The "Magic" of Chistmas

Don't you wish that you could actually "bottle" the magic of Christmas back from when you were a kid? Back when you were a kid...you didn't have to worry about Christmas shopping, baking, those GD Santa Swaps for under $20 for people you don't give a shit about, Christmas decorating...and worst of all...the entire hang over of Christmas debt. You didn't have to worry about calories, pay attention to what you ate or stress about gaining weight. All you ever had to worry about was your mother actually completing the phone call to Santa to tell him not to bother coming....when you have been saucy or a naughty girl/boy...I still can't believe that I bought that scam year after year...it's the same as when Dad would scream "don't make me stop this car!"... my brother Lloydie, Lori and me would instantly shut up and be scared shitless. But, what would have happened if he stopped the car? Did anybody's parents ever actually stop the car? Would he have left us on the side of the highway? NO...irrationally we would all sit in fear...fear of the car stopping! I digress...back to the threat of the phone call...the simple movement of lifting the receiver of the phone... not touching the dial...stopped me in my tracks...and I am still a naughty girl who is scared shitless of the phone receiver in my Mother's hand!!!

I remember many Chritsmas' staring out of our large picture window...desperately looking up to the sky for the sleigh. I still swear to you that I saw Rudolph's bright red nose leading the other reindeer and Santa's sleigh over my house! Every Christmas Eve my mother cranked up that "Santa Sleigh Tracker" on the radio...somehow the 'sleigh' was almost on the edge of our town right around bedtime...(highly suspicious and perfect timing I'd say!)...but I was exhausted from the emotional roller coaster ride anyway. When I was a kid, time sure moved super-agonizingly-slow on Christmas Eve! I even tried to go to bed one year at 4pm because I just couldn't stand the wait any longer! But...I got out of bed for church and Christmas Dinner with my grandparents....which was awesome. My grandparents made my Christmas complete. Every Christmas Eve before they left for their 'rounds'(cousin Sherry!) we were allowed to select one present and open it. Nanny and Grampy always gave me and Lori the same thing...mine was pink...Lori’s was blue...whatever it was it was awesome!I spent the weeks before Christmas studying the packages and shaking them in order to make the best decision for which gift to open on Christmas Eve! I was a slow learner back then...because we always opened our grandparents’ gift while they were still there...but the following year I started the gift studying all over again.

When we were kids, my sister Lori and I shared a bedroom. One night when I was about 4 years old, I distinctly remember waking up and hearing the sounds of presents being moved around....both of us almost shit our pants with excitement. Being the ballsy girl I am...I decided that Santa would like nothing more than to actually meet me in person...so in my "kitty pyjamas" (those once piece PJ's with feet included and a snap open bum)...I jumped out of bed...and started to make my way to the living room to greet the jolly fellow...but my plans were foiled when my Dad stepped into my path. My Dad is a big man...blocks the light from coming through a doorway kind of big...so if he steps in front of you...you stop. He asked "where do you think you're going?" In my little voice (like Cindy-Loo-Who)...I pulled my thumb out of my mouth... and very authoritatively informed him that I was going to meet Santa. He crossed his arms and shook his head back and forth in a no. He said "are you kidding me? You better get back to bed quickly because Rudolph is on the roof right now!" At that very second...Rudolph (aka my brother Lloyd) scuffed his hoof(boots)...on the roof directly above my head!!(The roof of our house was flat by the way!).If I knew the meaning of OMFG back then I would have screamed it out...but in a 4 year old mode 35+ some years ago...I remember my heart stopping! Now...my memory gets a little blurry after that...somehow...faster than the speed of light...I landed back into my bed from 20 feet away without my feet touching the ground...and against all rational odds I somehow fell asleep until the morning.

Waking up...I remember those butterflies doing cart wheels in my belly...so much excitement simply by opening my eyes! I had that moment where I simply woke up...and then the reality that Santa had been to my house....and a pile of gold was waiting for me just around the corner would set in. I would scream "NORI (Lori=sis)....NORI get up....come on!!!!"...and off we would go...running to the living room! In our house...Santa did not wrap his gifts...the gifts from Santa were staring right back at us as we rounded the corner into the living room. There we stood...taking it all in. My heart skipped a beat...I couldn't breathe....right there in the center-front of the tree stood Wendy Walker...the big and tall doll of my dreams!

Wendy Walker was 32" tall and she had the most beautiful blonde hair with ringlets. She did not actually "walk" at all...her legs moved back and forth from the groin...no knee action...no chance of walking...I think maybe "Walker" was her last name. It didn't matter ...I was only a few inches taller than she was...and I drugged this life-sized, stiff monstrosity around with me everywhere. Thumbelina was going to be so jealous! Do you remember Thumbelina....she was a soft doll...you pulled a string in her back and she wriggled like a real baby? Thumbelina had no need to be jealous...I still miss her the most...I LOVED her! The following year Wendy Walker was discarded to the back of the pile and replaced with Baby Tender Love...like children though...you loved them all...just in a different way than the others! I loved Baby Tender Love so much I actually almost chewed the legs right off of her!(Don't even try to tell me that you did not chew on Baby Tender Love or your Barbie's feet...because I know you would be lying!).I also had Mrs. Beasley...that doll is just plain old scary UGLY...but somehow I managed to fall in love with her too! Mrs. Beasley was a plastic headed old lady wearing a blue and white polka dotted suit from neck to toes...she had thick black framed glasses and when you pulled her string she said loving things like a Grandmother would. I don't remember what she said...but I loved her just the same.

I digress...back to Christmas Day with Nori(Lori). After everything was opened...I would take a breath or two to regain composure and I would re-examine everything...and take in that "new" smell of Christmas presents. I have no recollection what Lori or my brother Lloyd got...I didn't care. They were older and got fewer toys and more clothes...like grown-up things. I also got a can of hot pink "Silly String" that year too! I LOVED that! I can still smell it...my parents must have been some pissed at Santa that year because I made one hell of a mess all over the house with that stuff!

Then, years later...you wake up whenever...and all the gifts are wrapped...and soft...like clothes only. There are no toys at all. No excitement leading up to the days before Christmas...no 'sleigh tracker' on the radio...no need to look out the window. No more ripping through the pages of the Sears Wish Book as soon as it crossed the door step. No more worrying about Santa burning to death in the blazing fire in our fireplace...no more Grandparents. Every year after they died...I would look to the door like a loyal dog....waiting for them to come home...which wasn’t going to happen. Christmas just wasn't the same at all. In fact, it turned out to be a tremendous disappointment...I desperately searched for that "magic" feeling year after year...and I never ever found it. As a grown up...and a nurse...I would sign on to work every year...saying I wanted people with kids to have it off...but in reality I was trying to avoid the disappointment that would inevitably come anyway.

Then, out of the blue...the love of my life jumped into my world with children in tow. On that first Christmas with my step kids (aged 6 and 9)...I didn't see it coming....but that "magic" feeling rushed right back into my heart. I spent the weeks before the event searching for that 'perfect' gift for them...and it was worth every minute for the look on their faces. When the kids opened those gifts it was magical...priceless in fact...you cannot beat a front-toothless grin with the accompanying spitty speech impediment....thankth tho much Nynn(Lynn=me) !!!I'm tho happy!!! Tears of joy flowed freely from them (and me) as they opened the perfect gifts...giving oodles of hugs and kisses...all day! Before the step kids stomped into my life...I had the perfectly manicured Christmas tree with clear lights, crystal ornaments and burgundy bows...but after our first year together...and every year afterwards...I had multicoloured....dysfunctional crooked trees with randomly placed items...perfect! I also got to play "Barbies" and color all day too! I LOVE COLORING!

As it turns out...the magic of Christmas was not lost forever...it was simply 'on hold'...and within me the entire time. Can you imagine my surprise when I discovered how much Santa cursed and swore when he attempted to put the toys together (FYI-the Easter Bunny swears alot too!). I found myself too excited to sleep...waiting for that pile of gold to be discovered that Santa left at my house by the kids. I will admit that it was very challenging answering questions about how Santa was able to find them (the kids) at their mother's house...and at our house. How Santa managed to get into the apartment without a chimney or key...and best of all...the highly scientific answer that I had to conjure up when I blared the radio...and was asked how the "Santa Sleigh Tracker" worked while they desperately searched and stared up into the sky!

"Until one feels the spirit of Christmas, there is no Christmas. All else is outward display - so much tinsel and decorations. For it isn't the holly, it isn't the snow. It isn't the tree not the firelight's glow. It's the warmth that comes to the heart”~Anonymous

Nynn
(aka Lynn)
;)

Death Becomes Her

For those of you who do not know me I am a nurse. I never wanted to be a nurse...ever! Because there was no roll call in university,I decided to be the cribbage champion of the student union building and subsequently failed out of my first year of university! Now, considering that I graduated almost at top of my class in high school with a 94% average...plummeting to the lowest depths of the earth with “academic probation” followed by a “see you later” at the end of the school year was simply unacceptable to my mother...a teacher. FAILURE WAS NOT AN OPTION! So, with fists clenched she ‘nicely’ cornered me one day and said “Navy or nursing”...take your pick”. I started to say “Well, I don’t think that I am interested in either really”... but then she simply (and very sternly) repeated herself...”Navy or nursing...it is not a question of anything else...take your pick.” I thought about peeling potatoes somewhere over the North Atlantic Ocean and with head bowed I quietly answered “nursing”.

My Grandmother was technically the first nurse in our family. She did not graduate from an accredited nursing school...she did not have a cap or black stripe...but she was the epitome of what a nurse is. Nanny assumed the care of every single sick family member in her home until they died. This is where I believe I got my innate nursing capabilities from. When my Dad was a young boy it was ‘just another day’ for the relatives to be taken out the door “feet first”. "Feet first" is the exact translation of French "les pieds devant", which is a metaphorical humorous/slang expression meaning "dead". It is frequently used with "partir" (leave) and there is always an indication of movement, as of a coffin rolling, or lying on a stretcher. So, years before I was even a glimmer in my Father’s eye...death was just as ordinary as lunch...sometimes it even came between lunch and dessert!

The death theme spilled over into my world and continued to be an everyday ‘normal’ occurrence in my life. My earliest childhood memories and bonding moments with my Mother involve regular visits to the funeral parlors and going for walks in the Fernhill cemetery. I absolutely loved the cemetery...I actually remember begging Mom to take me! At the funeral parlor there was plenty of great food, punch, and socializing galore...everyone was glad to see you...it just made sense to me that the first three letters of funeral spelled FUN! I did not have a clue that going to the funeral home or cemetery was not what every kid loved doing. Little did I know... this life-and-death experience (my Grandmother’s huge heart and the unintentional funeral-parlor-etiquette-training)...during my early formative years would come in very handy and would prepare me for my life’s profession!

My current position as nursing supervisor involves being a family advocate at cardiac arrests and traumas. Over the last week, I have dealt with the sudden deaths of a 58 year old, a 59 year old, people with terminal cancer, elderly patients, some newborns and still births and some forever young DOA’s (dead on arrivals) from accidents. During these events, it is my job to seek out the family...keep them updated...hold their hands...offer an official shoulder to cry on...pass the Kleenex...provide unlimited hugs...and introduce the physician to deliver the verdict. I am their ‘ROCK’...and I feel honored to be there for them.

For all intensive purposes...my 'death-training' prepares me to stand strong...remain strong and in control...to be a ‘rock’...but in reality I am a mess! I relentlessly carry the family members with me for days...sometimes my heart feels twisted like a sponge as I think about the mothers, fathers, sisters and brothers whom I have never met. I think of them...imagine what their Christmas will be like...wonder how they are getting through the day...worry for their futures...and their present. I liken myself to be more like a Cherry Blossom than a rock...you know those chocolate treats that resemble a rock? They have a hard chocolate and nutty exterior...but with some persistence and a good bite...a soft and gooey pink center oozes out all over the place? As tough as I would like to appear on the outside...these experiences inevitably result in a break and subsequent explosive flood out in the dam!

A couple of weeks ago, two birds who were flying along and having the time of their lives...crashed into my picture window with a big loud thump!I jumped up to see what was going on...only to catch a glimpse of one bird lifting its head...looking both ways...taking it's last breath and dying right there on my lawn at the base of my window! The other bird was head first in the ground...ass up...and struggling to get back up. My first instinct (and absolute terror) was that I would have to kill it in order to end the suffering and save its helpless body from the jaws of a hungry kitty. I immediately picked up the phone and called my husband at work...I hysterically told his supervisor that it was an emergency...and when he came to the phone...I imagined myself pummeling this helpless bird to death with a shovel...and I LOST IT! I screamed and wailed and cried myself into out-of-control hysteria. Thankfully, my hubby works next door...so he rushed home to remove the dead bird...and in the process...when he helped the ass-up bird get upright...it woke up from its reverie and it flew away! You would think that this would make me feel better right? WRONG! I re-imagined myself pummeling this thing with a shovel to save it’s suffering...and the possibility that I could have murdered a living bird made me even nuttier!!! My husband held me through my out-of-control-heaving-crying spell...and after he went back to work, I ate my way through the rest of the day...wishing to God there were melted cheese vats or tubs of chocolate pudding to dive into...extra melted cheese...deep fried anything. When I get into these ‘states’...there is not enough chocolate in the world that will help me feel better! I had to lie down for a couple of hours to recover...damn that oozing pink center! Damn...a Cherry Blossom would be really really good to eat right now!

I graduated from nursing 20 years ago this week. Over the past two decades I have been privy (and blessed) to be present for the most frightening and/or miraculous moments in the lives of complete strangers. I have been there when people who fear bad news are given good news...and I have been there when people who didn’t see it coming have been delivered a devastating blow. I have seen births, deaths, miraculous recoveries, inexplicable tragedies and sudden deaths. It is during these times that I can't help but to reflect on my life and death training...I have realized that I was born to do this...prepared to guide people by the hand through these painful life moments. Bottom line here...my Mother did not pick nursing...nursing picked me. Nursing has molded me into the person I am today...and for that I am forever grateful for this amazing and blessed life experience!When you're a nurse you know that every day you will touch a life or a life will touch yours. ~Author Unknown

God pours life into death and death into life without a drop being spilled~(Author Unknown).

Lynn Casey RN
;)

The Olympic Torch

This week the Olympic torch came through my town. My hubby and I went to watch it. It was a really cool event. There was a Coca Cola truck before the torch bearer that passed out free Coke, Canadian flags and neon shiny things. There were a couple other official vehicles with the media and torch runners in tow and then the torch runner. Lucky for us, there was a torch pass over right in front of us! I went to snap some amazing photos...and much to my chagrin...my camera was DEAD! I could have screamed! I joked that ‘oh well...at least this memory is ‘burned’ into our brains!

The following day, I happened to go to my home town 90 miles away for a visit, just to see my family and friends for the day. Well, low and behold...didn’t I get stuck in traffic right in the middle of the torch relay? I was surprised and I could not believe I’d get a chance for an actual picture of the darned thing! Well, traffic was stopped...and as soon as the torch bearer came into view a big ass truck drove right in my view. My picture of the torch bearer is a blurred mess of a flame with a truck grill in the way! I admit that I was pissed...but I laughed it off. I realized that I was fortunate enough to see the flame relay twice and that in itself was really cool! The ‘old’ Lynn would have freaked out...she would have went down on the floor kicking and screaming in a full fledged temper tantrum with red faced rage!

When I was a young nurse, I was’ bright eyed and bushy tailed’, ready to take the world by storm. I quickly voiced my opinions and rallied for change. I believed in action, not reaction. I could not understand the resistance that I had met along the way. All I ever wanted was to make our profession better. Unfortunately, I became a scape goat for negativity. I was confused and disappointed. How could I have been perceived as exactly what I have learned to hate? Much to my demise, my passion for change turned into rage and years of frustration.

A couple of years ago, I broke 4 teeth from grinding in them in my sleep. I was not sleeping well and I would cry at the drop of a hat. I reached ‘the point of no return’ and I didn’t have the energy to turn around. I found getting out of bed to go to work challenging. I noticed that I would become anxious days before my shifts. I knew that I was ‘burnt out’. I tried to ignore it. But my body would not allow me too. This burn out spilled over into my personal life. I am normally an outgoing and sociable person, but I began to withdraw and avoid social situations. I knew that I needed to do something. In the past, I would apply for another job and move on. However, I discovered that this ‘band aid’ only lasted for a short time. What on earth was I going to do?

I decided that I could not climb over the brick wall, and banging my head against it was not productive for my career or my health. I chose to take a detour instead of stop at this dead end. I realized that my fight begins with myself. I had to stop being bitter and learn to be better from my experiences. Well, I decided to change my lifestyle, instead of locations. I started to run, eat healthy, and change my attitude. I was judging myself according to what I did, rather than who I am.

Did you know that the Olympic torch has a secondary flame that kicks in if the main flame extinguishes? This is such an important analogy! To be the best person you can be you must guard your inner flame first! Now I am far from perfect! I have fallen off the wagon many times...and I have not been running for a couple of years now. But, every time I fall off...I get back on...fall off...get back on. Exercise always sneaks back into my life...never totally gone. I most definitely eat healthy...with a slip now and then. I set aside special 'me time'...take long baths by candle light, read a book, get my nails done....whatever strikes my fancy. I realized that change begins within. You cannot change the way people think...you can only change how you react to them. I think back to the song we used to sing at Camp Medley: “it only takes a spark to get a fire going...and soon all those around...will warm up to it’s glowing.” When times are tough...dig down and spark up that inner flame.


“Success is not the result of spontaneous combustion. You must first set yourself on fire.” Fred Shero quotes

Lynn
;)

Color outside the lines

When I was 3 years old, my brother and sister decided to give me my first swimming lesson while camping at Sebago Lake in Maine. I was being a sweet, well behaved and charming little girl...just ‘lightly’ pushing my brother and sister off of the wharf into the water. After a few unplanned ‘falls’ into the water...they conspired against me...and threw me in the water! I had no idea that I was a born swimmer...I came up under the wharf...and very quietly floated under there...allowing mass hysteria to set in with a smirk on my face. When I finally surfaced from the depths...I am pretty sure I got the beating of a lifetime for the scare. BUT, it was well worth it! Of course, my brother and sister got in major trouble for ‘picking on the baby!’

Back in those days, we had one of those trailers built onto the back of a pick up truck...where us kids were ‘allowed’ to stay in the back during the drive and lay on the bunk over the cab of the truck,looking out the window.(It truly is remarkable that we survived those days...no seat belts, no helmets, no alcohol wipes!). As we crossed the US- Canada border...the border guard insisted on searching the trailer. The border guards basically tore everything apart...bunks, pots and pans, suit cases...but got quite a surprise when they ‘inspected’ the tea pot. My brother and sister tell me I had some ‘bowel issues’ back then. I guess I sometimes waited a week or more before ‘going’. Well,unfortunately for the border guards the ‘week of waiting’ was up and I had taken a great big dump in the tea pot! I not only filled it...I had replaced the top on the pot when I was done to let it ‘steep’ to perfection!

I digress. My sister Lori and I went to swimming lessons a couple times a week for many years. I really did not need lessons of any sort...it was more of a badge gathering affair. We were separated from the main group often and one day the instructor took our picture holding a badge. Now, don’t ask me why...but I thought this meant that I was ‘special’...in a short bus kind of way. Since nobody really explained why we were separated from the main group, I thought it was because we were inadequate...or too slow...failures...when in fact...we were super-duper advanced for our ages. Our pictures were taken for being extraordinary swimmers. Thank goodness this contorted idea of mine did not alter my love for swimming. I LOVE swimming…anywhere…anytime. My mother and I actually swam across Bellisle Bay years ago…I would swim the ocean if I knew for sure something wouldn’t bite my bum or sting me!

I was also a Loch Lomond majorette...baton twirler girl. I LOVED baton twirling! Especially the high rubber boots with the pom-poms on them, the sparkly body suit and that funky ‘majorette’ hat to match! Just when I thought it couldn’t get any better...they asked me to carry the banner for the Santa Clause parade! I near shit my pants! Put me right in the front where I belong people...good choice...excuse me...could you step back while I step right in front of you...where I belong...in front of you! I was the baton twirler girl of the universe! Can you imagine my surprise when weeks later I bombed in a competition? I was shocked...and horrible at baton twirling...I ended up at rock bottom last! It was devastating...I quit altogether in fact. Many years later...it hit me like a ton of bricks...out of nowhere...I had to pull over the car...I realized that I was asked to hold the banner in the Santa parade because I was a danger to myself and others with a baton in my hands! OMG! How odd is it that I thought I was a super star when I wasn’t...and thought I wasn’t a super star when I was?

Thank God I did not have a clue back then...as this could have changed the entire course of my life! For whatever reason...maybe a child-like abandon and sense of adventure...I continued to sign on and enlist myself for every opportunity possible. I played trombone and bass guitar in a jazz band for many years, tried out for(and NEVER made)a single sports team year after year (damn you Mr. Porter!.Every year I went back...tried again...never made the list. I figured there was something wrong with the coach...never ever once considered that I was the shits at sports! I did manage to become the high school curling skip though(it may have been lack of turn out at the try outs but I refuse to believe that!)Drama, student council, sang crazy songs each morning for the high school announcements (everybody thought I was CRAZY!), I got hammered at Jim Morrison’s grave in Paris...you name it...I tried it...at least once.

Years ago, I got on some exhibition rides with my step daughter. We both laughed like fools! For those few crazy minutes during each ride...for a brief moment in time...I jumped right back to 1982...when I was on the rides with my best friend Barbara...I felt like I was 14 all over again! A couple years ago, Barbara and I reunited after 18 years and we participated in the Bell City Chase in Ottawa to commemorate it. It’s like the Amazing Race and we came in 120 out of 300...it was exhilarating and we felt like kids again! We didn’t care about winning...we simply signed on to have a fun day! Last year, I signed on to do TreeGo (an obstacle course made of ropes and logs high up the trees). I was scared shitless...but at the same time I felt like a kid again! I get the same thrill when I go a million miles an hour down a ski hill every winter...and this year I discovered the ‘high’ of golf! I am not very good at it...I am simply having a blast...and that is all that matters!

My message here is simple...DON’T DRINK TEA AT MY HOUSE!!! No seriously...embrace your child-like abandon and do something absolutely crazy and fun...something you have always wanted to do. Sign on for an adventure...stop being so serious all the time...and most importantly do not fear failure...embrace adventure! When you cross something off of your list...put something new right back on it. Step outside ‘your box’ and color outside the lines! It is absolutely exhilarating! Now I have to go and find a roller derby rink, belly dancing class, and a Burlesque dancing troop!

Man does not cease to play because he grows old, he grows old because he ceases to play.-- Drew Lachey

Lynn
;)

Freedom is Never Free...

I joined the SYEP (Student Youth Employment Program) for the naval reserve shortly after high school graduation. I originally joined for the good money...but quickly learned that I was in for the time of my life! Where else can you learn some valuable life skills such as shooting a rifles, sub machine guns and 9mm pistols (they called me RAMBETTE at the shooting range), run through military obstacle courses and what to do in the tear gas hut, sailing and man-over-board exercises, fire fighting and disaster training, chef level cooking courses and best of all...how to party with an amazing gang of your peers from all across the country? After the initial summer of training, we continued to meet once weekly down at ‘Brunswicker’ for weekly GMT (general military training). This involved learning the ‘ropes’ of being a good little sailor….tying knots, seamanship, marching, saluting, and so on. Before being deployed the following summer, we had to choose a trade. I chose to be a cook because cooks do not have to do ‘watch’ or quarter deck duty due to irregular and early shifts.

The ‘real’ military training began during my first work assignment the following summer. I was stationed in Halifax Nova Scotia, and I spent the summer living on a decommissioned ship named The St.Croix...we called her (ships are referred to as she’s)‘The CROTCH’ for short. Imagine 200+ co-ed peers living on a close-quartered ship with tax free liquor and smokes! Liquor shots were 25 cents a piece and cigarettes were a buck a pack! There was some more brutal GMT training before our cooking course started...so the gang of cooks to be...from all across the country bonded for life during the psychotic and strenuous training schedule that took place. For the next 6 weeks, our lives basically consisted of running a mile before breakfast, military training classes, marching and doing gun drills on a 106-degree-in-the-shade parade square, fire fighting and disaster training, home work, ironing our uniforms, spit shining our boots until we could see our own reflection, hit the rack (bed) and then up and at it all over again. On the week ends we partied as hard as we worked all week...and became life long friends throughout the entire ordeal. That summer, I had a really bad perm...so I was originally dubbed “fire hazard hair” and then that nickname quickly turned into “wild woman” as the summer progressed and people got to know me a little better.

Back in those good old days, the girls dressed to the nines to go out. I frequently wore my skin tight A-line denim skirt, high heels, a sassy top and neon 1980’s eye shadow with big-ass jewelry and highly teased hair to boot! Let me just tell you now…those ships were not designed for high heels and tight skirts! One night, I was so hammered all I could do was crawl up the gang plank to get home to ‘The CROTCH’. There were two extremely French sailors from Chicoutimi Quebec working quarter deck duty that night. Quarter deck duty involves guarding the entryway to the ship and checking everyone’s ID to get on the ship. As I started to go down the hatch (the opening to go into the ship which is a 10 foot ladder down or up depending on which way you are going)...my high heel caught on the entryway lip and I proceeded to go ass-over-tea-kettle out of control down the ladder. Over the course of my ‘fall from grace’, my skin tight denim skirt ripped from the hem to the waist line. I landed in a heap at the bottom of the ladder with my legs spread wide open up in the air (picture a turkey waiting to be stuffed!). The two French fellows on quarter deck duty ran to my aide...stopped at the top of the hatch, pointed and laughed their guts out! In very broken English one of them said …“Guarde ca Jacque (look Jack)…there is a snatch in the hatch!” I some how managed to contort my way out of my ‘predicament’ and get to my ‘rack’ (bunk). Needless to say...I did not have to pay for my drinks for the rest of the summer...the French boys always took care of that to ensure that I was always good and drunk! That same night, we had a fire drill on The Crotch. I almost slept right through it. For those of you who have never been on a navy frigate…it is impossible to sleep through the wailing noise! The gals in my quarters decided to paint up my face before shaking me awake to get the hell out of there and get into formation. There I stood...dock side...straight as an arrow with my comrades...with all kinds of obscene images on my poor drunken face! We all had a great laugh from that one...especially when I was scrubbing the toilets with my tooth brush for the next week because I would not (could not) give up who did the offensive and phallic artwork.

Each year, our big group would reunite and start exactly where we left off...care free...and have more fun than humans should be allowed. I would go to work in the Galley (kitchen) all day...and then nap...go out all night...get about 3 hours sleep and start the day all over again. I took great joy in traumatizing the little sea cadets on the food line...especially on chicken day! I would place one hand on my chest and another on my thigh in a suggestive manner and then I would ask those poor prepubescent boys in a 1-900-number-esque sex kitten voice...would you prefer a BREAST or a THIGH while holding up a piece of chicken in the tongs! They would immediately avert their eyes to the ground...turn beat red...gulp...and whisper “just fries lady...only fries”!!!! Every Saturday the gang met down at Peddler’s Pub around noon and sang at the top of our lungs with the “Swell Guys” band until we were hoarse...and then we would continue to party until the clubs closed down...or we got kicked out...whichever came first! One night I almost got arrested for peeing in a public place. I hoisted my dress and squatted at the base of a tree in the park at the base of the liquor dome. Somebody tapped my shoulder…and I slurred “HOLD ON A MINUTE…CAN'T A WOMAN TAKE A PEE IN PEACE FOR GOODNESS SAKES?” It turned out to be a police officer...who took pity on my soul and let me off with a warning. Of course it is documented on film somewhere...my ship mates took great joy in collecting “Lynn peeing in public places” footage...thank goodness “You Tube” did not exist back then! I had a ridiculously amazing time during my service in the reserves. I learned so much...and made some amazing life long friends. We used to joke with the REG’s (full time regular force) that their job was our hobby!

It was all fun and games until my first Remembrance Day parade when the Navy got their regular blues back. Before then, we were all decked out in general army green colored gear. The first Remembrance Day parade in the old Navy blues, really set off a crying spell amongst the veterans. They were beside themselves with pride that we were marching by in the old Navy blues. As we marched by, many of the veterans were crying and saluted us! I was so embarrassed...here I was having the time of my life...never to see serious action of any kind...drinking and partying until I could not walk...saluting the tax free liquor and smokes...only to be saluted by veterans who had seen the real deal...who had lived through the nightmares of conflict and war. On this particular Remembrance Day, the troops lined up in every direction of the King Square Union Jack pathways. We had to stand straight at attention throughout the Remembrance Day service. In my direct sight…there stood four mentally retarded brothers and sisters from a well-known local family. During the moment of silence...they were smiling with glee as the leaves let loose from the trees and slowly fluttered to the ground...their faces towards the sun...happy to be alive...unaware of the sad tribute that surrounded them. I could not help but cry...to be reminded of the simple pleasures of life in the smiles of the four siblings with Down’s syndrome...to be reminded of how much we take our lives for granted...and freedom. From that day on...I thought about those veterans in everything I did for the remainder of my military career. Before that fateful day, I never once considered that I was training in the event that reserve troops may be needed or called upon to fight for our country. Mind you I still had wild and crazy bouts of fun from time to time...but their sacrifices remained in my heart in every task that I took on from that Remembrance Day forward. Now, years later, I often think of the sacrifices of our current troops fighting for the safety of our nation on a regular basis. “It is easy to take liberty for granted, when you have never had it taken from you” (Dick Cheney). I think about the hell of what our troops live and see ... of being away from their families for our freedom to be with ours...they are the real deal...and I am forever grateful...our freedom is never free...every day should be Remembrance Day

Feeling gratitude and not expressing it is like wrapping a present and not giving it. ~William Arthur Ward


Lynn
;)

The Ticker Tape In My Head

Do things that annoy you happen more when you are annoyed...or are you just so annoyed that anything that normally annoys you annoys you more? You know, those days where you wake up late...stub your toe...can’t find your keys...drop everything you touch...get paper cuts...have no coffee filters to make the much needed coffee...then get lemon juice or alcohol or something painful in the paper cuts...then stub your toe again...break a finger nail...poke the mascara wand into your eye...deal with the black smear across your face now that has ruined your make up...lose the dry cleaning ticket stub to claim your clothes...of course add in a really bad hair day...get stabbed in the armpit with the under wire from your bra...all the while screaming blue bloody murder expletives’ to nobody into the air?

I learned the hard way that should stay at home when I am in a super pissy state because a couple of weeks ago, I made the brutal mistake of going out while in a really bad mood...and I paid for it dearly! I had the displeasure of ‘bumping into’ an acquaintance at the mall that annoys the hell out of me...because she is a QUIET TALKER! You know, those people who speak in a low mumble-esque whisper all the time and you cannot figure out what the hell they are saying...even if you did want to hear what they are saying...which I did not want to hear! To make matters worse...she goes on-and-on-and-on-and-on-and-on about absolutely nothing…meaningless dribble...a total waste of oxygen! Whatever bits and pieces you can piece together are negative...very negative comments and vibes and empty complaints...non-stop-negative-verbal-vomit! I’d rather listen to her recite her grocery list than whatever the hell she is bitch-whispering on about. Before I plan some sort of desperate escape plan, I try to interject several times to no avail. To confirm her lunacy, I decide to go with the “SO ANYWAY” test. This is where you say something absolutely absurd to see if they are even listening to you...I said “I actually used to be a man...but my penis was blown off in an unfortunate accident”...the abrasive mumbler pauses for a brief second...there is a slight glimmer of hope that she may have heard what I said...but nope...she doesn’t skip a beat and says “SO ANYWAY!” and continues on with her miserable mumble-jumbo ramblings. This is my sign to do something (anything) to escape this madness...I know now that she has failed the SO ANYWAY test that she will not even recall that I was ever here or rude or terrorized by her...I want to scream...”SO ANYWAY” and run for my life!


It is in these painful times that I am ever so grateful that nobody can read the ticker tape in my head!On she goes...babbling incessantly...whisper-mumbling at me...whatever (yawn)...no need for my input( or presence for all that matters) at all...so on-and-on-and-on and-on…goes the ticker tape inside my head...”Aw Jesus...why did I have to go out of the house today? Will you please make her shut up? What are the shit-chances of me and her colliding at this mall full of people at the same time? SHUT UP LADY!!!! Why me GOD? Does she even take a breath? Why can’t she just shut the hell up? Can the floor just open up and suck her in...nobody would even hear her scream...as I am sure it is a whisper too!" I wonder if she hears elevator music in her head...or the classic on-hold tunes...or maybe even Circus music when nobody is around? With her mindless jabber she could not possibly form real thoughts or dreams? I imagine her actually being sucked into the floor...and a tiny little smile crosses my face...which unfortunately encourages the quiet talker to keep on babbling faster! I discover she is babbling on about how amazing she is at something...which leads to my second wave of nausea...as I find people who incessantly pat their own backs make me very uncomfortable...I find it disturbing...and now I am really feeling punished just for being alive at this point. My ticker tape keeps screaming...“I need to escape!! Please Jesus...Should I feign an illness...chest pain? Please get me away from this babbling fool! Where is a good flood, earthquake or natural disaster when you need one? Please make her F#$% off and die...OK?” Without any conscious thought, I just started walking away from her...to which she replied, “Coffee! What an amazing idea…let’s go!” I will also add at this point she said this very loud and clear. I was feeling desperate...panic-stricken...like I was in jail on my way to the electric chair...except going to the electric chair was a much better option than spending one more miserable minute with her...and suddenly my cell phone rings...Yahoo!...Thank you!” Somebody should invent an application so you can 'will' your cell phone to ring on command....by mental telepathy. I politely raise a finger...which in my world is the universal sign to shut the hell up while I answer the phone...for mumblkins to take a freaking breath...but she doesn’t...bla, bla, bla...by this point all I can hear is the Charlie Brown teacher’s incoherent babbling...I must have a look on my face at this point...I feel like my nose is crunched up like something smells rancid...the look on my face should covey that a huge rusty nail has been impaled into my brain. I know my head is beat red as I an UGLY now...this look should have exuded a “please F@#$$ off and leave me the hell alone...forever!". But,the mumbles-from-hell is in her own world...does not need any input from anyone whatsoever...just an involuntary voyeur to her meaningless dribble...she may as well blabber to a coat rack. My ticker tape goes on to say... “Listen...I just don’t like listening to you babble on-and-on-and-on-and-on-and-on about yourself...you mumble so low I cannot hear you anyway...but if I could hear you...I wouldn't want to... you negative miserable sow...in fact, I find you very toxic...but what I do hear is negative or self appreciative and quite honestly very embarrassing and uncomfortable for me...so I am going to go...and I do not want you to follow me...I want you to pretend you have never met me for the rest of your life...OK?”

I answer the phone “HELLO?!” Thank God it is my husband...he automatically knows my distress tone...so he will understand when I inappropriately speak to him...he says “what’s going on?” I sweetly answer “Oh, I am just at the mall chatting with ---- (insert mumbles name here) ----...he automatically knows by the name that I am in hell...so I continue on, “What? I can’t believe I forgot all about that! What time is he coming? Oh my goodness...how long are you home for? Oh my goodness...I better get my ass home right now...can you call him back and say I will be a little late? NO? Shit! Well...I better get going right now!” and I hang up. I look at the mumbles...and point at my watch and say “SO ANYWAY... I was almost late for that...I got to run!” and I run away from her as fast as possible...without looking back.


“If life gives you a bowl of lemons, go find an annoying guy with paper cuts”-anonymous

Lynn
;)

"Oprah-itis" and the Vision Board

Did you ever notice that life is like a country music song? If you have a heart break or life crisis of some sort... the lyrics of every song you hear seems to have been written just for your own predicament? I am not sure if this phenomenon actually has a name....but in my case...instead of a country song... it is "Oprah-itis". I have been watching The Oprah Show ever since the very beginning in the 80's...WAY back when her hair and jewelry was HUGE...she wore obnoxiously bright neon 80's colors...and people could actually call in to the show to voice their opinions. Oprah always seemed to know what I needed to hear...and just in the nick of time. For example...one time when I was going through a life-altering-career- crushing crisis...I was miserable...and bitter...rage was eating me alive....and out of the blue...on my worst day ever...Oprah looked right at me and said "the disappointments in life are to make you better....not bitter (Oscar Wilde)". I shit you not...she looked directly through the camera ...pointed her finger at me and said this life altering statement to me. Then she went on to say that "resentment is like drinking the poison and expecting someone else to die from it." From that day forward I have stood taller and carried the mantra of "better not bitter" with me everywhere I go...saying it whenever I get ugly about something or someone. Fortunately, I did not know then that this crisis was the best thing that ever happened to me...as I had some life lessons to learn...but looking back on it now....I am so grateful I got screwed...otherwise I would currently be really screwed! As they say...everything happens for a reason...thank God! This quote of Oscar Wilde's...as quoted by Oprah... knocked me right off the pity party train...and although I was totally alone at the time...I said "Thanks O!" ...out loud.

Another day on Oprah, she featured how (and why) you should create a vision board for your life. A vision board is a poster/cork board on which you paste or collage images that you’ve torn out from various magazines in order to surround yourself with images of who you want to become, what you want to have, where you want to live, or where you want to vacation, and your life changes to match those images and those desires. The show featured celebrities and regular folk...explaining why their vision boards had what they had on them...and in the end...their visions (and dreams) eventually started to materialize. So, with the intent to make things happen...I have finally finished my vision board. I have had pictures cut out for this board for a long time...sitting in a Superstore bag on the floor...under my desk...not very easy too visualize the dreams I've selected for sure! So, I bought a big-ass cork board....some clear tacks...and I got rocking at it!

The good news is I am a big dreamer. The bad news is I am a big dreamer. Dreaming is good....but until you have focus to actually implement a plan....all you have is dreams....nothing tangible. I have a million ideas....and tons of stuff I want to do...so my head is always abuzz with activity....leaving me little to no time to focus or act upon these ideas...I think about the next ideas while trying to work on the current idea. (Have I confused you yet?) I want to write and publish a book. I want to deliver motivational seminars for women...I want to develop physical assessment seminars and mentor new nurses...I want to connect more with my girlfriends. I want to laugh more and worry less...I want to travel with my hubby more...and of course...the ultimate dream/reality... I will be on The Oprah Show! With those ideas in mind...I gathered my huge stack of magazines and started clipping away...with tunes blaring and wee sips of wine....and kaboom....out it came....my big-ass temporary cork-board masterpiece! It is a dynamic and fluid masterpiece...meaning it will change as ideas or pictures that strike my fancy arise. Thanks O!

Another inspirational day to get my board started surfaced day a couple of weeks ago. I was riddled with self doubt...disappointed that I was suffering from writers block...not getting stuff done that I needed to get done...making excuses...not writing as I had planned to...day dreaming too much...not getting where I need to go...and then I suddenly dropped something on the floor. As I bent over to pick it up...there was Oprah on the cover of her O magazine...smiling up at me...and the headline screamed at me "YOU'RE STRONGER THAN YOU KNOW!" Then, from there...I grabbed some more O Magazines and started snipping pictures and phrases....starting with the "YOU'RE STRONGER THAN YOU KNOW!" caption of course! Once again...I snapped out of my pity party frenzy and simply said "Thanks again Big-O!" (Obviously my idea of a BIG-O is different than most!)

My vision board started with a million dollar bill in the center. Years ago a girl friend gave me the million dollar bill in a money card for a birthday present. I am so glad that I kept it tucked away in my panty drawer all these years...because this simple item was the inspiration to get this whole vision board a rolling! I added tropical beach pictures and sea scapes with me and my baby walking the water lines...statements that say "Beach Within Reach"..."Paradise"..."Escape Completely"..."World Cruise"...and my favorite "Live Vicariously Through No One." I also added some sassy and confident bathing-suit-clad babes...and physically fit chicks climbing rocks, biking, swimming, golfing (sounds like a tampon commercial I know...but no white pants or horses for me thanks!). To remain focused to reach my weight loss goals for our cruise in January...I also added captions that read..."Live healthy"..."Get Fit"...and "There is no better time to be focused on you!". With all this in mind I also added some pictures of healthy foods...beautiful dream home decor pictures, my own private jet and one of my favorites is the image of the world in my hands!

Of course, my vision board had to have images of Oprah on it. Some of the most pertinent and important messages jumped at me right from the O magazine pages (no surprise I know)..."Live your best life"..."LIVE. RIGHT. NOW." I plan to be on her show...laugh hysterically and chit chat about my book...go out to dinner with her....I will give her an autographed copy of my book...some Canadian Maple Syrup....those cheesy Moose Poop chocolate candy gift bags found at the airport gift shops(a pun on Canadian-a)...she will laugh....and slap her knee...she will ask me "where have you been all my life?" and we will both crack up like fools! Oprah and I are going to have so much fun...just chillax and laugh like girl friends do...she will open my book to her favorite pages that have been marked with tiny 'Post It' stickers...she'll ask me to read some bits...she will glue the first Oprah's book club sticker on my book...I'll make Stedman blush while he cooks us dinner...Oprah will pee hysterically with laughter...we'll eat some awesome cheese and chocolate dipped strawberries.. and sip on our wine...we'll drink until we fall down laughing some more...exchange e mail addresses...send each other Christmas cards...you know how it will all go...and so do I now that my board is a reality.

I was so excited to step back and assess the vision board when it all came together. It is amazing what happens when you let your heart do the talking...I cut out random pictures and statements as they caught my attention...and in my humble opinion...my life blue print...is better than Picasso...to me that is...and only me. Thanks O!

“A vision is not just a picture of what could be; it is an appeal to our better selves, a call to become something more.”-Rosabeth Moss Kanter quotes

Lynn
;)

What did I do to deserve this?

I went to see a clairvoyant a couple of weeks ago. He told me that I am incredibly fortunate because I am surrounded by an army of soul mates. According to Wikipedia, a soul mate is ‘a term sometimes used to designate someone with whom one has a feeling of deep and natural affinity, love, intimacy, sexuality, spirituality, and/or compatibility.’ For some absurd reason...I truly believed that I was already pushing my luck to have the extraordinary experience of marrying my true soul mate for life...let alone being surrounded by many others! What did I do to deserve this?

My husband and I are cut from the same cloth; he is my perfect match and absolute best friend on this planet. I truly believe that he is carrying one half of my soul and holding it up to the sun for the entire world to see... and simultaneously guarding it fiercely. I know finding your life soul mate is a rarity...and in having one...I know I also have much to lose! I feel that my life is unbelievably blessed. In fact, I feel so fortunate that I live in sheer terror every day because of it. The clairvoyant went on to explain that soul mates are not only lovers...but also may be ordinary people sent to us to teach us extraordinary life lessons.

My self esteem and soul have been literally put through the wringer over the last couple of years. I took the chance of a lifetime and ventured out of a very comfortable and confident environment into the unknown...from the world of nursing into the world of business...and from a personal growth perspective...things did not work out for me. For the first time in my life...something did not come easy and I could not cope with it; I never had to before...I just couldn’t wrap my head around it. I had the wind kicked right out of my sails...and then the sails were slit with a knife...and then shit and pissed on by a rogue pack of dogs...and then trampled on by a pack of elephants...you get the picture. I was beaten down to a pulp...focus lost, afraid, feeling worthless and tired. To add insult to injury...I was surrounded by some people who ‘get off’ on inflicting pain on others...on kicking them down until they can no longer even consider getting back up...make them spit blood and a tooth out...and then kick them down again until the victim is toothless...then break the dentures...you get the picture.

The ‘they’ that I refer to are a heartless string of evil people that I encountered in the business world...not just one person...but many...one-after-another-after another. ‘They’ can smell ‘insecurity’ and ‘they’ grin from ear to ear while ‘they’ pound the last ounce of piss and belief out of you...until all that is left is a tremendous and overwhelming sense of self doubt. The only way ‘they’ can feel big is to make others feel small...and I kept inviting them in! For some reason unbeknown to me...I continued to put on my game face...and eagerly walked right into the perpetual shit-kicking every day for four years...believing that some day it would all work out in the end...some day it would get better...but it didn’t...it got worse. I let it get the best of me....and I wasted so much time! You see...soul mates can be evil too...and it took me more time and bad lessons than I would like to admit to learn my lesson. The lesson was simple...why does a dog lick it's balls? Because it can! But instead of sticking up for myself...and telling these people to drift before any damage was done...I just kept sitting there wondering....day after day...asking for more shit sandwich please.......wallowing in self pity...what did I do to deserve this?

My entire life I have been able to float from group to group...person to person...and seamlessly integrate myself into any situation. I could eat lunch with the Queen of England...and party with a biker gang on the same day! I prided myself on being a chameleon...I participated in multiple life adventures...I could quickly sense a common bond with anyone...’change my colors’ and go with it...making everyone along the way feel good about themselves. The down side to this ‘talent’ is never really belonging anywhere...a square peg in a round hole...alone in a crowd...and profound loneliness. In the end, I was all-consumed by this negative experience...why was this happening to me? I felt myself to be too ‘strong’ to ask for help...to accept help...I felt unworthy and helpless. I near let myself drown before accepting the outstretched hands that were there all along. There they were...my beautiful soul mates...my gal pals...waiting patiently to pick me up and dust me off. What did I do to deserve this?

Until just recently, I did not pay any attention to these blunt messages in the form of soul mates being sent my way...in fact, I kept on inviting in the evil ones and I batted the beautiful soul mates away like flies! I was being sent soul mates left and right...with messages loud and clear...but I could not hear them. I am constantly surrounded by people encouraging me to write a book...tell a story...they want to hear what I have to say. Why do I continue to doubt myself...why am I so scared? I have a friend discover she has breast cancer...another thyroid cancer...another endured a near death experience...what was God trying to tell me? All of these messages were clearly telling me life is too short...you cannot count on tomorrow...you cannot waste another minute. Why wouldn’t I listen? Why couldn’t I hear it? There are no tickets for sale in the ‘lottery of life’. I am not going to win the ‘life-lottery-sweepstakes’ and suddenly wake up 100 pounds lighter tomorrow with an over stuffed bank account a published book and a ‘perfect life’. Despite these life altering experiences...they all continued to encourage me to write my book...to speak publicly...to put myself out there. Who would have thought that my life passion could be easily handed to me by an otherwise casual observer? Who would have thought that ‘soul mates’ could see me better than I could? They all took time out of their precious lives...and looked past their own personal battles to tell me that they believed in me! The least I could do in return is clean the shit out of my ears...and listen to the whispers of my soul mates...and believe in myself. In absolute awe of this overwhelming support and encouragement, I asked one of my newest found soul mates "What did I do to deserve this?" She was exasperated with me and answered..."You were born... dumb ass!"

‘I have seen and met angels wearing the disguise of ordinary people living ordinary lives.’ (Tracy Chapman).

Lynn
;)

BEEEEEEEG LOUD BEAUTIFUL WOMAN

Just over a decade ago, my husband and I went diamond ring shopping before getting engaged. He wanted to see what I liked...I wanted control over what I was going to wear on my finger for the rest of my life. (This may come as a surprise to those who know me, but I happen to be a control freak.) So, we sauntered into THE local jewelry store in town to peruse the goods. Our plan was simply to see what I liked...point out a style of a diamond ring or two...and then hubby would make the ultimate decision and ‘surprise me’ with a pre-approved ring someday. It most certainly did not go as I had planned.

In my opinion, ‘THE’ jewelry store in our area has no competition. Their jewelry selection is superior to all...for half of the price. It is owned and managed by a local Greek family. I believe all of the employees are members of THE FAMILY. The store itself stands alone in an ‘out of the way’ location. There is high security there...mirrors, cameras and guard dogs in the main office. You have to push a button to be buzzed in and buzzed out. This high-security-level has sparked a rumor that this family-run store is affiliated with the mob...and to be perfectly honest… I don’t care if the rings have been chopped off of dead woman’s fingers because their jewelry is gorgeous with good prices!

We went straight to the diamond ring section and started looking through the glass cases filled with various styles of rings. I zeroed right in on the solitaires...because in my heart of hearts...I have always wanted a diamond solitaire ring. As I was leaning over the display case looking at the rings...the larger-than-life matriarch of the Greek family approached us and asked if she could assist us. My hubby said ‘we are looking for a diamond ring for our engagement’...and I excitedly pointed out a solitaire ring that I wanted to see up close. She looked at my selection…leaned back and crossed her arms across her huge bosom and said “NO”. I didn’t think she understood...so I said “oh yes...I want to see that diamond solitaire ring right there”. She leaned forward to speak...as if I did not hear her the first time and in a very thick Greek accent she said “NO...I say NO!” Now just in case I was hard of hearing...or possibly deaf...or partially retarded...she also shook her head in a defiant manner and waved her finger back and forth making a letter ‘Z’ in the air...changing finger directions in the air with each word...”NO” (across the top...”I SAY”...(back in the opposite direction)...“NO!” (Snappily finish off the air Z in Zorro-esque fashion). My jaw dropped...I did not know how to react to this....I started to wonder if I was on candid camera!

The larger-than-life big momma of the family leaned in very close to me, pointed her larger-than-life finger at my chest and quite loudly proclaimed..."You are NO TINY”…she opened her arms really wide and continued “YOU BEEEEEEEG...LOUD….BEAUTIFUL WOMAN...so you need...BEEEEEEEG...LOUD...BEAUTIFUL RING!” I meekly replied...”BUT...I wanted a solitaire”...and she loudly cut me off and once again and said “I SAAAAAAAAAAAAID NO!” She picked out the tray of trinity rings and said “You PEEEEEEEEEEEEICK ONE of these!” My jaw dropped again...I did not know how to react to this. I felt like a scolded child...I decided to stand my ground...and I shyly whispered,” can I see the solitaires?” She leaned forward...pointed her larger-than-life finger at my chest and reinforced her ground AGAIN...“I DOOOOON’T CARE! You are a BEEEEEEEG...LOUD….BEAUTIFUL WOMAN...so you need...BEEEEEEEG...LOUD...BEAUTIFUL RING!” and just like the soup Nazi on Seinfeld she said “NO SOLITAIRE FOR YOU!”

So, like anyone else fearing their life would do...I dutifully slipped on a trinity ring...and I instantly fell in love with the ring that I currently have. Now, you’d think my husband and I would have learned our lesson...we should have picked the ring she wanted me to wear and left...but nope...we didn’t. My hubby said “how much for this one?” She quickly snapped her head in both directions….apparently fearing that somebody heard his ridiculous question...she was ugly that he would mention such a thing in front of me...and she shot him a death glare (if you looked up “absolute disgust” in the dictionary you would see a picture of her face). She screamed at him “SHUUUUUUUT UP!” Who knew that simple words could actually whip across your face like a slap? She quickly pointed her larger-than-life finger at me and she said “YOU... BEAUTIFUL WOMAN… GET OUT!” I quickly decided that I did not need to be told twice and ran out to the car...after being buzzed out of course.

Mike and I had a strict budget...neither of us were interested in buying jewelry that is the equivalent in price of a luxury vehicle. We vowed to stick to the budget...regardless of unexpected death threats. After she revealed the price to him...he adamantly said “no way lady….that is not in our range”. Again, she quickly snapped her head in both directions…and whispered…“SHUUUUUUUT UP!” She lowered her head, covered her mouth to ensure that nobody could read her lips...and continued on “I like the BEEEEEEEG...LOUD….BEAUTIFUL WOMAN…she will have this ring…now pay….and GET OUT!” Risking his life at this point...he insisted on the next size down to accommodate our price range...and nervously crept sideways to the cash register (a la soup Nazi) and got buzzed out to safety.

A couple of weeks later, when Mike went to pick up the ring...the Greek matriarch was there patiently waiting for him. When she opened the ring box,the original larger-sized diamond trinity ring was staring up at him. My husband started to protest...he said “no lady...remember we downsized and paid for a smaller size.” She quickly cut him off, waved her hand in the air like she was batting away his words and calmly said, "I have no IDEEEEEEEEEA what you say about...GET OUT!” He tried to explain that he had paid for the smaller version...and she cut him off again, “I like the BEEEEEEEG...LOUD...BEAUTIFUL WOMAN...she will have this ring!” Again, she quickly snapped her head in both directions...shoved the ring-box in his hand and whispered “GET OUT!”

Now, I could end this story right here...all happy with my shiny diamond trinity ring...and simply “SHUUUUUUUUUT UP!” But, the story does not end here. Six months later...we returned to THE jewelry store to select our wedding bands. I don’t know how many of you out there believe in destiny, kismet, fate or any of the above...but somehow in a store of 20+ employees...we got the big momma again! I asked to see the plain white gold wedding bands. She looked absolutely exasperated with me and she said “look lady...you no tiny...OK? You BEEEEEEEG...YOU LOUD...YOU BEAUTIFUL...you need BEEEEEEEG...LOUD...BEAUTIFUL RING.” She picked out the matching diamond band for my engagement ring and said “this ring goes with that ring….here you go...that’s it.” I said “BUT”...and she twirled her finger in dismissal...willing me to turn around on my heels and GET OUT!

Cultivate your curves - they may be dangerous but they won't be avoided.
Mae West

Lynn
;)

IGNORANUS

An IGNORANUS is a person who's both stupid and an asshole.

My first experience with an IGNORANUS that I can recall was when I was just a young girl...about 12 years old. I was quite fit and active...just had a little baby fat. One day at the beach...a man from my church (an adult...and I say that sarcastically) came out of the water...looked at me amongst all of my girlfriends and said “ I thought the water line went down!” (meaning since I got out of the lake). I said “of course it did...you and your big mouth just got out!” Sadly, this first IGNORANUS experience has permanently scarred me...is tattooed on my brain as if it happened yesterday.

I have written about his before...the nightmare of being a fat chick at a buffet table at any social gathering of any kind. My parents always eat a meal before going to any sort of social gathering and they will not approach the food table or eat one single morsel in public...ever. I have always thought this to be a really sad outlook on things...I actually told my Dad he was being foolish. He said “people stare and point and comment on everything we (big beautiful people) put in our mouths.” How sad is that?

My parents are built like me...or I guess I should say I am built like them...we are tall and big stock (except my vertically challenged sister)...we are all a little thick around the middle...but we do not need a crane to extract us from the house in case of emergency! So...imagine my chagrin...as each and every social event I have ever attended since...showed my Dad’s philosophy on fat people eating in public to be tragically 100% accurate!

Unfortunately, my sister Lori has been victim to ignorant assholes as well. She has a mid calf amputation. You would never know it...because she climbs mountains...and the word CAN’T is not in her dictionary. Lori rarely uses her disabled parking pass. Once in a while, her stump gets ulcers and it becomes too painful for her to walk…so she’ll use it to park then...and only then. One day, she and her girlfriend were getting out of her car to go into a store...and some jackass...a total stranger...screamed...”I DIDN’T KNOW BEING FAT WAS A HANDICAP!” Excuse me??? I can’t even comment on that one...but I can say Lori’s friend almost had a stroke…and immediately started a starvation diet.

Another time...a high-and-mighty-big-assed-nosey-female IGNORANUS ran up to my sister’s car as she pulled into a disabled parking space...tapped on the window and said “YOU DON’T LOOK HANDICAPPED TO ME!!!” My sister very casually replied,”OH... REALLY?”and she quickly shoved her stump out the car window...shook it in her face...and said “WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT THIS?” We both squeal in laughter every time Lori tells me about the look on this idiot’s face! Sometimes when I am feeling down...I will give Lori a call and beg her to repeat the story about the look of horror on that woman’s face and swiftly running away screaming!

Last week, I went to a social event that offered light fair...jumbo shrimp, bacon wrapped scallops cheeses, meats, veggie trays, sandwiches and some chicken wings.So, I had a little saucer with about 6 finger sized jumbo shrimp and a little seafood sauce...with my wee glass of wine. My stepson had his plate piled...a hungry growing boy...a handsome and skinny boy. My tiny perfect husband also had a plate full of goodies.There were about 100 people digging away at their appetizers...and then...like a dark thunderstorm cloud rolling in...some big-tall-beer-gutted IGNORANUS decided to darken my world and rain on my parade. He nudged my husband...pointed at my plate...and boasts loudly above the music...HOLY CRAP DOES SHE LIKE HER SHRIMP OR WHAT?????? WTF? I was flabbergasted...he was a total stranger!!! I have since learned that this man was a highly respected educator in the community...exposed to kids!

Even if I did physically resemble ORCA the killer whale(which I do not)...what the hell are people thinking when they do this? Do they actually get a high from it? I just don’t get it. I would never...under any circumstances make fun of someone for anything. Now I know people would say...just ignore it...don’t listen to that idiot...he’s not worth the energy...but that is not how it works in reality. It hurts and burns to the core...just like having your ass branded. I did feel pretty in my little cotton denim dress and hot lime jacket...but after the comment...I felt like an ugly and obese pig face...runny snout, pot belly and all. I wanted to scream at him...punch him in the face. I answered… “Well you are ugly...at least I can diet!” It was all I could do...not to cry my eyes out!

Rationally I know my emotional reaction is absurd...but it doesn’t matter. I wanted the floor to open up and suck me in...I wanted to go home...I wanted to scream a barrage of obscenities at that ignorant bastard. Is this really any different than going up to a blind person and saying…na…na…na…na….na…. you CAAAAAAAANNNNNNN’T see!!! Ha, ha…you are blind as a bat…..hey gimpy….you are missing a limb!! Oh my God your nose is big! Or…I hope you are pregnant! I wish I could say this is an isolated incident...but sadly...I’ve been an involuntary victim at each and EVERY social event that involves food of any kind. How on earth is this possible in this day and age? So, from now on...I will eat before attending any more events to save myself from any more IGNORANUS.


The most violent element in society is ignorance. ~Emma Goldman

Lynn
;)

Everthing I ever needed to know, I learned in kindergarten

I have just received news that my kindergarten teacher Mrs. Meaghan has passed away. I am devastated at the loss...and I am flooded with very warm and fuzzy memories. This woman had such a tremendous impact on hundreds of children lives over a 45+ year-teaching span...including my brother, sister, me, my 2 nieces, and my nephew...just under the line before mandatory kindergarten came into play and ended an era.

Mrs. Meaghan's kindergarten class was amazing! It was the most amazing place! She had a way of making each child feel like they could rule the world...or at least I felt that way. We learned the alphabet...how to print... how to tell time, how to tie our shoes...and manners of course! I had a MAJOR hard time getting a grip on tying my shoes. I just couldn't get it. After shoe tying lessons...poor Freddie Frigault (my little French boyfriend in the black and green plaid coat)...tied his own shoes with ease...and had the audacity to shoot me a smug and smirky look...like "I know something you don't know". I was fit to be TIED(pun intended)!!!!!!!! Unfortunately for Freddie...he gave me the shoe- tying-demonstration at the top of the stairs...I believe if memory serves me correctly...I smacked the hell out of him...tried to push him down the stairs...and stormed off in a psychotic rage. On kindergarten graduation day...Mrs. Meaghan put me in the back row for the ceremonies and the pictures (I am the blonde babe in the very back left hand corner).I had no idea that it was because of our height...I marched right up to Mrs. Meaghan and informed her that I was NOT back row material! I WAS BEYOND UGLY!!!! I can assure Maybelline there is no such thing as 'maybe she's born with it"... I was BORN with it!

I do not remember who the gal was in our class who thought she was going to have Randy as a boyfriend (he is the other tiny little brown boy in the yellow turtle neck and Enrique Suave plaid suit and vest!)....but I do remember pushing her the hell out of my way...and plunging myself down beside him. I adored him...forced the poor bugger to kiss me (much to his obvious displeasure)...same as poor Freddie (an involuntary victim of my affection)...I wanted both...and my cake and theirs too! I planned to marry both boys...and we would all live happily in a tree house! Thank goodness for 5-year-old innocence....as I was later devastated to learn Randy was my cousin....placed in a seat beside me due to the alphabetical order (same last name)...oops!

Who would have thought sugar cookies and red Kool Aid could taste so amazing? Or how about that "Chef-Boy-R-Dee spaghettios"/wonder bread combo? She used to grill the bread in the oven with orange cheese and some fresh oregano or basil or something fresh and green on it. I have tried this combination many times since...but they never tasted the same as Mrs. Meaghan's magical afternoon snacks. I remember a little cork board in a small wooden frame with a tiny hammer attached by a string...and various wooden shapes to nail on....a large piece of art paper with a glued-on-flower-pot made out of red construction paper. The entire class painted their 5-year-old version of a flower bouquets...popping out of those construction paper pots...she proudly posted these priceless objets d'art all over the walls of the room for graduation day...you'd think it was the Louvre for the way she beamed over them.

One of my favorite days ever was the day Santa Claus came to visit. I could NOT believe Santa personally came to Mrs. Meaghan's kindergarten class! Just when I thought it couldn't get any better...in he came with a big red bag and some belly bottom Ho Ho Ho's!!! I already thought she walked on water....but then this too? HOLY @#$%! As you can probably imagine....there was a roomful of wonder-struck 5-year-olds with mouths wide open and eyes popping out of our heads! "Santa" (we are now on a first name basis) called me up to sit on his knee...reached into that big red bag... and gave me a shiny new story book, some crayons AND a coloring book. I thought Mrs. Meaghan was the best thing since the Crayola-multi-colored-crayon pack came out(that was a 20 pack instead of 5),with the crayon sharpener right in the box!!! She put the color into my life!

Some 45+ years later....all of Mrs. Meaghan's 'kids' still reminisce about their days in Mrs. Meaghan's kindergarten class....with wide toothed grins. I was fortunate to cross paths with Mrs. Meaghan many times since my big graduation day 35+ years ago. I was able to tell her that I loved her...adored her...and owed many of my successes in life to her extraordinary talent...I told her she was the BEST kindergarten teacher in the whole wide world! I loved her...everyone LOVED her...we still do. Thank you Mrs. Meaghan...for teaching me everything I ever needed to know in life...in kindergarten!

If I Could Teach You, Teacher

If I could teach you, teacher,
I’d teach you how much more
you have accomplished
than you think you have.
I’d show you the seeds
you planted years ago
that are now coming into bloom.
I’d reveal to you the young minds
that have expanded under your care,
the hearts that are serving others
because they had you as a role model.
If I could teach you, teacher,
I’d show you the positive effect
you have had on me and my life.
Your homework is
to know your value to the world,
to acknowledge it, to believe it.
Thank you, teacher.

By Joanna Fuchs

Lynn
;)
P.S- Special thanks for the picture Jennifer Dunlap Goostrey! You ROCK!

If I wasn't fat I'd be perfect...right?

Every time I embark on a weight loss journey, I typically almost get to the 20 pound mark...and then eat and eat and eat some more. I leave the scales...from whatever weight loss program I happen to be on...elated that I am 1 pound away from a bench mark...super motivated more than ever to hit that big number the following week...and then eat myself into a really nice 5 pound gain in one week. I am not sure 100% why...but this pattern has been going on for the majority of my adult life.

I have a major problem whenever I start to lose a significant weight...fear. The root of this fear...or what I actually fear...I cannot pin point…but I have made major progress in identifying that I am scared...uncomfortable...terrified really. One time when I was about 50 pounds lighter I went out to dinner with my husband. There was a table full of business men...they were 50ish and I was 30...they would not STOP staring at me...they were inappropriately eye-screwing me all night.I asked Mike “why are they STARING at me like this?” Of course, being a wonderful (and sometimes wise) hubby he simply stated “because you are so beautiful baby!” I suppose this is every woman’s dream to hear such a thing come out of their hubby's mouths...but it did not comfort or soothe me...I wanted the floor to open up and suck me in...I feel incredible anxiety right now just speaking of this. Why...I do not know…I was so uncomfortable! I remember I had to pee...but I could not bare getting up and walking by the table of perverts. Normally, we do not indulge in dessert when we go out to eat...but I immediately started building my fat shield right back up again...and ordered caramel saturated cheese cake. I did not stop eating for the next 3 months...until I reached my original heavy-weight title again.

Four years ago I lost 50 pounds on the ‘Simply For Life’ plan. This was the all time greatest weight loss I had ever accomplished…and quite easily I might add. I was also running regularly...about 15-20 km a week. To be quite honest...I never felt better in my life...until the attention came! I gave away all of my fat clothes...declared I would never be fat ever again...and quickly ballooned up to 275 pounds! So...what the hell happened? I looked amazing...I felt amazing...and then people (mostly men) started treating me differently and I could not handle it. I love to flirt...safely flirt that is. I flirt with married men or gay men...or strictly unavailable and unattainable men...and I had on my “wonder woman-esque” wedding band for safety...you know those wrist bands Wonder Woman wore to deflect bullets? I can blind their stares with the shine of my diamond...and make them forget what they are thinking! But...as my waste line shrunk…the harmless flirting suddenly became tainted. Men, who respected me, with whom I had worked with or hung out with side by side, man friends who I joked around with for years...suddenly became giddy, awkward and distant...would run away and whisper amongst themselves...or avoid me altogether. I was the same person I always was...nothing changed...I was a happily married woman...just skinnier.

So, subconsciously...or maybe even consciously...I started to rebuild my fat shield. I ate anything and everything in sight to put everything back to ‘normal’ again. I was really successful this time, I stopped running and gained 60 pounds in 6 months...I managed to get to the heaviest weight I have ever been. I am smoking like a trooper and feel like shit. Everything did return to "normal"...the men flirt comfortably with me again...no ‘real’ danger here...I am back in my safety zone...no attention, no stares...just personal misery and a desperate need to lose weight again in order to feel happiness...successful...worthy.

So, in the end, I guess this experience blows the “I’ll be happy when I lose this weight” theory right out of the water. People often blame all their troubles on their weight. When you shed pounds, you may expect everything else in your life to get better--your love life, friendships, career, perhaps even your finances. If those areas don't improve, you no longer have your weight to blame, and you must face the fact that your abilities or behavior, rather than your weight, may be the true cause of your troubles.

I can often be quoted as saying "If I wasn't fat I'd be perfect." I get a good chuckle every time I say it...and I do say it to be funny...and some how I really mean it when I say...but I don't really believe it... When I lose weight…I fear losing myself...who I am...even though I don’t really know who she is. I am scared people will have higher expectations of me...I doubt my abilities...I fear that my full potential will never be reached...I fear failure...I fear success… When I finally lost 50 pounds, I was not happy...I still had my bills and same issues and insecurities. I was uncomfortable and scared...my life was far from perfect.I was still a chubby chicken...just in a smaller version...fat chick in a skinnier body. I let the fear of life...without my fat barrier get the best of me every time.

“I am afraid to show you who I really am, because if I show you who I really am, you might not like it--and that's all I got.”-Sabrina Ward Harrison quotes

Lynn
;)

Bras...THE FRENEMY!!!

Have you ever noticed that everything breaks or malfunctions all at the same time? I have never owned a watch for more than three months. I am not sure if it is my internal electromagnetic field or what…but they all ultimately fail or mysteriously disappear (maybe go to “sock heaven”…now there’s a theory!) Either way, I do not buy expensive watches because I know their fate the day I buy them. All of my make up runs out at the exact same time…or the shadows and blushes all crack and break. I also have had the misfortune of electrical appliance break down all at the same time! In one week my Braun hand mixer, toaster, coffee maker, and blender all died…that was one hell of an expensive week!

A couple of weeks ago…I had disastrous “over-the-shoulder-boulder-holder” breakdown. One day I was walking along…minding my own business…and suddenly felt a stabbing pain in my armpit…an all too familiar pain…which was total blow out of the under wire in my right ‘cup’. I literally have permanent scars in my armpits and chin from these blow outs! I shit you not…a couple times the under wire has popped right up the center…like a cleavage -jack-in-the-box and stabbed me right in the chin! Typically, I just rip out the offensive piece of wire and move along…with crooked boobs for the rest of the day. One time…I ripped out a dysfunctional under wire and whipped it on the head of a male colleague and said “Hey Johnny…now you know your hat size is a 44 double D!” We all had a great laugh out of that one!

This takes me back to another wonderful time in my life when I was single. Now I would LOVE to maintain the illusion for any of my male followers that I only wear G strings, hot red leather and lace, ass floss-esque-undies… and Victoria’s Secret diamond encrusted bras (with the big ass wings, 6 inch heels and fan blowing in my face)…but unfortunately…those things sit in the back bottom section of my underwear drawer for very special occasions only…where functionality is not required…and average wear time is less than 10 minutes…and walking in the heels is not actually required. In real life…real women prefer Wal-Mart granny panties and comfy bras! So, I digress…in those single days…all I did was work and party…sleeping was not priority. One night, after a 12 hour day shift…I threw all of my laundry in the washer and went out to paint the town red. When I arrived home…I was hammered and seeing double…and threw everything in the dryer…so I would have something fresh and clean to wear to work in the morning. Imagine my surprise…when I opened the dryer…and discovered that all of my under wear collection and nursing uniforms were washed with a permanent black ‘Sharpie’ marker!! I was lucky because some of my undies looked intentionally like they were from the “101 Dalmatians’” collection! Flat broke and with no time to spare…I whipped on my “dysfunctional-black -spotted –underwear” and ran off to attend a physical assessment seminar. Imagine my horror…when I learned at the end of the day…we all had to strip down to our undies and don a patient gown…and ‘assess’ each other. Besides being humiliated with the Dalmatian-spotted Wal-Mart specials…I also had some nicely placed holes in my panties…a little ‘muff-puff’-peek-a-boo” if you know what I am saying! I wanted to projectile vomit!

So, imagine my dismay as I suffered bra breakdown over the next 3 days…until I was down to the emergency stock…which are 2 sizes too small…not fit to be seen in…tortuous devices…that should only be worn in a “break glass in case of emergency” situation. You all now what I am talking about…the ones your mother warned you not to wear…in case you got in an accident? Where “Grey Cup” is not just the name of a big football game in the Canadian Football League? The “MacGyver bras”…that are missing hooks, have holes, hair dye on them…and held together with a safety pins, duct tape and chewing gum? How about the Thanksgiving bras…you know where “my cups runneth over?” This is what makes my bras my frenemy… a blend of friend + enemy. According to Dictionary.com, a frenemy is “person who is ostensibly friendly or collegial with someone but who is actually antagonistic or competitive.” My bra is all nice to my twins in the beginning of that day…but as the day goes on…the bra twists, tightens and torments like a boa constrictor…laughs at me…and then blatantly stabs me in the armpit or the chin!

Obviously, I was left with no choice but to get out and buy some new stock….and I decided that I was going for quality rather than quantity. I went to a classy BBW (Big Beautiful Woman) store…or as my mother would call it…”the chubby chicken store”...to be professionally measured for my correct bra size. I simply told the woman that I would not accept a “G-CUP” rating…so lie if she must! After a good little chuckle…I was shocked and pleased to hear that I am actually a 42 D. She introduced me to the most comfortable bra I have ever met. Typically, as soon as I get home…my bra is whipped right off over my head and slung-shot across the room before the door closes behind me! This new bra feels like my second skin…and lifts the twins right back up to their rightful place in life…no more staring down at the ground in shame! I look like I have lost 10 pounds…and I feel like a million bucks! I got a tame nude bra…and a funky chick wild woman bra…with multi-colored bright stripes and matching undies…both functionality and sex kitten qualities! So, bottom line…I am no longer a fan of neither the “101Dalmations” lingerie line…nor the Wal-Mart granny panty special…I am holding my fingers in the Brownie promise position…and I swear to build myself a spectacular and environmentally friendly bra collection!

“The only gossip I'm interested in is things from the Weekly World News - 'Woman's bra bursts, 11 injured'. That kind of thing.”-Johnny Depp

Lynn
;)

Grocery Store Rage

I used to enjoy grocery shopping. It is one of the few times where you are away from the phone, internet, and other daily distractions that prevent you from thinking straight. I used to enjoy taking my time...wandering the aisles...clearing my thoughts....hanging around in my own little world....but then....some IDIOT...invented the 'kiddie-mini-grocery-cart'. I am not talking about the carts that look like race cars with steering wheels....where children are properly restrained directly below their mother's bosom. I am talking about those damned little grocery carts for kids...the world's best baby sitter....for unruly children to run rampant throughout the store...and terrorize everyone else but their oblivious ignoramus parents.

I am a creature of habit. I have my own little routine that I have followed religiously since I became an 'adult' and had to buy groceries for myself. I need to stick to this routine...otherwise I forget things. One day....on my way through the produce aisles...all I can hear...and everybody else can hear...is the non-stop high pitch squealing of some mindless woman blabbering:
JACOB!jacob...JAcob,JAY....COB!!!!jacob...JACOB...JAYCOB....jaCOB...jacob...jacob,jacob, jacob...JACOB....JAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYCOB...JAYCOB...jacbob...JACOB....jacob...you get the picture...this would carry on aisle-after-aisle-after-aisle. It didn't even matter if you were an aisle ahead....or an aisle behind....the entire store was held hostage...involuntary voyeurs to BAD parenting! This little 'angel' was given free-range...like the expensive boneless chicken...to run amok with that damned kiddie cart...running into displays and other shoppers as he pleased...while mommy from hell mindlessly hollered on...not even looking in his general direction...living in her own little world....destroying the world of everyone else!

It is times like these that I am grateful that nobody can see a ticker tape screen on my forehead of exactly what I am thinking. I was totally understanding road rage at this point...grocery store RAGE! I was thinking of pulling a Patrick Swayze roundhouse...you know...that backwards circular kick into the air where I would knock the mother's head right off her shoulders? I imagined the floor opening up like a trap door and swallowing that ill-behaved tot with the kiddie cart right into the bowels of the earth....never to be seen again. I imagined a whole bunch of little vignettes that involved the demise of that moronic mother...or child custody workers taking the kid....to save him from an almost certain life in prison or as a heroin addict...or serial killer...but instead...the terrorizing saga continued...JACOB!jacob...JAcob,JAY....COB!!!!jacob...JACOB...JAYCOB....jaCOB...jacob...jacob,jacob, jacob...JACOB....JAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYCOB...until I LOST it in the coffee aisle.

The same IDIOT who invented the kiddie cart...obviously placed the coffee bean crushing machine at toddler-eye level in aisle number 8. While 'mother of the year' was relaxing at the greeting cards for a little light reading....Jacob the Terrible...proceeded to flick the switch...and create a mountain of fine ground coffee beans all over the floor. I am not kidding...the coffee mound was at least a foot tall. I SNAPPED....and I admit I was inappropriate....but not as inappropriate as I wanted to be. I grabbed on to Jacob's hand and said..."let's go see Mommy JACOB"....He happily grabbed my hand (which is frightening unto itself) and proceeded to visit with Mommy. I tapped her on the shoulder and asked...."Does THIS JACOB Belong to You???????" She appeared confused at first...seeing how she would have no idea what Jacob actually looked like...and how on earth would a total stranger know her kid's name?? I proceed to say..."if you want to bring up a MONSTER...that is totally your business...BUT...much to my chagrin...it has become my business...since you have decided to terrorize the ENTIRE grocery store with your precious little JACOB!"

She was outraged with me...enough to grab onto little Jacob's hand and storm out of the store. Two women applauded...several others mouthed "thank you!" as I proceeded on with my quest for groceries...with a victorious smile on my face....and absolute silence until I reached the check out.

“When you left your home, you deprived the village of it's idiot”-anonymous

Lynn
;)