Type and submit the first thing that pops into your head :)
I try to find some peace in my soul, while trying to quiet the turbulence in my mind.
Friday, September 25, 2009
Pic Challenge #2
Your challenge, should you choose to accept it ................
Type and submit the first thing that pops into your head :)
Type and submit the first thing that pops into your head :)
Monday, September 21, 2009
Dear Abby
I clipped this out of a local newspaper in October of 1992. Billy was only eight years old, soon to be nine the following February. I wouldn't say I was still struggling with the child he was so much anymore, but there were times I had a hard time understanding it. Especially knowing by the time I saw this clipping, that he would be my only child.
We had gotten the keys for a house the previous May and spent weekends moving stuff up to the house while Billy finished his year at school and I finished off my last year driving a school bus for that particular company, as the commute of an hour and a half one way didn't make it worth the trip for a part time job. I don't remember ever subscribing to the daily newspaper in the area where we had moved to. Maybe just the Sunday paper because of the magazines, the retail flyers, and the tv guide they printed up themselves. Either the Saturday or Sunday paper. Don't remember now which one.
But out of the paper this particular time, came a Dear Abby column that I clipped and stuck to my fridge with magnets. And when I moved, it moved with me. Until it so badly discolored over the passing of years, I took it down and put it away. I had thought to blog it before, but think I could remember where I put it ? No. It wasn't until I was spring cleaning in a big way recently and going through every little scrap of paper, every little piece of this and that, that I found it again.
So, with full credit going to Dear Abby herself and Emily Pearl Kingsley, I repeat it here for you.
Dear Abby
Give thanks for children
Dear Readers:
October has traditionally been Down Syndrome Awareness Month, and has been so declared by the U.S. Congress.
Because I have so often heard from parents or grandparents of babies born with various disabilities, I offer the following, which has become a favorite:
WELCOME TO HOLLAND
by Emily Pearl Kingsley
I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability - to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It's like this ...
When you're going to have a baby, it's like planning a fabulous vacation trip - to Italy. You buy a bunch of guidebooks and make your wonderful plans. The Coliseum. Michaelangelo's David. The gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It's all very exciting.
After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, "Welcome to Holland."
"Holland?!" you say, "What do you mean, Holland? I signed up for Italy! I'm supposed to be in Italy. All my life I've dreamed of going to Italy."
But there's been a change in the flight plan. They've landed in Holland and there you must stay.
The important thing is that they haven't taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and diseases. It's just a different place.
So you must go out and buy new guidebooks. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.
It's just a different place. It's slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you've been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around, and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills, Holland has tulips, Holland even has Rembrandts.
But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy, and they're all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life, you will say, "Yes, that's where I was supposed to go. That's what I had planned."
And the pain of that will never, ever, ever go away, because the loss of that dream is a very significant loss.
But if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn't get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things about Holland.
We had gotten the keys for a house the previous May and spent weekends moving stuff up to the house while Billy finished his year at school and I finished off my last year driving a school bus for that particular company, as the commute of an hour and a half one way didn't make it worth the trip for a part time job. I don't remember ever subscribing to the daily newspaper in the area where we had moved to. Maybe just the Sunday paper because of the magazines, the retail flyers, and the tv guide they printed up themselves. Either the Saturday or Sunday paper. Don't remember now which one.
But out of the paper this particular time, came a Dear Abby column that I clipped and stuck to my fridge with magnets. And when I moved, it moved with me. Until it so badly discolored over the passing of years, I took it down and put it away. I had thought to blog it before, but think I could remember where I put it ? No. It wasn't until I was spring cleaning in a big way recently and going through every little scrap of paper, every little piece of this and that, that I found it again.
So, with full credit going to Dear Abby herself and Emily Pearl Kingsley, I repeat it here for you.
Dear Abby
Give thanks for children
Dear Readers:
October has traditionally been Down Syndrome Awareness Month, and has been so declared by the U.S. Congress.
Because I have so often heard from parents or grandparents of babies born with various disabilities, I offer the following, which has become a favorite:
WELCOME TO HOLLAND
by Emily Pearl Kingsley
I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability - to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It's like this ...
When you're going to have a baby, it's like planning a fabulous vacation trip - to Italy. You buy a bunch of guidebooks and make your wonderful plans. The Coliseum. Michaelangelo's David. The gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It's all very exciting.
After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, "Welcome to Holland."
"Holland?!" you say, "What do you mean, Holland? I signed up for Italy! I'm supposed to be in Italy. All my life I've dreamed of going to Italy."
But there's been a change in the flight plan. They've landed in Holland and there you must stay.
The important thing is that they haven't taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and diseases. It's just a different place.
So you must go out and buy new guidebooks. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.
It's just a different place. It's slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you've been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around, and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills, Holland has tulips, Holland even has Rembrandts.
But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy, and they're all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life, you will say, "Yes, that's where I was supposed to go. That's what I had planned."
And the pain of that will never, ever, ever go away, because the loss of that dream is a very significant loss.
But if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn't get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things about Holland.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
It just hit me
I had finished with the rugrats Thursday, for the day, walked home from where I park my bus, and told my son that I was going to take a few minutes before I started dinner. Sat down at my laptop and checked out the goings on at MPland.
Leaving my laptop lid open and the browser still going, I walked into the kitchen. Fiddled around a few minutes making dinner (as Billy picked the menu and he wanted Sloppy Joe's), walked back to the laptop and I was looking at a dark grey screen.
That's weird. It's not supposed to go into hibernation with the lid up.
Move the mouse. Nothing happened.
Pushed the space bar. Nothing happened.
Leaned over so my left ear was closer to the laptop and I didn't hear anything.
This is weird.
Ok. I hate to do it, but I pushed the button to turn it off. I'll just reboot it.
It's starts up.
I didn't turn it off, so why is it starting up?
I wait.
And I get a DOS screen.
????
It has four lines of stuff on it, and for the life of me, I couldn't tell you now what those other three lines said, but the fourth one says
Operating system not found.
What the hell does that mean?
So I repeat the process of turning it off by pushing the button and restarting it three more times, getting the same result.
Operating system not found.
CRAP !!!
Call my computer geek lady, Diana, leave a message. She calls me back a couple minutes later. I tell her what it did and what it's saying. She's thinking the video card has gone on it. Make arrangements that I call her when I get back from my errand Friday morning to make sure she's still home.
I get to her place Friday morning about 11ish and she goes to work.
Turns out it was the hard drive that died !!!
So she finds me a used one that a customer had left with her when they upgraded their laptop hard drive. She goes through the motions of adding an anti-virus program, she's going to put MS Office on it (cuz I use it a lot), and a couple other things. But she keeps running into this problem where it doesn't want to finish loading. So knowing I had to leave at one point to get the kids from school, she sends me home with instructions about 2.
I fiddled with that thing Friday night and Saturday morning and I was thisclose to throwing the stupid thing out the window.
I was getting this error message that the software that I was trying to download was not 'tested and signed by Microsoft'.
Get onto my sons computer, onto the web, and check that out. Found a site that tells me how to get rid of that notice.
Go back to my laptop and do what the website said. I got that error again. Check to make sure the changes stuck. Yep. Rebooted. Tried to download again. Got the error again. Checked the settings. Rebooted. Turned off. Check.
And yes, I'm an idiot because I try things several times before I accept defeat lol.
Called Diana ... sorry to bother you on a Saturday .......... tell her what it's doing and this idiot error thing that the settings seem to be ignoring.
I know own an expensive solitaire game. I couldn't download my anti-virus program to even consider downloading my internet software to hook up to the internet, or anything.
She's going to talk to her people (she's self employed and one of the guys she hired opened up his own store front, but will still work for her from time to time) to see if she can find me a GOOD used harddrive, as cheap as she can find one, for me.
So my laptop is taking a well deserved break for a few days or so.
I'm in the kitchen this morning, making a cup of tea (cuz that's how I start my day) when
IT HIT ME
I had taken all the pictures and music off the harddrive and put it on an external harddrive for storage, keeping the extra room on the laptop.
I had gone through the files and software programs and deleted stuff I wasn't using or didn't need anymore just the previous week.
BUT
All the links to tutorials and snippets out of those tutorials, links to specific webpages ......... all the theme codes I had made myself and used previously since I first landed here - almost two years worth - (with full intentions of going through them and updating them per 4.0 and applying what I now know since I made the first ones) .... all the theme codes where I made up a page for someone specific or the codes for those I was helping tweak their pages were sitting in a folder on my desktop.
GONE
I had a lot of information in that folder.
The bowling paper work loss is no big deal.
Software can be re-downloaded.
But all that stuff in that folder for MPland ?? When it hit me what I had lost, I just stood there.
My tea got strong because I didn't take the tea bag out soon enough. But I eventually did when I got over the shock and made a cup.
And even though it's going to take some time and I won't have those theme codes back the way they were, I can take my new-found knowledge and make them better than they were. Grab the links and snippets to the tutorials and put them in a tagged content blog box.
Talk about learning things the hard way. Think I would have learned my lesson when the hard drive to the tower that Fang has now crashed. I still have that hard drive here. Just in case someone ever figures out a way to get into it and get the information out of a broken hd.
And yep. I have the hd to my laptop. Just in case.
:)
Leaving my laptop lid open and the browser still going, I walked into the kitchen. Fiddled around a few minutes making dinner (as Billy picked the menu and he wanted Sloppy Joe's), walked back to the laptop and I was looking at a dark grey screen.
That's weird. It's not supposed to go into hibernation with the lid up.
Move the mouse. Nothing happened.
Pushed the space bar. Nothing happened.
Leaned over so my left ear was closer to the laptop and I didn't hear anything.
This is weird.
Ok. I hate to do it, but I pushed the button to turn it off. I'll just reboot it.
It's starts up.
I didn't turn it off, so why is it starting up?
I wait.
And I get a DOS screen.
????
It has four lines of stuff on it, and for the life of me, I couldn't tell you now what those other three lines said, but the fourth one says
Operating system not found.
What the hell does that mean?
So I repeat the process of turning it off by pushing the button and restarting it three more times, getting the same result.
Operating system not found.
CRAP !!!
Call my computer geek lady, Diana, leave a message. She calls me back a couple minutes later. I tell her what it did and what it's saying. She's thinking the video card has gone on it. Make arrangements that I call her when I get back from my errand Friday morning to make sure she's still home.
I get to her place Friday morning about 11ish and she goes to work.
Turns out it was the hard drive that died !!!
So she finds me a used one that a customer had left with her when they upgraded their laptop hard drive. She goes through the motions of adding an anti-virus program, she's going to put MS Office on it (cuz I use it a lot), and a couple other things. But she keeps running into this problem where it doesn't want to finish loading. So knowing I had to leave at one point to get the kids from school, she sends me home with instructions about 2.
I fiddled with that thing Friday night and Saturday morning and I was thisclose to throwing the stupid thing out the window.
I was getting this error message that the software that I was trying to download was not 'tested and signed by Microsoft'.
Get onto my sons computer, onto the web, and check that out. Found a site that tells me how to get rid of that notice.
Go back to my laptop and do what the website said. I got that error again. Check to make sure the changes stuck. Yep. Rebooted. Tried to download again. Got the error again. Checked the settings. Rebooted. Turned off. Check.
And yes, I'm an idiot because I try things several times before I accept defeat lol.
Called Diana ... sorry to bother you on a Saturday .......... tell her what it's doing and this idiot error thing that the settings seem to be ignoring.
I know own an expensive solitaire game. I couldn't download my anti-virus program to even consider downloading my internet software to hook up to the internet, or anything.
She's going to talk to her people (she's self employed and one of the guys she hired opened up his own store front, but will still work for her from time to time) to see if she can find me a GOOD used harddrive, as cheap as she can find one, for me.
So my laptop is taking a well deserved break for a few days or so.
I'm in the kitchen this morning, making a cup of tea (cuz that's how I start my day) when
IT HIT ME
I had taken all the pictures and music off the harddrive and put it on an external harddrive for storage, keeping the extra room on the laptop.
I had gone through the files and software programs and deleted stuff I wasn't using or didn't need anymore just the previous week.
BUT
All the links to tutorials and snippets out of those tutorials, links to specific webpages ......... all the theme codes I had made myself and used previously since I first landed here - almost two years worth - (with full intentions of going through them and updating them per 4.0 and applying what I now know since I made the first ones) .... all the theme codes where I made up a page for someone specific or the codes for those I was helping tweak their pages were sitting in a folder on my desktop.
GONE
I had a lot of information in that folder.
The bowling paper work loss is no big deal.
Software can be re-downloaded.
But all that stuff in that folder for MPland ?? When it hit me what I had lost, I just stood there.
My tea got strong because I didn't take the tea bag out soon enough. But I eventually did when I got over the shock and made a cup.
And even though it's going to take some time and I won't have those theme codes back the way they were, I can take my new-found knowledge and make them better than they were. Grab the links and snippets to the tutorials and put them in a tagged content blog box.
Talk about learning things the hard way. Think I would have learned my lesson when the hard drive to the tower that Fang has now crashed. I still have that hard drive here. Just in case someone ever figures out a way to get into it and get the information out of a broken hd.
And yep. I have the hd to my laptop. Just in case.
:)
Thursday, September 10, 2009
What Beatles song are you ? (Thanks Cal)
| You Are "Good Day Sunshine" |
 You could have the worst night of your life, and you'd still wake up with a smile on your face. You are able to appreciate life's sweetest moments, and time often stands still for you. You are a truly joyful person. Your life is full of life, laughter, and sunshine. |
Saturday, September 5, 2009
*shrugs* part too
I don't remember a whole lot of stuff as a youngster. Just bits and pieces and usually something that happened that really stood out.
I don't remember the olive thing and I don't remember the beer thing.
I would have been five, almost six, when I started school and it would have been grade one that I went into. I don't know if we just didn't have kindergarten in Ontario, let alone Canada, or if it was just the area/school board where we lived but going into grade one was my first introduction into the school system.
Before we moved to the house we lived in when I started school, we lived in a house not too far away from that one, maybe for a year or two. Don't know. Don't remember.
All I remember of that house was the five of us coming home one night. It was dark but don't think it was very late. Don't remember where we had come from either.
Dad was driving. He pulls into the driveway and we all pile out of the car. It was a two door car. I climb out on mom's side.
Everybody is finally out when I remembered I forgot something in the car (and no, I don't remember what it was exactly but I remember having forgotten something and wanting to get it)
I'm sure I said 'I forgot [something]' and put my hand on the door jam with the intention of getting back into the backseat to get 'it'.
Just as mom slammed the car door closed.
Yep. My hand was in the way.
And yep, I howled big time !!
Mom and dad scramble to get the car door open quick.
Get it open and check my hand.
Lost a few layers of skin but didn't break any bones.
But the nail on my middle finger was gone. Of course things looked really bad with all the blood and it wasn't until my hand got cleaned up when the damage was found to be not that bad. And the nail would grow back, the skin would heal up without leaving a mark.
And I hadn't started school yet, so I was five or younger when it happened and I remember it as if it happened yesterday.
The house we lived in when I started school, we moved away from during that school year when I was in grade one. Mom would have to drive me into that town to catch the bus to that school to finish off my year.
I loved grade one. I didn't understand that this girl Jane was my cousin. She was just a girl and I didn't like her much. My teacher was really cool and yes, I wish I could remember her name. I have a class picture here with her in the picture, but her name wasn't put on the back. But there was this cute blonde hair boy that I liked. I didn't chase him around the school because he was mean and nasty and I wanted to hit him. Nope. He was just really cute and I liked him. lol And my teacher was trying to be real patient with me when it came to chasing him. I missed out on some recesses :( I missed the school when we moved and I started going to a different one for grade two.
It was one night at this new house when we came home from being somewhere. I would have been six or seven.
It was dark out, but not late.
Dad's driving.
We all pile out of the car when dad pulled into the driveway and turned the car off.
I forgot something in the backseat and wanted to get it.
Hand on the door jam.
Mom slams the car door closed.
I howled.
Same hand.
Same nail lost.
And no, I didn't do that trick a third time. If I forgot something after that, I waited until mom closed the car door first, then just opened the car door to get it.
I don't remember the olive thing and I don't remember the beer thing.
I would have been five, almost six, when I started school and it would have been grade one that I went into. I don't know if we just didn't have kindergarten in Ontario, let alone Canada, or if it was just the area/school board where we lived but going into grade one was my first introduction into the school system.
Before we moved to the house we lived in when I started school, we lived in a house not too far away from that one, maybe for a year or two. Don't know. Don't remember.
All I remember of that house was the five of us coming home one night. It was dark but don't think it was very late. Don't remember where we had come from either.
Dad was driving. He pulls into the driveway and we all pile out of the car. It was a two door car. I climb out on mom's side.
Everybody is finally out when I remembered I forgot something in the car (and no, I don't remember what it was exactly but I remember having forgotten something and wanting to get it)
I'm sure I said 'I forgot [something]' and put my hand on the door jam with the intention of getting back into the backseat to get 'it'.
Just as mom slammed the car door closed.
Yep. My hand was in the way.
And yep, I howled big time !!
Mom and dad scramble to get the car door open quick.
Get it open and check my hand.
Lost a few layers of skin but didn't break any bones.
But the nail on my middle finger was gone. Of course things looked really bad with all the blood and it wasn't until my hand got cleaned up when the damage was found to be not that bad. And the nail would grow back, the skin would heal up without leaving a mark.
And I hadn't started school yet, so I was five or younger when it happened and I remember it as if it happened yesterday.
The house we lived in when I started school, we moved away from during that school year when I was in grade one. Mom would have to drive me into that town to catch the bus to that school to finish off my year.
I loved grade one. I didn't understand that this girl Jane was my cousin. She was just a girl and I didn't like her much. My teacher was really cool and yes, I wish I could remember her name. I have a class picture here with her in the picture, but her name wasn't put on the back. But there was this cute blonde hair boy that I liked. I didn't chase him around the school because he was mean and nasty and I wanted to hit him. Nope. He was just really cute and I liked him. lol And my teacher was trying to be real patient with me when it came to chasing him. I missed out on some recesses :( I missed the school when we moved and I started going to a different one for grade two.
It was one night at this new house when we came home from being somewhere. I would have been six or seven.
It was dark out, but not late.
Dad's driving.
We all pile out of the car when dad pulled into the driveway and turned the car off.
I forgot something in the backseat and wanted to get it.
Hand on the door jam.
Mom slams the car door closed.
I howled.
Same hand.
Same nail lost.
And no, I didn't do that trick a third time. If I forgot something after that, I waited until mom closed the car door first, then just opened the car door to get it.
*shrugs*
When I was young, oh around nine thereabouts, I remember hearing a story of something that happened when I was two. Now, I don't remember this time at all, so I'm going by what I was told and I heard the same story when it was told to my parents friends.
The family was sitting around the dinner table at my grandparents at Christmas, and I mean my parents (my baby brother would have been held or sleeping somewhere), grandma, grandpa, and being that my parents were only nineteen when I was born my dad's four brothers would be teenagers of various ages, my dad's Aunt Flo, with me in the high chair.
As some dinners go, either a special occasion or an every day thing, there were green olives in a dish on the table and the family seemed to love those things. You know the kind .. the smaller green ones in a jar with a red pimento piece stuck in the hole where the pit came out?
Dinner was winding down and there were a couple olives still left in the dish and someone thought they would give me a green olive to try and I let them pop it into my mouth.
One bite.
And I spit it out just as fast and not in a lady like fashion either. I didn't spit it out into my hand for removal. I just spit it out.
Ptoooey !!
It bounced off the tray of the high chair and onto the floor beside me.
I leaned over to look at it and said 'Oh Shit'
(honest, they said I was only two years old lol)
Well? I can only imagine the shocked look on some faces at the table. I was told my teenaged uncles thought it was hilarious (probably more because it's a cuss word and we don't say stuff like that at the table more than me saying it). Aunt Flo thought it was so funny that she had tears running down her face and couldn't stop laughing for a bit. Of course she would get the whole concept of it. This adorable-innocent-blonde curly haired-blue eyed angel of a two year old kid (lol) saying that when it wouldn't be part of her normal vocabulary IF she hadn't heard her dad say it a time or two, but to use it at the right time too hahaha.
It was probably Aunt Flo that told me the first time. And being that dad has this wacky sense of humour, it might have been him that gave me the olive to see what I would do with it too lol. Of course I wouldn't put it past a teenaged boy either but if not for the fact that the young ones always got put near their parents in the high chair, it would have been dad. My mom is too straight-laced to think of doing something like that for a reaction.
And no, to this day, I still don't like green olives. Offer me a black olive and I'll eat it though lol
Now skip ahead a few months. Again, I don't remember this as I was only two, but I was told about it.
Not sure if it was ever clear on when exactly is happened (spring, summer?) but mom had gone out to do some shopping or to work at a convenience store, leaving me and my brother in the care of dad.
Dad's friend stopped by.
They had a couple beers while they were chatting.
Beer case on the floor with some empty bottles in it. It was a beer case that was already in the house.
An adorable two year old playing close by. Her brother in his crib sleeping.
She's taking note that daddy and his friend are drinking this stuff. Take it out of the fridge, drink it, then put the bottle in the beer case.
hmmmmmm
She takes one of the empty bottles and tips it up, getting the last couple drops left behind in the bottom.
hmmmmmm
Put it back and grab another empty bottle.
hmmmmmm
Repeat the process until the empty bottles have barely a drop left in them.
Dad and his friend didn't get drunk that day. They didn't even feel a buzz.
But a certain two year old did !!!! hahahaha
Doesn't take much beer to get a two year old feeling a good buzz.
Of course, mom came home, found her daughter standing on her head on the couch, flying, and was thoroughly p'off with dad and his friend left kinda quick.
lol
And no. I'm not much of a beer drinker. Got to be one of those real hot summer days and I actually have to crave it to drink it.
lol
The family was sitting around the dinner table at my grandparents at Christmas, and I mean my parents (my baby brother would have been held or sleeping somewhere), grandma, grandpa, and being that my parents were only nineteen when I was born my dad's four brothers would be teenagers of various ages, my dad's Aunt Flo, with me in the high chair.
As some dinners go, either a special occasion or an every day thing, there were green olives in a dish on the table and the family seemed to love those things. You know the kind .. the smaller green ones in a jar with a red pimento piece stuck in the hole where the pit came out?
Dinner was winding down and there were a couple olives still left in the dish and someone thought they would give me a green olive to try and I let them pop it into my mouth.
One bite.
And I spit it out just as fast and not in a lady like fashion either. I didn't spit it out into my hand for removal. I just spit it out.
Ptoooey !!
It bounced off the tray of the high chair and onto the floor beside me.
I leaned over to look at it and said 'Oh Shit'
(honest, they said I was only two years old lol)
Well? I can only imagine the shocked look on some faces at the table. I was told my teenaged uncles thought it was hilarious (probably more because it's a cuss word and we don't say stuff like that at the table more than me saying it). Aunt Flo thought it was so funny that she had tears running down her face and couldn't stop laughing for a bit. Of course she would get the whole concept of it. This adorable-innocent-blonde curly haired-blue eyed angel of a two year old kid (lol) saying that when it wouldn't be part of her normal vocabulary IF she hadn't heard her dad say it a time or two, but to use it at the right time too hahaha.
It was probably Aunt Flo that told me the first time. And being that dad has this wacky sense of humour, it might have been him that gave me the olive to see what I would do with it too lol. Of course I wouldn't put it past a teenaged boy either but if not for the fact that the young ones always got put near their parents in the high chair, it would have been dad. My mom is too straight-laced to think of doing something like that for a reaction.
And no, to this day, I still don't like green olives. Offer me a black olive and I'll eat it though lol
Now skip ahead a few months. Again, I don't remember this as I was only two, but I was told about it.
Not sure if it was ever clear on when exactly is happened (spring, summer?) but mom had gone out to do some shopping or to work at a convenience store, leaving me and my brother in the care of dad.
Dad's friend stopped by.
They had a couple beers while they were chatting.
Beer case on the floor with some empty bottles in it. It was a beer case that was already in the house.
An adorable two year old playing close by. Her brother in his crib sleeping.
She's taking note that daddy and his friend are drinking this stuff. Take it out of the fridge, drink it, then put the bottle in the beer case.
hmmmmmm
She takes one of the empty bottles and tips it up, getting the last couple drops left behind in the bottom.
hmmmmmm
Put it back and grab another empty bottle.
hmmmmmm
Repeat the process until the empty bottles have barely a drop left in them.
Dad and his friend didn't get drunk that day. They didn't even feel a buzz.
But a certain two year old did !!!! hahahaha
Doesn't take much beer to get a two year old feeling a good buzz.
Of course, mom came home, found her daughter standing on her head on the couch, flying, and was thoroughly p'off with dad and his friend left kinda quick.
lol
And no. I'm not much of a beer drinker. Got to be one of those real hot summer days and I actually have to crave it to drink it.
lol
One thing explained ?
(reposted as I tried to edit the original that I imported from 360 Nov. 14/07 and wiped it out totally a couple minutes ago. Only the picture remains in the blog. duhhhme me lol)
Hi ~
I had been debating on whether to change my 'name' in the upper left corner there to Patti and retiring Lace.
Mostly because the name 'Lace' tends to get misunderstood at times. Welllllllll a lot of times. Even now.
I used to go into the Yahoo Chat rooms with Lace. Originally as black_lace. Then one too many guys in IM hitting on me because of the nick and some of the hassles in the room I chose to hang out in made me change it, slightly. That's when I found out how people take something like Black Lace !! Wow. I know I tend to be a little on the innocent (naive) side, but at 43, I didn't see that coming !!
Guys thinking I was there to ummmmm do the sex talk/cyber thing. Women thinking I was only there to steal 'their man'. And it didn't matter that my actions didn't point to me being that way at all. But I stayed put there because a couple people saw me as a person instead.
So, I was talking to the DJ of the room about ditching the Lace bit, and he talked me out of it. He said that the people that are really worthwhile knowing and return the friendship honestly will know you're not like that. (and I really hated the idea of giving up my nick)
So I changed it to lace_in_blackjeans. Not quite the vision provoking-lingerie wearing sex kitten like black_lace (haha), but it helped a bit. And the 'blackjeans' bit came about because I needed something to go with 'Lace' one day when making up an alias. I happen to look down at my legs (they were stretched out, feet on the arm of the sofa) and what was I wearing?? Black jeans of course haha.
You got to understand. I was going through a real tough time in my life when I entered the chat system. I was a very lonely, very lost soul. There were things going on that I didn't understand and trying to sort them out at the time was utter chaos. So I needed an outlet. Sort of. My sister lives on the west coast and we talked via IM and saved the long distance fees, but she got mad at me one day and wasn't talking to me anymore.
Basically, I was sitting in front of my computer one night, my kid in bed, having about an hour to kill before I went to bed and having heard all the rumours about 'chat rooms', I decided to be brave and with my hands over my eyes, in I went. Yes, I was hearing about how all that happens in those rooms is people ummmmmmm having sex (blushes here haha) But I was lucky in that I found a half decent room with a great DJ that played the kind of music I liked. So I just sat and listened and read the conversations at first.
But I got to tell you. Black Lace had nothing to do with sexy lingerie.
It was a young girl with a dream for something she would like in her future.
For as long as I can remember, I've always loved the look of black pick up trucks. Yep, 1/4 ton, 1/2 ton, duallies, all of them. (and yes, the same woman that always wanted a Harley Davidson in her future too, but that's another story haha) When I was 13 (somewhere in that year, before turning 14) I decided my black pick up truck needed a name. And being very very naive about such things, I named 'her' Black Lace. I had visions of rolling down the highway with this big beautiful truck with Black Lace stencilled very nicely under the drivers window in small white letters, in script or something.
When I met my husband and I told him, all he said was 'as long as you don't do what it says'. I didn't understand that, but didn't ask him to say what he meant.
It wasn't until the summer I was 43 (4 years ago) that I learned pretty darn quick what Black Lace implied. Wow. Can you say blush?? hahahaha
Was almost a year after that, still being Lace, when a new friend of a few months said Lace suited me. Fragile, but strong. Hmmmm I liked that and we had a good chat over it, so I gave up re-introducing me as Scorp to the friends that stayed with me.
I eventually gave up on the chat rooms, even though I have met some good people in there, that I still consider friends. We stay in touch on IM nowadays, when life doesn't get in the way. And they've been pretty patient with me while I try to screw my head on straight and sort things out for me and my son.
So am I a Patti? Patti came about in the last year or so actually, when I introduced myself as such. Otherwise, only one friend called me Patti before then. Whether it's the times or just accepted that a Patricia automatically gets shortened down to a Pat, I don't know, but I've always said "I'm not a Pat". To me, Pat was too plain and boring and I don't like to think of myself that way, even if I am hahaha. And lets not talk about Patsy ok? I beat people over the head with 'I'm not a Patsy' for months when I was 13. (dictionaries can be such a terrible thing at times) Patricia I like but maybe a bit too long for some. Trish is good, but it didn't really connect with people. And Patti seemed the next best thing.
But am I a Lace? Well? As I sort things out and slowly fight my way back to being me while figuring out who 'me' is, I would say yeah ... almost. haha. I have learned an awful lot about myself lately. But I will admit to going through a lot of 'hell' to get to this point. I've had to undo what the past 20 years did.
But the interaction and the very generous patience of some have truly helped me, without them knowing it at times, that I am thisclose to taking my final step ... to become 'me'.
So maybe there was something a long time ago when a 13 year old girl came up with the name Lace, even if she did apply it to a pick up truck at the time.
And no, she never did get that truck (yet *wink*)
Mostly because the name 'Lace' tends to get misunderstood at times. Welllllllll a lot of times. Even now.
I used to go into the Yahoo Chat rooms with Lace. Originally as black_lace. Then one too many guys in IM hitting on me because of the nick and some of the hassles in the room I chose to hang out in made me change it, slightly. That's when I found out how people take something like Black Lace !! Wow. I know I tend to be a little on the innocent (naive) side, but at 43, I didn't see that coming !!
Guys thinking I was there to ummmmm do the sex talk/cyber thing. Women thinking I was only there to steal 'their man'. And it didn't matter that my actions didn't point to me being that way at all. But I stayed put there because a couple people saw me as a person instead.
So, I was talking to the DJ of the room about ditching the Lace bit, and he talked me out of it. He said that the people that are really worthwhile knowing and return the friendship honestly will know you're not like that. (and I really hated the idea of giving up my nick)
So I changed it to lace_in_blackjeans. Not quite the vision provoking-lingerie wearing sex kitten like black_lace (haha), but it helped a bit. And the 'blackjeans' bit came about because I needed something to go with 'Lace' one day when making up an alias. I happen to look down at my legs (they were stretched out, feet on the arm of the sofa) and what was I wearing?? Black jeans of course haha.
You got to understand. I was going through a real tough time in my life when I entered the chat system. I was a very lonely, very lost soul. There were things going on that I didn't understand and trying to sort them out at the time was utter chaos. So I needed an outlet. Sort of. My sister lives on the west coast and we talked via IM and saved the long distance fees, but she got mad at me one day and wasn't talking to me anymore.
Basically, I was sitting in front of my computer one night, my kid in bed, having about an hour to kill before I went to bed and having heard all the rumours about 'chat rooms', I decided to be brave and with my hands over my eyes, in I went. Yes, I was hearing about how all that happens in those rooms is people ummmmmmm having sex (blushes here haha) But I was lucky in that I found a half decent room with a great DJ that played the kind of music I liked. So I just sat and listened and read the conversations at first.
But I got to tell you. Black Lace had nothing to do with sexy lingerie.
It was a young girl with a dream for something she would like in her future.
For as long as I can remember, I've always loved the look of black pick up trucks. Yep, 1/4 ton, 1/2 ton, duallies, all of them. (and yes, the same woman that always wanted a Harley Davidson in her future too, but that's another story haha) When I was 13 (somewhere in that year, before turning 14) I decided my black pick up truck needed a name. And being very very naive about such things, I named 'her' Black Lace. I had visions of rolling down the highway with this big beautiful truck with Black Lace stencilled very nicely under the drivers window in small white letters, in script or something.
When I met my husband and I told him, all he said was 'as long as you don't do what it says'. I didn't understand that, but didn't ask him to say what he meant.
It wasn't until the summer I was 43 (4 years ago) that I learned pretty darn quick what Black Lace implied. Wow. Can you say blush?? hahahaha
Was almost a year after that, still being Lace, when a new friend of a few months said Lace suited me. Fragile, but strong. Hmmmm I liked that and we had a good chat over it, so I gave up re-introducing me as Scorp to the friends that stayed with me.
I eventually gave up on the chat rooms, even though I have met some good people in there, that I still consider friends. We stay in touch on IM nowadays, when life doesn't get in the way. And they've been pretty patient with me while I try to screw my head on straight and sort things out for me and my son.
So am I a Patti? Patti came about in the last year or so actually, when I introduced myself as such. Otherwise, only one friend called me Patti before then. Whether it's the times or just accepted that a Patricia automatically gets shortened down to a Pat, I don't know, but I've always said "I'm not a Pat". To me, Pat was too plain and boring and I don't like to think of myself that way, even if I am hahaha. And lets not talk about Patsy ok? I beat people over the head with 'I'm not a Patsy' for months when I was 13. (dictionaries can be such a terrible thing at times) Patricia I like but maybe a bit too long for some. Trish is good, but it didn't really connect with people. And Patti seemed the next best thing.
But am I a Lace? Well? As I sort things out and slowly fight my way back to being me while figuring out who 'me' is, I would say yeah ... almost. haha. I have learned an awful lot about myself lately. But I will admit to going through a lot of 'hell' to get to this point. I've had to undo what the past 20 years did.
But the interaction and the very generous patience of some have truly helped me, without them knowing it at times, that I am thisclose to taking my final step ... to become 'me'.
So maybe there was something a long time ago when a 13 year old girl came up with the name Lace, even if she did apply it to a pick up truck at the time.
And no, she never did get that truck (yet *wink*)
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