Renoir

Tonight is the Spring Football game for Keystone. I am very excited. I love to watch Evan and all my other boys play. I will bring my camera so I can put some things on here tomorrow.

Yesterday I got to spend the evening with my Miller. Love him. We eat and drink and laugh. It's so nice. I am a lucky, blessed girl.

Andrew's last day of school was yesterday. Wow. My boy is a man. I can still remember so vividly saying so many times "when there are 2 vowels, the first one is long, and the second one is silent." I am excited to see where life takes my children.

Honey got her braces off yesterday. Thank God. Her smile is beautiful. I will post some pictures later.

I hope the weekend is great for everyone. I will be watching LSU baseball, cooking, cleaning, working, and loving my Hot Fudge Sundae.

I love my life. By that I don't mean it's perfect. Far from that. But, there are some things that are as close to perfect as can be. Tracy, my kids, my friends....a lot.

I got to see some of my dearest friends last night at Evan's baseball banquet. Honestly, it was heaven. At almost every table there was a group or person that I could sit with for hours entertaining and being entertained. My Spaniard, Diana, Jennny Jenn, Travis and Kim, and so many more. That's not even mentioning the boys who I think are hilarious. I wish I had more time to spend with everybody.

Linda (aka Spaniard) is selling Mary Kay products and is ordering for me some anti aging stuff. A kit, if you will. Can't wait to stop time dead in his/her tracks. Love and happiness.

My graduates...

Andrew and Chelsea are graduating June 4th. Here are a few pics from the church service for the class of 2010. I am so proud of them.

Boss man

I was on one of my favorite blogs, Ragamuffin Soul, and the question was posed "What makes a great boss?"

I worked early in my life at a huge grocery store called the Superstore. Thank you for calling the Real Superstore, this is Karen. Those were some funny days. I wonder what some of those people are doing now? Grocery store bosses are all very similar. High strung, fast walking, "keep things moving" kind of guys. Some were jerks. Some, kind of sexy in a power guy sort of way. Alpha. (I was young, sleep deprived, and lookin for daddy. Forgive me). I have had other bosses since that time. Some good, some not so good. The boss I have now is my favorite. (Like I would say any different. He reads this junk.) Seriously, he is outstanding.

The best thing about any boss, to me, is his/her ability to bring out people's strengths. To see what potential (or non potential) people have and use them accordingly. I also LOVE when a boss can do any job in a particular business better than everyone else! I know that can't happen in the corporate world, but on a small scale, it's cool. Nothing like a "wheel" rolling up his sleeves and getting his hands dirty. I remember Mr. Goff kicking ass at bagging groceries in his suit at Grand Opening. He was a mean one, but no one worked harder or faster. The man could throw stock. I still pick up fallen grapes in Produce in honor and fear of him. He was a Vietnam vet, and we all knew he had a move that could snap our necks and kill us instantly. He was maybe 5'6".

There was Sally Somebody at Cosmopolitan Lady Spa. She was the greatest boss of all if you are a 15 year old pot head. My cousin and I had the keys to this office building, and we were unsupervised "working" on getting new members to join the movement that was Cosmo Lady. Dear Lord.


Common sense. That's good, too.

Reader, you must know that an interesting fate (sometimes involving rats, sometimes not) awaits almost everyone, mouse or man, who does not conform."
— Kate DiCamillo (Despereaux/the Tale Of Despereaux)

I love this picture of my beautiful friend Julie and her dad. From the mother view, I get a little nervous, but there's a difference between what dads and moms bring to the table.

It is very difficult not to define other people by our own experiences. Or at least pass them through our warped little filters. I struggle all the time thinking that I can't be loved or that I am just filling roles for people. I am always waiting for the boom.

I think people that have been abused have to fight a little harder at not fighting a little harder all the time. The nature of abuse is to diminish another human being, to dominate, to have control. The goal of an abuser is to put you in your place, which is to be annihilated. This can be done in so many creative ways. It leaves the victim (if you have a better word, I'm open) distrusting his/her mind and thoughts and motives. I have come out of that cave, but the light shows all kinds of blemishes and wounds. It's like when I get to see my face in good lighting with one of those magnifying mirrors. Frightening! But once I get over it, I can pluck my eyebrows really well.

I have hesitated if not avoided speaking about some things for the sake of the readers. But my truth is here. I am here. I don't hate anyone. I will always be a sum of what I've been through. I'm just ready to add to the picture.

Money Dance

What is it about old men? I work sometimes as a cashier which means that there are moments when, in the blink of an eye, I have a hold of some one's money at the nano second that they have a hold of it also. Problem is, about 6 out of 10 old men hold on to the money in an attempt to be playful. A flirty exchange. It becomes a tug 'o war of sorts that I did not sign up for. I freaks me out, ok? I am not sure what to do. I know I should be charmed, but I'm not. I usually let go of the money and just look at him. Like pressing reset. Then I go in again. If he tries again. I just back off and wait. It's quite a dance. Sometimes the "gentleman" will get miffed. I have been told that I will be pulled over the counter and spanked (I swear). I was shocked, but now I know from Tracy that if he is over 18 (90 counts), I can kick his ass. Yesterday an elderly gent did the "pull", and stared menacingly at me. I just thew my hands up and asked Tara to, for the sake of God, check this guy out. He wondered what was wrong with me. Nothing, sir. Just those female hormones. Then another guy came in not long after with a money swirl. A keep away from the cashier move. I gave him style points. I actually told him that was cool. Never saw that before. Sigh.

Maybe they just want some attention. I love old men. They are actually a great time. They can be cantankerous and a knee slapping good time. But the fun ones know the "No Touchy" rule. The "No Pully the Money" rule never hurt anybody either.

"It" Happens

So, I was deeply cleaning my house the other day in anticipation of the realtor. Just imagine how much junk and dust can accumulate with 5 kids. So, I was going. I saved the boys' bathroom, a place I like to call the Latrine, for last. I try not to go in there at all, but I guess I need to go more often, as you will see.

I opened the cabinet under the sink, and an odor hit me hard in the nose and about the face in general. My thought was (I think I actually said it out loud) "Wow, did someone shit in here?" Seriously. I began to check the area.. Perhaps a mishap on the floor. No, nothing there. So I began to take out the little bins for toothpaste, razors, floss that nobody uses but I provide anyway, etc. All the while, about to throw up from the smell that suggested something was there.

And then, there it was. A crumpled washcloth balled up with, well, shit in it. That's right. Human feces. I am speechless, too. I must have blacked out, but the next thing I remember is it being gone, and the cabinet was bleached out. I began to interrogate the suspects. Of course, the young one was blamed, but I honestly don't think so. Forensics suggested this was the work of bigger person. A more sophisticated criminal. I have theories. I asked Tracy if he thought it was done with spite or malice by someone who doesn't like me (no way!!). He said no, because such a person would have shit on my pillow or something more obvious. True, true. I do think it was an outside job. An embarrassed girl, perhaps. Honestly, what girl wants to clog the toilet, and then go and ask the teenage guys to help her. On a primal level, I think she just needed to survive. I forgive her, I think. I just wish she would have tossed it out the window.

Sorry about this graphic tale. I just felt like in the spirit of authenticity, I should tell this story. Done.

"Writing can be a pretty desperate endeavor, because it is about some of our deepest needs: our need to be visible, to be heard, our need to make sense of our lives, to wake up and grow and belong."
Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird

I sent this quote to my lovely friend Glenda. She is thinking of blogging, and this sums it up! Can't wait to visit her blog.

I don't get to respond to all the comments made on here. Time is not on my side most of the time. Please know that I appreciate everything said or thought. I love the feedback. I've only been creeped out once (!), and I got very mad once. The mad one prompted my Manifesto which I later deleted. I allowed someone to poison me, and then I spewed it out on my porch. Had to get the hose out and clean things up. I'll probably do it again, knowing me, so stay tuned and all.

As far as the people that are "followers" go, I am so psyched! I follow several blogs as well, and it is so cool when your little number goes up. It's like when Forrest Gump was running and people liked it. That's me. Just running. Because I just want to.

This post would not be complete without some reference or declaration of love for my Hot Fudge Sundae. The most gorgeous man I have ever known. I miss him terribly, but tomorrow, baby!!! My God, I am out there. Don't try to save me. I have jumped out of the plane. Screw the parachute.

Joy to everybody. Either give it to someone, or bask in it.

Real World

Anne Lamott said once that her mind is a neighborhood that she tries not to go in alone. Well said. I lock my doors when going through that part of town, too. It's the voices!! OK, it's my voice. I haven't gone that far. But, I can do some serious damage to my faith, self worth, or just my demeanor if left to my thoughts for long enough. My imagination is powerful. It's the Walter Mitty syndrome with a wicked twist.

There is just so much to think about. And to anticipate. And to dread. There are conversations and confrontations to be played out. I know Carole can relate to this. She goes "there", too. The 'what ifs" become intricate dramas that have happened already. So I try to quiet myself with reading, with work, and the best tonic of all, the voice of Tracy. Honestly, he can bring me home in just a second. Actually, it's taken him a couple of minutes before, but those were extreme cases. Laughter is great, too. Thank God for my hilarious children.

My lawyer, the Great Oz, told me the other day to calm down. Take a breath. You know it's bad when a high strung, energetic lawyer gets all Buddha on you. But I will breathe. He's right. 3 days til Miller. Love, love, love.

Yesterday was very busy. I am putting my house up for sale, and we needed to get some cleaning done for that. I gave away carloads of "stuff". I accidentally gave away Andrew's shoes (sorry again, son), and I threw away many things that will probably be needed. I was on a roll.

I am walking the tight rope without a net. It's not smart, but I have no choice. My Daddy was always my net. Now, when I need him, I just wear the earrings that He gave to Mama. They are little diamond studs, and when I have them on, they remind me that I was once taken care of in his kind of way. I liked it. I hope I give that sort of assurance to my kids. The knowing that somebody is regarding you and not letting you hit the ground. I realize it's not a very grown up thing to want. Being taken care of and all. I just miss not having to explain myself. He looked in cabinets.

Enough feeling sorry for myself. Time to get my ass back on the unicycle and get across this rope. There's a clown on the other side wanting to get on my shoulders and ride backward to here.

That Bunny is Soaring

I love her. Look at her go! She is bounding over everything. The moon and stars just enjoy her. And she knows she can leap as high as she wants, because she just lands in flowers. I bet she has a buck (man bunny) that makes her so happy. What else could it be?