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Tic-Tac-DOH!

This is a little tail that will show you again what a powerful manifester I am when I set my mind to something. (A great past post on this subject is Pharamacy Giraffe.)

When I was little, for some holiday (seems like maybe it was Easter), I received a silly little tic-tac-toe game. It featured cats and mice as the playing pieces. Now, I never really played with it that much. I was an only child of a mother who purchased board games for me, but didn’t like to play them. So, I played it by myself until I got bored. It spent a lot of time sitting on the shelf collecting dust. One day, and I feel like I must have been in 2nd or 3rd grade, because it was very soon after we moved into our trailer, I was playing with this very game when something TRAGIC happened…

Cat & Mouse Tic-Tac-Toe copyright 1982 Giftco, Inc.

Cat & Mouse Tic-Tac-Toe, copyright 1982 Giftco, Inc.

Let’s back up for a moment here. Let me tell you something about my trailer. It was in a trailer park, so there really wasn’t much yard. I spent a lot of time sitting on the concrete steps, playing or reading or whatever. They were plain and boring and hard. They did not even have a railing up to the door as so many other trailers had.

What it DID have was a giant gap between the steps and the skirting (the metal trim around the bottom of a mobile home that covers up all the pipes and wheels and crap that are underneath it). My mom always cautioned me not to lose toys or anything down there. She was not going to retrieve them. I was a little kid. My mom had proven she could do almost anything. So then why couldn’t she move four concrete steps? I figured she just didn’t want to. I also suggested that we just shove the steps up closer to the house. But she explained about how the ground moves due to the freezing and thawing. And to illustrate her point, there was already a dent in the skirting from the years prior to us living there.

A picture of the steps. And my gramma. Because I miss her very much.

A picture of the steps. And my gramma. Because I miss her very much.

So, one fateful day, a mouse from my tic-tac-toe game fell BEHIND the steps! That fast, my game became tic-tac-DOH, as Homer Simpson would say. I cried and cried that I wanted it back. What good was a tic-tac-toe game with only 8 pieces? (What is a tic-tac-toe game good for at all, really? It is usually played with only a paper and pen!) I kept thinking there must be a way to move those steps.

I eventually put a pink pencil eraser with the set, to simulate the missing pink mouse. For years, I looked at those steps and knew that mouse was behind them, just out of my reach. Sure, other things fell back there over the years. Some things we could push out using a yard stick (meter stick, if you are international). I lived there for 15 years. And as much school studies, college tests, and pop culture trivia as I crammed into my brains in that time, I NEVER forgot about that little mouse, all alone, hungry and cold, behind those steps. Day after day he suffered back there in silence. I never gave up hope that one day I might see him again. I kept the game all those years, after all. A game I didn’t even play.

Then one day, that all changed…

After I moved out and then my mother, the landlord pulled our trailer out and sat it up by the road, for sale to the best offer. That is terribly depressing, but what happened next was NOT!

My old home was just pulled out to the curb to be sold for best offer.

My old home was just pulled out to the curb to be sold for best offer.

My then-boyfriend (now-husband) and I went to poke around the old homestead. The home where I had spent the formative years of my life, now brutally removed, leaving nothing but two long slabs of concrete, some water lines, and some blue-stained dirt.*

Can you guess what I looked for?

Can you guess WHAT I FOUND?!!

I found my mouse!

The mouse that was under my house!

I couldn’t wait to call my mom and tell her SHE WAS WRONG! She said I would never get that mouse back, BUT I DID!

NEVER SAY NEVER!

YOU NEVER KNOW WHAT THE FUTURE HOLDS!

The miraculous mouse from under the house!

The miraculous mouse from under the house!

I had spent so much time thinking we needed to move the steps, I never thought of moving the trailer. Which is silly, because the trailer HAS wheels; the steps do not. Once I returned home, I reunited that little mouse with his family! You can’t tell it in the picture, but that mouse is little dirtier, looks a little more tired than the other mice in the set. He has some dirt in the creases of his body. And I could give him a good bath and remove it, but I won’t. It is his badge of honor of what he survived. I want to know which one is the miraculous mouse, the one who was braver than all the other mice. The one who went where no plastic mouse had gone before, and returned to tell the tail (Even his tail is still intact!).

I realize that no one really needed to ever hear this story except me, but I have put it on here anyway. Don’t you wish you had the ten minutes back that it spent for you to read that? No matter what you think, I think there is a lesson to be learned there, somewhere. Never give up on the mouse under your house.

Maybe the lesson is that I need some therapy…

* When we moved into that trailer, there was a state mandate for all the drain pipes to be updated to be bigger. That was work was completed (or so we thought) before we moved in. All the drains in the entire structure were on the side under the house–except the drain for the washing machine. My mom sold the washer and dryer that came with the trailer right after we moved in, and we never had another until about a year before we moved out. Apparently, we only learned through my snooping of the old homestead, in all those years the drain for the washer had never been hooked into the rest of the sewer pipes. Every time my mom had done laundry for a year (and let me tell you, that woman does A LOT of laundry), all the water had gone on the ground underneath the trailer. We always sort of wondered why you could smell Downy outside so well when doing the wash, even when the windows were all closed. So in our wake, we left a big blue puddle of fabric softener.

Follow the romantic entanglements of The Riley Sisters in my books:
The Wind Could Blow a BugAVAILABLE NOW!
When You Least Expect It NEW RELEASE!
Be Careful What You Wish For – COMING JANUARY 2016!

Christmas: The I’m Not Stalking You Way! Part 1

When I was a kid, in my house at Christmas, we celebrated all things commercial about Christmas, and none of the religious ones. We sang Christmas carols with “Jesus” and “Lord” in them; that was about it. And I liked it that way. That is still the primary focus in our household. Don’t get me wrong, we are also about giving to the Salvation Army bell ringers and peace on Earth and all that. But we have snowmen, Santas, and nutcrackers filling our house, and no nativity in sight.

Giant Nutcracker

Giant Nutcracker

This means the Christmas tree has always been the center of our Christmas celebration. After all, it is what you put the gifts under!

When I was very young, I thought that Christmas trees were a special variety of pine tree that grew to be 5 to 6ft tall within 330 days or so.  I mean, it makes sense.  That is about how often consumers need to purchase them. It seemed totally unrealistic to me that you would chop down a tree that has taken years to grow, just to put in someone’s living room for a month.  I still think maybe my original idea was correct.  Or, if it is not, we should totally work on developing that.

Just as with anything else, my mom was very fussy about getting a Christmas tree. As you may suspect from my hypothesizing above, my mom and I always got a live tree. Because she had to carry it herself, she had strict height restrictions. Namely, that the tree could not be taller than her. The base of the tree had to be small enough to fit into our small metal tree stand. The trunk had to be straight so that the tree would not lean or be off balance. Because we hauled it in the trunk of our car, and later in a Chevrolet Chevette 2-door hatchback, she always put down a sheet first, so that (most of) the needles could be easily shaken out.

Me, when I was almost 4 years old.  Almost the same age that my son is now.

Me, when I was almost 4 years old. Almost the same age that my son is now.

We always bought trees at the closest tree lot to us, which was at the American Legion. My gramma always came with us, which added a layer of tension because my mom and my gramma always bickered. (In 20 years, my son will be saying the same thing about his mom and grandmother. Oy.) I think my gramma was supposed to help hold open doors to the house, and hold the tree steady while my mom laid on the floor and screwed it into the stand. But I think the real reason my mom drug my gramma along was because in order to pay for the tree at the Legion, someone had to go into the bar to bring someone out. My mom always made my gramma do that. When I got big enough to help, my mom would just take the tree home. Then she would clip the price tag off the top of the tree and mail it with a check back to the Legion.

One year, my mom was out of work. She kept saying I wasn’t going to get much for Christmas. But she said that every year, and every year my Christmas was filled with gifts and candy. This particular year, she said we didn’t have money to get a Christmas tree. Which I didn’t believe her at first. She was always saying stuff like that, but our quality of living never changed much. (That was actually courtesy of Mr. Visa and Mr. Mastercard, who she was using to buy us groceries with.) She was usually a person who bought a tree early (for best selection), and then threw it in our shed until a week before Christmas (to ensure freshness). So as Christmas creeped closer, I started to believe her. And if I had known then what I know now about scrimping and saving, I would have told her to cut down on the steak (albeit cheap steak) and laundry soap (she used A LOT), we totally could have found the $20 they cost at that time. But I was just a kid.

Antique icicle ornaments older than I am.  Wait...Does that make me an antique too?

Antique icicle ornaments older than I am. Wait…Does that make me an antique too?

One day we were taking a walk around the trailer court in which we lived in December. It must have been a warm day, otherwise why would we have been out? Which then makes sense that it was windy. As we were walking, leftover autumn leaves danced at our feet on the cracked concrete street. Among them, was a hint of green that she kicked with the toe of her shoe. It turned out to be a $20 bill. Who knows how far that $20 had blown to land at our feet. No owner in sight.

So, that year, that was how we got our Christmas tree. You would think that would have moved my mom in some way spiritually. It did not seem to. When I think of that experience, it strengthens my belief in the Law of Attraction. We wanted a Christmas tree so badly, that the means to get one was drawn into our lives.

My husband and I continue the tradition of a live tree every year (Scotch pine if my favorite).

My next post will be about the existence of Santa Claus. You can find it here: https://imnotstalkingyou.com/2014/12/17/christmas-the-im-not-stalking-you-way-part-2/

Coming Soon! My first book: The Wind Could Blow a Bug

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What I Learned This Week – 8/24/14

The last six weeks or so have been very trying in my life. There were events that others would be able to take in stride. There were events that would have crippled other people more. I have done the best that I could. I am still here. I tried to control my anxiety with exercise and, when I couldn’t manage to get more than a few hours of sleep on my own, sleeping pills occasionally. I read that lack of sleep actually makes anxiety worse. I tried to balance all factors.

My manager at work left. This created a full-time opening with a raise in pay that I could not pass up interviewing for, even though I find interviews highly stressful. I didn’t get that position. But another full-time position became available, so then I had to interview for that. And the decision-making process took longer. I had to plan several weeks of my life duly as “if I get the job” and “if I don’t”. I learned that I got the job. I enjoy it, although it has not all run perfectly smoothly.

WEEK-anxiety

This meant I went back to work full-time after 3 years. I had only ever worked full time when my son was 3-9 months old. My husband had been home with him then. M is now 3 1/2 years old. We had to enroll him in preschool daycare, a new experience for all of us. I have the same hour long commute that I used to have. But, I can no longer just roll out of bed a half hour before my departure time and hop in the shower, then run out the door. I have to pack lunches the night before. In the morning, I have to get myself ready, then wake up a boy who does not wish to be awakened. I have to get him to use the potty, wash his hands, and let me change his clothes. Then he wants to eat breakfast and drink. And I have learned that Sagittarius children cannot be rushed. (At least that is the case with mine.)

On the twilight of the second day of this new routine, my vehicle of 10 years decided to die. It was its time. I was not angry. Just, well, lost as to what action to take. My husband let me use his vehicle for a week and a half. But we had to car shop and get a new car. That meant less time for household chores and a few late nights getting to bed so that we could test drive and sign loan paperwork after work at the car dealership. I had to contact my insurance agent to switch over the policy.   Rediscovered how difficult it is to get anything done when you are unavailable at work 7:30AM-6:00PM Monday through Friday.

New Car: 2011 Jeep Patriot

New Car: 2011 Jeep Patriot

Speaking of which, we also had to get a new checking account, switch two direct deposits, and close the old checking account.

I had to clean out my old car, post a classified ad, then meet with people who bought it. We live in the city. They don’t take kindly to junk cars sitting unattended for very long.

I also had to postpone, then cancel a dentist appointment for my son.

I am still taking my mom grocery shopping every Wednesday night. Now we don’t leave til 7:00PM. My son and I don’t make it to bed until well after 10:00PM, which makes it very hard to get up come Thursday morning.

Parker

Parker

Yesterday was our 11 year wedding anniversary. The day started by us saying our first goodbye to one of the furry children of our union, Parker. We think he suffered a stroke a number of months ago, could be going blind, and has exhibited a change in behavior. We had him in our lives for 9 years. I have always hated that dog. Now I hate him for making me cry at his absence.  (A fuller obituary will come this week.)  He was such a challenge to live with in every way. Although, I have to believe that maybe he was sent to us to prepare us for the trails that M, our son, would present to us. Maybe Parker was the opening act.

My husband left with Parker. M, Dave (our other dog), and myself were in the backyard. When I went to go back into the house, I realized my husband, with other things on his mind, had locked us out. So then M & I had to walk the half hour to my mom’s apartment to pick up the spare key. I was fortunate that I could leave water with Dave in the backyard, and that the stroller was on the porch. It could have been worse. It could have been raining or snowing (this is Michigan, afterall…). It also could have been better. I just got off of 4 days on my feet at work doing manual labor to prepare for an event. I WAS SORE. And I had had no ibuprofen or caffeine yet for the day. My mom was able to provide keys and caffeine. By the time I got home, my husband had already returned.

It was so hard yesterday, to pet Parker knowing it was the last time. Knowing we would never feel his velvety brown head again, or his short hair, that was course when it was dirty and soft when it was clean. I am sure I will continue to find it stabbing me in the cups of my bras though. It was easier yesterday when he was gone. But then harder again this morning. Yesterday he was still in our lives, that stupid, miserable dog. Today will be our first full day without him in our home. I am sad that it seems empty. But I am comforted in my belief that no other family would have put up with his whining and peeing on the floor consistently for 9 years. And it is a much more peaceful and calm atmosphere already, without having to fight with the Parker over everything.

Yesterday we also attended our niece’s 6th birthday party. That was fun. I especially liked where I got to sit on my butt and rest. Then my husband and I went to dinner to celebrate our anniversary. We had alcohol and steaks. My son had a slight meltdown, so we went home after that. I then watched a NASCAR race on TV, which I almost never get to do anymore. I went to bed.

I was awakened at 11:30PM by Dave barking, my husband on the phone, and a police searchlight shining in our front window shortly thereafter. It seems a drunk guy couldn’t find his way home, so he decided to sit on our porch and smoke, try to flag down cars, then lay down on our deck. My husband called the cops. They took the guy home.

Finally. Our totally weird anniversary day was done.

And also, hopefully, our messed up last few weeks.

Then this morning, we find the dude’s cell phone. It was dead, so we put it on our charger. We checked his contacts. We snooped through his Facebook and found out his name. My husband was almost about to call the number for “Mom”, when the guy called his own phone from his friend’s phone. He came to pick it up. He half-assed apologized. Apparently, if my husband and I REALLY wanted to celebrate our anniversary, we should have been at the same bonfire that dude went to.

Also, my asbestos friend, who is like family, has lost her dad a few weeks ago. Her family (who is like family to me) had a car accident last week. Their car was sadly totaled. Since they were just across town, I went and gave them a ride home. I would have anyway, but I figured I could use all the karmic pay-it-forward I could get. (It worked. My mom had not yet gotten in the shower when I knocked on her door for my spare key yesterday.)

What I Learned This Week(s):  I have to admit, in the long run, everything is probably working out for the better. It is just not always easy to see that at the time it happens. And, can I have peace and quiet now, please? Can I have some sense of a schedule and normal?

Oh wait, next week we are only working/daycare for a few days, because then we will leave on vacation. And, of course, screw up our internal clocks so that we will be all off schedule by the time we return. Oy.

I Will Never Be Freshly Pressed

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My asbestos friend will be very angry at me when she sees the title of this post. She is a deep believer in manifestation and the law of attraction. She believes that putting this statement out into the universe will make it a reality.

And I believe that too. Somedays. Other times I believe you have to worry about something to prevent it from happening. But usually that only gives me a stomach ache. And something completely different that I never thought to worry about can go wrong in its place.

Today, well, I am trying to make myself stop hoping for something that will never happen. To become Freshly Pressed on WordPress. (Their list of the best of recent blogs, updated daily–or so they claim.)

It would, indeed, be a great honor.

But, occasionally, I write a deeply personal post that, while my blog is pretty anonymous, I would feel weird if the masses read it. Those posts I am glad that they are not picked to be Freshly Pressed.

To anyone else, I am sure my blog looks like a disorganized jumble of craziness. When I look at my blog and what I have created, it makes me happy beyond words. Sometimes, I just visit it to gaze with wonder and amazement that I have my own website, my own URL, and I get to chose what is on it.

To a thirteen year old today who grew up amidst such technology, it would not seem impressive at all. But when I was in high school, the Internet wasn’t something everyone had in their house. Not every product had a website. It was common to not even know the terms Internet or website. I did my big final paper for my Bachelor’s degree in college on comparing the websites of radio stations. That was a big deal then.

While I crave praise in my life (I chalk that up as being my mother’s fault), I am going to have to settle for my blog to just make me happy for sake of being there. I fear my genius (yes, that’s a joke) will never be featured on Freshly Pressed.

I crave praise so much that I have been known to create awards...for last place. (Wes Nile 4EVA!)

I crave praise so much that I have been known to create awards…for last place. (Wes Nile 4EVA!)

But I probably won’t give up hope that Ellen might mention my blog some day on her show. Seems like a good fit, I think;)

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