Category Archives: How I remember it, anyway

It might not be exactly how it happened, but it’s how I like to tell it.

It’s Oklahoma, but we do not all have donkeys

We’re in Oklahoma – we had an earthquake. And unless you live under a rock I’m sure you’ve heard about it.

But I honestly hate what you’ve heard.

It pisses me off.

I’ll be the first to admit that I get all sorts of adrenaline about Earthquakes, and a 5.8 is mild enough to keep our homes and families alive but strong enough to feel the earth quiver.

But OMG the freaking media and what they leak out.


I’m going to paraphrase so I don’t have to quote sources, because I don’t want to give any high-fives to any of the media who did this crap, unless that high-five is to the back of their heads.

First I absolutely posted to facebook about my excitement about the Earthquakes. Maybe two or three times. Maybe more. But within minutes there are photos of lawn-chairs knocked over in a yard with a title similar to “Oklahoma Earthquake, we will survive” or “we will rebuild” or “we will never forget” or whatever. And I can take a joke, make light of a situation, I agree. I giggled a little, but before I knew it EVERYONE was posting it on facebook and it was viral before long the image had been edited into something not even funny and out-of-state tweeters were passing it back and forth with us being the butt of the joke.

Then there are news reports about how a television fell of the wall and woke someone up during the earthquake.

But the worst thing to go viral on my twitter and news feed is something about how one resident felt the shimmer of the earth and thought his neighbors Donkey got out and was ‘scratchin’ on the trailer.

When I read that, my face boiled.

The news reports show perfectly NORMAL men and women standing around being interviewed afterwards but the only one they air? The guy with no shirt,  no shoes, big old belly with a big cigarette hanging out of his mouth and a southern accent so thick it was impossible to really understand what he was saying as they cut the camera down to his child (grandchild?) who was in nothing but a diaper. Plenty of clothed kids in Oklahoma but lets show the naked one in the cold to the world. GAH!

We are not non-english-speaking-ignorant-cow-mongers hanging out in a bunch of woods eating tree bark till our teeth fall out, nor are we all negligent parents who fail to watch the weather forecast before we dress our kids.

There can be a thousand great quotes to a news story and the damn media picks out the most red-necked quote they can find to broadcast.

Believe it or not, Oklahoma City is a nice CITY with buildings, and businessmen, towers, multi-level malls, eateries, Bricktown, nightlife, movie theaters, arts districts and well-educated men and women raising our families the best way we know how. There are cows and pastures and good old farm life around here too – as there should be, but they are good smart people that are ALSO misrepresented by the news. And yes, there are some crazy hillbilly and mountain folk and probably some sister wives amongst preachers and sinners and thieves. We stand outside to watch tornadoes pass over but we get a little startled by an earthquake. It’s a normal city, with normal people, and the things that our media leaks out for whatever reason does not represent the whole.

While I’ve not taken a poll, I imagine that the awesome farmers/country dwellers in Oklahoma certainly don’t want to be portrayed as ignorant people.

Our paid media spokesmen should really be ashamed of the kind of state they portray us to live in.

I’d never want to raise my kids anywhere else.

*disclaimer: If you are a negligent parent, and this post makes you mad… good! Go change your child’s diaper. If you are a farmer that supplies me with fresh eggs, milk, and wheat, you rock, and this post isn’t about you. It’s about the few rare gems that they feature on the news to represent us all the time.

(I’m a nice person, you just caught me on a bad day)

Also, I’m shaking my head mostly in silence at the outbreak of “Oklahoma Earthquake 2011 survivors” groups on facebook, etc now.




It stands for Thank God Halloween Is Over. It’s an all new acronym, feel free to use it if you hated Halloween as much as I did.

As I mentioned in this post I really dreaded Halloween.

My ex-husband handles that Holiday because of his insane love to spend moola to dress up and trick-or-treat with his best friend. I handle *all* of the rest of the holidays because I’m the mommy. Only this year, the ex-husband decides not to handle it because it’s on a week night and we live an hour away (an hour, so, like, not in another flipping state, but whatever, I will not rant).

Grace decided that at nearly 16 years old she’d go with her friends and watch movies and eat junk food – so she wasn’t home, and Doug was set to go to a meeting/event for his rehab. It was the set up for pure disaster. Just me and Gabby on the Holiday of shit.

Gabby was going to have a makeshift Halloween costume – as a cheerleader from hell, using her sisters former cheerleading outfit. It was a few notches down from the handmade costume that she had from her dad and (busted, name removed) (his girlfriend)..

 Her dad had planned take them costume shopping this past weekend if Bald Lover and I would pay him back, but baby daddy is a college student with a boat-load of homework so time ran out and we were making due.

It really looked like it would be a dreadful holiday, like all the Halloweens before.

But then Bald Lover bought three big bags of candy to pass out. I’ve never been able to pass out candy on Halloween. For 9 of the 14 years I lived in Tulsa, we had to go to the ex’sbest friend’s house so they could dress up together and trick or treat, consequently our house was always dark and undecorated (and often egged by angry trick-or-treaters).

And Bald Lover decided to stay home from his event to spend time with us — he walked WITH us and wasn’t preoccupied.

. And Gabby looked awfully pretty in her costume, if dead can be pretty and it didn’t cost us a thing.

 Trick-or-treating was fun, we saw neighbors, the weather was gorgeous, and our few trick-or-treaters were delightful. The dog barked and the candy was delicious, and Grace was home before curfew and suddenly Halloween wasn’t bad afterall.

And then it hit me. I don’t hate Halloween, I hate that I never created the opportunity to enjoy it for so many years. Being married to Bald Lover and in this great city has done something to me.

Halloween is a little more awesome.

Also, white chocolate peanut butter cups are to die for.

Can’t wait for next year.

Has it been three years?

Has it really been three years?

That means three years and 6 months ago was the worst times of my life. That means that 3 years 6 months ago I was completely lost, newly a single mom having just left what I like to refer to as the twilight zone of my life. That means that it’s been over three years since I was a damsel in distress. Only no one knew that. It appeared I had it all together. Wow, that time has both gone so incredibly fast and so extremely slow.

On October 24th I met my husband Bald Lover. We had been talking and known of each other for quite a while but our 100+ mile distance caused difficulty in ironing out a time to “date”.

I don’t remember everything I should about the evening we met. But I know that I waited nervously with my cousin and some friends for him to arrive where we were hanging out that night. Let me just expose the elephant in the room – it was a bar. I was single, the kids were away, and I’m now justifying something I don’t have to justify. Anyway, I swung around on the bar-stool to greet him and the entire world froze. He had to be the cutest damn thing that ever wore a ball cap.

The circumstances of his visit to my town were gray, his mom was in the hospital and he’d been sitting with her day in and day out, worrying, stressing, praying. Late that Friday evening he had to get away, and he chose to take that time to meet me. He was a little lost, a lottle down, but something in the moment that I met him changed me forever. We hit it off from the get-go. He was absolutely none of the things I was looking for. I was on a mad hunt for a country bumpkin. I wanted the brown shaggy hair, tall country boy that drove a pickup truck and had kids of his own and a vasectomy to boot.

Instead, I found a short bald guy in a BMW with no children and fully functioning baby-making parts. But alll of a sudden my “list” of what I wanted in life was irrelevant. We just meshed well from the moment we met that night. Not too long into the evening my friend announced to me that I would marry him. The girl who was the biggest skeptic about guys in my life called it in the first half hour. What a wonderful memory.

That following morning, his mother passed away. I never met her.

And my gosh have we been to hell and back since then. But he’s mine. He’s all I really ever wanted.

Happy Three years my baldy.


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{Wordless Wednesdays}How time flies – Circa 1980

My first birthday, 31 years ago today (Making me a grand 32 years old)… how time flies.

P.S. I know it’s supposed to be wordless and all – but look at all that crochet, panelling on the walls and those awesome retro clothes. Circa 1980!

P.S.S I still read my books upside down. Genius!

P.S.S.S My husband was 10 in 1980. Bahahaa.


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It’s the Small Things in Chicago…

While my husband and I make fairly regular trips to Chicago, a place we love to hang out – this year was the first year we’ve taken Grace and Gabby along with us. With all of the attractions, walking and fabulous things to do, there are a few simple things about our trip that I absolutely do not want to forget:

Snazzy Penuckle (pinochle): Well dressed guy plays  penuckle with himself under the bridge – upon further examination, he’s hitchhiking. Do people really still do that these days?

Shot Sized Dr. Pepper: I drink roughly 2ltrs of Dr. Pepper a day. So imagine my dismay when on a 11 hour road trip, I open the ice-chest and find that my husband has neatly stocked it with shot sized dr. pepper cans. 7oz. If you haven’t tried them yet, don’t. I didnt even taste it before I swallowed the whole can.

Tongue Tied daughter continuously says ObserB instead of Observe.

Plant-i-terium: 15 year old straight A student in AP classes states that she doesn’t want to go to the planetarium because it’s nothing but a bunch of plants.

Fried Rice: A special request from the eleven year old while sitting in a mexican food restaurant

Tonsillitis on the pier: Our abrupt end to a night on the pier when Gabby states that her throat hurts followed by showing me her swollen pus filled tonsils

Walking Man: Saying “walking man” before crossing the street in busy Chicago never gets old.

Cab Driver Gets Ear Full of Funny: My mildest mannered husband gives the cab driver an ear full when he narrowly misses swiping our daughter crossing the street while we had the walking man. ” A$$!…face?” he yells at the top of his lungs as random onlookers take notice that this father might be angry, or he might be asking the cabby if he’s an a$$ face.

The Southern Twang causing us to be asked if we were from Tennessee.

The most unsafe form of transportation — angry cab driver. 19 honks and 4 red lights later and we arrived safely. Cab rides are cheaper than tickets to ride a roller coaster.

Cubs Game Distraction: Grace and I can’t focus on the Cubs game, because the tall guy in front of us has rapidly moving ears and the distraction of watching his ears jump and wave is too much of a distraction.

It’s the little things in this big city that gave our family laughs and memories to giggle about forever.

My Issues with Music

After my ex-husband moved out, nearly three years ago from today, I found myself completely unable to listen to music of any kind. Even the most gnarly rock song would land me in a puddle of uncontrollable sobs – for some reason sadness can find sadness wherever it goes. It wasn’t long into this phase of my life that a good friend made me a mix CD and offered it to me with some great advice “If you lose music, you’ll lose your soul” and I knew he was right. Music has been such a large part of my life, as I assume most can relate. I was never in a band, or strumming a guitar, but I was always able to find solace in a few lyrics from a song that hit spot on.

I tried to train myself to listen to the music at night, one of the loneliest times in the world for me when the children were sleeping and for the first times in years and years, I was laying in a dark room in a bed that seemed to grow into an ocean over night. Midway through the first song when I felt the emotion whelming in the pit of my chest, I would quickly turn the music off, say my prayers and try desperately to sleep.

As time moved on, my heart was still anti-music. Every song had a memory of a place, or a time in my life that I just couldn’t stand to remember alone. If the kids were in the car with me, I could turn the radio on low volume for their sake, but I would pray for distractions from the lyrics. I don’t know what I felt like music made me face, but I knew I wasn’t ready to face it.

Eventually, I met my Bald Lover, a music junkie, and became able to stand music in small quantities – at a night out surrounded by friends, with him while we were busied with other household chores, etc, and without a horrible cringe of emotional pain if I was shopping and something deeper than elevator music was playing on the system.

He was living in the City at the time, and I in Tulsa – two hours apart. He’d stay with me on occasion through the week when we couldn’t bare to be apart but he’d have to rise early before the sun to head back to the city for work. And once again I would lay in that dark room, in that sea of a bed and weep out of loneliness with ever sad lyric I ever heard circling my head and pestering my heart.

After he would leave it would sometimes be days before I would try to listen to music again.

Last night my Bald Lover found Pandora Radio on his Android phone just as we were laying down to sleep, so we laid in the dark room while he played his favorites, and then as he stood up to visit the restroom the crushing emotion of the music playing and the silent room, and the elephant sized bed surrounding me made me remember all those lonely nights when I couldn’t find myself  in the mountains of covers fit for more than one person in a dark and still room that seemed as though the walls were chanting all my faults at me one by one. I immediately thanked God for my family, that man that helps to fill this bed, and the walls that no longer chastise me with memories of abandonment. I can listen to music at night, what a gift from the man who loves me.

Bitchy Wife strikes again!

It’s rare that it happens, but occasionally I wake up thinking the world sucks. Now, having lived through multiple health issues and having the blessing of two daughters that are obviously suck-free, I know better on the rational side of my brain, but mornings like this morning, the rational side of my brain seems to be sleeping in.

My poor husband did nothing wrong except rub my back as I was waking up – and I, without thinking of course, snapped and said “you never rub my back, in fact you never touch me, WHY are you rubbing my back now”?

I’m chuckling a little at myself right now for how ludicris that is. He is in fact a very affectionate husband, we’ve just been two busy people doing our own thing lately, and maybe that’s what I was mad about, I dont know. All I know is that I was mad at everything, and he couldn’t win.

I continued with my woe-is-me self pity induced anger for a good hour until he left to go to a meeting. Then I was mad because he left when I clearly wanted nothing more than just to fight today and he seemed to have better things to do.

After returning from his meeting, he followed me to drop my car off at the auto repair shop and as I got into his car to head back home, there in the passenger seat sat flowers.

And for a moment, I was pissed. 🙂 Are you surprised? EVERYTHING was making me mad.

“Did you get these for me so I would feel even worse”? I asked and then laughed like I was joking. I WAS joking, right? I mean, this man bought me flowers to say “sorry” for something he didn’t even do and I couldn’t even thank him for the gesture appropriately. I know you must be thinking “poor guy, he sure picked a winner, didn’t he” — and in my defense, these days really are few and far between, but when they happen, they’re unfair to the world around me.

Eventually my Bald Lover and I had a small heart to heart sitting in the car in front of the repair shop where I instantly forgave him for all the stuff he didn’t do wrong today.

You know you’ve picked the right guy when he feels helpless by your mood and drives right to the flower store 🙂

Thanks honey, I’m sorry you had to put up with me today. ❤