I am uncouth. I did my best not to be. I removed myself from people that were vulgar and uncouth. I tried on the "soccer mom" way of living. You know the kind. Use big words that no one knows if it is really a word or not and they sure in the hell don't know if you used it properly. No one asks but shake their heads in approval. Wearing tight, over priced, ugly "nice" shoes that cripple your feet. Carry a purse that has a name brand on it no one can pronounce properly, it also has to be very ugly. Wear perfume so strong that would make a dragon drop dead from the sky. Get hyped up on espresso and other natural speed so I can get my house OCD spotless. My kids would never have messy hair or spots on their clothes and I would be impeccable even while throwing up! I attempted that lifestyle but it was short lived.

I cannot be something I am not. I cannot wear something just to be in fashion. I will not buy something based on a name. I will not drug myself so I can get a spotless house. I will not smell like an old church lady with the newest scent in the magazines. i cannot be swayed by popularity. I  cannot keep my mouth from saying things as I see it. i think it and I place no censor on my verbs nouns, and adjectives flowing from my regal lips.

I am uncouth and I am vulgar. I am a sailor at heart, more so than my own husband that was a bona fide sailor. I am the woman fathers and mothers warn their sons about (my husband was warned by his father). I am mouthy. I talk back. I sass! I point my finger and jiggle my hips. I get loud and on occasion rough. I do not back down easily. I am not domesticated.

My house is typically is disarray and unkempt. I have more irons in the fire than 5 people. I do not sit idly by and watch yet another television show about bullshit. I do not keep up with the singing Idols or the newest dancing star. I know nothing about what is new and what is cool. I don't care. I can be seen with brand name items, but unlike the masses I picked them because I liked them not for the name.

I decided a long time ago that being something I am not was not helping me feel good about me. In addition to being myself I have noticed many people cannot accept someone that chooses to step out of the robotic norms of society and will be ignored.

So be it! I can feel good because I am being honest with myself and with you. If liars are what you desire then you will be supplied with many. For myself I am going to continue being me. The world could use a little reminder about their boxes they reside in when I walk by and kick and shake them up!

Post 100!!! Let's rebel!

"Dear Parents, Jasmine was in a relationship with a dirty homeless boy named Aladdin. Snow White lived alone with 7 men. Pinocchio was a liar. Robin Hood was a thief. Tarzan walked around without clothes on. A stranger kissed sleeping beauty and she married him. Cinderella lied and snuck out at night to attend a party. You can't blame us. We were taught to rebel since a young age. - Your Daughter"

This was the status of a friend on Facebook. I thought, "How TRUE!" I started to think about how I rebelled and still rebel today. I really feel my rebel as to be my strongest archetype. My rebel is possibly stronger than my motherly instincts. I am armed and ready to do whatever it takes that is the opposite of what you think I should do. The rebel is also my weakness because I will do or say something that actually hurts me in the long run.

My rebel is not something I can ignore and my rebel is not a choice. My rebel is me. We are one. I do make the choices for my rebel but I cannot and will not remove this part of myself. It is me and that is all.

As if I needed to know Saturn was going in retrograde to know a shift was happening. I could feel it in my soul. I deep mournful wail telling me to "snap out of it." I could use a Cher to smack me in the face and say those infamous words to me, but that is not going to happen. I need to take the bull by the horns. I still have work that needs to be done and I am not doing it. But i NEED to do this.

I really wanted to take a hiatus from personal development. I really needed that time away from working on my inner self and concentrated on my outer. it was fun to get away from myself. I am now seeing that to be a whole healthy individual I need both. I need to work on my inner, spirituality, and my outer, Physical, being. I need to harmonize and balance.

I hold fear in both. Why? I don't know yet. I am pretty alone in this process. Quite frankly it scares the shit out of me to share ME. Oh, yeah, I can blog. But do you really know me?

I am going to take time to rethink, reflect, and recharge my battery and see where this crazy train takes this mama.

I have so much going on inside my head. I sometimes get a fleeting thought and poof it is gone and replaced with another. Day in and day out. I am constantly distracted. My imagination soars and then it crashes flat. I am in constant motion and it's invisible to the world.

i have to let my inner world out. I have to let out that person(s) that share my space between my ears. Their voices need to be heard.

I am working on sorting them out. too many to count. be patient. I will let you out very soon. hang in there!

Excuse me, can I be a man today?

Yes, I want to try being a man. I want to see how the other side lives. Curiosity takes hold when I see how my husband interacts with the children and thinking back on how my day has gone. Just a couple weeks? Can I, please? Because from what I see it looks a lot less stressful. Yes, a lot more physical, in my husbands case, but I will have manly strength and I should be able to deal with that. I also want the man to switch as well.
 I want him to experience all the joys of being a woman. I want to to be unable to sleep because his hormones are out of whack. I want him to have the monthly headache and abdominal cramps with the occasional back ache that feels like back labor along with a messy period. I want him to put a smile on his face while this happening while entertaining guests because you, as a woman, are expected to push through and make due during those times. I want him to also be responsible for the house work, yard work, reminding the man to take the trash, grocery shopping, cooking, taking care of kids, garden, and in my case homeschool.
I want to call him up and tell him to make sure one of the children get a chore done for me because I forgot. I will forget my keys, my phone, and my wallet. I will even forget to take the trash because I forgot someone reminded me. I will leave my dirty uniforms next to the door. I will go and play disc golf, racquetball, and visit people during slow times at work. I will promise to pick something up and then forget to do it. I will come home and hug my children and read a story then take a shower and go to bed. I want him to make sure the laundry is clean because I will need boxers and socks in the morning. I want him to make sure to put the food away because I ate while I was out.
 I will fall asleep as he is telling me how the kids fought all day, the dog bled all over the house, how the cats brought down the Christmas tree or dumped the dog water, how the kids screamed and yelled when given chores and school work,  the kitchen sink clogged up and the toilet too, how a turkey got in the basement because someone "forgot" to shut the door.
 I will smile and say, "Sounds like you had a full day." When I wake up the next morning I will be surprised and shocked when the laundry was not completed. After all I do for this family! I should have clean socks and boxers and then think out loud, "What's your problem? You get to sleep in?' I don't know why you are so bitchy in the morning, I am the one that has to go to work."

Writing prompt epic fail

This prompt was to be about people in my head and how they felt running my body. I consider this one an epic fail and hubby agreed. I am sharing it anyhow.

“Ok people let’s get those eye lids open. It’s been nine hours. Herbert, what is taking you so long? Open the eyes, NOW!” yelled Jack


“Ok, sir, but I am experiencing a malfunction. Free will is taking over and I can only maintain one eye. What should I do?” said Herbert

“Let me think…..OH! I got it, switch on today’s agenda. If she is so into her free will then that will keep those eyes open.” Said Jack

“Initiating itinerary, sir, in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, and we have uploaded today’s itinerary. “

“Alright then now let’s begin the stretch sequence and…” Herbert interrupts Jack

“Sir, we have a problem. She ignored the itinerary upload and decided to hold off on some of the activities to sleep longer. “said Herbert.

Jack ripped his cap off his head and rubbed it on his forehead before reattaching it. He sighed loudly, “alright alright begin stage 3 dreaming and add in about five minutes of stage 5 towards the end. Make the whole dream sequence last 75 minutes. Then to make sure her free will does not interfere again let’s make it really hard for her to keep her eyes open the second time around.”

Oh my god, what was that about? What a strange dream. One minute I am dancing on a pier and the sun is setting with a foo-foo drink in my hand and next I am being chased down a dark alley in a hurricane storm with a man eating Cyclops after me and he is gaining. Ugh, I can’t sleep after that!

“Jack, she is awake. Stage 5 dream sequence did the trick.” Smiled Herbert

“It’s about time. Get team alpha to the bladder and proceed to jump vigorously until she gets up. Hopefully it will not take as long as yesterday.”

Herbert rolled his eyes, “tell me about it, sir, I sent team Charlie to the bladder at 5am and she still used free will mode until 9am! Team Charlie was so tired they could not relieve team foxtrot until 4 hours later. This is one hard assignment sir. Never seen so much free will usage in my life! Team alpha is in place and has begun to jump.”

“Very well, how about those eyes, doing what I said to do?”

Yes sir but I think your plan is back firing. She has brought in free will again sir.”

Damn it! Herbert, send any available member to jump on the bladder and send another crew to the bowels. We will get her up one way or another!”

Hummmm…..my eyes just want to stay shut. I suppose I will go back to sleep for a little while longer but not too long because I have got to pee like a race horse. I can hold it though. Hummm….it is just so darn cozy here. My errands can wait. Oooo, I feel a turtle head popping out. I will get up sooner than I had planned. I am not getting up until it is about to come out!



Herbert began to get excited at his post and started to jump up and down and squealing with joy, “sir, she is moving! She has decided to use the bathroom! Shall I call the teams back in or redirect?”

Jack smiled a sheepish smile, “redirect alpha to the stomach. Let’s make her hungry. She will surely get going if she has to go downstairs to eat!”

Herbert redirected team alpha to the stomach. Team Charlie finished up in the bowels and was sitting in the control room on stand-by when the news came in.

I just don’t feel like doing anything right now. I know, I will read. Ooo, I am really hungry. I will read a little bit then go down and get some breakfast.

“OH FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!” screamed Jack and he threw his cap onto the floor and stepped on it. “How long has she been back in bed reading?”

“One point five hours, sir, and counting.” Said Herbert

“Queue dizziness and lightheadedness, that will make her get up and eat.” Ordered Jack.

“Sir, I took the liberty of doing that 35 minutes ago, she laid down instead of sitting up and said she would go downstairs soon but she keeps reading and now I am getting reports in from all the other sectors that is shutting down into nap mode. They said they heard her mumble something about it being Sunday.” Said Herbert.

“Ok, alright, Oh Geesh, I need to think about this one. Keep working on her. I will be back.”

The Ink Spots- I don't want to set the world on fire.

quiet servitude

I keep to myself. I post superficial glimpses of myself on Facebook. I tell very little about myself to others, even close friends no less about me than I know of them. I am considered laid back and calm. I look as though I weather the storm well. It takes a training to be such a salty dog such as myself. It does not help the morale of the ship if the crew sees the Captain wince. It's best to let them think we are on course and not a drift with the hopes we see land soon or, at best, another ship to raid for it's booty.

This would be called a martyr by some. Others say it is the job of the woman of the house. Others simply think it is wrong. Wrong or right is not reality. We all live somewhere in the gray. Somewhere.

What people do not see is the biting freezing wind nipping at my nose, toes, and cheeks on a daily basis. No one sees the raging fire such a breeze can cause. Two extremes building an inner blaze. What looks like a snuffed out fire is merely an illusion. A sneaky being lying low waiting for that moment that a fresh source of oxygen, a breath of fresh air, and you get one hell of a back draft. A flaming charbroil burst.

Every full moon I feel the inability to keep my real feelings quiet. My frustrations quiet. My fears quiet. My lack and despair quiet. The dam bursts forth an unimaginable flood of hormones that rush through out my body. A biological truth serum flows through my veins. Rants, cursing, and anger from the past 28 day, hell, past 28 years come into fruition and not be patted down with purring words and soft kisses.

I think men think we are being irrational in these moments. I think what they miss is the fact we spare them this the entire month and can no longer suppress those emotions any longer.

I myself am all this and more. I am a woman. Feel my wrath!

A friend told me to try writing prompts. Here is the result:

My neighbors hate me. They don’t trust me. They don’t talk to me. They even avoid eye contact. It’s sad really. They think I am crazy and a thief. I do my best to be cheery and pretend it doesn’t bother me, but it does, immensely. I could tell them the truth but they would never believe me. They just think I am pathological now and they would rather see me move. I suppose I should tell you what happened.


I was standing in my yard watering my fruit trees I had just planted. Kids went inside because it was a scorching hot day. All the neighbors were either at work or inside with the air conditioners blasting cold air in their faces. I wanted to make sure my new transplants stayed happy and moist. I heard a noise behind me but I was not concerned because my neighbor Steve is notorious for tinkering and fixing something. He is always popping in and out of his house at various times of the day and not particularly predictable. I assumed it was him and proceeded with my peaceful watering as the sun burnt my tanned summer skin. Pretty soon I heard cursing, “Damn woman, look at what she did to my pants!”

I didn’t know that voice so I turned around and nobody was there. I shrugged my pink shoulders and turned back around. I decided the heat and sun were getting to me so I turned the hose onto myself. Cooling my shoulders and drinking big gulps of cold water straight from the hose. Not the healthiest way to get your water but better than the alternative.

The kids let the dogs outside and for several minutes all I could hear were the chickens squawking, ducks grumbling, and turkeys gobbling in protest to the pooches wrestling, growling, and chasing everything. I then heard the bark change. The “stranger danger” bark that alerts me to look around. I did that and saw that my dogs were standing face to face with a garden gnome. He wore the most awful looking pants! Hot pink pants on a garden gnome. I looked around wondering how a garden gnome got in my yard. I diverted the attention of the dogs to a stick and they forgot all about Hot Pants. I looked down at the gnome and picked him then said aloud, “Where on earth did you come from, Mr. Hot Pants?”

“My name is not Mr. Hot Pants! My name is Sven. I used to live next door but Debbie painted my pants hot pink and was going to give me to her granddaughter. I left.” Said Sven the gnome.

I about dropped his heavy tiny concrete body on the ground. I must have felt shaky because he said, “Hey now, be careful! Be careful! Put me down. I can manage. I got here didn’t I?”

“Um. Um. “ I stuttered and it felt like I did that for an eternity. It must have lasted a while because he became short with me and snapped, “Spit it out already. Yes, yes, I talk! Get over it. Are you going to help me or not?”

I stumbled around with the words and stood confused, blinking hard and thinking the sun was really powerful. I was hallucinating. I was able to say, “How can I help you?”

“First you can take me inside before someone sees you with me.” Said Sven.

I had lost all ability of clear logical thought. I never thought about the fact it looked like I was stealing a gnome from Steve and Debbie. I was only following what Sven said to do. I remember thinking I had collapsed from the heat and this was only a dream before I fried in the sun. I walked over to my hose with Sven under my arm. I set him on the ground next to me as I turned off the water. I looked over at him as I twisted the handle to the right tightly and said, “What did they do that was so bad that warranted you to run off like a fugitive?” Sven said nothing. I tried again, “Well? What was so horrible? I know hot pink pants may not be great but it is not the end of the world is it? Lots of people wear hot pink and many are men. I think you are making a mountain out of a mole hill, Sven.”

As soon as I completed my sentence I heard Steve say, “You talking to my gnome there?”

I turned around with a jump. I felt my heart skip a beat and then start up very fast. I felt a bit ill from the fear and realization I was not passed out on the ground and having a freakish dream. I was standing before my neighbor and he caught me talking to his garden gnome.

“Yeah, something like that.” I said slowly then I quickly stated. “I found him, uh, it, in my yard and I was afraid James would hit with the lawn mower so I brought it with me over here. I was going to bring it back later. Since you are here you can take it.” I smiled the biggest shit eaten grin I could muster up at that point.

I reached down and picked up the garden gnome and handed him off to his rightful owner.

Steve gave me a weird look as he took the concrete gnome in his hands, “thanks.” And walked back to his house and I walked into my front door. Am I going crazy? What just happened? How did that gnome get there? It was too heavy for the dogs to carry. Were the questions swimming in my pre-heat stroke brain.

“Hey boys, I am going to go lie down. If you get hungry there is pizza in the freezer.”

“OK!” the boys yelled back in unison.

The next morning I went out to check my trees. I brought out organic fruit tree fertilizer stakes to shove into our hard clay soil. It was too hard, even after watering every day. I went back to get the hose. When I was approaching the fruit trees I saw out of the corner of my eye HOT PINK. I whipped my head around to see that damn garden gnome in my yard under the willow tree several yards from the fruit trees.

“Damn it! Go away! You are making me look bad. Go home!”

“No, please, help me! I need you to paint my pants. Please!!” said the gnome.

I walked near the tree. My hose digging a trench into the dirt with water as I conversed with this gnome named Sven. “Listen Sven” pointing my finger and squatting under the weeping limbs, “I am not about to get in bad with Steve and Debbie so you can feel better about your concrete pants!” I stood up and walked away to finish my work. I never thought about it after that, OK, I lied I thought a lot about, Just not enough. My neighbor saw that menace under my tree when he got home from work; hard to miss a hot pink gnome under a tree. I didn’t see his face but I am sure he was wondering why I kept stealing his wife’s gnome. The gnome she was getting ready to give their granddaughter. This was not going well for me.

The gnome became a real nuisance. Every morning I heard his pleas to help him and every afternoon the neighbor would come back over and retrieve him. He could be found in front of my door, in the chicken coop, in the garage, under the porch, or in the garden. The last morning he came to the house and his whole body was painted in neon green, yellow, polka dots, and of course hot pink. He looked awful and no longer a respectable garden gnome. He was hard to look at without bursting into uncontrollable bouts of side splitting laughter. I picked him up so the neighbor would not see him in my yard and brought him inside. I waited for night. I needed the cloak of darkness to put Sven back where he belongs. Lights were out. All was quiet and it was significantly dark. As I approached the garage two flood lights automatically turned on. The dog flew out from its newly installed dog door, and the neighbor was outside before I could blink. There I was caught looking like a thief holding their tacky garden ornament.

That was it. My neighbors were furious with me. There I stood holding the gnome. I tried to explain how I was bringing it back but they did not believe me. This why my neighbors distrust and dislike me. All because of a stupid garden gnome that would not leave me alone and every day now I see evidence that the rumor is spreading that I am a bad seed. No one waves as they drive by, my family is not invited to BBQ’s, and neighborhoods kids are not allowed to play with “those kids.” It has been rough and we are now thinking of moving. Being the neighborhood nut job is neither the job description I want nor need. I, myself, never want to see another garden gnome as long as I live!

What a decade. During the past ten years my uncle Gene passed away, my dog Medwin die, my dog Buckwheat and my dad’s dog Ziggy. Sam’s Grandpa Earl Drake passed away, my grandmothers Birdie Burdiss and Alice Watts passed away, and my great grandmother Clara Rogers passed as well. I had the misfortune and amazement that my mother clinically died and was then revived and life flighted to the hospital. Two of those deaths were doctor failures, my mother and grandma Birdie. I have little faith in the modern medical system. During the early years of the decade my oldest son was very ill. From Friday night to Sunday morning we took him to the ER three times. Each time they told me he was constipated. For those three days we were up nearly round the clock taking care of a screaming crying little boy in writhing pain. I insisted, no, demanded, that we take him to Children’s Mercy. There they discovered he had pneumonia and was not constipated but that his body had completely shut down his organs. Modern medicine helped, yes, but the other hospital was going to let him die. There, again, I lack whole hearted faith in that profession.


During this decade I had more children and attempted to have more children. I even gained a teenager! James Edward turned 13. During this decade Jonah Ellington was born and turned 10 before the new decade began, two years behind him is his brother Zane Austen. Sam and I attempted to adopt a baby right at the last second in 2010. It failed but we are still trying for the new decade. Nathan Flint is his name. We fell in love with our bundle of joy. We cared for him for two weeks before handing him back to the state of Maryland because the father, a homeless and jobless man wants to parent him. We are waiting to hear how this turns out. We would love to have him back but are also prepared to go forward and get a different baby if we can.

We have had education ups and downs during this decade. James started kindergarten at age 5 in public school in one of the countries “best” districts. That was the worst year, worst school, doubly worst teacher, and triple evil school board and school staff. I did not enroll James for the following year and the school kept calling. I said I was homeschooling. They kept harassing. Then they threatened to take James away from me. I called the district attorney office and told them what was happening and that I could not get them to back off. Few days later I get a call from the school apologizing and lied to my face saying all they ever wanted was for me to sign papers saying I was homeschooling. At 7 years old I placed James in a private school in Lawrence Ks. I began to notice how he was not improving and the teacher actually scolded me for not teaching him geography. That was HIS job, so I thought. James was almost 9 when I took him out. He still did not know what a period or a sentence was. I was highly disgusted. Within 2 weeks at home he knew what a period, exclamation point, question mark, and others. Jonah went to the preschool part of the class. I took him out when a teacher accused him of stealing money from the counting jar and Jonah watched him stick the money in his pocket. We went back to homeschooling for one year when Jonah asked to go to public school. He went from October to April. He had dark circles under his eyes and looked miserable. His spark was sucked from him. I took him out early and he thanked me. He hated it but was afraid to tell anybody because he begged to go. We continued on with homeschooling until I discovered the Waldorf school that we were going to put James in after kindergarten but it failed to open when they said they would was now open. Not only that they had room for all three boys! We did a full year of that. The stress and drama was too great. James teacher left because the parent that was paying his salary said he was inadequate and they refused to pay (he was and more so) and Zane hated his class. A former employee advised me to not re-enroll Zane. With his passionate hate and on that advice we did not re-enroll. Jonah then refused to go back on grounds that “James use to protect me from the boys in the other class.” Well I didn’t know that was going on either. We are back to homeschooling and we are never going back to public or private again. Why pay for public school hassle when it is free and why put up with it at all? Our lives are simpler and calmer now.



I moved into the country on a dirt road then someone came along and bought all the land next to us and built min-mansions, gave us cul-de-sacs and paved the roads. I became a beekeeper and then quit. Sam the next year became a beekeeper and has kept going. We were going to get goats and bought an expensive gate and installed it. I accidentally burnt it down. We still have no goats. We got chickens and they died the first night, we got guineas and they died the first night. We got a mama and chicks and something got into their pen and killed them the first night. My father began calling this place Auschwitz. We held off for a few years and started up again with meat chickens. I was a feather plucker for 19 chickens that took 8 hours to process. We have decided for this new decade to buy a mechanical chicken plucker . We are still thinking and mulling over the idea of having goats. We decided instead to go with ducks, turkeys, guineas, and hens. When we moved we gave up cable TV. We decided that the kids needed more outdoor time. It was slow and hard to change. It is still hard to get them out. It has changed me though. I look forward to nice days to work outside. I am starting to get the hang of gardening. I have planted some berry bushes and trees to reap the rewards of my hard labor. The digging holes for trees, the mowing, the gardening, pretty much all outdoor activities I do by myself. I feel pretty proud about that.

During this past decade Sam and I have grown apart. Almost divorced and then worked really hard at fixing the wounds of the past. During this time we not only healed those wounds but while doing so strengthened our bond with each other. We are better friends, better lovers, and better people because we went through it and stuck it out. Was it easy and fun? No and HELL NO! It was anything but easy and fun. We did it though. I am thankful we kept swimming instead of giving up and drowning. I feel blessed and truly loved. We are in a good place together.



As I look back I see how much of my decade was rough. I felt it but never really realized how rough it sounded. I even failed to mention a family member incarcerated, Zane being hospitalized for an infection caused by a rusty nail in the foot, Sam and I going back to school, classes we took, and all the other little and big things we did.  Every decade brings about its changes. This cannot be stopped because there are so many variables and influences out of your control. I can though create MY life and create something with more beauty, more calmness, more serene loveliness. I can create peace and joy. Abundance in friends and finances. I can create great health and vitality. I can create more movement and exercise. I can create everything and anything I want. There are no rules, only suggestions.

This new decade I am waking in the belief I am powerful. I am healthy. I am fit. I am happy. I am rich. I am a talented writer. I am a great cook. I embody love and share it freely. I share my happiness. I share my talents. I am safe in whatever I chose to do. I travel at free will. I create on demand. I am open to experiences that leave me glowing and happy. I embody pleasure. I live by the golden rule. I expect others to live by it as well. I believe my children benefit from my happiness, joy, love, and great health. I expect the same for them. They are healthy and happy and safe. I am not a manipulator and refuse to play that role any longer. I will no longer allow guilt to be part of my vocabulary. I am a Goddess. I am a Mother. I am a Friend. I am a Lover. I am an Artist. My life is dictated by what I want and not what society expects from me. I will not sit down and shut up. I will stand up and I will be heard. I will move through the ranks and I will summon the power that be and let my spirit flow with ease through the mess we humans call “civilized living.” I will break up the “status quo” and I will be a force to be reckoned with. All the while I will smile and do it from a place of love and peace. So be it!

What is my role or duty?

What is the duty of a wife?  I am continually "expected" something from others, that I am not married to, to perform some duty as a wife for my husband. Their unrealistic expectation then lends itself with a myriad of emotions for myself and themselves.

I experienced this yesterday. My husband became the treasurer of his men's group at the annual meeting. Sounds simple enough but apparently not. I went to the end of the meeting to pick up my husband for a movie date. First man I encounter said my husband had something to tell me. I walked into the meeting room. Next man asked what I thought, and I said, "about what?" and he made a weird face and walked away and said to my husband, "Have you told her?"

Long story short, they wanted to know if Sam had told me about becoming the treasurer. It seemed like a big deal to them. I didn't care then and don't care now if he does it or not. I had man after man talking about how I needed to give support, bless him, and so on. Yeah, yeah, I get that. I am beginning to see how I do not mesh with many of these men's expectation of my wifey-ness. For me, showing support is  not getting involved and attached to any outcome. He can either do it or not do it. I want him happy and if he is not happy then he needs to let it go. If it makes him happy to help the group in this way then he should do it. Support comes from me in the form of not giving a damn if he does it or not. Not about giving permission to do it or not, or if I think he is capable or not, or if he has time to do it, or if it makes me happy or not. This is about him, not me. I am not his keeper and he is not mine. What it feels like to me is they expect me to give permission or have some say in what he does with his life. I do when it involves ME.

I find many of the men very pleasant to be around but many more I find it very hard to communicate with. Our wavelengths are not connecting at all.

I think what I would like these men to know is that you should not expect from me what you expect from a woman YOU want. It is clear I am not what you would want and knowing this will make life easier for us all. I am not your typical woman. I am not a "good little wife." I broke the mold and I am not going to let you or any other man or woman duct tape it back together!

My husband and I do not have the typical marriage. We broke that mold as well. So next time you think I "should" or "should have" or whatever story about marriage and wife goodness you make up in your head, be sure to keep me out, because that doesn't jive with this sister.

keep rolling....

I am currently on "go with the flow" mode. Hubby and I have decided to take the plunge again. The tears have dried, the numbness set in and we are forging onward. Life is much to short to sit and wallow in misery. Must keep going. As Nemo and Dori would say, "keep swimming!" That is exactly what we are doing. Staying afloat in the stormy current, knowing it will pass. Already we see the sun shining around the edges of gray clouds. There is peace ahead. All will be as we create and believe. All is well and will be well.

Now, if only I could figure out how to fill my empty space made by that experience. We fully expected to be busy with one thing and now that is not here to do. Like getting to the movies to find out the projector broke 10 minutes into the movie. Only problem is I don't know when the projector will be fixed!

Ahh, life. What twists and turns, bumps and ditches we create.