Sunday Scribblings #234 Love


I really thought that I loved him.

He had everything that I wanted from life. A mother that loved and cared for her family with wonderful meals, a clean house and a smile, and a father with an impressive career that still had time to listen. In his life, there was no chaos, no drunken fights, no being dragged out of bed in the middle of the night to fry eggs that would be promptly thrown up an hour later. I wanted his life so badly.

I wanted it so badly that I was blind to all the signals he was sending out. Why was he so angry? Why was he so angry with me all the time? Why was he always trying to control me and drive all of my friends away? And why was I letting him? Why was he punching me and knocking me down, then laughing about it, saying that he was just kidding?  Why would somebody from such a great family be doing these things? But I didn’t know better — violence and verbal abuse were what I knew so it didn’t seem so out of the ordinary.  I could change him if I loved him enough.

And I married him anyway. I was so sure that I loved him.  My mother and step father were so enthralled with him and his family.  They told all that would listen that I had been given such a gift.  And finally, they were acting like they loved me and approved of me.  I wanted to bask in that sunshine as long as I could.

So I hid it for years. Twenty of them. During those years, I learned a lot. Mostly how to keep my daughter and myself out of his way. I must have said and thought thousands of times, it’s not us, he’s the one with the problem.  But that’s a hard thing to explain to a young girl who only wants her daddy to love her.  I finally left, taking her with me, but the damage had been done.  I had wanted her to have the father that I didn’t have, but I only succeeded in giving her one that was emotionally crippled and mentally unbalanced.  Even now, she will ask me why he won’t love her the way she wants him to.  And I tell her that it’s not her, it’s him.  And try to love her enough to make up for it.

In the end, I realized that I wasn’t in love with him, I was in love with his family and the idea of what he could be, with all of the opportunities that were afforded to him, by a family that loved him.

And then a few years later, I found out what real love is made of.  It’s kindness, warmth, frequent smiles and even more frequent “I love you’s”.  It’s a message on my phone that he was thinking of me, or a flowers that he picks for no reason.  It’s kisses on my neck when I’m sewing, and cooking dinner together. It’s also baking zucchini bread without him asking me to do it, and washing the sheets and hanging them on the line so that he can smell the fresh air, and rubbing his back when he’s tired.  It’s smirking to myself when the ladies at work complain about how hard it is to keep a relationship going.

Yes, it’s definitely love this second time around.


Sunday Scribblings #232 – Clean


I thought that I would pass this prompt by — after all, “clean” can be written about on so many levels.

While I was knitting last night, and listening half halfheartedly to the TV, what I could write about came to me in an “ah ha” moment.

Elections are coming up in November. I wish with all my heart that the candidates that we will be voting for and entrusting with our government would each run a clean campaign!! I can’t believe that the campaign contributions that are given to these people are made by people that condone this kind of mud slinging behavior or delight in smear campaigns.

Drop by Sunday Scribblings if you have something that you would like to say about clean — or not clean!!

Sunday Scribblings — #231 Wait


A list of my favorite “waits”

  • My first cup of coffee in the morning dripping through the filter
  • A long awaited vacation
  • Thunderstorms ending a long hot and humid spell
  • GrandDollies being born
  • The first trip of the summer season to the beach
  • Lovely, cold water on a hot summer day
  • Sweet Baboo meeting me at the door when I’ve had a less than stellar day
  • Christmas
  • Autumn, the absolute best time of the year
  • Weekends!!
  • Sunsets

And a list of my least favorite “waits”

  • Test results
  • Uncomfortable situations that will eventually happen
  • Winter
  • Doctor visits
  • Tuesdays (I have Mondays off, so Tuesday is my Monday)
  • Standing in line — grocery store, drive through lane at McDonald’s, the bank etc.

I guess I’m fortunate that I have listed more “good” waiting than “bad” waiting!!

Drop by Sunday Scribblings and tell people what you’re waiting for!!

Sunday Scribblings #228 — View


The view from my computer is my backyard. We had our computer originally down in the basement, but Sweet Baboo got tired of clomping up and down the stairs and decided that it would better serve us in my sewing room. It was more difficult to get to before, so now, of course, I spend way more time on it than I probably should.

I just spent half an hour observing my view from the computer. And my observations are:

  • There are 3 squirrels that spend an amazing amount of time chasing each other through the line of pine trees that serve as a property line dividing our backyard from the neighbors. I will often be typing and my peripheral vision will pick up branches waving wildly –accompanied by chattering and screeching, three grey streaks run round and round the trunks of the pine trees.  Perhaps they are 2 males vying for the attention of the one female.  Perhaps they are  litter mates.  Whatever, they seem to have a great life.
  • My tuxedo cat thinks she is invisible.  She is hiding under some brush next to my neighbor’s garden shed.  I can see her tail sticking out from under the brush, so I call her name.  No movement.  I call her again. She raises her head up to see what I want.  I laugh at the expression on her face, and she gets up and slinks off deeper into the brush, giving me the old stink eye as she goes.  I think I may have interrupted her hunting game.
  • My neighbor is grilling on his new grill.  Every year, he buys a new grill.  Every year I hear him mumbling about how the grill is terrible, it’s ruining his steaks, he slams things around (sometimes dropping the food on the lawn) then stomps up the stairs and into his house.  I guess it’s never occurred to him that perhaps he is the weakest link and not the grill!!
  • The birdhouses in the yard are quiet now.  In the spring, there was all kinds of activity, birds flitting in and out, yelling at each other, arguing about who lives in which bird house.  They must have gotten it all sorted out. They raised their babies, taught them to fly and now it’s quiet.
  • I’m wondering when my neighbor is going to put his pool chemicals away.  He bought four gallon jugs in May or June, and they have sat on the lawn in a pile — next to the stepladder that hasn’t been put away since June.   They mow around the jugs but don’t feel like they should pick them up and put them in the garden shed.
  • And now it’s time to shut the window and finish this post.  Another neighbor has a fire pit in which he burns the most vile smelling wood practically every night, and I’m getting whiffs of it now.  It floats through the backyard and in through my open windows, if I don’t close them, and the odor lingers until the next day.  How do you tell your neighbor that he burns yucky smelling wood?  And where do you go to find wood like that?  My suspicion is that he picks up construction wood that is on the side of the road to be taken away by the trash men.  You get what you pay for, eh?

Drop by Sunday Scribblings and tell people about your view!!

Sunday Scribblings #224 — Source


I thought I was going to have to take a pass on this prompt; literally, there was nothing that came to mind at all when I thought of the word source. Or should I say, so many things came to mind, it was difficult to write about just one.

And then this morning, around 9AM, it all became crystal clear to me.

There was a guy waiting at the front door this morning when I drove in.  No car, just a bike.  After booting up the computers and passing out the doc’s schedules to their exam rooms, I unlocked the front door.

(Me) Good morning, Mr. Patience!!  C’mon in — what can I do for you? (I notice that although it’s early, alcohol fumes and B.O. are emanating from him)

(Walk in guy) Hey I can’t see. I need to see a doctor.

(Me) Have we seen you here before? When was your last eye exam?

(Walk in guy) Nope, never been here. Never had an eye exam either.

(Me) Okay then.  (I quickly check the schedules) Dr. S comes in at 9:00, if you would like to come back at 9:10 you could be seen by her. Would that be good for you?

(WIG) Yeah that’s okay. (He then turns to walk out the door.)

(Me) Wait, I need you to fill out some paperwork for me but before that I need some initial info for the computer to put your appointment into it so that no one else takes your appointment slot.

(I get his name, DOB, SS# etc and put it into the computer. It turns out, he’s a homeless guy, living at a shelter down the street and is on Medicaid and food stamps.  My nice bucket is still full so I feel kind of bad for him.)

(Me) Alright, here’s the paperwork — if you would like to have a seat, you can fill it out here and if we can put you in sooner than 9:10, we will.

(WIG) Nope, can’t read or write, so I’ll take it back to the shelter and have one of those people do it for me.

(Me) Fine, I’ll see you at 9:10

By now it’s 8:05 and the office is starting to rock with patients coming in for exams, eyeglass adjustments, eyeglass pickups, etc.

At 8:30, the guy walks back in with his paperwork and a bag of pills for me to write down the names and dosing instructions to add to his paperwork.  The bag smells like somebody has peed on it.  So does he. Since it’s 8:30 and my nice bucket is still full, I take it and pull out the bottles and write down the info for him.

I hand the bag back to him and tell him that’s it’s just 8:30 and we won’t be able to see him until 9:10. He says yeah that’s okay.

I then wash my hands and disinfect the desk.

Meanwhile, the other tech’s are calling patients in to start pre-lims for their exams. He apparently can see well enough to notice this.

At 8:55, he shows back up again at the window and demands to know why everybody else has been called and he’s still sitting and waiting. What kind of a ^^$%%#$#%&* place are we running here anyway!!!

I remind him again that his appointment isn’t until 9:10, that the doctor that he will be seeing doesn’t get in until 9:00 and that the other patients are seeing other doctors.

He tells me that I should do something impossible and vulgar to myself,  and then calls me  a couple of nasty and rude names, then slams out the door mumbling and swinging his arms.

I think he must have forgotten to take his medication before he came over to the office.

This, therefore, is just one source of my unending frustration in dealing with the public.

And there’s a hole in my bucket, with all the nice pouring out of it.

Do you have a story to tell about the topic “source”? If so, drop by Sunday Scribblings.

Sunday Scribblings — #223 Video Prompt


I have been tossing this prompt around in my head since it was posted on Sunday Scribblings and I really feel that I’m no closer to choosing one amazing woman now than I was then.

So, to put a different spin on the prompt, I think I will chat about what I think makes a woman amazing.

Two of the gals that I work with are going to be participating in a triathlon this month. This is the second year that they are participating. They’re not hardcore athletes, but have encouraged each other and trained together and expect to have an amazing good time competing. And I admire that stick-to-it attitude that they both have.

Another woman I know has made a decision to not have children. She is happy with her husband and their life and doesn’t feel the need to add more people to the world. It makes me happy that when she talks of this decision, none of the other ladies that I work with question her about it. Women can be so amazing.

And there is still another lady that I work with that has a nasty case of rheumatoid arthritis.  It has progressed to the point that she can’t raise her arms above her shoulders. You will not hear any complaints about pain or her inability to do anything from her.  She keeps a positive attitude around her at all times.

There are also other ladies that I work with that have children, and husbands, and housework, and jobs, and manage to keep all of that in balance.  No small feat, to be sure.  As my friend says, you just have to do it because nobody else will do it for you.  A very down to earth way of looking at life from yet another amazing woman.

I think that anybody would be hard pressed to look at all of the women that they are acquainted with and not be able to see something amazing about them.  If you think there is nothing amazing about them, you’re just looking at the surface and not the real woman beneath.

I read once where somebody was saying what a fabulous dancer Fred Astaire was.  Absolutely, he was wonderful to watch.  But then it was pointed out that Ginger Rogers was every bit as good a dancer as Fred Astaire, and she had to do everything backwards, in heels and an evening gown.  Now that’s amazing!!

Write a few words about an amazing woman you know and leave your link at Sunday Scribblings.

Sunday Scribblings — #222 — Me


I was just looking at the last post that I created on this blog. March 23, 2009. Yup, that’s me. I throw myself wholeheartedly into something that will absolutely consume me until I’m burned out. I guess March 23, 2009 was my burnout date for blogging. For awhile.

My obsession after blogging was/is Facebook. Yes, I am definitely the obsessive sort, and have been farming/cooking/building my little heart out since March 24, 2009. I’m still on Facebook, but feeling like it’s running me instead of me running it. It’s time to move on or back, I can’t decide which it will be. But I can feel the burn coming.  Deleting my Facebook account is just a matter of time.

But obsessive is only part of me.  I can be kind (just not as often as I should) and as I age, I’m getting to be more tolerant of silly behavior.  Maybe tolerant isn’t the right word.  Let’s use the term uninterested and able to turn away.

I’m soft-hearted when it comes to Sweet Baboo and the grandbabies and all of our kids.

I still can’t tolerate stupidity, at least not stupidity that comes from the wrong choices. Asking me to feel sorry for somebody because they chose unwisely (grasshopper)  is more than I can take.

I’m a crafter, loving to create all things sewing, knitting, and crocheting.  Thankfully,  I’m not the perfectionist that I once was.  Living a quiet life as we do, it seems a shame to work yourself up into a lather about something so insignificant.

It’s funny that I can forecast that I will delete my FB account but it never occurred to me that I could delete my blog.

Maybe I’m not as obsessive as I think I am.  Maybe I just need a bit of distraction now and then.

I think it’s time to stop all the clicking nonsense on FB and get back to writing.

So that’s me — an obsessive, kind, tolerant, soft-hearted, non-perfectionist crafter that can’t handle ridiculous behavior and is tired of clicking on Facebook.  Oh yeah, and I like to write.

If you have a “me” story to tell, drop by Sunday Scribblings.