So Where Do I Go From Here?

I'm just sitting around thinking over the past year while Roger runs the vacuum cleaner for the New Year's party.  I figured I might as well see if I can parse out what happened to me in 2010 and make sense of it all and get ready for 2011.

2010 for me, was defined by lack.  Lack of health, due to fibromyalgia.  And I've been honest about it, and what that means to future employers I care not.  Because it's there, and I will never have the luxury of waking up one day and forgetting about it.

****************

Even if I somehow manage to tame the beast, I will have to do something every few hours to tame it for the rest of my life.  Whether that means taking a pill, or trying to stay positive, I cannot ignore the elephant in the living room.

Lack of money.   I was lucky enough to get retirement through the State of South Carolina, my employer for many years.   But our kids are on reduced price school lunches. Our income has been drastically slashed. 

I've almost enjoyed it, in a masochistic fashion.  My parents trained me since birth to prepare for the next Great Depression, and I've enjoyed utilizing all the tips and tricks they taught me-like finding a zero percent credit card to finance the new washer/dryer set--to make do.

Lack of...income.   I was brought up in a home where it was assumed that I would train for a profession and practice it.  Maybe my parents thought I'd take off a few years when the kids arrived, but you could do that back in their day, in their field.  My field, academia, not so much.  There were a dozen jobs in my field in the entire state.  Now there are like--eight. 

***********************

I've tried to define my worth in a way that has nothing to do with a paycheck.  (I know--cliche).   To be honest, I've failed.  I feel unworthy without a job to go to every day.  I love every second of it..from slapping at the alarm clock, to climbing in the car, to cutting up with coworkers, to sitting in my office helping people (hopefully) to climbing in the car to go home feeling that I helped hold up my end of the family load.

I want to go back to work.

Lack of...finding a way to heal from fibromyalgia.  The AMA says there is no cure.  I've tried everything...if someone told me that I would be healed if I hung upside down, singing the Star Spangled Banner, and drinking camel pee, I'd do it.  Nothing has worked so far.   But stay tuned, because I plan to try everything on the face of the planet.  I'm still taking guaifenisen, and sometimes I think it's helping, and sometimes I think the Rohun healing is helping, and then right now my legs and back ache like crazy and I feel like nothing has worked and nothing ever will. 

*********************
 

Strangely enough, I found my faith again this year.  Maybe for the first time ever, I'm convinced that there is a God.  That's all tied in with the Rohun healing stuff.  I can't even begin to explain what it is or why I feel like there is a God, and why I'm not mad at God, but try Rohun healing and get back to me.   

Lack of...anger.  People have been mean.  People have been incredibly kind and loving.  I have to keep my mouth shut about mean people.   I want to spill out all the poisonous feelings of anger and hatred.  I want to point my finger at people and scream, "J'accuse!"  I want to point my finger at myself and scream the same thing.  Because somehow I feel like that it's my fault that I got sick.

***********************************

But I have to let it go.  Let. It. Go.  Forget about it.  Wish my enemies well.   I believe in karma and ultimate justice, and I believe wholeheartedly that stewing in righteous indignation is a worthless way to spend my life.

I'm working on it.

***********************

Lack of...hope.   By this time next year, I expect that my mom will have died.  In fact, I hope so.  She's dead already.  I can't even take the time to mourn her.  Every day there is a stack of bills to pay, a phone call about ordering diapers or a new drug, a phone call about a new twist in the never ending saga of a body breaking down.   I have no time to grieve.  I can't be there for her if I take time to wallow in grief.  I have to make sure that the complicated financial machinery that allows her to stay in a posh nursing home keeps running.

It feels awful and weird to say it, but I can't wait for her to die so I can grieve.  So I can remember the happy years together instead of the horrible nasty woman she was before she slipped into a world where she can't talk.    Alzheimer's takes no prisoners.    Three years ago, we celebrated our last Christmas together.  She was a little spacy but still there.  Now she cannot eat or talk.  I showed her the picture of the Christmas table I set with her china and she looked interested.    I wonder if she understood anything.

**************************

My inlaws are getting older and sicker also.  I hope they don't die...the Watsons have fantastic genetic material.   But that's just another ticking time bomb.

What will 2011 bring?  

I am going to close this by wishing myself, and you...not luck.   I don't put much trust in that fickle lady.

I wish you..and me...courage.

MERRY CHRISTMAS

The little dears!  They still believe in Santa Claus.....

May your days be merry and bright,

May you win all the family fights.

I hope your gifts cause you to gasp,

And I hope exchanging/returning them isn't a particularly difficult task.

Love, Lorrie

Hysterical Old Christmas Letters From The Callisons-Part 2

Merry Christmas To All!
December, 1965

This report and greeting from the "Travelling" Callisons comes once again from Chapel Hill, North Carolina.  Much has transpired since our last message--happiness and sadness have come our way but they have blended together so as to make the year one to remember with great pleasure.  And there were many accomplishments by young and old!  We'll not bore you with detail but perhaps entertain you with some highlights.

Carol, three in September, made the transition from babyhood to little-girlhood in these twelve months!  She eagerly anticipates Sunday School and seeing her friends.  She spices her calm, placid behavior with a modicum of independence and aggressiveness.  She rides her trike and the "red-bike-with-training-wheels."   She loves her dolls and her favorite role is that of "Baby" in a game with "Mother Lorrie."*  She survived chickenpox, during our family-sized epidemic, with no disfigurement.  She enjoys printing and has just mastered her name-in a very legible hand! And since she's learned to tie her shoes, we're finding bows in all sorts of things!

*************************

Lorrie, six in February, is becoming a big girl with eight permanent teeth!  Chickenpox treated her gently after the acute phase.  She completed the transition from Readiness to First Grade at Durham Academy without missing a step.  She enjoys her learning experiences and has done excellent work in school. During the summer, she attended Bible School and had herself a ball "roughing it" at Camp Pow Wow.  She earned her swimming award and learned so very many interesting crafts, games, and songs.

Ruth, being a native, seems to thrive in these North Carolina hills.  Since the poison ivy espisode of last year, she has lost much of hter interest in gardening but has replaced that hobby with other, less hazardous, activities.  After a short course in decoupage at the Allied Arts in Durham, some interesting work is in progress.

*********************

Grady kept plugging away at the job of being a student and achieved some of the intermediate goals during the year.  All course work was completed and the two foreign languages were mastered.  Presently, he's "researching" and has fond hopes of returning to the gainfully employed before another Christmas rolls around.

Let us hear from you.  With our best wishes for the New Year.

The Callison Clan

*It's a miracle she survived my tender, loving care.

Hysterical Old Christmas Letters From The Callison Family

December, 1964

MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL!

We're striving to get our Christmas Greetings in the mail a bit early this year since we have not told many of you until now of our return to Chapel Hill in September.

**********************

But this was intended to be sort of an annual report from this segment of the Callison Clan--and it's already out of chronological order!   This has been an action packed year for our family.

Right after Lorrie's fifth birthday celebration in February, she came down with a case of mumps.  After the appropriate incubation period and the day after Grady (Dad)'s second mumps vaccine shot, he came down with the disease.  Except for fat faces, neither had any complications. 

************

Carol (sis) may had had mumps but her little face was so fat anyway, we never knew for sure.  Ruth (Mom) escaped!

In April and May, the family piled into "Jezebel" (for those not in the know, she's our station wagon) for our business-vacation trip to Maryland, North Carolina, and South Carolina.

*****************

And suddenly it was Summer.  Lorrie had a very successful T&A (since she's missed only one day of school) in July.  During this time she mastered script writing.  Then we painted, did yard work, packed, put our Florida home on the market, rented it, moved to Chapel Hill, and had Carol's  second birthday party.  She's such a big girl and happy as a lark-talking, singing, counting (and to ten in French) and as active as they come!

Lorrie started in the "Readiness Class" at Durham Academy in September and decided that her name was to be Lorraine.  (Je m'appelle Lorraine" she said one day after her French lesson.)  She continues to read a great deal and does a fine job even with the Encyclopedia.*

*********************

Ruth has been her usual busy self-packing, unpacking, sewing, refinishing furniture-but very busy since our arrival in Chapel Hill.  You know how itchy poison oak is--we'll, it's really kept her busy for about six weeks or so.  She may lose her interest in flowers!

The underlying purpose in returning to Chapel Hill was to permit Grady to have one last fling before he succumbs to middle age!  He resigned his position as Industrial Hygiene Engineer and is quite busy now as a University of North Carolina Graduate Student.  With considerable luck, he'll be able to finish up his work in 1966-67.

****************************

Let us hear from you.  With our best wishes for the New Year,

The Callisons

*Luckily I never "succumbed" to the habit of bragging, obnoxiously and continually, about our children.     I had a hard time typing this with a straight face.

Hysterical Old Christmas Letters From The Callison Family

December, 1964

MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL!

We're striving to get our Christmas Greetings in the mail a bit early this year since we have not told many of you until now of our return to Chapel Hill in September.

**********************

But this was intended to be sort of an annual report from this segment of the Callison Clan--and it's already out of chronological order!   This has been an action packed year for our family.

Right after Lorrie's fifth birthday celebration in February, she came down with a case of mumps.  After the appropriate incubation period and the day after Grady (Dad)'s second mumps vaccine shot, he came down with the disease.  Except for fat faces, neither had any complications. 

************

Carol (sis) may had had mumps but her little face was so fat anyway, we never knew for sure.  Ruth (Mom) escaped!

In April and May, the family piled into "Jezebel" (for those not in the know, she's our station wagon) for our business-vacation trip to Maryland, North Carolina, and South Carolina.

*****************

And suddenly it was Summer.  Lorrie had a very successful T&A (since she's missed only one day of school) in July.  During this time she mastered script writing.  Then we painted, did yard work, packed, put our Florida home on the market, rented it, moved to Chapel Hill, and had Carol's  second birthday party.  She's such a big girl and happy as a lark-talking, singing, counting (and to ten in French) and as active as they come!

Lorrie started in the "Readiness Class" at Durham Academy in September and decided that her name was to be Lorraine.  (Je m'appelle Lorraine" she said one day after her French lesson.)  She continues to read a great deal and does a fine job even with the Encyclopedia.*

*********************

Ruth has been her usual busy self-packing, unpacking, sewing, refinishing furniture-but very busy since our arrival in Chapel Hill.  You know how itchy poison oak is--we'll, it's really kept her busy for about six weeks or so.  She may lose her interest in flowers!

The underlying purpose in returning to Chapel Hill was to permit Grady to have one last fling before he succumbs to middle age!  He resigned his position as Industrial Hygiene Engineer and is quite busy now as a University of North Carolina Graduate Student.  With considerable luck, he'll be able to finish up his work in 1966-67.

****************************

Let us hear from you.  With our best wishes for the New Year,

The Callisons

*Luckily I never "succumbed" to the habit of bragging, obnoxiously and continually, about our children.     I had a hard time typing this with a straight face.

I'm Dreaming Of A Green Paycheck....Set to "White Christmas"

I'm dreaming of a green paycheck,
Just like the ones I used to know,
When the bills would come in,
And I would happily grin,
'cause we...had money then ya know......


I'm dreaming of a green paycheck,
For all of us who lost our jobs,
Just remember two things,
It wasn't your fault,
And all....who drop you are rude snobs.


I'm dreaming of a green paycheck,
Let's get America to work,
And please don't be ashamed,
Or in any way embarrassed,
Your friends...are not a bunch of jerks....

I'm dreaming...of a green paycheck,
So we can pay off credit card (s),
Because we deserve it,
We did things right,
It's just...that times are oh so hard.....


I'm dreaming of a green paycheck,
For all my friends both near and far.
I'll add in there that
I wish you good health,
And now...I'll wish upon a star


For a new year, and new ops
To show the world that we just rock,
And I'll close this poem
With just one wish,
That I get lots and lots of....
hits on my blog.


Seasons Greetings from the Bad Poet Laureate of the Internet.

Adoption: The Primal Wound: An Adoptee Rips Open The Headlines!!!!!

I've mocked The Primal Wound mercilessly.

Anna talks sense about brands.   I sat down and designed a little logo so I could advertise and plan to do more!  And please spread the word in the adoption community!!!...wait a minute, I'm getting off topic.... and realized that, as she astutely puts it, your brand emerges as you blog.

I remember posting a "Oh Gosh! I forgot!  I'm adopted!" post at the very beginning of my blog.  Let me go look for it...hold on.... 

Here is my first post.  Hello World! 

A few posts later, I posted an Oh Gosh! I forgot that I'm adopted! post. 

I don't even recognize that girl.   Girl, okay? I'm from the South. We call each other girls down here till we say, "That ol' girl looked pretty good at her viewing today."

I am a Southern girl, born and bred.  I yam what I yam.  

I am also adopted.

And I adopted.

 

It was so nice, I did it twice.

  

The Primal Wound is about the lifelong damage suffered by babies who are separated from their mothers at birth.

I'm reading it.   I'm going to report back to you,and I promise to be honest, and I mean mercilessly honest.  I will explore this from the vantage point of an adopted child, and ask my own adopted children about things.

I will not name names and I will not print anything they have not approved.

But it's going to be an interesting journey.  Come along, won't you?  I'm going to be trending on this for a couple of weeks.

Plus extra special super exciting bonus news!!

I FOUND MY HALF SISTER ON FACEBOOK.

WHAT DO I DO?  Please think about what I should do and let me know when I get around to telling you the details.

What would YOU do if YOU got an email from a total stranger claiming a mother in common?   What would reassure you?   What would make you close your browser and run screaming into the night?  Should I wait until after the emotion of Christmas dies down, or should I grab the moment when we're all pondering families, some happily, some not so happily?   

P.S. Unless you have never looked at the face of a person who shares your DNA, and are perfectly okay with that, please don't tell me to leave it alone.   If you fit in this category, let's talk privately. Hit me up on FB.   

adoption
adult adoptee
primal wound
international adoption
finding bio relative adoption
adult adoptee discusses primal wound

Ten Reasons I Hate Christmas. It's Because My Heart Is Too Small....

I changed my Facebook profile to the Grinch not because I was under any illusion that it would benefit abused children but because I have loved the Grinch since I was a child.  It was the only show I begged to watch and marked on the calendar as a child.

I recently found the calendar I used in 4th and 5th grades and I put "Very Special Day!" on Grinch day.   You know, before you could record stuff.  We had a b/w TV with rabbit ears.  We got our first color TV in 1971, years after everybody else did.  

Mom and Dad sniffed at TV until they got hooked on Dallas and Knots Landing and after that ol' J.R. or Jane Wyman was on all the time, it seems.  Daddy also taped hundreds of Rush Limbaugh shows.  The dump has a lot of his VCR tapes in it.

I'm starting out here with bupkus, but I bet I can come up with ten reasons why I hate Christmas-always have-without any problem.

Go!

*****************************************

1.  Faking it.   I remember the first thing I ever faked.  (snort).  No comments from the peanut gallery.   I was..eh..2? Probably 3.   There was a doll waiting for me.  I wondered why Santa hadn't noticed that I hated dolls (except from one well loved one from toddler days).  I remember running into the room and reminding myself to show appropriate enthusiasm.   

Mom felt that any gift, including pairs of hideous socks from distant relatives, deserved a show of appreciation roughly equivalent to winning ONE MILLION DOLLARS on a game show.  I learned real quick to give Oscar-worthy performances.  No comment as to whether I used these skills later in life.

2.  Greed.  Don't get me wrong. I like stuff.  A lot.  And to paraphrase Jerry Seinfeld, "there's nothing wrong with that."  But my sweet little baby Jesus!!   My email box is filled with special offers!!!  Once in a lifetime!!!  Buy Buy Buy!!!!  Every kiss begins with Okay!!!   Nobody will love you unless you bankrupt yourself spending money on them!

I bet that's why everybody hates me!  (A light dawns.)

Speaking of greed, we got lectures every year from Mom about the extreme poverty she grew up with, and how we should be The Most Grateful Little Brats In The First World. 

She got--apples and peppermint candy canes.  "Maybe some nuts and an orange."


She had me literally in tears at times.  "I never got a new bike."  (This occurred the year I was in 3rd grade.  I got a new bike, opened the Sears Roebuck Catalog, showed them they had bought the cheapest one in the book and then took the book over to show Eva Kosztarab, my 10 year old next door neighbor who received the same bike, that it was the cheapest in the catalog.)

"My brothers," began Mom, "put together an old bicycle out of parts for me to ride.  It was so hard to pedal."


Mom forgot a few details.


Her parents owned a huge farm in North Carolina.  That farm paid for 7 kids' college educations  and several, including Mom, earned graduate degrees also.

PORTIONS of that farm sold for over 1/2 a million dollars a few years ago.

3.  Guilty Giving.  The Salvation Army bells ring.  The pleas come in.   A friend of mine reports that her daughter received a letter from her teacher ORDERING her to buy a gift for a child in the school's special needs class.  The children in that class have special learning needs.   They aren't in the class because their families are poor.  

My friend's child owns none of the gifts that "her" child has asked for--X Boxes, 360 Playstations, Wiis....etc.  Yet the teacher will be giving failing grades to kids who do not bring in gifts for their chosen child.

I am not even going to begin to describe how stupid this is.  If you read my blog, you are obviously very smart.

Yes, I have more than most people in the world.  No, I don't feel like giving it away.  Why?  Because I myself am--at the present time--say it with me--disabled and unemployed.  I also have degrees and a small pension and nobody, and I mean NOBODY, can top me for frugality.   So we can afford some stuff.  Yes.

********

But we rescued two poor little homeless orphans/sarcasm off (just because I wanted cute kids) and two dogs (just because I wanted cute dogs).  These four young creatures are now spoiled yuppie puppy types and they come first.

Between Roger and me, we also have three sickly parents who need help.   

But if you saw me with my heirloom diamonds from years gone by, from an earlier, wealthier generation, walk by a ringing Santa, you would judge me, maybe.  And to heck with you.   Stuff one of those old socks my aunt's partner gave me in your maw, okay?  Not that I'm hostile or anything.  Wait.  I am hostile.  Never mind.

I give to animal charities.  My money.  My choice.

4.  Say What?  I offered many small items on the local freecycle lists.  They work, they're in good condition.  People write in asking for stuff.  Someone wanted a "Barbie Dream Home-wood preferred."  I wrote back and offered a bunch of nice Barbie stuff.  No answer.

5. Presents.  My parents were lovely people.  But sometimes they could be so rude!    I'll just throw our a few examples here.   Kind of hypocritical, I have to say, considering the jubilance they expected from us after opening a box containing new underwear.

My Dad admired my sister's leather jacket back in the 80s. It was pretty.  She saved her pennies and bought him a lovely jacket.  He gave it back to her the next day and told her to take it back.  He didn't want it.

Sis & I and our husbands all chipped into buy the best TV antenna on the market for Dad, since my parents refused to have cable.

He gave it back.  "This looks like something Kramer (from Seinfeld) would use."   We were so hurt.

I once gave Mom a jar of chocolate fudge topping for her  favorite dessert-ice cream.  She looked at it, made a face, and said, rudely, "We don't eat this rich stuff!"   This from the woman who never went one day without dessert.  And never weighed over 110 lbs in her life.  Daddy weighed 150.   They had a small dessert every day of their life.  

Roger and his brothers chipped in to give his parents a digital Christmas frame several years ago when they were very expensive.  I told him it was a waste of money.  Three days later it was shoved in the cabinet.  They didn't want it, didn't use it, and it's still there.  

We give a present to Roger's parents, one large gift to each kid, and buy ourselves some household treat.  This year it's the new washer/dryer combo which I still can't believe that I bought, but I'm going with it.  

Life is simpler.  And better.

6.  Forced Joy.  Terrible personal things have happened to me in December.   

I don't feel very joyous.

7.  Bills.   Bar dues.   House taxes.  Continuing Legal Education credits.  Mom's nursing home bills hit a new high this month-$7200.00.   We got a letter asking for a contribution for Christmas gifts for the nursing home staff.  Let me just whip out my....never mind.

8.  The Happy Laughter Of Little Kids.   I remember two occasions when I saw a look of unbridled joy on Madeleine's face. Once when she got a new bicycle, and once when they got Rock Band.    I caught the Rock Band one on camera.

I'm still mad that I didn't catch the bicycle one.

Now they know exactly what they're getting, pretty much. We cannot afford to guess at these prices.  So much for the joy of seeing stunned faces on Christmas Day.   Instead I see forced smiles for the camera. 

Notice the Wii game being ignored.  They wanted it, we got it for them, they use it, they appreciate it.   But they're excitedly opening $2.00 gifts.

My sister gave my daughter a beautiful T-shirt last year.  I coveted it.  She smiled for the camera.  Three weeks later it was under the bed being used as a dog blanket.  Why?  "I don't like pink."

 
I'm not being holier-than-thou here.   I was awfully picky about my clothes, too.  Still am.  In fact, I look back at holiday pictures and see the same clothes that I wear today..being worn ten years earlier. 

Eh.   We don't--can't afford to even if we wanted to--shower the kids with presents.  But even so...they ask for one large gift, they know exactly what it is before Christmas Day, they get it, we tape them opening it, and another Christmas is over with.     

Meh.  I'm crabby today!!

****************

9.  Decorations.  They're a lot of work.  But I do enjoy decorating the tree.  I'm not THAT bad.  But...every year it's the same old argument.

Sunday after Thanksgiving:

Me:  "Let's get down the tree."

Roger: "I haven't even digested the turkey yet."

Next weekend:

Me:  "Let's get down the tree."

Roger:  "Maybe."

The weekend after that:

Me:  "Let's get down the tree."

Roger:  (heaves sigh of martyrdom).  "If you INSIST."

Roger loves the tree & Christmas decorations. In fact, I never put up a tree in my own house until we started dating.  Why?  I was going to my parents' house.  My friends were horrified.

Then we got married and Roger wanted a REAL tree.  I had never had one.  I didn't want to kill a tree and vacuum up dead leaves for six months.   I finally convinced him to go with a fake one after one disastrous year with a bad saw and a really uncooperative tree.

**************

Then there was the year we bought a living tree and lovingly planted it.  That year, Roger was out every July night, watering the thing.  You can still see it at our old house, but it's dead as a doornail.  I still feel bad about that tree.

Getting back to when the decorations go up.....Roger likes to wait. It all goes back to some wacky Catholic Northern thing I think..when, about a million years ago, SANTA brought the tree the night before Christmas.   And then it was lit with candles.  And then it burned down the house.  And Maw and Paw had to get their kerchiefs on and get all the young'uns out of the house, and the apples and peppermint candy canes all got burned up.

My family put 'em up the day after Thanksgiving.  MY WAY IS ALWAYS THE PROPER WAY.   If my husband would only LEARN this, I think OUR MARRIAGE COULD BE SAVED.

No decorations are up as of today at Chez Clueless.

Maybe this week.

10.   The True Meaning Of Christmas.  I'm going to end this on a good note, 'cause I'm too lazy to think of ten nice things about Christmas.

a.  vacation

b.  dollar earrings from Walmart

c.  Jesus got born. 

d.  parties.

Santa obviously needs to bring me some Miss Clairol

Here I am wearing genuine diamond studs from Walmart that Meredith bought with her own money and holding the pair that Madeleine bought with her own money.

That's nice.

And good tidings to you, whatever you celebrate, and to all a good day...and night.

I'm Coming! I'm Coming!...To You With Another True Story Of Staggering Idiocy

I told my husband that I had advertised clueless in carolina on a big blog, ABDPBT, and hoped to get some new readers.

"Why haven't you posted,  then?" he asked.

"Because....I have writer's block....." I stammered.  "I can't think of a story that will properly illustrate my um, unique personality, and endear myself to millions so you can quit your job and I can hire you.

Well, I can see that would be some pressure," he mused. Let's watch a movie."

The trailer for Coming Home started to creep across the screen and I had my inspiration.

"AAAARRRGH!"  I screamed, cowering.  "The most embarassing moment of my ENTIRE dating career."

"It must have been a doozy," he observed wittily. (insert air quotes besides wittily)

"It went like this," I began, while he drew up a chair by the fire.

"I was 19 when it came out, a shy, virtuous, pure young lady who was a sophomore in college.   I was very naive...."

The basic story of Coming Home is this:  Jane Fonda is married to a real, like uptight, Army dude in Vietnam.  While he is away she falls for a disabled paraplegic, Jon Voight, and after they fall in love there is this scene where she is hollering real loud and you don't see the guy's face and then Jane breaks up with her husband at the end and the husband kills himself by walking into the ocean.

I nudged my date during the scene when she is hollering real loud and you don't see the guy's face at all.

"What is going on?" I whispered.

He explained.

I nudged my date again during the scene when Jane's husband returns from Vietnam and commits suicide after walking into the ocean.

"What the heck is he doing? Going swimming?" I whispered.

He explained.

Fast forward two years.

We're swapping stories of the stupidest people we ever dated.

" Y'know"...he mused....."  I took this chick to see Coming Home when it came out....and she kept asking me the stupidest questions.  Like what was going on during the oral scene, and what happened at the END!  Can you believe that!"    he howled.

"What a moron!" I gasped.

But I do believe that story. Why yes, yes, I do.

The Future World Dominator's Skull & Crossbone Comforter

Hey. Hope everybody had a lovely Thanksgiving.

But enough about that. I don't really want to go into the family drama, do you? I mean, you have your own, right? Let's just say that I ate turkey and became embroiled in drama that would rival the JFK assassination which I am currently re-obsessed with. I have read 75 books on the subject and now, thanks to the wonders of my

IPHONE WHICH I LOVE VERY MUCH. I KISS YOU, IPHONE!

*uncompensated advertisement. Call me, Apple! I'm savin' all my love for yewwww......"

can wake up my husband at 3:30 AM running YouTube videos and whispering urgently "Look at this Zapruder closeup! You can SEE THE BULLET COMING IN FROM THE FRONT! WHOOSH!"

Who wants to marry me?

Send applications and financial statement to help*mywifeisajfkassassinationfanatic.com

But anyway, closer to home....

We adopted the cutest baby twelve years ago. Her name is Madeleine (Maddie) and her stated career goal is World Domination.

Here is her picture. I ask you, how could we have known?

Today we live with this. Or rather, she lets us live with her. Charges $2.00 for a hug and "I love you."

And I decorated her bedroom in a tasteful way when she was about nine. Here she is in the bedroom with a friend plotting, plotting, always plotting.....

I knew the times they were a'changin when I found the quilt wadded up in the linen closet.

She is now using an old comforter which looks like it went through several wars, and is completely unacceptable when Better Homes And Gothers comes to photograph our mansion.

So I asked her what she wanted.

"A skull quilt. And I like red, black and white."

"Will you promise to help paint your room?"

"Yes."

I found a quilt on the web.

A couple of skull candles, some black lighting, hey, I can pull it off.


"Do you promise to love, honor and cherish this bedspread throughout your teenage years?"


Roger loudly whispered, "Is she marrying it?" I don't pay him any attention.


"Yes," she said, and we pinky swore.


So Merry Christmas, my Goth goddess!!!