I had a hard time coming up with a title.

For all this is really about is nothing more than a mishmash of my latest happenings, not that it is interesting.

Coming up with a good title for a piece is like coming up with a password for your debit card, or email, or work account. Chase bank now has it that you cannot pick a date, any series of numbers together, well, no numbers that make SENSE TO YOU. I can’t do my birthday or anyone elses, I cannot pick my wedding anniversary because it’s a series, 3-2-1. They need to put letter pads up there and let us pick words. I’d totally have tourettes and pick things like “douchbag”. “Shitfaced.” “Assmunch.”

So the title of today’s piece is “Butt breath.” For no other reason than I find curse words to be hilarious and NOT against my religion. And with Easter coming up I have a religious installment of my opinion just brewing up inside me, stay tuned to hear the tale of why I think the church is full of hypocrites and I choose to worship from my own damn home. But that’s another day. Today’s entry should be a little more light.

I am not a politically correct person. I eat red meat, I don’t buy organic (costs too much) I think growth hormones in cows are good for you. Puts hair on your chest. I breastfed my babies simply because it was free, not because of it‘s many health benefits. Hell, puree up a steak and stick it in the bottle for all I care.

My daughter who is 8 and extremely charming with her smile and her huge glasses with the huge eyes recently told me that whole grains are her favorite because they are good for us. Why did she say this? Because her teacher told her so. Like a sponge she is. So I could tell her that naked Thursdays with poptarts for dinner are better for us and she would totally believe it. She thinks IHOP is this mystical magical place because “it’s on TV!!”. Her ambition is to write and I do believe she will make her momma proud with her tack sharp wit and not being afraid to speak the truth, politically correct or not. She’s just a little bit nicer than me when it comes to telling it how it’s going to be. She has this no nonsense way about her that makes you want to just see her point because to disagree with her would be like saying fairies don’t exist and that rainbows aren’t pretty. She just exudes charm.

I figure she’ll either make a wonderful author or a total dictator. Isn’t it scary just how charming some of the world’s most notorious dictators have been? They make you think that baking millions of people in ovens just seems like the natural choice. It’s scary. I do admire her willingness to question things placed in front of her. But give her a logical explanation, and she will take it.

I am not so easily convinced. But I am not here today to convince you why I am right and the world is wrong. That will come at a later date.

Today I bring you a tale of a new car and how a simple trip to the mall totally defined my sense of self. Well, maybe it didn’t define me per se as it did bring out my totally insecure and vain side.

Last week as my little 4 door sedan continued to be a total ass wipe as I did my 110 mile commute each day, my husband had a few days off and got behind the wheel. I will say that my car did not act out as badly until daddy got in the car and I’m oh so proud of her for showing her ass because it convinced him beyond a shadow of a doubt that I needed a new vehicle to drive our precious cargo around in.

Throughout the winter the car PMSed it’s way through life, starting sometimes, and not starting others. Namely, it started on the days that I needed to drive 10 miles to go to Kroger but did not start on the days I needed to drive 70 miles to get my children. We’ve had several people trouble shoot the car and I was oh so careful not to voice my concerns that it might be the transmission because that was a nice chunk of money we did not have. So if I didn’t say it, maybe the car wouldn’t get it into her head to do it. I never did think of the car as a woman until we traded her in because only a woman would be this difficult.

I realize this is incredibly sexist coming from an actual woman but I’m not even going to pretend that I’m not difficult. I won’t even LIE to you. Some days I strive for difficult and don’t even come close.

In my former life I drove a 4 door sedan as well, and inherited a 2 door piece of shit that I could pick up with one hand when divorced. My ex and I had toyed with the idea of getting a minivan but never quite had the chance to get one. Then they came out with this thing called a hybrid and started producing minivans and SUVs in the hybrid variety. And I’m totally down with a car run on corn because it just sounds neat, neveryouminding that fueling up in these alternate vehicles is quite an adventure. I think it was about 5 years ago that I read somewhere that they new hydrogen engine was showing promise but in the state of California, the land of plenty and some of the wealthiest people in the world, only had 3 pumps available. In the whole state. I’m sure times have changed but this put a damper on buying an alternate powered vehicle so my exes solution was to simply buy none. He wanted a hybrid or alternate fuel engine and that’s perfectly fine by me, not because I’m politically correct, but because they look cool. But the only thing even remotely affordable was a 2 door vehicle that would barely hold my 2 cabbage patch dolls I got as a child, at a time when they were the hottest thing on the market and my mom probably had to commit sins unknowable to me to get them, but the cars were small. No midsize sedans. Or get an SUV. And a 30k+ pricetag. Hey, double it and you had what our house cost.

So no vehicle it was. And divorce city and 2 door shit eating clunker it was.

I met my husband and last year he bought me the holy of all holies to moms everywhere who desire to be hot and desired and not minivan soccer moms---the SUV. This was a wonderful plan. Until we went to put our 4 children, our 2 bodies, into the 5 seat SUV.

Um.

See our dilemma. But living in a town like Seymour where I can go eat dinner, drive to Cortland and back, stop in Walmart, and do it all in under an hour and still have time to kill, this wasn’t a big deal. We simply took 2 vehicles. No big deal.

And it wasn’t a big deal until we moved far away and it takes 30 minutes to get anywhere we need to be except his work and the rest of us have no desire to be there unpaid so that doesn’t even count. So inevitably, we played rock paper scissors to see which kid was going to hold onto the bumper and run real fast.

Hey, don’t look at me like that. It’s funny. But the car salesman didn’t laugh either.

Now I don’t write about my life because I find it to be totally fascinating. Quite the contrary. I know my life is just as mundane and average as the next guy and we are all just rats spinning in the wheel but oh why not make it fun why we are here.

Back to the story of how I sold out and became a soccer driving minivan looking type mom.

In all reality we were making the car situation work. We just bought the car 8 months ago and I’ve done the math, in 8 months we put what most people put on a car in just over a year even with the commute so I’m not so sure it should be acting like the spoiled bratty child I’m pretending not to know in the toy store after only 8 months. It started acting like this back when Rodney commuted and I was in the hot mom SUV. 1 month after we bought it.

I simply do not desire handing over fistfuls of cash for things that do not work or services that are not rendered in the way I think they should be rendered. Sometimes that’s as simple as a smile. Or a fork. When I go to Hardees and order food that requires a fork, dammit, you best be giving me a fork because it’s really not THAT big a deal to you that I don’t have a fork for my 97 cent biscuit but I’m paying for it. So I say it is a big deal. It is the difference between my eating and living or not eating and dying.

So it’s that time of year again where the federal government gives us back the money we overpaid them and they oh so generously held on to for us all year long. Gee. Thanks.

Our plan was to purchase a sofa that someone did not have to die for us to get. Most of our furniture holds that prestige, people dying for us to get it. We have a houseful and that’s grand and all but piece by piece we hope to start replacing things with new things that were made sometime in this century. And that someone didn’t have to die for us to receive.

But last week my oh so kind husband looks at me and says that he would like to investigate a new vehicle as that bratty little car we had was giving him fits that in this house, rate a whoopin. He asked if I would be against making the sofa wait if he found something decent for me.

Well, lets see, when this car breaks, and it will break and I can even tell you where it is sitting for sale all shiny and looking all new, just waiting for it’s next victim, maybe I’ll drive the sofa 110 miles to get my children.

Yes. I’m ok with a better vehicle.

We take our down payment in and speak with the kind folks at Ray Skillman. They sure are a dandy bunch there, just ready to sell you a car, smoke a cigarette out back, and drop the F bomb a few dozen times in the 6 hours we were on the lot closing the deal. These are people I can deal with.

The hot mama SUV I was eyeballing was not only out of our budget payment wise, the gas was just not even something 3 extra jobs would pay for. This is precisely why I don’t drive the SUV we currently pay for.

Something smaller and more efficient was going to be in the cards for us. Except, any car we buy holds the same problem we had on day one of this family, not enough room. Cars hold 5 people, there are 6 in our family, who’s running behind us?

But what’s that I spot…a minivan. What’s that like? Same payments we make now? Holds everyone plus 1 so we could go steal us a kid for a day just to see how it fills up? Hmmm. Tell me more. Good mileage. Probably not great gas mileage but if I’m going to pay the same amount every month, I may as well pay for all my family to fit in one vehicle so we were willing to pay a little extra to gas it up.

The salesman says and I do quote, “you probably wouldn’t want a van.” with that tone. Not that I think he was implying that I’m far too hot to drive a minivan but that because I didn’t specifically state that I wanted a van, that we simply weren’t van people.

I don’t guess I considered myself a van person mostly because it’s never been in the cards for me to find one I could afford. And some of the vans are so huge I think I’d rather drive a hearse. I’m not big on minivans moreso for the size than the vanity of it all. But the SUV we had originally priced was bigger, and the SUV we own now is the same size as this van as they were side by side so hmmm…size isn’t an issue.

So we take it for a test drive and it starts and runs and does all those funky little things you expect your car to do every time you turn the key. My husband hemmed and hawed and asked the salesman to do all sorts of things that he didn’t actually care about, he just wanted to see if the guy would do it. He was getting me that van no matter what, but lets just see how willing this guy is to please us.

See, he doesn’t just interrogate dates, he interrogates car salesmen and jewelry salesmen, and even the people at Yankee candle. What will you do for him to get his money. That’s the question. And surprisingly, many people will jump through your hoops and give you discounts if you simply ask. True story.

So we decide that yes we are getting this van and yes I can handle this decision as I had a panic attack right there on the lot even though my car was dying a slow death and grabbing at our wallets promising to do ungodly harm. I hate change and even good change. I’m difficult. I’m a woman. Even with my size A chest I cannot lie.

The tires looked pretty decent to me but my husband being the caring man he is, who wasn’t going to back out of the deal no matter what because I said I wanted it and he was getting it, said there would only be a deal if there were new tires put on the van. And voila. 1 hour later it had 4 brand new tires on it. And I had keys in my hand.

I immediately named it the mom mobile but that’s a mouthful so then I said it was the mom wagon but that just sounds like shaggin wagon to me. And then my husbands eyes lit RIGHT up. But this is a PG van folks.

I still refer to it as my mom mobile as it just SCREAMS mom as I drive down the interstate because it’s a van and there is a shitload of kids in the back at any given moment.

Today my husband and I drove to the mall to buy Easter presents for the children we will not have on Easter so that might play into why I bought like 4 extra things when I said I only needed 1 to complete their baskets. It’s amazing, you can go get “designer” stuffed toys at the mall (what makes them designer other than the label is beyond me) for cheaper than one can get at Walmart for half assed ugly bunnies.

My dear sweet witty Chandler is not only on a whole grain kick, she wants fresh fruit and uncooked vegetables and is steering herself away from a processed life. I can’t say it displeases me to see her keep her arteries clear because I personally believe it’s too late for me after having nothing BUT a processed life, but what makes her so unique is she has that politically correct thing going on at only age 8. So she told me she really wished we had antibacterial gel in our house. Mind you I have bottles of soap in every bathroom and at every sink. I’m a total germaphobe. But I know that after about 5 washes with antibacterial gel, you need to get yourself to a sink and use soap and water. It’s old fashioned but it works. But apparently on her way to the bathroom or in between rooms, she feels the need to antibacterial her hands. My sweet little germaphobe. Have I said that she's my favorite?

So I’m in the mall and I see bath and body works antibacterial gel for my little politically correct intellectual type who will someday write this story in her own words from some coffee shop from her little laptop that has yet to be invented. Nothing but the best for my little girl. And yes, it will be in her basket.

If you think that is odd I cannot forget the year that we had an egg hunt at my sisters which isn’t so much as a hunt as it is my brother in law throwing about 500 plastic eggs from the porch to some point in the yard and telling the kids to have fun. This particular year my sister had about a million free dental samples as the dental clinic had just opened up. So the kids got floss and toothpaste in their eggs. I think Chandler STILL carries that floss. I mean how cool of her Aunt Shannon to not just give her something but give her something that will keep her healthy? What a caring aunt she has.

So we are trotting down the mallway stopping in for little bits of this and little bits of that and I cannot walk past Yankee candle. I always go in but I think it’s been a year since I actually bought anything. In fact I know it was because I bought candles the day I bought my wedding dress and son-----of-----a----bitch I didn’t think that through. 3 large jar candles in a bag in one hand and my dress in a garment bag in another trying not to drag the ground. My arms haven’t seen a workout before or since.

Today I speak it aloud yet once again thinking maybe if I speak it I can do it, “I will be good. I will not buy a candle. I need other things more.” and I was going to do just this until my husband whips out his card (thought I was going to say something else didn’t you) and tells me to pick something out. So of course I protest for just a second (it’s that woman thing, feigned modesty like “you don’t HAVE to honey” when really we are thinking “it’s a totally good thing you volunteered because I was going to buy it anyway. Now you can take the credit and I’m all innocent.”) So of course I pick something out and I see the car smelly things in there. I had been meaning to get me a beachy smelling one for my not so hot old lady with tons of kids minivan to make it smell good. Score that it was BOGO so we got enough smelly good things to put in his hot momma/too tall cop driving SUV AND in my old lady minivan.

We get in the van and I put it up in the mirror and OMG I AM AN OLD LADY. I DRIVE A VAN AND I HAVE A YANKEE SMELLY THING IN MY MIRROR. I am OLD OLD OLD and so not hot anymore.

Then I look at my husband and I realize, not only am I hot, and I have a hot husband and totally RAD and intelligent kids, but I smoke, I say fuck and I think it's funny, and I live full throttle.

Who knew a car smelly thing could be so life defining?

We also had rotary telephones,

computers had 100x LESS memory than my cellphone, the mouse was first introduced for the computer, I had never heard of a cellphone, the internet, and still read the newspaper on actual paper. We had party lines, no caller ID, and our answering machine was as big as a microwave is in 2010 and a microwave was as big as my bed.

Yes I'm talking about 1987 and I'm walking down memory lane with a vengeance tonight.

My daughter has been marathon texting and talking for going on 5 hours. She has her first official boyfriend. When I say boyfriend I mean boy she draws hearts about and will be but a distant memory in 5 days. As she is not going to be allowed to date until she graduates Purdue. And if she doesn't attend Purdue, well then she's going to be royally screwed.

She's in 5th grade and this boy texted her (remember passing paper notes where there were two boxes, *yes* or *no*?!?! WTF happened to note passing?) asking her to "go with him". Moreso he FAKED that he was his sister, pumping her for information. Gotta love technology. I'm thinking "way to play it dude!" So of course she blurts out that she likes him with her little fingers and the whole "IDK"
and "OPQRST" and whatever other bull they do in text. And of course he says he wants to go with her and she is all "OMG Mom!!" yes. She said "O....M....G...." She tells him yes and runs up and down the stairs, calling her dad to alert him, presumably, to get his imaginary shotgun ready as he doesn't own a gun. Her stepdad, however, DOES own a gun and is quite proficient with it. And is needing to clean it soon...

And he took to the news quite well. "Well. Here we go honey." And I'm all innocently asking "What?" and he's all "heartbreak, drama, teen crap."

She's ten. 10. 1-0. That's exactly how old I was in 1987 when Jason C. asked me to go with him in 5th grade. I said yes and it lasted approximately 1 day because he smelled like horse shit. Remember, I grew up in Cortland and everyone smelled like horseshit. But he really smelled like it so I broke up with him the next day and to this day I get teased relentlessly. I'm not quite sure why. He's a normal person still around Seymour.

I remember those days, though, when a boy asked you to go with him. Usually on a weekend (like today) and over the phone but back then we had one line and his mom or dad would inevitably need the line so he'd call you back a few hours later, while you are twirling your hair and listening to tunes on the boombox. Yes, we called them boomboxes and they were bigger than my television. I think I vacummed up Arielle's last ipod.

He'd call back and you'd spend 2 hours tying up the line that your dad was waiting for a call on and couldn't figure out why the phone wasn't ringing until he'd find you in the closet, with the cord stretched all to hell and back and chew your ass out for messing up his cord AND tying up the damn line. You'd whisper "I'll call you right back." and then when you did, you'd spend another 45 minutes with "nuh uh! no i'm not! YOU'RE cute! no, YOU ARE! are so! uh uh."

Yeah, those were the days (she says with eyes pointed at the sky thinking of that one boyfriend from 5th grade until my senior year.) yeah I wasn't so hot with the boys. So when Arielle asks what she should do about this boy who is her BFFL (best friend for life) I say go for it! He's her best friend, what better person to spend all your 3 days on doodling his name and driving me batty about. Better this boy than some stupid kid I've never heard of. This boy has been her friend for 2 years now and he's funny and everyone likes him and she has been able to be herself around him. What better way to start into that whole boycrazy I'm going to shit myself if he calls stage of life.

Of course she can't fake call him. Where you call then hang up just wanting to hear their voice. Yeah, caller ID eliminates that one.

I guess I love that she had no problem talking to him and giving him her number and just being herself. I realize she is only 1-0 but this is how it goes. I KNOW she is going to KILL me for writing this but I keep telling her, quit giving me good shit to write about doofus. Quit confiding in mom and maybe I wouldn't talk about you so much. Get used to it kiddo, moms embarrass. I could tell you how she spent half the day picking out her outfits for the entire week and she'd get really mad about that except guess what Arielle, I did that even up until I started dating Rodney. I had to plan out how to look my hottest at 31 years old so don't feel bad. It's all part of being a girl. 10 or 31, when you are nuts about someone, it's ok to just let it show.

It takes me back, that's for sure. And I know we are hitting the tweens and its going to happen whether I'm ready for it or not. At least she's hitting this age with 2 very involved and concerned parents and 2 step parents who could kick anyones ass. Heh.

you're the next contestant on, "who has a fever this week?"

otherwise entitled, "How we spent our spring break."

Welcome to the 11th installment of my journal, I do hope you are enjoying your visit, albeit a short visit, into my life. I try to be as candid as possible, without offending too many people. I'm not really all that successful but at least I can say I try. What you are getting in this weeks assignment is a pretty real and raw part of my life that I have been dealing with over the last few months and moreso over the last few weeks.

My spring break was started with the best of intentions, truly. Let's journey back a few months. Ummmmm.............October 30th. That's a good day. My husband graduated from the police academy and I registered for my first semester of classes. I signed up for Algebra and English, they are prereqs, so I figure I'll get those out of the way. And then that 7.5 credit hour pesky EMT class. Wonder what that is about I think to myself? I wanted to be a paramedic, this was a prereq to get into the paramedic program, so I may as well get that out of the way too as Anatomy and Phys was full.

One week after that my husband and I were packing up our lives and moving 70 miles north. I began the daily 1.5 hour one way commute with my children and almost immediately it was too much. I left my job a few weeks before classes started thinking it would give me time to "get things done." All it did was give me 3 weeks to sit and worry that I was not cut out to go to college so that on my first day of school, I cried.

I show up to EMT class and it was intimidating. And expensive. And the real deal. I tell myself that to be a paramedic, one must first become a certified EMT and I will tackle this headon.

And I did that as I juggled my life for close to 2 months. Each week becoming worse than the one prior. I got to where I was crying daily, I was gone for 20 hours a day, I was physically exhausted in every sense, and that brings about the question, "can I work a 24 hour shift job?"

Yes, this will lead up to what I did during spring break real fast, trust me.

THen a murder took place yards away from our apartment. And since it was not on our property, Rodney was not called and we had no idea. Until the next day when he went to work and found out. We moved 2 days later. Yes. I had barely unpacked and had to pack up and move again. And I bawled and cried all night long. We moved in the middle of the blizzard that had my kids miss 2 weeks of school. We moved as I attempted to study. No one wants someone who can't save their life because boxes needed packed! EMT class is not a class to miss. Ever. I had this thought process that if you have to miss a class, you may as well drop the entire thing. Why bother? They throw alot of really important info at you in a very short period of time.

So there I was one Monday, juggling the crap out of my life, crying daily because I just cannot drive 170 miles a day, raise 4 kids, have a good marriage to a police officer of all things, doing THIS. JUGGLING.

So I withdrew from EMT class and the paramedic department altogether. I quit. Though my husband and I don't see it as quitting. We see it as making a choice for my family that allows me to be everything to them that I want to be. It would be different if I didn't mind being a half assed mother and serving spagettios everynight for dinner. But I do mind. I mind when I'm too tired to play monopoly. I mind when I have to hear "spagetti again?" I mind when I sleep till noon on Saturday because I'm so exhausted from my week. This was a sign of the life to come as a paramedic, and I did not like this glimpse at all. I consider it an expensive lesson.

So getting to spring break, I stayed in school, changed my majors and you are now reading the entry of a visual communications major. Or, for the laypeople out there, photography. And if you know me personally, you are thinking to yourself, "it's about friggin time." because this is just something I'm good at and I have denied myself the satisfaction of thinking I could DO THIS with the rest of my life.

I haven't told anyone besides my children and husband that this is my new life. I've been soaking in the decision, letting go of the dream of being a paramedic because honestly, I would have been great at it. This I know for sure. But it wasn't going to work for my life. So I had about 3 school weeks before spring break to go to just Algebra and English. I was dragging my tale around because I was just so tired and needing a mental break. Our home looked like dirt with about 50 boxes in our living room.

I had the goal of unpacking everyday during spring break, taking the kids to the park, baking treats every day. I think I did all those things, but not nearly to the extent that I had hoped.

First of all, I have a kindergartner. I can only assume by her own handwashing skills that her classmates are not that much ahead of her in the hygeine arena. And I can only shudder as I think of all those little butt germs floating around that classroom. She started the weekend out with her monthly fever. We refer to it as this because once a month she falls ill with a 2 day fever, some snot, some lovey dovey-ness, and then she is fine.

But oh dear readers this time she made sure to spread the love. Every single one of us spent the whole week with a chest cold and LOTS of snot. We spent the first 3 days of spring break sleeping until the post meridiem portion of the day. Rodney gets home at close to 11 post meridiem so we all waited up until then for him. Then, there was alot of video game playing in bed till the wee hours of the night, furthering our sleeping in.

So that's what we accomplished, a stay cation of sorts. We stayed home. And we rested. And we blew our noses. And I did bake treats, once. I unpacked one box at a time, resting in between. But I now have 3 boxes remaining in my living room. If this had been all I had accomplished, I'd still be pretty proud of myself.

My children went to their dad's that weekend and my husband and I celebrated our first wedding anniversary the last Sunday before returning to school. We both felt like dog doo still, and took dayquil and went to Logan's Roadhouse where we were misled on the size of the desserts which were no bigger than a jello shot. Of course if they had been jello shots then the rest of this entry would be a totally different story as most of my stories involving anything alcoholic usually start out with the phrase..."well, I was only going to drink just one..." and end with, "I don't remember how I got this bruise on my head or where my car was left at...". We tooled around the mall a bit and had his watch I had given him sized down to fit his wrist. He took me to build a bear and as corny as it sounds, it was something I really wanted to do. I've taken all of my children there to make a stuffed toy that you put your heart into and make a wish upon and promise to love forever, and then you take your toy shopping and I stated at the last trip there that I really wanted to go! I wanted to make my own stuffed animal too! So on March 21st, 2010, Kiki Lyons was born. I picked out a wedding gown for my stuffed animal, a panda bear, to commemorate our wedding anniversary. Her dress is prettier than mine was.

To end this little life altering saga, I will state that I'm of sound mind again, well, as sound as my mind gets. I'm fully rested. I'm over my cold. And I'm fully confident in my choices I've made for my family. I've feared telling people and it's not something I've walked around broadcasting because I fear judgment but in my heart, I know I'm doing what is not just best for my family but what is best for me. (and I really need to pay better attention in English because that was the runon sentence to beat runon sentences and I should know as I write runon sentences all the time.)

i don't find it a coincidence.

i am tasking myself with finishing some of my English writing and I have the assignment of writing about someone who interests me, dead or alive, public figure, and to cite a source.

I do a google search and I swear to zeus' butthole, I put J-E and Jeffrey Dahmer popped up as the first option.

I swear to zeus' butthole that I was SO GOING to write about Dahmer.

I'm not quite sure what fascinates me or anyone else about this person. I'm guessing is that he did things SO undisputedly bizarre, things we cannot as human beings even picture in our head.

If we could, we'd stab out our minds eye.

I have seen the A&E show about him many times. I always seem to watch it when I catch it on, as if I cannot soak in the realness of the crimes.

What I find so alarming is that for all intents and purposes, he had a normal upbringing. In the article I chose to source for this piece, it is cited that a major catalyst in his development was first his younger sibling being born, and then his parents divorce.

Does anyone else worry they are raising someone with such problems? I made 2 of my children go through a birth of a sibling, and then I put them all through a divorce.

I choose not to believe it's this cut and dry. What makes people like this wired differently? What differentiates someone like myself who has relations with a live person, from someone who enjoys necrophilia?

The article goes on to state that he chose, which implies intention and full control over actions, borderline criminals or vagrants, people no one would notice went missing. He excercised total control, performing labotomies on victims so that they would still be awake but unable to comprehend or fight back.

In May of 1991 was when the infamous "near miss" incident happened, where his minor aged victim had escaped and was screaming for help. When police responded, they took Dahmers word that they were loves, and left the boy with him. As soon as they left, he murdered and dismembered the boy.

I always figure that image keeps those officers up at night to this day. If not, it really should and therefore they would not be officers I'd want patrolling my neighborhood. I think that's probably the most upsetting fact in this entire bizarre case. They were IN HIS HOUSE.

But, all would I suppose come to an end in 1992 when he was found sane ad convicted to 15 consecutive life terms. Not that it would ever bring back any shred of hope to the people he had brutally and savagely murdered and the families they left behind.

But to me, the most bizarre twist in the whole story, and possibly the best definition of karma comes at the end.

He had been kept out of general population but requested to be moved into general population. He ws granted that request and subsequently had his skull bashed in and and beaten to death by 2 worker inmates. I cannot think of a more suiting description for karma than this.

So this is the person that interests me, only because it is so unfathomable that I cannot help but read and reread articles on him. That thought that a perfectly normal looking person might be living in a basement next to me...

(source: http://www.biography.com/articles/Jeffrey-Dahmer-9264755?part=0)

Anniversary v. 1.0.0

Tomorrow my beloved and I have been married a whole year. And I know I just wrote him a cutesy letter but I can't let the day go by without something. Don't mind that I'm not actually going to be "here", we'll be out eating dinner and spending the day together. I wrote this entry last week while watching "Friends" and baking cookies and he was napping in our room and our 4 tax deductions were laying around being lazy slugs.

We have had many discussions about "where" to eat this dinner because my favorite nicey nice place happens to be were I went on wedding anniversaries with the last Mr. So we were faced with finding a new place to eat, or turning Red Lobster into OUR place and forgetting that it meant something to me with someone else. Lucky for me Mcdonalds isn't that special so we don't hae to worry about where he took his last Mrs. I'm a shit. I know.

I recently read a blog where this gal posted 44 things about herself on her 44th birthday. I thought that was neat and look for the 33 on my 33rd installment in May. But for our first wedding anniversary...1 on our 1st? Well that's stupid. I thought very very briefly about doing 365, and realized that was even stupider. So 52 for the number of weeks we've been married it is. 52 facts about us that you may or may not know, and most likely could live the rest of your life without ever knowing. But you're here now, so why not read for another 5 minutes? Learn something useless. It might show up on an episode of "Who wants to be a millionaire" someday...

1. Remember being a kid and getting sentences assigned and you thought you'd number the page first to save time, only to realize it was going to take 2 lines to write out what you would not do in class again? This is like that. But not because I'm not "writing", I'm typing.

2. Rodney and I met on myspace. To be truthful I found him, looking for some other person who's name I didn't know but I did know the face and thought it'd be fun to make friends. I saw Rodney's photo and he looked like just my type. Not too vain that he outshined me, and his interests were similar to mine. This seems shallow, I know, but remember, this was all a basis on whether I'd chat wiht him or not. Not date him. I made that decision when I realized he was my intellectual equal as we began speaking.

3. To make a long story longer, we instantly clicked and our first online conversation was 1 sentence and expanded by a sentence each time. We were like poker players very reluctant to show our hand. So we did, one card at a time.

4. Our first date was November 1st, 2008, and he took me bowling.

5. We both agreed that the movies make a lousy ass first date since you don't talk at all and all it does is prolong getting to that point that you realize the other person sucks and is a waste of your time. We cut right to the chase.

6. We've never been to a movie together.

7. Our 2nd date was November 13, 2008. He sent me flowers to my work, the first time a guy ever sent me anything and I bawled like a little girl. We went to arbys that night for supper.

8. November 14, 2008 was our 3rd date and we went to Rascals funzone where he did not hold my hand as we rode go carts together. He played skeeball to win me tickets which I cashed in for 4 bouncy balls to give to our children.

9. I held his hand first. I made all the moves. I rawk because I'm proof that if you want it, sometimes you just gotta grab it.

10. We decided to move in together the week of Thanksgiving, on a Tuesday. It just made sense to us. I still do not regret moving so quickly.

11. We were both removed from our parents at 5 years old and placed into group homes. This left a lasting impression and he's the only person who "gets" this piece of trivia about me.

12. He's self taught on the guitar, I'm self taught on my camera.

13. As children, we both read dictionaries for leisure. Try to outspell us. And typos don't count.

14. We both smoke, but can't stand being in a room with smoke.

15. We spent the first part of our first year of marriage with unemployment. We figure if we can survive that, we can survive anything.

16. 10 days after we were married on March 31st, he calls me at work and asks if I want to be a cop's wife as he was asked back to the sherrif's dept. Without hesistation I encouraged him to follow his heart back to his dream, and I will never regret that decision no matter how hard it's been to adjust. I live in a marriage where we encourage each other to pursue our dreams and that goes both ways.

17. We are both anal obsessive about things like toilet paper, removal of body hair, and hand washing.

18. He always wanted more children...and suddenly he found himself with 3 more girls. And he was totally thrilled.

19. He loves to eat out as much as I do.

20. He gets my seriously sarcastic sense of humor, because he has the same sense of humor himself.

21. I'm not even halfway done. This was harder than I thought.

22. We both have this insane need to have completed collections. Like DVD shows, we buy until one series is complete before we move on to another one. Or maybe that's just me and I pretend it's him too to justify buying television programs in their entirety.

23. He had never watched "Sex and the City" before me and now knows all the character names. Oh, was that embarrassing. Sorry hunny.

24. Everyone in his family calls him RJ. I do not and will not. I don't do nicknames. It's not Rod, Roddy, Elrod, RJ, JR, etc. And he is so grateful. With me people can get away with Jules or Juice or a very select few get to call me "Red".

25. We are both very self involved. Neither one of us trusts many people to be very social.

26. Wow, I only did 5 more?

27. We both agree that I make the best cookies ever.

28. His birthday was right around Father's day in 1978 and my birthday was right around Mother's day 1977. That's right folks, I'm older than him. And he was his father's father's day gift too.

29. He is quiet but not shy. I'm shy but not quiet.

30. He won't buy me appliances for a gift. So he just goes out and buys them for no reason so we have them. I love that mix of old fashioned with feminism.

31. He is addicted to buying me giraffes. I'm addicted to buying him ice cream. And tshirts and cologne.

32. We knew each other 141 days when we got married. I guess I could have done "141 things about us" but then, that'd take me 141 days because this has turned into a 4 day project. And for the mathmaticians out there, my pregnancies lasted twice as long. Each.

33. I guess we aren't nearly as whitty and fun as I like to think in my head.

34. Only we are and it's hard to translate it into words. It's such a shame we don't have many friends to see our awesomeness.

35. We both have pretty intense trust issues. But not with eachother.

36. Before Rodney I was missing that "I miss him" gene. I miss very few people. I guess I'm a touch antisocial. But when he is gone, I ache. When his great grandmother passed away last year, I stayed home all weekend with worry while he traveled. That's how I knew this was real and would last. When I couldn't stand that he wasn't home. I used to get to where I wanted whomever I was dating to just go home already. And with Rodney, him being here is home.

37. Before we actually met, we messaged eachother on myspace. He didn't have internet at home so he would go to the library right after work and send me a new message. I got text alerts on my phone and would hop on and waste a WHOLE lotta data time reading it, crafting how I would respond. These messages came through at 3pm so every day until he started the academy, I got a 3 pm phone call from him in memory of our first weeks of talking.

38. I realize this is WAY more info than more people want about us, but I don't care. I put it all out there because that's how I live my life. One day we'll have an album with 50 of these yearly anniversary letters.

39. Speaking of journals, we used to keep one back and forth. And if you make fun of him for writing to me, he'll punch you then I'll punch you. But we stopped writing in it because A)I don't handwrite, I type. and B) it got old saying "I love you" and nothing more on each page. I mean what else could I think to write? Me?

40. I don't know that he'll read this entry on his own, but I will totally be smooshing his face up to the screen and saying "that's Bullshit Rodney and ya know it!" (sex and the city line--he'll know that because he says it daily and it's a riot.)

41. After much debate we will be dining at Logan's Roadhouse Sunday. I haven't been since 1996. God I'm getting old. Hopefully the food will taste good enough for a return visit on our anniversary every year.

42. We ate at Rock Bottom Brewery last month on our early anniversary present of staying in a fancy hotel downtown. It was not that impressive, except when we mentioned that the rice was like little pebbles, she gave us a free dessert.

43. We are big on customer feedback, good or bad, because we wind up getting free stuff ALL the time.

44. Luckily, we agree on politics, but it's not something we discuss often.

45. Now he calls me every day at 4:30 pm. I'm always on my way home with the girls, about 5 miles into the drive up north.

46. We've moved twice since November.

47. He knows a 3rd move would probably send me to the nuthouse. I'm not kidding.

48. He loves that Trinity wants to be a cop like him. He's going to take her to the cop store because cops are like rock stars to her.

49. I think Trinity is as close to his own child as he was going to get besides his other daughter. He was unemployed for a few months and to help out, he babysat her every day. I couldn't figure out why she loved her Wotney so much other than he is a good guy, until she blows the whistle on him one day, he had fed her ice cream, french fries, and chocolate bars. :D

50. For Trinity's 5th birthday he took her to the store and bought her a baby doll and flarp. I cried because it was so sweet. I think she has him wrapped around her finger. She waits for him to get home every night and turn her tv off and give her hugs goodnight.

51. For my 32nd birthday he threw me a party, with just us 2 but I had balloons and a cake and he had a table full of presents for me. It was the best birthday party ever.

52. He works hard everyday to make my dreams come true, and I do the same right back for him. It's been a wonderful first year and I look forward to every single year hereafter. I love you hunny!

And as I'm feeling especially nostalgic and loving this eve of our wedding anniversary I'll add one more note of mushy: Thankyou Rodney for not only rescuing me and my broken soul, but rescuing my girls from a dark life with a sad mommy. Thankyou for breathing new life into this family every single day with your smile, your willingness to run out and get whatever will make any one of us 5 girls feel better when we are down. Thankyou for putting us on the front burner and being the man that we all needed in our lives. Thankyou for putting my heart back together slowly as it's been broken for 28 years. Thankyou for loving me unconditionally and never once making me "earn" a goddamn thing. It's just given. I've never had to earn a compliment, a gift, time, money, you just give it. Thankyou for creating a home where love is free, dreams are encouraged, and happiness is hoped for but not always expected of us. Because sometimes the clouds hang over and there's nothing we can do and you do whatever you can to break up the clouds and bring about the sunshine.

On this eve of our anniversary, I remember a year ago right at this moment. My back ached as I put together my floral arrangments and cried as I saw my dress hanging up that it was really happening. I cried the whole next morning and everyone thought I was stupid but I think that is a sad fact. That no one else could relate to being THAT FUCKING HAPPY on their wedding day. I truly married my best friend and every day of my life, I'm so greatful for a man like you. I'm greatful that we don't have to work at loving eachother. It just happens. THey say love is work and I'd like to know what asshole wrote that book. Because with you, it is the most natural thing in the world. I love you more and more every day and I love you more than the day I married you.

Thankyou making everyday a gift. I love you.

Ok. Mush over.

week 3. written in week 10.

challenges people face...this was the assignment way back in week 3.

I have come to the conclusion that my journal entries are not what the instructor is going to expect to see. What I gather from other students is that they are basically writing the same as we are our essay assignments.

I wish I could write something serious about the challenges people face. I guess I could pull something together, but just how much time do you have? A personal challenge I face every week is writing these journal assignments in a way that would pertain to an audience that is not what I would consider to be my target audience.

I write almost every day of my life. I reach out to an audience that I believe is listening and may not agree with me (and I wouldn't blame them). Writing because I say so and on subjects I choose is easy. It comes natural to me.

I guess a challenge I face is taking my journal assignments seriously. I actually don't take people seriously. In the last 3 years I've seen so much that it has become extremely difficult to care or relate to anyone. It is difficult for me to be relatable. Or spell relatable. I write from my perspective because I just have in my head this idea of journal.

As of week week 9 I am making a 99% in English. I fear that by week 16 this will not be the case.

Maybe another challenge I face is gauging my audience. Maybe I know my audience has many challenges today in modern society. I know unemployment, insurance hikes, gas gouging have hit alot of my "audience". By audience, I don't mean my classmates because I don't know mst of them. I mean my Facebook audience because that's where I post my writing.

Maybe I know my audience, in this tough time, looks for comic relief from everyday life. Maybe I'm not cut out for essay style writing. I'm kick ass at it though, because my grades are proving that.

Maybe that's the problem though. Maybe I'm supposed to pull up Word and write there, without a clear view of any sort of audience. Just writing a general opinion about challenges, knowing the other than my instructor, no one will read it, and then to me, it becomes wasted words.

Maybe I'm just a better writer than English 111. Maybe I know this. So in that respect, doing the assignment as assigned is my challenge because I already did this class. In 1994. I was 16. Maybe I was reading college level material at 9 and I just can't dumb myself down. I guess that is a challenge for alot of people. I know alot of kids are truly gifted and talented and cannot get the education they deserve. I also know a few children who are behind that could CERTAINLY use extra help. ANd I actually believe the way our government has set up schools has set it up so that basically, everyone is to be average.

AHA!!! A CHALLENGE! Oh crap. This really fits better under the probem/solution assignment given in week 9! Well, I'm going to wrap this one up and continue it in another assignment, because I do feel very very passionately about the state of education. As a former homeschooling mother of some pretty smart kids and one who was born disabled, this was my main reason to homeschool.

So lets get back to challenges in every day life. Becuase I do have it in my head, I'm just having a hard time expressing it. We are not supposed to use the word *I* in our writing. I cannot help it. I've decided that my journal is going to be set in narrative tone. I just am a narrator by nature. Again, I've been a writer since I was 7 years old writing my first play and it was REEEDICULOUS. I could probably find it. If I really wanted to tell you I didn't like you because it's that bad. I digress...

My challenges pertain to this, and I do believe everyone around me can relate, time. Time to fit it all in. Fitting in school and doing all that I can do to be that A+ student I know I am (hey, 98.75% average ain't nothing to sneeze at). I know, it took me like 30 paragraphs to get to my point. And I'm not sure I'm even quite there. Tough it out.

I am like most college attendees going in their 30s. I have a family and a whole bunch of kids. I have a husband and a home I take pride in. Lucky for me I don't work full time like others have to do. I get to go full time. Which that's great for me but how about my husband and HIS challenge of time. He works extra shifts to afford for me to make my dream come true. We balance and juggle every single just like EVERYONE in college I'm assuming. Still, the weekend comes where my children are with their dad and I feel like I've fallen short on them. I feel like I just don't have enough hours in the day. And I'm sure if I asked everyone who agreed with this to stand up, you'd hear a collective "whoosh" of people standing up across the world.

Time management has always been important. When my girls homeschooled, my life was even more hectic than as a working mother or a college mother. I've worn many hats and funnily enough, college is the easiest one. But it requires me to be in several places in life each day. I'm mom/Betty Crocker. I'm commuter. I'm student of knowledge. I'm networker. I'm wife.

Is the juggle worth it? Absofuckinlutely. Yes, I'm going to have to eliminate the swearing from my finished product. I'm almost 33 years old. I went through a major depression spell when I turned 29. It was a dark few months in my life. Almost as dark as my divorce. That was when I realized I wanted to go to college and boy should have went for it then. I did not and I began to wonder what I was on the Earth for. This world spins every day and either you are out there, using 19 hours out of the day or you are sitting around wondering what you should do with your life. I was the latter and now I am the former and I've found that life is worth living even more when you wish there were more hours in the day. When there is just so freaking much you want to do that you wish for more hours. Depression makes you tired. Tired makes you waste time. Oh. There's another word we are forbad to use, you.

I'm going to polish up these essays, or rather, narratives before I turn them in. I'm not a student of grammar or capital letters even. I consider myself a student of the written word. And I'm always in awe of writers who use the written word in a way that it is life altering. My challenge is to pass Eng 111 and Eng 112 so that I may learn some better more effective ways to write to be life altering.

My true challenge in life? To leave my mark on the world. I'm getting there. Trust me.

Tonight's entry written with the aide of "Jane Says" playing full blast in the background.

i'm multitasking, turning my letter to my husband into a homework assignment.

this week we were assigned to write about WHATEVER OUR HEARTS DESIRED and i figure since this won't happen again, I'd write about one of my 5 favorite things: my husband. (thats tied with our 4 daughters. and krispy kremes. and shoes. and my fake coach purse.)

at this point i'm trying not to be pissy because i had this whole really cool paragraph written out and my stupid computer froze and i just want to punch the gallderned thing and what i love about that is that he would too if it had been him. we are so similar in our hothead dropping the f bomb wherever we are kind of attitudes.

ok. i'm feeling sappy. well, as sappy as *I* get.

babe. it's been a year since i skipped down the aisle wearing a quasi white dress and vowed to bug the ever lovin shit out of you for the rest of my days. i meant that too. i seriously will.

it amazes me that i've been mrs. lyons for a year now. i've almost been with you as long as i was single and you now have the distinction of being my 2nd longest relationship. it's going to be a long fuckin 8 years waiting to knock that other dude off the chart. sorry. :(

it's been a crazy ass year and what really wigs my shit out is that i still worship you and i still adore your every move. i still see you as this most wonderful creature who couldn't possibly love a girl like me. and then when you do, every second of the day, it surprises me. remember when i thanked you for surprising me with life? you still do. every day.

every day when i have whack a doodle ideas and you don't think i'm stupid. or crazy dreams and want to name children weird ass names. or when i cry about shit that doesn't really matter or i want to punch someone for no reason and you say here, punch me. or days when i feel like hiding from the world because 33 years into this life i still feel worthless sometimes and sometimes i feel like i don't count and i won't make my mark on this world and you remind me why i am alive and that the air that i breathe is precious. and every step i take is magical to you and every dream i've ever had is worthwhile to you.

i love how we argue over who's had the shittier life and who deserves the most and who's the most wonderful and special. i love how no matter how insignificant you validate me everyday. i need not look anywhere else for the validation and i never have to explain myself to you. i'm upset? you're looking for the bastard who did it.

i love how i don't have to ask you to remember to remember me. valentines day, anniversaries, my birthday, you're planning months in advance to remember me. i don't have to say "hey dick cheese, my birthday is in 68 days." and then every day thereafter remind you.

i love how you would never ever break my heart and don't even get pissed that you've had to put my broken heart back together over the last year because i was still broken in many ways when we met. and today i am still a broken woman trying to figure out how to move forward. i love that i love you with my whole heart but you know that doesn't mean i've forgotten. and you don't expect i will ever forget and you don't hold it against me. i'm not sure how you understand that the pain i feel inside is just something that i cannot escape and that my dreams are still haunted and you hold me like only a true man could.

i love how you know that you were the only man man enough to take me and my girls and make us whole. all those other dudes had no idea what a gold mine they had and you are so greatful for stupid people because you know you came out the winner.

it is all this that has my respect for you. we worship eachother and we don't see anything wrong with that. we are eachothers best friends.

i never really thought i would find this. in fact, i remember accepting that i was just meant to be alone and right about that time, i found you. i wasn't even looking. everyone said it would happen like that and by that point i was so afraid to get hurt again and you didn't even make it hard to be with you. you made it so easy to fall for you. i didn't have to wonder if you returned my feelings because real men stand up and say what they feel and don't need to play games. notice i didn't say real men cry. he's not a pussy folks. but real men don't jerk women around.

i want so badly to tell these young girls i go to school with that if you aren't sure how he feels then he's probably just some idiot looking for some. i have played that game so much i have the freaking tshirt. i want so badly to tell these women who's husbands still act like jackholes and don't hand over the remote or get up in the middle of the night to check out a sound that he isn't a man at all.

sometimes i think you should teach a course. everyone asks you how you got a woman like me. i say what? how did i get a man like you? and our response would be by being real, honest, and ourselves.

i don't have all the answers to life but i know this much, what he have is love and a mutual respect and i think the majority of people out there have it ALL WRONG. i know most people think we are just stupid for getting engaged just 6 weeks into our relationship but i think we had it under control. you pretty much knew i wasn't going to take any shit. i made that clear to just about everyone in life, and i do it even more now. i don't think you would have proposed to me if you hadn't been prepared to take my bad ass and deal with me forever.

and maybe we did get married fast but i'm sure glad we did. i love how it only seemed logical to get me a ring. you knew i was the one. why wait for a year to "be sure". why not just get the diamond and make my Christmas special, especially knowing Christmas is a real shitty time of year for me.

how about giving me all new memories to warm my heart? how about Valentines day. instead of telling me it's not a real holiday it doesn't count, you get me things and make me feel like I fucking count because i just do count. or my birthday, not making me REMIND you a hundred times, instead throwing me a party of 2 with my own special cake and my own table full of presents and my own candle to make a wish on. and then thanking me for being born. or mothers day, taking my daughtes to the store to each get me something special. this sounds incredibly materialistic but unless you've been continually forgotten for many years, then you can't possibly know how it feels to be cherished. and then watching the one who forgot about you cherish another, well, it hurts all over again. so then when the one comes along and cherishes you every day, then yeah, those little things, they count.

our wedding anniversary is just around the corner and yes this letter is an early gift because i'm dumb like that, i give letters as gifts. and journals and cheap crap because i never did know how to shop for a man. the good thing about you is you love everything i give you. i wonder if all our other years will fly like this one has. i certainly hope none of them bring as many changes as this one has,but if they do, then we have eachother. it's been a hard year and i never could have survived all this stinkin change without you because not just cops hate change, little red headed girls from seymour indiana hate change too and i've become intimately acquainted with several sides of indianapolis in the last 4 months.

thankyou for being my rock and understanding how hard it's been. i have felt incredibly alone these last 4 months and you take care of my heart and help me adjust because lets face it, it's not like i had anything in seymour either. it's just the fact that i have had to leave everything i know. i don't miss the 30 mph speed zones. and i dont miss stopping at yellow lights.

i can't imagine where the next 30plus years will lead us. not that i think we'll be done in 30 years, i'm thinking about retirement here. i wonder how many places we'll call home. how many people will call us mom and dad. i wonder how many different uniforms you might get the priviledge of wearing. i wonder how many ways you'll surprise me. i wonder about all the things we'll see together. i wonder about lost family and new places we might find. whose lives we might touch.

one thing i never wonder about my life and that's if you'll be there because there is no if. i know it took me a long long time to let that wall down and every day you take another brick out and toss it aside, still trying to get me to trust you. and i think it's safe to say i pretty much do but every day we each solve another piece of the puzzle that is us. we've each seen alot of crap and been hurt in indescribable ways and i think God brought us together because unless you've lived it, you don't get it. we get eachother.

i think we are better and stronger than we were march 21, 2009. and i am sure we'll be stronger on march 21, 2011. and even more so on march 21, 2040.

i look back to that first date and you were such a stranger to me then. but i look back and chuckle because i so get what you were doing that first date now that i know what an ass you are. you were so seeing if i was like every other ditzy dipshit you dated. how surprised you must have been to find someone who wasn't afraid to tell you exactly how awesome and smart she was right there as we bowled and checked eachothers asses out while you interrogated me. and looking back and see that you were looking for inconsistencies to see if i was trying to misrepresent myself to you. i know because you do that shit now to other people. i especially think it's cool how you waited until the 2nd date to fall all over yourself because you knew any worship too soon and i would have known you were a liar.

i love how we relive that date over and over again as we lay in bed, chuckling at how nervous we were. and how we came so close to not becoming a couple and how every day we are so greatful that we wound up together. it melts my heart that you weren't giving up until i told you to get lost dickhead. and i never did. you wouldn't leave me alone because you knew there was something there, and i was so afraid and i pushed and pushed because i was such a loser. and you just didn't buy that story.

i love you more and more as the days go on and even though i can't guess what next month holds for us. the way our luck has been we'll probably be living in another country speaking swahili driving a car run on corn. stranger things have happened. i can assure you, however, that no matter what life decides to throw at us next, we'll be together always hunny. thankyou for meaning it when you said you would love me unconditionally. i love that i finally found someone who knows what the fuck that means.