound all important, but the fact is, I love texting.  The OCD in me won't let me abbreviate my texts, either.  I can't type things like "CUL8TER", or " I LUV U", etc.  I have to type things out.  That sounds dumb, I know, but I just can't do it.  It would make things so much easier if I could.  Sometimes I carry on lengthy conversations with my husband throughout the day.  He'd probably love it if I'd shorten my responses, but we don't always get what we want in life, do we.

Hello.  My name is Angel, and I'm addicted to texting.

It looks like Ike had a party in my house this weekend.  If disaster is a sign of a successful party, then the bridal shower was a hit.  If I don't get up and get busy soon, the first visitors to my door today will find a floor filled with broken pretzels, confetti, tissue paper, and plastic wine glasses.

I just spent twenty minutes typing why this wedding is so hard for my family, but you know what, watch any tv program about a redneck man who thinks "work" is a four letter word, and you've got it.  There's no point in wallowing in it.  She obviously loves him, and unfortunately, she's going to have to learn from her own mistakes.  We're trying hard not to focus on the fact she went from this brilliant high school student with the world at her feet to putting on seventy-five pounds and barely graduating all in the space of the year after she met him.  But hey, it's five years later, and they're still together.  How many marriages last that long, right?

His family is this uppity rich family from the neighboring town.  You'd never know by looking at his sorry ass, though.  I was worried about how the shower would go because I'd never met his mother or sister.  His sister was every bit the snob.  She was polite, but you could tell it hurt her.  His mother, however, was sweet, and I was pleasantly surprised by her attitude.  Hey, any sixty-five year old woman willing to pop a balloon with her ass is ok in my book.

How much of this do we do to our kids?  Would she have had more confidence in herself if she hadn't been raised by a drugged out father and a bitter spiteful mother?

I know after going to the little neighborhood girl's birthday party on Friday night, I'm going to try to have more patience with her.  This is the little girl that has always had such a bad influence on B.  I'm not going to give her the opportunity to continue that influence, but I'm thinking I'll let her spend time here under my supervision.

It was her ninth birthday, and her mother was so high she couldn't pick her feet up to walk.  She could hardly open her eyes.  She shuffled back and forth between the tables at the party.  It was obvious the dad, stepmom, and grandmother were livid, but they couldn't show it.  I felt better when he insisted that the daughter spend the weekend with him, but I still wonder if he's doing anything about his ex-wife's habit at all?  Obviously, I don't mean for her, for his daughter.  How often does she see that at home?  I mean, if the woman was brave enough to be like that out in public...  It's no wonder the little girl is such a rude little shit.

I'm all partied out.  Let's hope this week goes by calmly and quietly. 

Yeah. Right.

I've had this finished for a bit now and forgot that a couple of my friends actually pretend to enjoy seeing my finished products!  To answer Roma's question, the hearts are made with popcorn stitches which is basically a number of crocheted stitches made into the same stitch chain.  It causes them to bunch up and make little balls.  Now on to the next one that has to be finished before they can be mailed!  Thanks for looking.

Oh just what every parent of a school age child wants to wake up to... a news article about "super lice".  Especially if you're the parent of a six year old girl with hair almost down to her butt because she refuses to let you cut it.  Quick.  Someone bring me valium.  Let's add that to my ever growing list of maintanence meds. 

Speaking of the little princess, today is red, white, and blue day at her school.  Of course.  Part of me wishes this day would just come and go every year without notice.  The other side of me hopes we never become a country so used to terrorist attacks that this day will come and go unnoticed.  When I asked her if she knew why it's red, white, and blue day at her school she said, "Cause the flag is red, white, and blue?"  She didin't have a clue.  And what do you say to a six year old who's biggest worry is what to buy for the two birthday parties this weekend?  She looked very cute when she left all decked out in her patriotic garb.  I'd bet good money not one of the twelve ribbons in her hair will make it back home today.

Birthday parties.  As of this weekend, we've been invited to seven just since school started less than a month ago.  I honestly dislike those parents who blindly invite every single child in a classroom to their kid's birthday party.  Especially at the beginning of the school year.  Half the kids still don't know each other.  Yet, you want all thirty of them at your child's birthday party?  Ok.  I realize that some parents do it so that no one feels left out, but that's why you don't send invitations to school.  We don't go to them all.  We only attend those parties of children she knows and is friends with.  Unfortunately, that means two this weekend, the very weekend I'm dealing with the party here. 

I was out of it the entire day yesterday with a major headache so now I'm even more behind on the party planning.  This entire day will be sacrificed to cleaning and preparing.  Not what I wanted to spend my day doing, but I'm a big girl.  Grownups rarely get to do just what we want.  We can't wait to grow up so we can do what we want. 

Funny how that worked out.

First of all, just let me say... I don't know if that petition from yesterday's post made a difference, but what matters is people were willing to take the time to sign it.  As usual, my post was late to the party, but it's a party, nonetheless because Ivy has been approved for her treatment!

If you know me, you know I never do that sort of thing.  I don't post petitions or chain letters or work with whatever the movement of the day may be.  It's just every time I looked at her little picture with her bouncy curls and sweet smile, I could see my little girl.  She has curls like that and that same sparkle in her eye.  If you read through the family blog, you'll read stories that let you know this family has been through enough.  Yet, you never get the sense they feel sorry for themselves.  Amazing.

I fully believe there were people who were so upset over this situation that they'd have stormed whatever building they needed to storm if Ivy hadn't gotten her treatment.

And that's what we need.  We need unity and strength and the courage to believe in one another again.  I can't speak for people across the pond, but I'm assuming things aren't that different over there.  We've grown to believe that anyone who thinks differently from us, especially religiously and politically, is not worth our time... could not possibly bring anything into our lives. 

That's so wrong.  I can name at least three blogs off the top of my head that disagree with pretty much everything I've ever said politically motivated.  But if I had to give up reading their blogs, I'd miss them so much because they're intelligent thoughtful people who bring something positive to my life through their words.  I could name just as many who have different religious views, as well.  If you present your views in a mature way without accusation, insults, or demands I have no choice but respect you immensely. 

The rest of my week will be spent planning a bridal shower for my niece.  It was hard to get into the feel of things for her upcoming wedding later this month because the man she's marrying is a complete waste of space.  My husband refers to him as "the talking furniture".  Oh well.  She's my niece, and I love her.  She's been living with him for years, so she should know better than anyone if she's ready to marry him.  If he makes her happy, then I need to be happy for her.  So this weekend I have to find a way to throw an interesting party without offending any of the older, more conservative women who'll be attending.  As soon as I finish this post I'll be looking up games to play that won't make people groan but won't make them hit their kness to pray for me, either.  Ugh.

I have a nasty busy week.  Why am I sitting here?!

I didn't sleep at all last night.  Finally, at 3am I decided to get out of bed so my tossing and turning wouldn't bother the husband and the cat.  I thought this Monday morning post would be all whimpy and weepy from my exhaustion.  I put off making the coffee until after 4am thinking, praying, that maybe I'd suddenly become so sleepy I'd need to crawl back to bed.  When that didn't happen, I made the coffee and began reading my favorite blogs.

There's a site I want you to visit.  A petition I want you to sign.  I don't think it will make a difference.  Cries from the public rarely do.  But if for no other reason, maybe her mum can print off the petition and save it to someday show Ivy how people from all over the world cared for her.

I know there are kids around the world probably sicker than Ivy right now.  And I bet at least one of the few people who read me can name someone they know far worse off.  But that isn't the point.  The point is this one little girl, this tiny cherished blessing deserves better.  The thought that she could possibly get better but the powers that be have denied her that chance just makes my blood boil.  We're not even talking about a major life-threatening horribly expensive surgery.

Just come back here when you have time and click this link.  Read about Ivy and her family, and then sign the petition if you feel like it.  We citizens of the United States better think long and hard before we back a national healthcare system.  These stories are multiplying like mad.  Ivy is one of many, but she has touched my heart more than most.

Ivy's Story

If you want to read the day to day life of Ivy and her family, her mom, Tiff, writes some incredibly entertaining posts! 

Three Ring Circus

September means we're close to my favorite time of year.  Only a few more weeks of hot weather before the leaves begin to change and fall.  Sweatshirt weather.  Summer is flying by, and I can't say I'm unhappy to see it go.  I haven't felt well for a while now, but I'm praying the worst is over.

The anticipation of the first shades of Autumn have me thinking back to times when the most important thing was the upcoming football game and struggling through Algebra class.  I know I always had more on my plate than that, but those are the things I want to remember the most.

Leaving the football game and heading toward the cliffs at the falls for hanging out and laughing at those of us choosing to get drunk and act stupid.  We looked out for one another, though.  No one ever left drinking and driving no matter how many lies we had to tell parents or where we had to leave parked cars.  If we didn't go there, we cruised main street and ended up parking behind an old sewing factory making out in our cars.  The area dropped off into a stream, and my boyfriend at the time took great pleasure in grabbing me by my hands and swinging me out over the edge.  It scared the shit out of me, but I never once thought he might drop me.  He could have dropped me.  I was dumb.

I honestly can't believe some of us actually made it to graduation.  There were so many of us testing fate every single day.  I was in a graduating class that broke records in testing scores, its number of honor students, and teens entering into secondary education.  Even our athletes were straight A students.  We totally missed out on the class separation of jocks and geeks.  We were all brainiacs.  We were a smart bunch of little shits, but we were haunted.

We grew up dealing with the bitterness our parents felt toward life.  Most of them felt trapped working for logging companies or coal mines.  The glass ceiling was hardly above the ground.  Especially if you didn't get an education, and most of them didn't.  They were suffocated by ridiculous religious conviction that had turned them into angry scared little people.  They told us from birth that we had to be better than they'd been, but to get above our raising was an insult to what they'd sacrificed for us in this world.  They told us about a life far away from here that we could live if we tried hard enough, but they never really gave us the confidence to believe in ourselves enough to reach it.  We were going to end up working in the same dead end jobs and living the same miserably numb lives.  Their demons, and the ghosts formed from their could-haves and should-haves followed their children.  Did they know?

A small poor southern town.  I wasn't the only one working a full time job to help support my family from the time I was sixteen.  There were several pregnancies.  The smell of pot being smoked on the bus most days was almost unbearabe.  If you didn't want to be high before you ever got to school, you had to ride with your head out the window.  So many of us drank like fish.  There was a guy in my French class who brought vodka in a Mt. Dew bottle to class every single day.  I sat behind him and held him by the back of his shirt so that he wouldn't fall out of his seat.  I can still name kids who went home to houses without food, to abusive parents, to no real parents at all.  I remember names of kids whose parents were so strict and blind to anything and everything around them, they might as well have not been there at all.  Girls with eating disorders and boys with steroid addictions.  For a small southern town, we could have been a hit teen tv drama all on our own.

Every once in a while I'll run into someone from my class, and we'll hug and exchange pleasantries.  We part ways with smiles and goodbyes.  We never talk about the ghosts because if we do, maybe they'll come back.  And if they come back, will they haunt our children?  It's a chance we can't take.