Express Lane to the Adderol please.

Oh the brain has been whirring this week...

1.  People who thought they were using a "secure" site in which to cheat on their significant others. Seriously...if you can't keep your banking information safe why would think your sexual liaisons would be any different. I just can't respect this kind of stupidity.

2.  Idiot who decided he was dying so why not go to Kansas City and kill some Jews before he goes. Manages to kill 3 Christians instead. Is "defending" himself at trial. When a witness says that he tried to follow the shooter to get license plate the shooter turned his car around and fired a shot at him. Idiot "defending" himself corrects said witness and notes that he shot at him twice...not once. Really dude...the express line to hell is on the right...please do not dawdle.

3.  I have recently seen some "fashionistas" criticizing cargo shorts. As a proud wearer of the khaki I must say...BITE ME!! I love my shorts and they keep all of my more personal bits covered which is a blessing for society let me tell you. They are comfortable and they are awesome. Now...let's talk about those ugly shoes you are wearing....

4.  I saw a headline today on the weather channel page that the latest tropical ugliness is causing Florida to be in a "Cone of uncertainty"? Is this anything like the cone of shame because Fiona has some thoughts on that she could share?

5.  Donald Trump vows to never eat Oreos again because the parent company is moving some production lines to Mexico. He will however, reconsider, if he can find some made in the USA. Who are you kidding you moron? You know you cannot give up Oreos...no one can give up Oreos...they are like cookie heroin. More rubbish from a clown with the worst hair on the planet.

6.  On the way to work today I saw a sort of enlarged Transit type van in front of me with Illinois tags. As I got closer I noticed the tags said "God's Bus". Now...this got me thinking...I am really not sure God needs a Mercedes transit bus to get around. I mean is he picking us up now or at the Casino later? It makes me a little uncomfortable to think that God might be coming to pick me up in a Mercedes transit bus.

Why would "God's Bus" be cruising down I-44 at 8 am? I mean...I can understand why God would like to travel in style. Who doesn't like leather seats with butt warmers and surround sound car stereo with DVD players, blue tooth and all those other extras? But does God really need GPS and Bluetooth?

I think the God of the Old Testament would prefer more traditional methods of travel like pillars of fire and burning bushes and Jesus would certainly not be caught out and about in a Mercedes. He would certainly be in a really old, beat up, VW mini-bus hanging out in Spiva Park with the homeless folk. I am confused...which is not really out of the ordinary for me.
Oh...look a chicken....

What self esteem?

Language warning: If you are offended by the "f" word please skip this blog. Sometimes it's just a necessary word.

I find that my battle with myself over my sense of self esteem continues. I have worked really hard to eliminate my PTSD and that has gone wonderfully well and at times I am the happiest and most content I have ever been. It's a new feeling for me and it's taking me awhile to adjust.

But I still find myself struggling with the value of "me". You see...I am really good at paying lip service to the fact that I am a good person. At least a good bit of me does believe that I am kind, loyal, loving, intelligent, funny and an all around good egg. However...there is still this part of me who thinks..."yeah who the fuck are you kidding." There is still a part of me who refuses to believe any of the above is true. There is a part of me that still does not trust the words or intentions of others because, clearly, the things they say and do cannot be true, I am not worthy.

Sometimes I think I will always be that little fat girl who is constantly looking for the approval of others that she never got from her weasel of a father. Yes...I have daddy issues...and mommy issues...but that is mostly behind me now. Snicker...snicker.... It has only been recently that I have been able to look at myself in photos and the mirror and think that maybe...just maybe...I am not as ugly as I always thought I was. I look at photos of that sweet little girl with the blonde hair and the haunted eyes and think that cannot be me. She was so cute...what the fuck happened?

I long to have a relationship with someone (and it doesn't necessarily have to be a romantic relationship) where I am TOTALLY relaxed and comfortable with that person. I have never given myself permission to do that you see. I would love to be able to blame the other person completely but that would neither be truthful or fair. I have had relationships where that just was not an option and it was not totally my fault. (See future blog on "the evil one".) But overall I just don't find myself able to truly trust the intentions or words of others. I think too much so they say.

I have someone in my life whom I have been in love with for over 20 years now. And even though I have loved her with my whole being I have still never allowed myself to be totally comfortable with her. She cannot possibly mean the things she says. She cannot really love me. She is brilliant. She is from a much better social class than me. She is wonderful. I don't deserve her love so it cannot be true. I will never be good enough for her. And when she needed time to go on her journey alone I found all of my lies to myself were true. I made it all about myself because only I was the one in pain you see. I allowed myself to drift into the darkness that always lurks right there in my soul. I knew it! I knew it! You see...I wasn't good enough! A self-fulfilling prophecy.

What...you say...has brought up all this angst and self discussion? Well today I was teasing the aforementioned love of my life about her moving to Missouri. Why is that a stupid idea Karen? I mean besides the fact that my house is a pig sty of my own making. You see Missouri is not Colorado. My home that I love so much could never be good enough for her. I can never be good enough for her. So I sit with my discomfort and wonder if I will ever be able to change? Will I ever give myself permission to change? Will I ever allow myself to be comfortable with someone the way I want to be comfortable? Will I ever be good enough for me? We shall see....

Well crap on a cracker!

I am the only child of parents who were close to the youngest in their families. My grandmother had my mom when she was 35 and my mom had me when she was 36. Both of my parents died before I hit 32. What is my point you wonder?

Well...it seems like I have been going to funerals my whole life. I have spent more time at funeral homes and visitations than I have going to weddings and baptisms. I did not know either of my grandfathers. (In fairness my mother did not really know her father well either since she was 6 when he died). One grandmother died when I was 10 and crazy grandma lived until I was 17. Both were in the their 80's. Most of my great aunts and great uncles did not make it to the 1970's.

I remember at a very young age being hauled around to funerals and family dinners with people I only vaguely knew and most likely never saw again. My mother was VERY devoted to her belief that if someone dies you GO to the funeral. It doesn't matter if it's your 12th cousin, twice-removed, you go and you honor the dead. I am not sure if it was a mom thing or an old-school Catholic thing...maybe a bit of both. I was once half way across Iowa (from Minnesota)...in the dead of winter I might add...before I realized I was risking life and limb to go to my 92 year old 2nd cousin's funeral. I did not even think twice about it until I was past Des Moines.

Most of my Aunts and Uncles passed in the 80's and 90's with a couple of hold outs who made it to the 2010s. I have three Aunt-in-laws who are still alive and kicking and a lot of cousins. But recently my mortality has been tweaked by the passing of one of my first cousins. (See earlier blog) It's a little disconcerting when your generation begins to make its way onward. Even sadder when it's your first cousins' children who are taken too soon.

 Today I found out that one of my mother's last remaining first cousins passed away. He was 95. We were not close. I knew who he was. I would recognize him if I saw him somewhere. I knew we were related. But I instantly went into "funeral mode". I was more successful than normal in talking myself down from "funeral mode". My mom would have spent hours on the phone calling people tonight to let them know and pass on condolences. She would have been one of the first to arrive at the rosary and one of the last to leave the visitation. She would have been at the funeral and the graveside service and she would have talked to EVERYBODY!

I have finally reached a point in my life where I can kind of back away from mom's funeral training. I can allow myself now to be more relaxed and less on funeral point. I can allow myself to go to either the rosary and visitation or the funeral without feeling like I HAVE to go to both. Unless of course...it's a close relation...and then all bets are off. I can do these things...but crap on a cracker...I still feel guilty about choosing. Less guilty than I have felt in the past but guilty none the less.

I think Mom's message was that we honor the dead and we comfort the living because family and those we love are intrinsically bound to us. Love is stronger than death and in those moments when we remember and we honor those who have passed we keep their energy and their souls vibrant in this world. No one should be forgotten. Amen!

Thoughts go in...thoughts go out...rubbish.

I wonder what it is like to be a sock? I was doing laundry this morning and I noticed my little black socks were all huddled together in the basket and this got me thinking several things....
1.  Do socks like to be worn? I am not sure which would be preferable but I guess it would depend on the sock's personality. I think I would rather encase my human's stinky foot and to be out and about and have adventures rather than just hang out in a dark drawer with all the other lonely socks. I mean what would you do all day and what do socks have to talk about?
2.  Do socks live in terror of the washing machine? I mean, I looked at them all huddled together in my basket and they looked a little terrified. It still didn't stop me from putting them in the wash as I have sociopathic tendencies when it comes to clean socks. I callously tossed them in the washer despite their desperate attempts to stay together. And they always try to make a run for it when you are transferring them. I would rather jump to my death between the washer and dryer than to go into that nasty, drowning, spinning, chemical hell.
3. And lastly...are my socks more loyal to me than other humans? I mean, not to brag, but I never lose socks. I have heard horror stories about families with piles of lonely unclaimed and unpaired socks. Mine always seem to stay together. The go into the basket together. They may not make it into the washer at the same time but they always wind up together. I never have the odd sock. Maybe I am just sock blessed?

I think my underwear are the most desperate items in the dresser. They have all given up hope. The have lost all of their personality quirks. They have no will to live and that is why the elastic starts unraveling two days after you buy them. They just can't handle it. It is sad duty and I pity the cotton fibers that are exiled to my underwear drawer.

And why is it that we don't discard the old ones in a timely manner. I am pretty sure that buried underneath the ones I wear all the time are pairs from the 90's that just languish there doing whatever it is that old underwear does. Same goes for the old socks and bras. I mean really Karen, that bra would not be suitable to wear anywhere...anytime...so why is it the designated emergency bra? You know the one you hold back just in case you miscalculate your laundry and find yourself without a clean bra to wear to wherever you have to be in 30 minutes? There is not even an illusion of support there but it somehow makes you feel less pathetic if you put it on to run to wherever you are going. You can comfort yourself with...at least I have a bra on. So you have to make sure you don't get your boob caught in your pants when you button them up...at least you have a bra on. Unless you are going to Wal-Mart at 3 am...then of course all bets are off and you can blend in with everyone else and no one but the employees with camera phones will notice.

I will save the analysis of sleepy shirts and shorts for another time...my brain is already moving on to something else equally as nonsensical. Oh look...a chicken!

Memories of youth

As a kid growing up here in the 60's and 70's the place to be in the summer was Municipal Park. That place was always abuzz with activity. I spent hours and hours at the pool there, I learned how to skate at the roller rink, I loved that big ass slide that is no longer there, I rode the rides at Kiwanis's Kiddie Land, I looked forward every year to the carnival that would accompany the County Fair and most of all I spent many a glorious evening at the ball fields.

You see...back in the day baseball was king in Carthage. Those four fields and stands would be packed all the time in the summer. There was farm league, girl's softball, little league and Babe Ruth. Ah...but little league was the king. Carthage produced many really good teams in that era. I remember how devastated the whole town was when two of it's stars drown in Spring River. One trying to save the other. It was my first experience with children my age dying and it was quite the wake up call.

Folks would flock to the fields in the evenings. You could park by the outer fences and watch from your cars or you could sit in the bleachers. You could make endless trips to the concession stand. It was a family affair. Everyone would turn out to watch the games. Kids could run around and play catch with their friends and no one had to worry about being abducted. It was such a "free" time.

I would go to watch my friends play. My friend Michael always played and I was quite the devotee of his. I would always be there cheering him on waiting for him to get done and then we would hang out and go and play in the creek. I remember one wonderful 4th of July hanging out in the cattle barns and seeing how high we could fly empty pop cans with firecrackers. I can still remember the sound and the smell. He was my adventure buddy.

The point I am trying to make here is that it is so sad to see the park basically deserted on a Saturday night. I drove around the park absorbed in the memories that came flooding back to me. All the sounds and the smells. I drove all around the fields that are just sitting there unused. The fences are down. The concession stand has been demolished. There's not much left. They have all moved on to greener pastures across town where they can sit in the bleachers and stare at their phones.

But I still have my memories. I can see the kids in the uniforms wearing them so proudly and all the parents and grandparents and everyone else cheering them all on. I can see Michael's lopsided grin and feel the love he had for the game. I can see my parents parked out by the fence watching all the kids play even though they had no relation to any of them. They just liked to watch. It was a magical time that I will treasure in my heart forever.