In the wee small hours of the morning,
while the whole wide world is fast asleep...

she'll lie awake, and think about the boy,
and never, ever think of counting sheep.

When her lonely heart has learned it's lesson,
she'd be his, if only she'd call...

But in the wee small hours of the morning,
that's the time, she misses him most of all...

It's a well established, and scientifically proven fact, that I have the worst luck in the entire world. But then there are some days, that being me, is better than French toast & Pop-Rocks on a Sunday morning.

Notes to self:

1) Put those pretty, shimmery stickers that say "2004" on my license plates. (They do no good on the desk)
2) Put insurance card IN car.
3) Registration IN the car is also a good thing.
4) Consolidate all 3 last names into one, on my ID's, credit cards & check book, so I no longer look like a criminal with 3 different aliases.
5) Buy that nice Officer Tim guy a drink or dinner sometime soon.

I have this really-super-fun-crazy friend named John Wookie. But we all call him "Wook" or "Wookie"...in fact, I've never heard him called "John" by anybody in the years I've known him.

I can officially make fun of him now, (along with everybody else) since he was released from the hospital today, and isn't going to die any longer. The worst is that he still might have to have his leg amputated, and there's a possibility that his last 2 marbles were knocked a little loose. (I'm pretty sure about that last one, because he still doesn't think it was a dumb idea.)

See....Wookie is the type that watches Evil Kanevil jump 10 busses with a moped, and decides that if Evil can do it, so can he. Well..Wookie didn't jump any busses. It's worse.

Wookie somehow came across a 45-MINUTE, FRENCH instructional video (without sub-titles even) for how to fly an Ultra-light plane. So in typical Wook fashion, he thought, "HEY! I can do THAT!" So what does he do??? Yuppers...he buys himself an Ultralight plane....after watching a 45-MINUTE, FRENCH instructional video.

Big-Ray was there the day Wookie decided to lift her off the ground. Before Wookie even fastened his seat-belt, Big-Ray was on the phone to the paramedics, telling them to get an ambulance ready, and start heading east on highway 212. When he expained it was Wookie in a plane, they didn't question it, loaded up and started driving east.

Wookie wasn't even in the air 15 minutes. I still can't believe he was up that long. His plane crashed, and Big-Ray and the ambulance were close behind. When Big-Ray got there, it was so bad, that he threw up immediately after seeing the shape Wookie was in. They almost amputated his leg right there. =o/

Wookie is doing better, he's just pretty banged up, and they're hoping they can save his leg, but only time will tell. But like I said, he came home from the hospital today.

*shakes head*...a 45-MINUTE, FRENCH instructional video people...

Kids...REALLY...you should NOT try this at home.

I might be away for a few days to a week or so, because I'm going to go check on Wookie tomorrow and take him some cookies and food and such, and see if he needs me to stay around to help him out. He's not married or anything, and one of his sons lives with him, so he might need somebody to help him cook and clean etc....or just somebody to keep him company in his misery or whatever.

The only instructional videos or television I'm going to let him watch, will be the knitting or quilting ones...

I just recieved the best "getting to know you" e-mail ever.

Okay, this has been driving me crazy for months and months. I've been to your website, I've read your User Info page...what the heck do you do for a living? If this is WAY too personal, just tell me and I'll go on making up stories for myself. In some you're an international spy; sometimes you're a cowgirl. I've imagined you as a high-priced call girl or a photographer to the stars. Maybe you divorced REALLY REALLY well, and if that's the case, don't tell me. Because I'll be totally jealous.

Yes. I'm an internationally-spying-call-girl-who photographs-the-stars-while riding the horse I received in the divorce settlement. xoD

...and now I'm off to do it all while dancing!

I asked my little girl today, "Will you love me forever"

And she answered, "Oh no mommy, even longer than that..."

<3

OK, so I left off back in San Diego on my last post...

The night after I got there, I made arrangements to meet up with Nate (raziel1313) at "Croce's Jazz Club" in downtown san Diego. It's a fabulous establishment, opened in honor of the late Jim Croce by his wife. If you have any upscale tastes what-so-ever, you must visit the blues side on Friday and Saturday nights. It's fabulous. I used to go there all the time when I lived in San Diego, and I had kind of forgotten how much I loved it. Anyway....back to the point...

Nate and I made plans to meet at Croce's, and as I sat listening to the band, and 2 hours, and 3 or 4 drinks later, I was beginning to worry. So as I sat there waiting, I was beginning to worry that Nate must have gotten there first, seen me, and decided that pictures are much more flattering to me and left. Even though it wasn't that kind of a date, it was all I could think of that would explain his not being there. Little did I know, he was driving all over San Diego trying to find me some cloves. <3 aww! OK, so the truth is, that he got lost, but I'd like to pretend it was the cloves he had in hand when he finally did show up. =oD

(He also scored some points for calling the club to get a message to me that he was on his way...=o)

Now I've known Nate online for about 3 - 3 1/2 years, and even though we'd go long periods without talking, we always remained friends, and well...it just is what it is...But I had a much different image of the man I thought I was meeting. Not that I thought he was a bad person before or anything, I just didn't realize how special he was, I guess.

So we had a drink there, and then went on to "The Bitter End" for a few more, but since he didn't show up until late, and we were getting along quite swell, we decided to head on over to Balboa Park to see the sights in the moonlight. We walked around (me in high heels...ugh) and talked for what had to be a couple hours, but time really flew. We even played on the playground a little which was quite fun I must say. (Kids these days have better toys on the playground lemme tell ya! I was pretty impressed.)

We finally decided to call it a night around 4:30 - 5am, and Nate when his way, and I went back to my mother's condo. (<--insert big fiasco the next morning with my mother here-->)

So the next night we made plans again to just stay in and play Scrabble, but I ended up being able to coax Nate into going out to a bar to visit some of my old friends, and of course again, we had a fabulous time...

One of the days we spent together, we went back to Balboa Park so Nate could see it in the daylight. Here we are on our great big alligator:

Isn't it the coolest statue EVER??? And another thanks to some nice tourists. =o)



I've been to Balboa park many times in my life, but the beauty of it never fails to amaze me. We found this great big tree in back of the botanical building, and I swear the branches could almost reach all the way to the moon.

Here we are sitting on one of the ROOTS. Now that's a big root if you ask me...



And any man with a cup of iced coffee in one hand, and a latte in the other deserves something special...*grins* So I finally gave Nate a piece of ass. =o)




I have NO idea why...but Nate was completely fascinated by the artists' attention to detail of the STALLION'S groin and rear areas. (weirdo) We had to go by the statue about 4 times, and he had to take a few pictures of it with his own camera. And even sat on a bench for about 15 minutes where we could view the "amazing detail"....I was beginning to worry about him at this point. I mean seriously...the obsessive compulsive thing he has going on was a bit much, (QUICK NATE, OPEN A WINDOW! TURN ON ALL THE FANS!!!) but this...well...this was almost too much. *sigh*

I don't know whether it's good or bad that my brakes went out, because I had planned on heading back to Pheonix to hang out with Jamison again, and also to meet up with Lilly, but ended up staying in San Diego for a few days longer than expected, so Nate and I ended up spending quite a bit of time together. (Long enough to kick his ass in a game of Scrabble, I might add.) =oD

Anyway...long story, cutting short...I had an absolute blast, and I think I stayed one day too long in San Diego. We spent tons of time just talking about politics, people, places, and pretty much everything there is to talk about. Nate kinda grew on me, and I usually do my best not to let that happen. Heck, we even got into a fight while I was there. How special is that? I just know if I had not stayed that one extra day, I wouldn't be missing him now. *sigh*

Well, I finally dragged myself away from San Diego, and after my car was fixed, I headed to pick up the kids in Montana.

Whew...I'm worn out...and speaking of kiddies, I'm going to go make some s'mores with them. I'll finish my vacation stories later. =o)

A bird in a cage,
will forget how to sing.
If you love me,
give me wings.

Part of me thinks I should make this post private, and only viewable to certain friends, but in realizing somebody else has felt such similar hurt, maybe somebody reading my journal will be comforted knowing *they* aren't the only ones either...

______

One of my friends made a post in her journal that made me weep almost uncontrollably. It reminded me of things feelings that I had forgotten buried for a long time...

As sad as her post made me, I was more comforted I guess, in that I'm not "the only one". Like I said in my comment to her post, "I'm not sure I'm more happy or sad to read this. Sad, so sad for you, and not "happy", in the traditional sense....but more comforted I guess, in that I'm not "the only one". There's a reason the only mom I talk about in here is my step-mom. My real mother was/is rather heartless.

If you drew me a stick figure with a smiley face, I'd shop for the most perfect frame, and I'd set it on my mantle right in the center, so that I could always remember that somebody ever thought I was special enough to take a little time...And everytime I'd see it, my face would most likely light up, and be forced to mirror the stick figure's smile.

Anybody can swipe a credit card, but only the most special of people can give from their hearts, and their hands, which is in a sense giving of themselves, and that, my friend, is the most precious gift of all."

_________

I was a very creative child, always drawing, painting, or building something or another. I can remember one specific Christmas, being so excited to be giving my mother a special gift that I had spent so much time creating for her, only to be ridiculed for it. See...she not only would discard the things I gave her, she would make it a point to criticize what I did, or even just me for giving her something that was "recycled", or "reinvented". One specific incident comes to mind. I'm thinking of the lampshade I made her when I was 8 years old. It had a crack in it, and it had been sitting in the garage, so I took it, and carefully drew a scenic landscape (as scenic as an 8 year old gets) and neatly glued little green beads and sequins around the bottom, (for grass) and made some fluffy white clouds around the top of the trim. And added little flowers, and a few little other things to make it "pretty".

When she opened it, not only did she look at it in disgust, she was angry at me for "ruining" a "good lamp-shade", and threatened that maybe she should give my gifts to my sisters. I sat through the rest of my sisters giving her their gifts, while tears of rejection and worthlessness stung my eyes, and the lump I felt in my throat was so painful, I couldn't hardly breathe. My sisters had spent a few dollars at the "Santa's Workshop" store at school to purchase a pen, an address book, and a "#1 Mom" magnet. I sat crushed while she oooohed and awed over them. I always felt bad that I couldn't please my mother, I always tried so hard. But looking back, she really was quite cruel.

One year for mother's day, when I was about 15, I made her a special sweatshirt. This was back when that whole puff-paint, applique on sweatshirts was pretty popular. I bought a dark-magenta colored sweatshirt, and put some pretty applique's on it, and wrote in golden puff-paint, "Mommies are really angels in disguise." When she opened it, she smirked and said something about the fact that it was a shame that wasn't "her color". I've never seen the sweatshirt since. It's probably in a landfill, after sitting in the bottom of some barrel at a Salvation Army.

Over the years, I've learned what it is my mother is appreciative of, and it all boils down to monetary value. Expensive fragrances, or a nice outfit or something along those lines is all my mother will accept with any sort of tact or appreciation. While we all love to receive nice things, you can't base the value of a gift on how much it costs. To this day, she waits until she receives gifts from my sisters, before deciding what to give them. I no longer send her anything. The last time I sent her something, was the last straw.

A few years ago, I learned how to make home-made soap, and was so excited about it, that for Christmas, I bought some hand-made baskets (made by special request) from a lady I knew, and filled them with all my different scented, and designed soaps, taking such care in even the packaging of the soaps. I also made all sorts of different little things, ornaments, or home decor things, pertaining to each persons specific personality or home design, and included one with each basket. Along with each package I either included cookies or fudge, that I spent hours on end baking. I was so excited to be giving everybody something that came straight from my heart, and all but the baskets, created by my own hands, over countless hours. I know that would make *me* feel so special, but I guess I'm weird that way.

I wish I had never heard it, but it came back to me, the comments that my mother made upon opening her gift. For starters, she complained, and made fun of the "crudeness" of the soap. It's *home-made* soap. It is all shaved, and carved by hand. I'm not a machine. It's not going to be PERFECT, with a perfect inscription of "Irish Spring". And I happen to think that adds so much to the charm of it. It takes so much time to make home-made soap, that if you were to purchase it in a health-food store, or a craft-type store, or wherever, you can pay anywhere from $3.00 to $7.00 for only one small bar of soap. Some people actually appreciate these things. I guess mom simply doesn't. She "jokingly" asked if anybody wanted to trade gifts. My gramma took her up on it, and gave her the crystal candy dish she had received in a name drawing from her ladies group at her church. She later told me that she felt bad about giving her the candy dish, but she felt so badly that my mother would treat my gift that way, and couldn't bear the thought of my mother throwing it away.

I haven't done anything like that, with the exception of a few very special friends since then, but for some reason, I'm inspired to think maybe all of human kind isn't as unappreciative, and thoughtless as she is. So this week, I'm going to make some more soap, and I'm going to send everybody I can think of, just one simple bar. If you'd like one, I'd really love to share it with you, so please e-mail me your address, and you will receive a crudely shapen bar of soap, made by my own two hands, with all the love I can muster, just for you.

A friend of mine tried to commit suicide. That's where I've been, that's what I've been doing. Trying to help somebody find a reason to live. It's quite amazing, when trying to convince somebody else, that there's so much to live for, you also remind yourself of so many things.

Some people say, "What's so bad that you'd want to do that to yourself?" But, I do understand the concept of suicide. There are so many things...for some people, they see it as a matter of revenge to those who ignored them, or treated them poorly, or whatever. It's a twisted concept, but they feel that by killing themselves, "THEN they'll be sorry!" And then there are those who just feel worthless, and feel like they have no place in the world, and they get so tired of feeling as if they don't belong, and simply use suicide as their escape from the loneliness of feeling set apart.

And then there are those that hurt. They have had events in their lives, that are simply too much to bear. The pain is so much, and they feel that the only way to stop their pain, is by ending their life all together.

When I see my friends suffering, I really wish I could take all their pain, and wrap it into one big ball, and just swallow it, and take their pain as my own, so they won't have to suffer anymore. It hurts me to see how badly people are suffering. Especially when they are close to you.

I'm really not sure what I'm trying to say anymore...I think I was going to attempt to make a point, but I think my mind and emotions are way too cluttered at the moment...

Yesterday was one of the most emotionally, and physically draining days of my life. The past 2 days are nothing but a blur of confusion.

It needs to be said. Jeff is one of the most amazing people I know. I've *known* him for 5 years, but I never really *knew* him until now. It seems so strange how you can make the best friends, through the hardest of times.

It seems like everywhere I look, people are hurting. Depression seems to be running rampant. Just as I seem to be coming out of it, everybody around me seems to be hitting rock bottom. I just hope it doesn't latch it's claws into me again. I can't afford to be depressed again, and life is too good to wallow in depression and self-pity.

All I know, is I am grateful, that I was able to be there for a friend, in their time of need.