Sharon Y. Edlin's Blog, page 8

Get The Hell Outta The Way!

Y’all, what is it with the folks that shop at Wal-mart? I’m serious, they are a different clueless group of Earthlings.

Now, I pick on Wal-mart a lot but I have to be honest and say for the love of the wallet I am frequenting that crazy place a lot now. So, I get the insaneness that seems to envelop Wal-mart ‘island.’

There are ‘things’ about us humans called proximity and position in space which dictates the accuracy of that proximity. It comes from 3 systems that work together to make sure that accuracy is in place. Those systems are the visual system, the proprioceptive system, and the vestibular system.

So, you know what the eyes do so I won’t go there. The proprioceptive system is the sensors located in our muscles and joints that let our brain know where our body parts are in space. Pair those up with the vestibular system, the system located in the ear that allows our brain to know where our head in space, I also call this the dizzy system, and this is what allows our sense of position on our planet.

Now, if your systems are intact, you should understand your proximity to people, objects, dangerous ledges, etc. but something happens to the good shoppers of Wal-mart and their proximity sense is left at the door, I’m not kidding.

Here’s why I’m ranting again . . .

I was out of a few things for the everyday eating as well as I wanted to get some ingredients for tonight’s dinner, so off I went to Wal-mart Island. The reason I am adding Island is because if you were a kid of the 80’s like me you’d remember Fantasy Island . . . well, Wal-mart Island is the opposite of Fantasy Island, like every day. In other words, Fantasy Island on crack.

As I’m trying to free a cart from the jaws of life cart line, I instantly feel a ‘presence’ behind me and as I turn around, there standing waaaaay to close to my person is the front door Wal-mart Island greeter who says, “Welcome to Wal-mart.” Only he has some sort of speech impediment and I get spit on very close to my mouth. Oh, I’m gonna barf. I smile and try not to let the spit slip into my mouth and then quickly turn and wipe the vile liquid off of my face.

And so begins the madness . . .

My first visit was to grab some bananas, which were on this stand way far away from the fruit area but they looked good so I went for it. While choosing my bunch, I was hit in the Achille’s Tendon by a lovely middle-aged couple fighting over what gift card to get their nephew. They didn’t even realize that they impaled me with their cart so I just limped on swearing under my breath.

I limped over to the frozen aisle to get some garlic bread and was mirrored by a woman heading in the same direction that I was. Now, an aisle is a two-way street, not a side by side roller coaster ride. I’m not kidding when I say when I’d move, she’d move and it was if she didn’t even see me there. She didn’t mirror me perfect though because she didn’t have a limp. After being mirrored for about 30 seconds, exasperated I said, “Could you excuse me so I can get to the proper side of the aisle and get my garlic bread?” Startled, she looked at me and I kid you not said, “Oh, I didn’t see you there.” Am I being punked, how had she not seen me there?! She was copying my every move!

Moving on, actually, limp running on . . .

I was heading over to get some hot dogs when another clueless shopper cut me off and I was about to lose it at this point. And unbelievably she said, “Oh, I didn’t see you there.” When did I become invisible?

As I grabbed my hot dogs and turned to head to the deli, I played dance moves with this dude also wielding a cart. Every time I turned one way to exit around him, he turned in the same direction as well so we were blocking each other once again, and this went on for 15 of the longest most frustrating seconds. He seemed amused, I was just pissed! Once free from the cart chicken dance, I limped to the deli.

Now at the deli, I heard the lady in front of me order about 6 different things with varying weights and I knew it would take about 6 months by the time it was my turn so I gave up and limped to check out.

I decided to go the self check-out as I thought it would be faster, ha ha ha . . .

The little helper Wal-mart Island lady had to come over 6 times because the damn machine thought I was stealing or something. I was about to cry at this point. I was just about done with the madness when lo and behold, the close Wal-mart Island greeter snuck up behind me again, for reasons I will never understand and said, “Thank you for shopping at Wal-mart.” I wasn’t even checked out all the way and thought, “This guy’s timing is waaaay the hell off.” I dodged the spit this time thankfully.

As I’m heading out the ‘out’ door, a family of 7 has decided that they can’t read, as they shed their proximity understanding at the door, and ran into my cart trying to come in the ‘out’ door. The mom gave me a filthy dirty look and I wanted to bowl her over with my cart because at this point, I had had enough of weird ass people and if this woman could read she would see that she was coming in the wrong way. Good Lord people, literacy is a necessary thing!!

After breaking free of Wal-mart Island, I thought I was home free to get to my car and unload the few bags I had but no, a blind, deaf, and short person driving a barge decided to back out and hit my cart as I was trying to get to my car. Here’s the thing, had he had his sight, he would have seen me, if he didn’t have sight, he would have heard the loud bump but no, he didn’t hear that either and I jerked my cart back and let him back the rest of the way out. As he turned to see that there was a human there, he waved and smiled and I discovered that the poor cuss didn’t have any teeth either. Bless him.

With a limp, frustration bubbling out of me, and a bent up cart I unloaded what little I had, put my bent cart away and drove home.

I’m gonna have to take a break from Wal-mart Island as I write this feeling quite stabby from today’s shopping episode. Also, I’m questioning whether I’ve turned invisible somehow.

Love y’all!!♥

 

 

Accusations!

Now, I don’t mind being accused of things that are true such as, “Sharon, you are a woman.” Yes, yes I am and I accept that accusation. I will also accept that I’m also a food addict, a cocktail lover, a mother, a wife, an OT, a person with ADHD and dyslexia, and all the other things that make me who I am whether good or bad or ugly, however . . .

So, over the last several months, I have been enlightened by certain individuals, by my dreams at night, and by all of the reading and research that I do to expand my practice in a direction that will address the whole child. You see, there are therapists and doctors out there who only treat a dissected piece of a child and that’s just not appropriate when you have a child made up of several systems, loads of nerve fibers, synapses, thoughts, feelings, experiences, etc. You can’t really just treat one thing because it is all interconnected, ya know?

I am one of those people that when I get an idea for betterment, I turn into the Tasmanian Devil and take every class, read every article, talk to any and every individual that has anything to do with what I am going after, and I do it with the craziness and vigor of a Tasmanian Devil. It drives my husband insane at my intensity and often time absence from him as I am studying my gatookus off.

My latest endeavors have been essential oils, kid’s yoga, biofeedback, and Reiki healing as I feel every kid needs a calm bit in their lives, hell, we all do. Our world is going so fast and there is so much in it to process can you imagine what it must be like for a kid? Their brains aren’t fully developed to process such volumes of input and over-stimulation happens constantly. That’s what a temper-tantrum can sometimes erupt from or anxiety or depression in these little kids. That’s bad, y’all!

For years, I turned away from essential oils thinking that it was a bunch of hooey and I don’t have time for hooey. I also thought yoga and Reiki healing were interesting but a bit out of the realm of who I was to be a part of it, though I have taken Pilates for years, yoga was just a bit hooeyish to me too. I mean, what the hell is Ommmm? I know now, but back then, um, can you say “you’ve smoked way too much weed, dude.”

So, in the furry that I do everything I want to learn, I became a Certified Aromatherapist, a Certified Reiki Healer 1 and 2, and a Certified Kid’s Yoga instructor and let me tell you something, I stand corrected! No hooey, I can assure you.

First off, the essential oils are just amazing and actually do work in the manner that people are saying and have been around for over 6000 years and believed to have started in Egypt. Yoga has been around freaking forever it seems and if you’ve ever seen the movies Eat, Pray, Love or Dr. Strange, they seek the very wisdom where yoga comes from and I have to tell you, it’s damn intriguing!

Now, I have gotten so excited about yoga and essential oils that I have certain things now attached to my car to share my excitement. Such things as a lotus flower, which is a very cool flower and now I know that it symbolizes the very thing yoga is striving to do for us, bring about beautiful change out of the ‘muck’ we find ourselves in and can come in the form of stress, anxiety, depression, muscle tension, obesity, etc.

I also have a beautiful decal of a yoga girl sitting in greeting position decorated so intricately that I couldn’t help myself. In additions, because I use the word “y’all” quite a lot and I’ve made an odd impression in the UK because of my final teaching video that I had to make for my certification in yoga and send it to my teacher. My teacher loved my video so much that it sounds like she has put it everywhere out there. So embarrassing!

Anyway, I also have “Namaste, y’all” stuck to my car as well and I love it!

Well, there are two men in my life that I love to bits, there are more but I’m just going to address these two punks for now . . .

So, I’m sitting there minding my own business one evening enjoying a cocktail and watching Booze Traveler, the irony, when my son busts into the house, he’s like a damn bull coming into our house, y’all, not kidding. He stalks up to me and asks, “What are you some Buddist now?” I looked at him like he had just spoken to me in another language that involved spit and replied, “What in the hell are you talking about, goober?”

Well . . .

He goes off on me about the yoga girl on my car, the lotus flower, and the “Namaste, y’all” saying that I have turned into a Buddist and I have gone crazy. Is this kid on crack?

I inform him that I am not a Buddist, although their teachings are really interesting, that I am a Christian and nothing will change that. I also had to tell him that yoga is not a religion, it is a practice and a way to develop a deeper understanding of self. He rolled his eyes and walked off murmuring, “Great, mom’s a Buddist.” Yes, I believe he is on crack.

Well . . .

The next evening the Professor (what I call my husband when he is wearing his glasses) comes in from work and declares, “Are you a Buddist?” What in the hell and where are my family members getting this crack from?

“No, why is everyone calling me a damn Buddist?”

Then with the furry my son showed earlier, he launched into the weirdness that I now have on my car. Oh for crying out loud, y’all!

Now, I’m pretty sure embracing yoga for kids and putting a few stickers on your car doesn’t make you an automatic Buddist. I’m pretty sure there are a lot more steps.

In my fashion that can sometimes put the men I love in their places pretty damn roughly at times, I gather the both of them and launch into this . . .

“Let me just tell y’all something . . . I’m pretty sure there are a lot more steps to becoming a Buddist and embracing yoga and putting a couple of stickers on your car is NOT the way and if y’all think this is the way, well, y’all are not too keen up in the brain department. I am being falsley accused of practicing something that will help the kids in and out of my practice. Accusing someone of something that they are not is just wrong, y’all and you know it. Now put down your crack pipes, let me be the yoga practicing Christian that I am, and shut the hell up.”

With tail between their legs and a new understanding of how far you can push a yoga practicing Christian, they relented and have left me alone. Don’t mess with me or you’ll get my damn horns and yes, I can be accused of having horns on occasion.

Buddism in and of itself, in my opinion, is a gentle way of worshiping God, only they call it Budda if you really think about it. Every religion or whatever some of them call themselves is simply a form of worshiping and appreciating God, they just rename the characters in the play of life. I might be wrong but that’s what I think.

Whatever you are, don’t accuse people of being or doing something that is untrue or you might get some horns in your ass!

Love y’all!!♥

 

The Weirdness Around Us

My husband has decided that I am a weird magnet, therefore, it is my fault. I don’t recall asking for this trait out of the body and brain making catalog when God was busy making me up there in heaven. Nor did I ask for asthma, ADHD, short legs, or food addiction resulting in losing this stupid weight 5 times now. This time will stick, just saying.

Anyway, I know my face looks like this guy above when I see the weirdness and I really need to be careful about wearing my obvious what I’m thinking facial expression when the weirdness is upon me not to mention, I’m pretty sure I’m not even realizing that under my breath I’m saying, “What in the hell . . .?” I might get tasered, who knows?!

So in my weight loss journey with Weight Watchers, I’ve managed to shed 42#’s and I don’t want it back so if you see a 42# blob of fat, DO NOT TELL IT WHERE I AM, Y’ALL! I have about 5#’s left to meet my goal and then ultimately a Lifetime WW member, which is a very big deal in the WW world. You’re like WW royalty, I’m not kidding!

I’ve been through various exercise routines trying to find the one that works for me and one that I will actually do. I loooooooove walking, just love it. I hate being inside as I feel like a caged animal and I don’t like for my family to watch me workout because I’m sure it’s quite the horror/embarrassment flick. Plus, walking outside gets me some sun and a lot of blogging material!

I’m also doing yoga most mornings and in the meantime, have become kid yoga certified. I am teaching kid yoga classes on Saturday mornings and I plan on twilight yoga in the evenings when the weather begins to allow for it. I have a huge driveway off of the clinic and have twinkly little string lights passing back and forth across it and its just going to be heavenly!!

I’m also dabbling in affordable essential oils and these have helped me shed weight, remain calm, and many other benefits. If you are interested in essential oils, I am a wholesale distributor who is not out to make money but to help treat the whole child with my OT kids, and parent essential oils as well. These oils are for everyone. I have signed up with the company Plant Therapy and they rock y’all. They really do! They aren’t out to make millions either, they just want to make our lives easier and more healthy without making us broke. I love that!

Anyway . . . back to the weirdness.

So, one of the other things that I have done is purchase myself a nifty little bike with a big seat for my diminishing ass to sit on and ride all over our part of town . . . ya know, where the weirdness is. I used to mountain bike when I lived in Colorado and I was a bit of a junky. I have a mountain bike but my sweet bonus son has claimed it for himself, which is fine cuz it was not for me anymore.

Venturing out the same day I bought my new bike, I was so excited to ride again, I about peed my pants. Well, maybe that was because I was jumping up and down with glee next to my new bike and the jumping almost made me pee myself because I’ve had two kids and there’s this little cuss named gravity . . . moving on.

Mounting my bike, I decided to ride all the way to the “riiiivffffer,” see comedian “Metro Jethro” so this makes sense, you won’t be disappointed, but you might pee your pants, ladies, be careful.

The first thing I discover is that the seat is so much more comfortable than what I was used to on my mountain bike, the second thing was how much I loved feeling my legs working hard, and thirdly, the wind and sun was just freaking awesome sauce. It was the perfect day for riding to the riiiivffffer.

In comes my blogging material . . .

Because it was a nice day, the whole SE part of my little planet was out and about and who could blame them? As I was riding the long sidewalk that would hook me up the greenway from my neighborhood, it was so clogged, I had to stop. I kid you not, there was a little entourage of sweet Asian people who had to be lost because this was a greenway, not a safari and taking pictures while folks are trying to move about the greenway could get your little Asian ass taken out. They were so gleeful taking their little pictures, you couldn’t help but smile but damn it, I was on a workout mission to see the riiiivffffer. They finally moved on when suddenly, Tour de France passed by. These bikers mean business, as I have said before, and I was so glad that the picture taking safari group had moved on because I’m pretty sure there would have been blood. You think I’m kidding . . .

I FINALLY, get on the greenway headed in the direction of the riiiivffffer and I am happy as can be. My hair is blowing, I’m smiling ear to ear, and my legs are getting a great workout. However, I then come upon “we have no idea where we are in space, so we are going to spread our 6 member family out on the greenway walking at a snail’s pace.”

Now, there is distinct marking on the greenway and they are not ancient hieroglyphics. There is a line drawn down just off of dead middle some because bikes are bigger than people I guess, that shows walkers over here and bikers over there. Well, in addition to not understanding their position in space, they obviously could not read the hieroglyphics nor could they look down in order to try.

In the meantime, we are all clogged again and then it happened . . . Edward Scissor Arms shows up and you know what . . . that family scattered like underaged partiers at a party where the police have just shown up.

Yay! We can get by now!

A little further up, there is a human body crumpled down in the grass and I get the uneasy feeling she has either passed out our Edward got her . . . aw shit, do I stop? I’m coming up on her trying to assess what has happened when she comes to life and starts screaming in the direction I am riding in, thus, scaring the living shit out of me. It quickly becomes clear that her family has left her behind, I guess they don’t believe in Ohana, meaning “no one gets left behind.”

Has anyone seen the movie “Old School” with Will Ferrell? There is this scene where Will has just shot himself in the neck with a tranquilizer gun at a kid’s birthday party. When the tranquilizer kicks in, he starts falling around and ends up falling into the pool. At the point where Will starts falling around the birthday party, he makes this sound and it was the same sound this fallen girl makes when she realizes Ohana had been thrown into the creek and she better get her ass up. You’ve never seen little legs move so fast.

I look up the trail some and barring the anti-Ohana family, who have clearly deciphered the hieroglyphics correctly, there is no one else ahead. Kick ass, I’m taking off!!

I am peddling like no tomorrow and buzz past the ‘anti’ family and it is open road and I’m in heaven again. The sun is up and shining on my face, my hair is blowing, my legs are aching but in a good way, and everything around me is crisp and wonderful. The creek is full so it doesn’t look nasty and the grass is green. This is going to be awesome when I get to the riiiivffffer.

Well, that bit was short lived as I managed to swallow 368 1/2 bugs, nearly ran over a dog whose owner lost control of it right as I was going by, and nearly took out an occupied stroller whose wheel came all the way off, shooting the stroller into my path. Good God almighty!

I finally near the riiiivffffer and decide to cut through the campground to see who was there hanging out. I have friends and OT kid families that love camping but none of them were there, however . . .

There is the phenomenon or a set of neurons in our brain that we humans possess that is unique to our species. It’s called “intuition neurons.” These neurons are the ones that fire when we find ourselves in a situation we don’t feel comfortable in but can’t say why or we meet a person and think, “there is just something funky about that person” even if they haven’t said a word. Well, I get that funky feeling as I near this dude sitting on the hood of his car with no camping stuff set up or no family with him. It was just him, sitting along on the hood of his car looking around.

As, I pass him, for some reason, I held my breath. He stared a hole in me y’all and I fully expected him to leap off of that car and tackle me on my bike. It was damn creepy and I peddled faster, kinda like that crazy bike lady on the Wizard of Oz. As I zipped past him, I heard him yell something to my back but I kept going, terrified I’d have to taser him.

Finally, at the riiiivffffer, I spotted a nice picnic table to lean my bike against, sit down on, and take in the beauty of the water.

Sometimes when I get moments like this where I’m alone, which is rare, I pray and that is exactly what I was doing as two ladies approached me from nowhere and say to me, “Excuse us, we just wanted to say hi. We like saying hi to people.” And as these two sentences were said, they just awkwardly hung in the air. You see, at this point, I was the only person in this particular section of the greenway and I literally had my hands folded, my eyes closed, and my head bowed so it was obvious what I was doing.

Now, when I’m talking to God and Jesus, DO NOT BOTHER ME. I know that sounds rude y’all but that is my time with my Maker and His Son. So, I was a bit irritated.

I look at each one of the odd ‘hi’ women and said, “Hey y’all. I was just praying but thanks for the hi.” Now, some people don’t have intuition neurons, which also let you know when its time to go, and suddenly, I was the most interesting person these two ladies had ever met and they gawked at my new bike, my pigtails, my tanned skin, my tennis skirt, and my fake eyelashes.

I just want to freaking pray!

About 10 minutes go by and I finally get the nerve up to say this, “Hey y’all, I gotta finish praying and get back home. Nice talking with you.” And as the clouds parted and rays of light shined on their two little faces burning out their corneas, they finally moved on.”

Thank you sweet baby Jesus for an answered prayer!

I had been there long enough, though secretly wanted to stay a lot longer, so I headed back home. I didn’t pass by scary hood guy who saw me anyway and yelled across the campground, “You’re afraid of me huh little girl?” I wanted to flick him the bird but thought that would not be wise as he might run me over with his car and I don’t have time to be dead.

Heading back home was much more pleasant. The Asian safari expedition was gone, the clueless in space family was gone, as well as the anti-Ohana family so it was nice.

As I pulled up into the driveway, my daughter was sitting out there sunning herself and inquired how my ride was . . .

My daughter knows me well and my chuckle and grin told her that she could read all about it in my next blog.

Love y’all and my new bike!!♥

 

 

 

The Weirdness of our Bodies

When I was a little girl, I don’t think I really noticed my body other than when I hurt it by flying over my new 10-speed’s handle bars not realizing that I didn’t have to overkill the breaks and in turn, ripped myself to shreds. I still have scars, y’all.

Now, when I got a bit older and was in school, say 3rdish grade, I began to realize that our bodies were really weird and made a lot of weird ass sounds. For example, there was this boy that sat next to me in nearly every class I had at my Catholic school and I think the poor kids lived on damn beans, broccoli, and cabbage because that kid ripped them constantly. And every damn time, even after he had already farted 6 times in the last 7 seconds, I couldn’t help but laugh my ass off. Farting is funny, I don’t care who the heck you are.

In addition to going to my Catholic school, I went to the Catholic church it was attached to. Now, I’m kind of stuck on gas so I’ll go on. Every Sunday, weird ass Catholics, I love y’all I really do but some of y’all are weird . . . every stinking family, just about, would sit in their “self-assigned” pew and there was little deviation. If a newbie came in and sat in your “assigned” location, you better look out because you will be getting a big ass Catholic hex put on you, by God!

Well, because of these “self-assigned” seats, we inevitably sat behind the gassiest old lady Jenkins on the planet every single Sunday. She too ate beans,etc. for a living and in addition, must have had on some girdle or hardware or something on her person becasue when she moved, she sqeaked. Like a little mouse, not kidding. I would be delighted when I heard the lady squeak because I know I had never produced such a sound and was fasinated at how she was managing this.

She also had 3 boobs. Yes, 3. I know this because of the very few times she turned around, I think her hardware was prison-like, therefore limiting her range of movement, I was at that right at the boobs height and whammo, 1-2-3. What the?

After church that day, I asked my mom how come some ladies ended up with three boobs and not just two. Exasperated by yet another bodily question, she explained that her bra was probably ill fitting and it was forming what appeared to be an additional boob but was in fact not. What the? I would later learn that this is a true phenomenon when my freshman English teacher demonstrated the same features only her third boob was a helluva lot bigger than the other two. I often joked with my friends that the other two probably had size issues and envied boob number 3. Weird!

Moving on . . .

I discovered the irritating sound of snoring when we would go on vacation with my family and my dad would go to town. I’d find myself in the bathroom sleeping in the tub with the door closed and soon, I’d find my two sisters crammed in there with me. I decided snoring was just damn annoying and that was that. When asked why I slept in the tub, I announced, “Well, I think dad probably knows since he has some sort of Sasquatch nasal thing going on.” To which both of my sisters nodded in agreement. “Mm hmm, tell it sister.”

I became the victim of another Sasquatch nasal demon for 16 years and in addition, was presented with marathon farting, burping, sniffing, hocking up loogies, and such incredible twitching at night during sleep, I’d often get smacked in the face, although I wonder about that last one. Most people have restless leg syndrome but the lucky few wives who end up marrying a guy with restless entire person syndrome, aren’t so lucky.

During this 16 year torture, I also discovered what air exposure can do to a little boys pee pee, when I found myself covered in urine and my sweet son was oblivious as I tried not go gag and spit what found its way into my mouth.

I was also dumbfounded by that first black as tar and stinky as hell poop. God help us all with that one y’all!

One of the weirdest of all the bodily oddities has got to be my sweet husband who randomly yells out words, or repeats what he hears on television, or repeats what someone else says, or just reads something randomly out loud that he sees in his visual field. It is not uncommon to hear such words as “nectar” or “shamalama” or “G” out of freaking nowhere. These are code to my daughter who will respond in respective order “nectar”   “ding-dong”   “monkey.”

He’s got my daughter doing the same thing. Great and wonderful, there’s two of them now.

My son inherited the unfortunate nasal issue I spoke of earlier and it is not uncommon to hear him snorting that crap back up into the recesses of his nasal cavity and it is so nauseating!

I, on the other hand, have no sounds or weirdness what so ever and . . .

Lol, um, yes, yes I do actually, but I’ll keep it to myself, well, I’ll share one.

About 100 years ago, I found myself living in Grand Junction, Colorado, God’s country and I was the happiest I had ever been. I met some of the neatest people out there and found myself in the Arches National Park in Utah for some rock climbing. Well, rock climbing for these folks was without any equipment. They liked living on the edge and were poor so that was that. Now, I’m was quite athletic back then and thought, “Eh, piece of cake.” Ha!

I started out really good and everyone was impressed so I pressed on but eventually, my luck ran out and I fell from pretty far up and injured my left knee pretty bad. Because I thought I was some John Wayne type chick, I took Advil and iced it a bit and trekked on.

A few months later, back at Arches, I pushed my luck again, and ended up injuring my other knee. John Wayning it again, I trekked on.

Now, 100 years later, my knees are the crunchiest couple of joints you have ever done heard. When I climb steps or climb my step stool in the clinic to put up the therapy swing, they just shout out how screwed up they are and I often have my OT kids or their parents cringing and exclaim, “OMG, is that your knees?” Yes, yes it is, hello knee replacements someday. Sigh.

Our bodies are both fascinating and freaking weird but the fact of the matter is, they are our bodies given to us by God and we should take care of them and not beat them the hell up like I have on my knees. Oh well, I’ll pay for it in another 10-15 years more than likely.

Love y’all!!♥

 

Carpool Makes Me Stabby!

Carpool causes my heart rate to increase as well as blood pressure elevation and no amount of counting to 6 trillion I do or how much deep meditative breathing I do, seems to help.

Carpool is different now that I don’t have any kids in elementary/middle school, thank the Lord above. That was a whole other ball of stinkin’ wax. No, I now have to deal with teenage drivers and their big ass trucks that they can’t drive worth a crap. Or the little cuss whose parents gave them a brand new Mustang instead of spending time with them, or the new 4 door Jeep, again, a replacement for time spent . . .

Most mornings, I can skirt carpool but my son, who is my daily driver, has been meeting with the Young Life leader every Tuesday morning for breakfast along with several other of his friends for fellowship. I am really happy he has this positive figure in his life as the one that has been available to him since his birth has fallen short and that probably won’t ever change.

However . . .

This means each Tuesday morning, I get the jolly o’ jolt of irritation, terror, frustration, and elevation in heart rate and blood pressure as I mentioned. If I’m not stuck behind some air head on her cell phone texting unaware that the light has turned green, I’m stuck behind the idiot that goes and stops and goes and stops unable to judge distance or they lack an awareness of timing or hell, they may not even realize that they are driving a car, who the hell knows.

It is not uncommon for someone to violently dive in front of me into the line to turn into the school parking lot, right in the middle of the intersection. The last I checked, though its been 100 years since I’ve taken my permit test, you don’t change lanes in the middle of an intersection. Evidently there are like 10 kids/parents whose driving handbook had this page ripped out. And here’s what kills me, the violent line invader waves to you in false appreciation of you letting them over. I want to yell out, “Thanks for raping the carpool line you idiot!”

On one occasion, some idiot kid was on her cell phone, again, not paying attention as her car was actually moving and proceeded to pop up the curb scaring the Bajeesus out of an innocent walker. Had it been Edward Scissor Arms, he would have just chopped her up to bits but no, it was Old Lady Matilda and she about fell out. The look on her face was that of someone who had just seen her life flash before her eyes.

I have seen teenagers making out in the parking lot in the back seat of their cars, just to be sure to get it in before school starts. I’ve seen what looked like drug deals as I make my way to drop-off for my kids. Its unbelievable.

I had my last straw this week, y’all and here’s how it went . . .

Only after nearly getting leveled by a school bus, I eagerly pulled up to drop the kids off so I could get the hell out of the parking lot from hell. Oh, but no . . . that was not in my cards for today.

I pull forward after the drop-off and soon realize that my escape route, along with a lot o’ other parents, is being blocked by and shit-ton Hemi truck given to a male child who was about 5 foot nothing and he was trying to back that monster up into a parking space made for a VW Beetle. He maneuvered and maneuvered and maneuvered and put about 346 more maneuverd’s in there . . .

I could feel my shoulders raising up to my ears and my neck and lower back begin to tense up from severe irritation bordering on stabby. As I looked back behind me and over  to the other side feeding into this one lane, there were about 75 other cars backed all the way up to the road trying to get into the parking lot from hell. Dumb ass midget truck kid was not going to let up and thats when the honking started. Eventually, the dumb ass got the hint and looked up for a second from the impossible feat he was trying to accomplish and FINALLY let everyone pass.

He got a lot of fingers, even from parents, I was floored. I mean I was pissed and stabby but the kid didn’t deserve the bird, especially from a grown up. Although I had visions of running at him screaming with crazed eyes, flailing arms, a foaming mouth, and maybe a rock so he knew I meant business but I just didn’t have it in me at that moment.

Praise baby Jesus above, my daughter will get her license in September and I will be done with this creature they call carpool. And you know what, I know with no doubt whatsoever, that I will not miss it. Not one stinkin’ bit, ya’ll.

I will miss the Valentine’s parties when they were little, the Christmas sing-a-longs, the field trips, and the sports that I go and watch them play but not damn carpool! Not EVER!

Love y’all!!♥

 

 

My Wonderfully Weird Neighborhood

Neighborhoods can be wildly entertaining at times, you just have to be on the look out. For example, when I was a young girl living up north, we had neighbors about 3 houses down that were out of this world insane. Not kidding!

The dad ran for mayor every chance he could, which is the equivalent of me running for president, it was sad. The only votes he would get were he and his wife’s. Their 20-year-old son was a drug addict unfortunately and one day, I saw first hand what drugs can do.

I was minding my own business walking down the street to my friend’s house one day, who unfortunately for her lived next door to the weird family Robinson. All of a sudden I hear a blood-curdling scream and right as I was about to begin the holding of the breath pass the nut house as quickly as you can, the front door was thrown open and out ran the drug addict followed by his dad, who was wielding a baseball bat, and behind him was the screaming mother. I stopped dead in my tracks and hoped I’d disappear.

(Earlier that spring, a very tall ladder had been placed up on the side of their 2 story house with the hopes of some home repairs, but they never happened.)

The drug addict runs around to the back of the house where the ladder is, climbs up all the way to the roof . . . in the meantime, the wife has gone semi-catatonic in the front yard and starts grabbing invisible things out of the air as her husband is screaming every word he can think of at his son, and finally knocks the ladder down and carries it away.

When all was said and done, the son stayed on the roof for two days. It was freaking nuts, y’all. One of the neighbors called the police on day two assuming drug boy had learned his lesson. Crazy!

So, now that I’m remarried for almost 4 years, I have moved into my husband’s house, and I’m all settled in, I began to notice some weirdness around and about us.

I’ll first start with the neighbor in our cul-de-sac. I’m not sure who is sick, who is in the nursing home, who is living there, etc. but all I can say is that whoever the poor gal is . . . she can damn scream like a banshee. It is scary as hell.

One day, as I was making my way to get the mail, I hear the banshee scream from hell. It was awful and I could tell it was coming from an older woman who was probably slightly out of her mind. I detected it was coming from the house a few doors down and it was awful. I know there has been some form of a caregiver over there each day, so I wasn’t going to run over and save the screaming banshee.

It has happened about 4 more times since I have lived here and it always freaks me the hell out. I pray for whoever that is, God bless them.

I also have a neighbor who loves animals and it is not uncommon to hear her squeal talking like a chalkboard being scratched at her dog because it did a poo-poo or it peed or it licked its butt. One day, the dog had a damn professional photo shoot in the backyard, again, not kidding. It was freaking crazy.

So, in the next cul-de-sac over, a dude bought a really nicely landscaped house and then turned into the Alabama Chainsaw Massacre dude. Each night, after he moved in, I’d hear a chainsaw going on for hours. Over the weekend, it would be all damn day. Not soon after he moved in, and it happened to be a nice day for a walk, I decided to walk into his cul-de-sac just for shits and grins and oh my holy hell . . . remember that nice landscape I spoke of?

 

AFTER

 

 

 

BEFORE

 

I am not kidding, he had boxwoods, a Japanese maple I think, crape myrtles, azaleas, etc and he butchered the shit out of all of them, to the nub. It was awful. My fear is that he is having a come apart after his divorce, from what I hear, and will soon be traveling the neighborhood to groom other people’s landscape. Yay! Let’s just hope he doesn’t get a taste for human flesh.

I have another lovely older couple neighbors from another country and evidently, the dude was in some sort of military outfit where he was from as you have never seen a person with such over-erect posturing in your life. It looks like it hurts like hell but the dude won’t budge. I had a picture in my mind of him getting hit from behind by a car and instead of sailing through the air like a rag doll, he’d look like a damn rocket, straight as hell.

The third cul-de-sac on our side houses the pot house. Now, their yard hasn’t been touched in years, probably because their ungroomed sycamore tree is so dense that they have no grass in the front. The have built a privacy fenced in back deck and sometimes when I walk, I smell that nasty pot smell and hear the crazy’s out there laughing and doing whatever the hell else they do. These people are nuts and one night a few summers ago, one of the stoner dudes yelled at one of the kids that my daughter was playing with to get her to shut up, that she was laughing too much, and to throw a rock at her and he’d give him a dollar. My daughter’s friend was little and couldn’t pass up the dollar, so he threw a rock at her hitting her in the eyebrow bone and causing her a great deal of pain. Not a fun situation. I’m not fond of the stoners.

A few houses down from that is a dude that I call slick Rick. Slick Rick, at one time, was a desperate newly divorced dude who insisted on picking up the ladies, ie. his son’s friend’s mothers, by walking around the front yard topless, shoeless, and wearing only way to short cut off blue jeans. When he caught word that a mom was coming to pick up his son’s friend, by golly, this dude would tear the clothes off he was wearing and don his pick up the soccer moms outfit. I happened to be a victim one day and I have to tell you that I threw up in my mouth a little as he sashayed his way up to my car, put his arms up on top of the car, leaned in, and just stared at me. The next thing I knew, his son had walked up behind him and said, “Dad, leave Sharon alone, she’s in a relationship and she’s not interested.” Aw, out of the mouth of babes.

Probably one of the most interesting people in our neighborhood, though I haven’t seen her in awhile, is the recycling pick pocketer.

Wielding her Target bags, she goes along on Monday’s and picks her way through everybody’s recycling before the truck has come, pulling out cans, etc to take and get money for. Here’s the weirdness . . .

This woman and her husband live in a $500,000 house, drives some sort of fancy Cadillac, and she weighs about 52 pounds. Now, maybe the house and the car did them in and they can’t eat and this is what she has become, but it is really stinking weird.

Well, anyway, I love my neighborhood and all the weirdness that is bundled right up in it. I find it all quite fascinating and entertaining and its beats the expense of going to the movies. There are some days, honest to God, I get a bag chair, open it up, and just sit in my driveway with my drink and a snack, waiting to see what’s next.

Love y’all!!♥

 

 

Getting My Butt Kicked

I have had my butt kicked and I have kicked some butt myself.

My first butt kicking happened 100 years ago when I was 8 years old and there was this little piss ant girl that lived down the street along with her other 6 brothers and sisters. I was best friends with her brother but not with her.

Now, back then, if anyone messed with either one of my sisters, well, I’d come unglued. I was also oddly strong with forearms like damn Popeye, not kidding, because I was on steroids for my out of control asthma. Let’s just say the dose must have been high enough to make me the Incredible 8-year-old She-Hulk.

No one messed with me.

Anyway, one day after leaving my best friend’s house and heading home, my sister came in shortly after me crying her eyes out. Oh, nuh uh, “Who made you cry? What did they do?” My sister could hardly talk she was so upset but finally managed to tell me that piss ant (3 years older and bigger than me and 5 years older than my little sister) called her names and shoved her down.

Cue the green skin, beefing up of the body, and clothes tearing from my anger.

With adrenaline and a royally pissed off attitude to boot, I marched down to the piss ant’s house, found her in the front yard, and proceeded to beat the living shit out of her. The beating was so bad and the piss ant was screaming so loud that her mom came out and rips me off of her, as I had her laying on her back in the grass, sitting on top of her, as I beat her bloody. When it was all said and done, I had broken her nose and bloodied her lip.

In the meantime, my mom comes running down the street having figured out what I had gone and done to defend my little sister. The two moms proceed to scold the hell outta me as they mopped up blood from the piss ant’s face.

I calmly explained that no one messes with my sisters ever and if she does it again, I’d kick her ass again. Yes, I said ass in front of two Catholic women at 8 years old.

I was grounded for a week but made to feel proud at the same time for sticking up for my sister by my mom and dad.

I got my butt kicked for nearly 16 years being married to the “other.” The butt kicking was mental and abusive and then later on physical. It sucked. Glad I’m free.

I nearly got my butt kicked a year ago when a she/he/it thing thought I was laughing at her/him/it and yelled out across the whole meat department, “Are you laughing at me? Do you want me to kick your ass?” God love “it.” It was either drunk as hell or high as a kite. I should have gone for it to relieve some tension . . . just kidding. I told it no and it wandered off.

I have been playing tennis since I was 5, I even taught some, and found myself on a ladies league about 2 years ago until I hurt my shoulder. I’d get my butt kicked with some of my partners but good Lord Almighty, we had a ball getting our butts kicked.

Now, I am in a new type of butt kicking, the kicking of my own butt.

Since July 29, 2016, I have managed to lose 42 pounds using Weight Watchers. This is the hands down easiest plan there is and it works. Now, my new way of eating really does kick my butt sometimes because I have to be conscience of what crap I am putting into my mouth.

However. . .

The biggest kicking of my butt has been what is called the Bowflex Max but I like to call him Mad Max because he makes me mad at how bad he can kick my butt!

In watching the commercials I was highly doubtful that 14 minutes could do anything for a person but I’m here to tell you . . . it can and does. I have only managed 15 minutes at my max but usually do 10-12 minutes and it truly kicks my butt.

After this morning’s butt kicking for 11 minutes, I sit here with sore legs and sore abs. Yes, my abs get it too as well as my arms and butt.

If y’all want a butt kicking, I recommend the Bowflex Max aka Mad Max! And if you mess with one of my sisters, I’ll kick your butt. That, you can count on.

Love y’all!!♥

 

Drawn Together

One of the most interesting things I have noticed about people is our inevitable ability to seek each other out whether its conscience or unconscience. We are drawn together by the very thread of humanity whether we want to admit it or not. Even the most recluse people are going against the very nature of our given humanness.

For example, several years back, I found myself in a nearly vacant parking lot, as I was making my way into a store that had just opened. For a moment, I was the only human in the parking lot with a few cars. As I looked ahead I saw another person making their way out into the parking lot. At this point, we were nowhere near each other and that is as it should be because we had the vast space of the parking lot and it wasn’t crowded in the least.

Well, my phone had beeped so I was looking down at it when lo and behold the lone person I had just taken my eyes off of was suddenly right in front of me. It startled me as you can imagine and we both found ourselves saying “excuse me.” There was no reason in hell this person had to veer off her path towards me or perhaps, I was the one that veered as I was looking down at my phone. My point is I am convinced that our humanness drew us together rather unnecessarily in this wide open parking lot.

Now, here’s my point . . .

I was sitting in my clinic working on paperwork at the end of a long day when I get the shit scared out of me with someone knocking on the clinic door rather loudly. As I got up to answer it, I noticed the figure on the other side was rather large and I got a little nervous. I opened the door to a man who asked me where my unit was. I looked at him completely confused and at that he got out his paperwork and discovered he was supposed to be next door at my neighbor’s house to fix their A/C. We both chuckled at the mistake but suddenly, he was very interested in the room I stood in on the other side of the door.

I invited him in and explained that I was a pediatric Occupational Therapist and this was my Oz so to speak. With mouth hanging open in awe, I get that a lot and I feel such a sense of pride y’all, he was blown completely away. He asked several questions, he had time to kill because my neighbor was running late meeting him, and I answered them.

We then stepped outside onto the driveway and he admired the outside as well as the play area I have just off of the driveway. He did confess that although he had the wrong house, he was glad to have seen everything and learn about what I did.

Well . . .

Because I work with kids, I find myself in a lot of conversations about kids and I love it so when A/C dude started talking about the hardship his sister dealt he and his wife, I was moved to listen.

Evidently this guy’s sister was much younger than him, married, had a great job as well as her husband, had two kids, and then discovered drugs. They got into drugs so bad that the husband ended up overdosing and dude’s sister had to go to rehab and still hasn’t cleaned up. So one child went to live with the dead husband’s parents and the other child came to live with him and his wife.

He went on to tell me that although it has been a blessing and the 13 year old niece is now in college at 20 years old thanks to them, though at first it scared the hell out of him because he and his wife don’t make much money, he feels guilty for still feeling resentment towards his sister.

Well, me being me I said, “Uh, dude, you have every right to feel the way you do and DO NOT feel guilty about it in any way.Your whole second half of your life was altered because your sister obviously has addictive tendencies. You were done raising kids and then you get this kid/your niece dumped on you at 13 years old with no help whatsoever from your winner of a sister. You just shut right up about feeling guilty. Do you hear me?!”

I saw tears in his eyes as he looked at me and said, “No one has ever put it that way to me in a way that made sense. Somehow you have settled my heart and I owe you a great deal of thanks.” With a hug and a bit of dabbing around his eyes he smiled at me as my neighbor pulled in.

As I walked dude over to meet our neighbor I told him that I would pray for him and his family and he smiled and thanked me. I turned to go back in and I heard my neighbor ask, “Do you know Sharon,” to which the A/C dude replies, “No, not until just now but she has been like an angel sent from God for me and said things to me that I needed to hear.”

Oh, y’all I found tears in my eyes myself. How amazing that God draws us to each other when we really need it and what an honor I feel to have helped A/C dude.

Everyone we meet we meet for a reason and although the reason may not benefit us, what an honor to know that we can benefit others just by being human with them.

Love y’all!!♥

An Uneventful Walk but Not an Uneventful Day

This was the look on my face after the weirdest ass encounter I have ever had with another human being.

Let me back up . . .

I woke up the other day to a big chunk of time to walk and a gorgeous day outside. Here in Alabama the weather is as unpredictable as who will win the lottery. Here it is January and the temp was 70 degrees. When that happens, I gotta get a walk in because I feel like a caged animal when I have to work out indoors.

While on my walk I was braced for Edward Scissor Arms, a bag of shit carelessly left along the path, or the two Asian ladies fighting but you know what . . . none of that. I think secretly, I was disappointed. I did see a lovely older couple holding hands along the path smiling up at each other, it was precious. I did see a lovely older gentleman walking a really interesting looking dog. I did see two ladies walking and talking about the price of groceries, “I hear ya sisters. I’d be damn rich if I didn’t have to buy groceries or gas!”

As I made my way back home both shocked and disappointed that it was a rather dull walk, I cleaned myself up and then went to my bowling league. While at bowling, my phone went off indicating a text. My daughter informed me that she was in a rather awkward situation having leaked through her line of defense of her ‘that time of the month’ and was dying of embarrassment could I please come and check her out. Well, I was right in the middle of bowling with my team so I enlisted the help of my mother-in-law. I have the best mother-in-law, y’all!! I really do!

She was the super hero and went to check my daughter out for me. Well, I get a call from the school a bit later telling me that she was not on the list of folks to check my daughter out which is bullshit because I put her on the list myself and who the hell would leave their awesome sauce mother-in-law off of ‘the list.’ I was able to give verbal permission but was informed that I’d have to come down to the school ASAP and put her on the list. I was pissed!

So, begins the weirdness . . .

Once I arrived home after bowling, my daughter was ready to go back to school having taken care of everything necessary.

We had an uneventful ride to school, an uneventful buzzing into the school, and then . . .

After checking my daughter in at one pod, I had to go to the main office to put my mother-in-law on the list that she was already on and this is what happened when I entered the main office . . .

I spotted a lady behind the desk with a volunteer sticker on her shirt, glasses, long hair, and she looked a bit like an upscale hippy, but what came out of her mouth was going to disturb me on a lotta levels.

“Weeeelllll, there you are! Look at you, you gorgeous woman.”

What the hell? Do I know this hippy chick? Well, no, I don’t.

“Uh, hi? I need to put my mother-in-law back on the list of folks to check my daughter out. She was on the list and I don’t know what happened.”

There was another lady sitting next to ‘freak thing’ who at this point was staring at me as if I was some movie star that she was crazy about. I literally felt like she was feeling me up with her eyes . . . please refer to the picture above.

So, as I’m trying to tell the typing lady at the computer my mother-in-laws name and phone number, ‘freak show’ begins to talk over us!

“What’s that shirt you have on and that dragonfly on it? I love that and I love your hair and I love your face and I love your hands. Can I take a picture of you?”

“Um, the dragonfly logo is from my business and why do you want a picture of me?”

Now, I don’t know this woman AT ALL and she has turned into the paparazzi as I am standing their giving typing lady my info. At this point typing lady is looking at freak show and I can tell that she is not fond of her and is also wondering what the hell her deal is.

In the mean time, freak show paparazzi has taken about 20 pictures of me and the 3  teenage office helpers start to notice and are staring at the scene like the dude in the picture above. I feel like I’m in the damn Twilight Zone.

Freak show then says, “Maybe I could follow you home and take a look at your clinic. I’d love to see where you live.”

Um, security?!

At this point, the whole office has stopped what they are doing to listen and watch the ‘single white female’ stalk her prey.

Why me?????!!!

You know those scenes in movies like The Single White Female where that eerie music comes on as the lady is looking or thinking about the lady she is enamored by, that’s what I was hearing in my head as I peered at ‘freak show’ and the look on her face freaked me the hell out.

“Here’s Johnny!”

When I FINALLY got my stuff done with typing lady, I turned to leave and this is what I heard . . . “Love you see you later. You are now forever on my phone in picture form.”

WTF?!

So, that’s my true story and I have to say I’m a bit disturbed and will never go back to that main office on a Tuesday.

As I am retelling the story to my husband later on that day, he is shaking his head and says, “Her gay-dar must have been off or something.”

Ya think?

Love y’all!!♥

 

Let Me Introduce You To My Little Friend . . .

So, my New Year’s resolution is to lose the last 6 pounds of the 46 I want to lose, keep exercising, and keep this crap off for good. I mean I have lost this 46 pound monster for the fourth and last time, y’all!

In the spirit of my promise to myself, I started off the New Year with a brisk 45 minute walk.

Now, none of my walks are allowed to be uneventful for some peculiar reason. Again, I’ve seen bags of dog shit left behind, a baby’s shoe, making out homeless people, Edward Scissor Arms, the fighting Asian ladies (my favorite), a perfect paper replica of the male genitalia, and much much more, just go back to some of my blogs and you’ll see what I mean.

Well, today was no exception.

I have decided to walk the path that doesn’t have a lot of people or animals because I was kind of in that alone mood today, plus I wanted to pray and ponder the new year quietly. This nice quiet time was not in the cards for me damn it.

As I’m walking, I spy up the sidewalk kinda far off, a bundled up couple each walking a rather large dog. I thought, “Shit, I am not in the mood today,” which if any of you know me personally, is a bit unusual. As I neared the couple, I noticed that they had drifted off into the grass to my left, and I thought, “How curious but they don’t have to go THAT far for crying out loud.” I was about to find out why . . .

As I neared the human/K9 group, the larger of the two dogs tried to take off in my direction only its leash prevented it from getting too close. The dog was pulling so hard to get to me and had now began barking like I was about to be toast, and then the lady screams over to her husband, “Help me hold him, Hank!” Oh help!

I did little but jump into the street and I didn’t dare run because somewhere far back in my brain I knew running just makes it worse. At this point, the husband and her are barely winning the tug of war with the now foaming at the mouth crazy ass K9. I had pictures passing in my mind of what my mauling might look like and it made me shutter.

I was a bit pissed that I had to deal with this on a day I just wanted some quite thinking time but then it dawned on me that perhaps the couple didn’t expect to come upon me either especially with their crazy ass K9 that they barely seem to have a hold on.

After my heart rate came back down and I could breath again, I thought, “What would I have done?” It panicked me a little, I have to be honest.

So, I had that to think upon as well. My walk was getting heavier by the second until . . .

I spied a large round individual up the path and I had to do a double take because from my far off point of view, it looked as if he was repeatedly punching himself in the face as he briskly made his way towards me. For a moment, it reminded me of the joke my mom and I have that we have to harness the girls otherwise if we took of running, they’s punch us right out. I nearly laughed out loud at Mr. Knock Myself Out got a little closer.

What a rather self abusive individual he was. I skirted him too for fear I’d get sucked into the briskness his little arms were moving, like a vacuum of the air he was producing would pull me in and I’d get the shit beat out of me.

He reminded me of Edward Scissor Arms and I thought, “Between getting chopped up into little bits or having the shit beat outta ya, I’m not sure what fate I’d prefer. It sure as hell wouldn’t be a K9 mauling, I can assure you.”

So, as I entered into my lovely little dwelling, my husband looked at me and says, “It was eventful again wasn’t it?”

I sighed and told him the tale of K9 attack and Mr. Punchy. He shook his head as he always does and said, “You need some sort of protection. I’m serious. This is crazy that you can’t walk around in our neighborhood without picking up more blogging material at every turn.” I had to laugh at that. “Life is full of blogging material, you just have to get out in it,” was my response.

So, let me introduce you to my little friend. It’s called “The Sting Ring” and I got it from Amazon. See below.

Now, if any of you crazies want to come at me including wild dogs or any other animal I might come upon, I will zap your ass so back your crazy shit up! I’m taking my walks back! I realize I can’t really zap the drone that followed me the other day but then I saw that they also have a zapping rod and if you follow me again for an unusual amount of time drone, I’m getting that too suckuh! See below.

How ya like them apples you freaks?!

Hope y’all have an awesome 2017. Make it great!

Love y’all!!