My One and Only

After 9 terribly long months of pregnancy, 22 hours of labor, and 13 years of life, my Son enters the realm of teenagerdom today.

Until I actually got pregnant, I was told that I would be unable to conceive a child, due to my Endometriosis. I had actively tried to conceive for several years prior to actually accomplishing it. In 1996, almost 3 months after moving in with his father, on Mother’s Day (yes, I actually know the date!), it finally happened.

Whether it was that I was trying with the wrong man, or that my stress level from my previous marriage was drastically reduced, or that his father had some Super Sperm (his words, not mine!), or maybe a combination of the three … I don’t know. But it happened. I was understandably in a state of shock. I really didn’t believe the home pregnancy test when it came up positive. And when I started having some light bleeding, I was sure it couldn’t be true.

My best friend took me to the hospital because of the bleeding, and because I was having some abdominal pain. After doing some blood-work, and putting a catheter in me (ouch!) for an accurate urine sample, and doing an ultrasound, it was determined that I was  in the middle of a particularly painful bladder infection, and definitely pregnant!

I came home in a fog, and I remember sitting on the edge of the bed and calling our parents – one by one. My mother guessed before I even told her. My father, when I said to him, “Dad, are you sitting down? I have something to tell you.” replied jokingly, “What … you’re pregnant.” with a laugh. He wasn’t laughing when I said, “Actually, yes. I am!”. He was still trying to come to terms with me leaving my husband. But he was supportive of me, throughout the entire pregnancy! My ex’s mother was just as happy as could be. She was hoping for a bigger family (they’re Italian) and even more so hoping for a boy.

My pregnancy was tumultuous, to say the least. I was plagued with not just morning sickness, but ALL DAY sickness! I have no idea how I gained so much weight, since my days resembled that of a bulimic person with a bad case of the flu and food poisoning! My hair at the time was waist-length. Things got so bad that I put my hair in a ponytail, and forced my ex to cut my hair right below the band. He actually cried, and saved my hair in a baggie. I shit you not!

As if that weren’t bad enough, I started suffering from the worst case of heartburn that I’ve ever experienced in my entire life. I was told that if the Old Wives’ Tales were true, I was going to have a very hairy child. Turns out … they’re true!

During my 2nd month of pregnancy, I had a mini-stroke. Something called a Transient ischemic attack (TIA). While driving home from a lunch date with a couple of our online friends, my right side went numb, and my speech went haywire. In the middle of trying to say something about one of our friends being really funny, I ended up saying “flurky”. That was odd enough, but then I couldn’t manage to get my mouth to say anything my brain was thinking. I was terrified! By the time we got to the hospital, it was over with, thankfully.

My doctors were very concerned with my high blood pressure. By my 6th month of pregnancy, I was diagnosed with Preeclampsia. I was put on bedrest. And I wasn’t happy about it! I wanted nothing more than to get that child out of me! And I became a raging bitch about everything. I was the epitome of every pregnant woman joke. I spent my days on the couch, running to the bathroom every half hour, alternating between barking orders at everyone and sobbing myself to sleep.

The boy also had a knack for kicking me directly in my cervix. Several times. Daily.

My mother came to help me in January. That brought an interesting mix of relief and stress. Relief, because the housework would be done, the girls would be taken care of, and I could rest without worrying about everything. Stress, because she also brought my pregnant sister and her boyfriend with her (unannounced). They had no place to stay, because I wouldn’t allow the boyfriend to stay at our house. I knew nothing about him, and I had 2 young girls to protect. Because of that, they ended up staying at a shelter for a little while, then made the trip back to NC. And I was to blame for everything that went wrong with them. Which is actually typical. But I digress.

Around my due date, my doctors decided to induce labor, instead of allowing me to go naturally. They were afraid for my health, and the health of the baby. On February 6, 1997, at 4 o’clock in the morning, they injected me with Pitocin. At 4:01, I was having contractions. STRONG contractions! PAINFUL contractions! at 4:02, I was begging the doctors to “GIVE ME SOMETHING FOR THE PAIN!”. I thought I was going to die. How wrong I was! Not only was I not going to die, I was going to have to actually live through that pain!

Oh! The inhumanity! The indignity!

Given the choice, I’m pretty sure I’d have chosen death. Or the death of the one that did this to me. Whichever came first! (I actually had the balls to yell at him, “Fuck you! You did this to me! I hate you!”. Not my best moment.)

Later that morning, after the girls were tended to, and my ex was done work, my mother and my ex came to the hospital to see me through the final stage of labor. They’d been told by the hospital staff to stay home and get some rest, so they could be helpful to me later on … the nurses would tend to me in the mean time. I think the nurses may have regretted that decision. If I had to be that miserable, I was damn sure taking everyone down with me!

My doctor had to manually break my water. I wanted to manually break her face after that! I was on some really good drugs by that point. Dozing in and out of sleep. My mother said I looked like I was dreaming of a NASCAR race, complete with sound effects. Once my water was broke, the real fun began. I received an epidural. For anyone who wonders – THE. BEST. DRUG. EVER! I was finally able to calm down enough to sleep through a couple hours of labor pains.

At midnight, February 7th, I was dilated enough to start pushing. Only one problem. I couldn’t feel anything to be able to push! I didn’t know if I was actually pushing or not. I remember my doctor telling me to strain as if I was trying to have a poop. But I didn’t know if I was accomplishing that goal or not. (found out later that I did! which is why the boy has the nickname of “my little shit”. )They decreased the flow of the epidural, so that I could feel just enough to get the kid out. And I pushed. And pushed. and pushed. and pushed. I even had a nurse who was by my side, pushing downward on my belly, trying to help him come out. I was exhausted. I couldn’t push any more. I didn’t want to push any more. I wanted him to just walk out when he was good and goddamn ready.

My doctor had other ideas, though. She got out the big ol’ salad tongs. She was gonna get this kid out, even if it had to be one piece at a time! (ok, not really! but she really did try to help him come out.) After several tries, she announced that if I didn’t get him out with the next push, she was taking me in for an emergency C-section.

“Like hell you are!”, I remember yelling.

He was out with the next push! And promptly whisked away from me. I had no idea what was happening. There were no fewer than 2 doctors and 5 nurses in my room. And all of them, along with my mother, were blocking my view of what was happening. I didn’t hear any crying. All I heard was commotion and medical lingo. Finally, I heard him cry, and a collective sigh of relief from everyone in the room. Turns out, he wasn’t breathing, and was a bluish-gray color. But he was ok! And that’s all that mattered! They got on with the task of cleaning him up to present him to me in all his glory. All 7 lbs 12 oz, 21.5 inches of him!

A doctor was between my legs, asking me to push again so she could deliver my placenta. I had bronchitis, and needed to cough, so I told her to hang on a second while I did just that. It’s a good thing she was paying attention, because my placenta literally shot out of me and into her hands! 10 years later, this was still talked about at my OB/Gyn office, it was that funny and unexpected!

I was not done with the medical problems, however. I wasn’t even allowed out of bed for 3 days. I remained there, hooked up to a Magnesium drip, because my blood pressure would not return to normal. I was diagnosed with Toxemia. I just found out recently, that Toxemia and Preeclampsia are practically one and the same, but that the terms are used at different stages of pregnancy, with Toxemia being used generally after birth.

When I was finally allowed to come home, I was still on full time bed rest. In addition, I was supposed to lie on one side (I think the right) only. I had a home health nurse who came to visit me daily, to monitor me and check on the baby. I finally recovered, and got on with life. And what a life it’s been!

He has been my pride and joy. He is my reason for living. He is my one true love. I am absolutely, unconditionally, in love with my Son – my Matthew!

Which brings me to his name. I was at a point in my life where I wasn’t sure if I believed in a higher power or not. I knew I wanted his name to have some meaning to it. So I poured through baby name books, looking at the meanings. I knew I wanted his name to mean “Gift from God”. 3 names fit the bill. 2 of them were easily discarded, as 1 was the name of a cousin, and the other was just a name I didn’t like at all. The only name left was “Matthew”. He was given his father’s name as a middle name. And so he shall be called forevermore.

Especially when he’s in trouble!

2/7/97 - Alive and breathing

2/9/97 - Checking out the world

February 1997 - Startled by the flash

April 1997 - Perfecting the bounce

July 1997 - Commando crawling (he never did learn to crawl normally)

5 months - First driving lesson with Uncle Bosco (my best friend)

11/97 - Walking at 9 months!

2/7/98 - Happy 1st Birthday! (sister Gabby at right)

09/09 - 7th grade pic

02/10 - My teenager! (where did the past 13 years go?)

Something for me, part 3

And finally, the last “Something for me” post; continued from yesterday.

Happened to me

Actually, it happened to us – Bill, Matthew and me. Our tv finally gave up the ghost and died. The events that happened before, during and after made it all the funnier and more amazing. Yes, a tv dying turned out to be amazing. Go figure!

A little back story, first. In the summer of 2008, our tv decided it liked the color red better than any other color. So, for about a week, we watched everything through a red veil. People looked incredibly sunburnt, landscapes were an odd shade of greenish-orange, and our OnDemand menu was a bit on the purple side (it should be blue). We mentioned it to Emory, our wonderful neighbor, to see if he knew of a fix for it. He informed us that we’d better start looking for a new one. Shortly after, his tv started giving him problems, so he started looking for a new one, as well. He found a pair of almost identical sets, being sold on Craigslist by a guy willing to deliver, and bought them both. Emory used one, and kept the other in his garage, with the offer to sell it to us when ours officially died. Unfortunately, he died before our tv did.

During the “empty-out-athon” that our landlord did after Emory’s death, we decided to lay claim to the tv that Emory actually used. For practical and sentimental reasons. And to make sure that the landlord didn’t trash it, like he did with almost everything else. When we found Emory’s cousin, we cleared it with her, and she was more than happy to let us keep it. So, we had the tv, and it sat in our attic. Our tv was still working, and had stopped favoring the color red! When we moved, it was put in Matthew’s bedroom for storage.

A couple of weeks ago, we got that “extra” paycheck in the month. If you’re paid bi-weekly, you know what I’m talking about. It happens twice a year. It’s the paycheck that you get that doesn’t have anything it needs to be spent on. It’s yours, free and clear, to use on catching up, or buying something you’ve been putting off for several months.  After not only catching up on bills, we actually got ahead of the bills. And bought a few things we needed. And did the whole perm thing on my head. And bought extra groceries. Boy do I love that extra paycheck! One of the last things we bought was a cabinet that fits over the toilet in the bathroom (duh, where else would a toilet be?). That cabinet cost us $35. Not a bad deal, if you ask me! We bought it on Monday. Figured we’d assemble and install it the following weekend. That was pretty much the last of our “free paycheck”, but it was justified because we needed the extra storage space.

On Tuesday, Bill turned the tv on, and discovered that everything had turned blue. Bright blue! The kind of blue that would put a Smurf to shame. Apparently, the tv couldn’t decide which color it liked the most, and was now favoring the color blue instead of red. Only, blue was much much worse than the red was! And because we questioned the tv and it’s inability to pick a color, it decided we weren’t worthy of seeing any color, any more. We were left with a blindingly bright line, in the middle of the screen, running from left to right, about half an inch high. Turning on and off the tv repeatedly didn’t fix the problem. Letting it sit for a while before trying again … yeah, that didn’t fix it either. Let the scrambling begin!

First, Emory’s tv was hauled out of Matthew’s room to put in the living room. Then finding a power cord for it, since the original cord was lost during the move (it’s around here somewhere, I’m sure of it!). Then trying to program our cable remote to work with it. All of this just to make sure the thing actually still worked. It did! So now we have a decision to make. Do we put the working tv on top of the dead tv, like a hillbilly entertainment center? Or do we go to the store to see if we can find a tv table or something? We decided that we could return the bathroom cabinet and have that money to use, if need be.

We decide to check Goodwill first. I’m convinced that we’ll never be able to find anything sturdy enough to support the new tv for the $35 that we’d get from returning the cabinet. Bill is a bit more optimistic. So, we walk around the home furnishings area. I see some tables that might work. Bill finds other structures (not sure what they were exactly) that might work. Then he finds a monstrosity of an entertainment center. It looks like the kind you’d see in an upscale hotel room. The kind with the doors that close, hiding the tv altogether. One of the doors was broken, but looked like it would be fairly easy to fix. Still, I’m absolutely certain that it will not be cheap. Yes, even Goodwill has stuff that’s too expensive for us! Imagine our surprise when we find the price-tag, and it says $34.97!

I wish I’d had a camera with me! Getting that thing into our SUV was a nightmare! We had to fold down the back seat. We also had to remove the spare tire, and put it inside the entertainment center, otherwise it wouldn’t have fit width-wise. Bill and an employee pushed and shoved, and had it almost all the way in, when another customer came up to help. It took the 3 of them to get this thing in enough that the gate would close. I ended up riding home with a box of anti-freeze and washer fluid in my lap, ’cause there was no room for it in the back.

Once home, Bill and Matthew were going to try to bring it upstairs by themselves. I was prepared for the worst – a shattered entertainment center, and my 2 guys in the hospital. As luck would have it, our neighbor came home and helped, which relieved me immensely! It, and my men, safely in the house, it was up to me and Matthew to get everything re-wired.

2 hours after our tv died, we had a brand new set-up. Just in time for “The Biggest Loser”. All was right with the world again.

Thank you Emory! Once again, just when we needed you most, you pulled through for us!

Before (pay no attention to the cute cat trying to hyptnotize you)

After (notice the door is fixed, thanks to Bill)

Something for me, part 2

To continue, from yesterday’s post.

Done for me

A little for my Husband, too. I got my hair permed! I really don’t know what possessed me, but I did it nonetheless. The last time I had any curl in my hair … besides occasionally using a curling iron … was in 2002. The last time I went to a salon to get my hair done? I can’t even remember!

I used to go visit my Aunt when I wanted a perm. She wasn’t a professional stylist; she just enjoyed giving perms. We would sit for the several hours it takes, and catch up with each other. Usually, she would have her little tv in the kitchen tuned to some British comedy. My favorite to watch with her was “Are You Being Served?”. We also really enjoyed “Mr. Bean”. We always filled the time with love and laughter. And the horrendous smell of the perming solution.

When my Aunt died in 2004, my desire to have my hair permed died with her. I just couldn’t envision myself letting anyone else perm my hair. It hurt too much to even think about it.

I met Bill in 2004, right around the same time that my Aunt died. Oh, I should mention that she died on my birthday, and that since then, I really prefer to not think about my birthday, either. By that time, my hair was back to being perfectly straight. He didn’t know about my Aunt, or my birthday depression, or my curly hair. After a year of being together, he knew all of those things about me. But he still wanted to see me with curly hair. Every time I would go to the salon to get my hair cut, he would jokingly ask me if I was going to get a perm. I knew he didn’t mean any harm by it; he wasn’t trying to make me think of my Aunt. He was just being a smartass.

What a surprise it was to him when we went to the salon, and I asked for a perm! I couldn’t help but laugh. It was tough for me to sit through it all. I kept flashing back to the times my Aunt and I would spend together. A few times I teared up, and had to explain to the stylist that I was ok. She was very understanding, as well, so that made it a little easier. At one point, she even asked for my assurances that I really wanted to do this.

Once it was all done, I think the emotion of it all hit me. The stylist was very excited about the way it turned out. I think she was happier than I was! I liked the way it looked, but by then I was too overwhelmed to register much more than a smile and a “thank you”. It wasn’t until we were home that I started to feel guilty that my level of happiness didn’t match hers. I hope she understood why, and didn’t take it personally. Maybe I should go back and let her know? Would that be too weird?

My Son took the pic with his cell phone - sorry about the bad quality. I wanted to make sure both the front and the back were visible, which is why I'm in front of a mirror.

Bonus, for you

If you have never seen an episode of “Are You Being Served?”, check out PBS or BBC sometime. You might get lucky and catch a re-run. Here’s a clip of one of my favorite characters, Mrs. Slocombe, saying one of the funniest lines on tv. Something you’d never see on American television, for sure!

My British humor re-cap wouldn’t be complete without a clip of Mr. Bean, played by Rowan Atkinson. One of the best physical comedians ever, in my opinion. Enjoy!

Something for me

After my last post, I had quite a few people who said I should do something for myself. As luck would have it, this past week has been full of things for me, so to speak. I’ll break it down into 3 separate posts, so check back tomorrow for part 2.

Given to Me

Mindy @ The Suburban Life started my week off great by awarding me with not one, but two blogger awards! As I stated in her comments, I was flummoxed! I’ve been at this blogging thing since 2006, in various places, and not once have I ever received an award for anything! So, to Mindy, I want to extend a most heartfelt THANK YOU! You absolutely made my week!

I’m not sure of the rules, but since you’ve already received them yourself, it would be a bit redundant to give them to you again. Ya know what: fuck the rules! I’ve never been one to follow them anyway. You have ranked in my top 3 blogs to read since I first found you, so you deserve these awards again. Consider yourself awarded, my friend!

The first award is the Lemonade Stand Award. Not knowing the history of this award, I can only surmise that it means  “When life gives you lemons, vent about it on your blog!”. Or something like that. That’s the way I see it, anyway.

Lemonade Stand Award

- Put the Lemonade logo on your blog or within your post.
- Nominate at least 10 blogs with great attitude or gratitude.
- Link the nominees within your post.
- Let the nominees know they have received this award by commenting on their blog.
- Share the love and link to the person from whom you received this award.

The second award is the Best Blog Award. I’m still trying to figure this one out. What does it mean? Surely nobody thinks that I’m the “best” at anything. Except bitching and moaning about life. Oooohh! I get it now! Nevermind, forget I ever questioned it! I am the best at that! 

Best Blog Award

The rules for this award require me to nominate up to 15 blogs to share in my acclaim.

Since I don’t read a whole lot of blogs, my list is a bit shorter than it probably should be. I wish I had more time to follow all the blogs I’ve ever read, but that’s just an impossibility. I try to make time each week to read new blogs. Really, I do! But what usually ends up happening is that I put them in my blog reader, read my favorites, and then it’s bedtime. I mean, really people, you all are so good at what you do (and so prolific), that it’s all I can take in in one week. That’s a compliment to everyone on my list! Seriously! You’re all just too. damn. good. You give me something to aspire to.

And so, without further ado, I would like to bestow these awards on the bloggers that make me laugh, think, cry and commiserate on a daily basis.

booshy
Dan McGinley
Greta Christina’s Blog
IttyBittyCrazy
LIVING ME 101
Random Notes
saying it anyway
shutterboo
Snerkology
The Absence of Alternatives
The Real Owner
The Sunny Skeptic
This is My Life, Really?!

They’re in alphabetical order, ’cause I didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. It’ll be my little secret who my top 3 are. *grin*

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About me

While organizing my list of blogs that I faithfully read, I realized that my Blogroll wasn’t updated to reflect my favorites. That’s been fixed. Have a look; see if you find a new blog to enjoy!

Also, if you’ve looked at my “About” tab, you may have seen the link to my mEgo. Clicking on it should have taken you to the fully functioning mEgo to explore. Unfortunately, they changed their links, which caused mine to be broken. It’s fixed now. My apologies to anyone who may have been confused.

How did I get here?

I find myself asking this question all the time. It’s not that I’m unhappy with my life. It’s that I’m dissatisfied. Yes, there is a difference. An unhappy person would be miserable all the time, grumbling about life, making everyone else miserable. I’m just not satisfied. I know there’s more out there for me than just sitting at home, bored to tears most days, wishing for something I’m not even sure exists for me.

This might be a good time, dear reader, to go grab a snack and a drink – pee if you have to – and make yourself comfortable. It’s gonna be a long and bumpy ride.

I didn’t grow up in a normal way, so what makes me think that any other part of my life would be normal is beyond me.

I was born October 21, 1970. Two parents. See, things started out normal enough. A sister was born in 1974, but died 2 months later due to a heart defect. Another sister was born in 1976, and for some reason, still unbeknownst to me, I hated her. Just her very presence irked me. Matters were made worse when, a couple of years later, she was diagnosed with Reye’s Syndrome. And wasn’t expected to live.  And spent a ton of time in the hospital, with family fawning over her 24/7. Which added to my hatred of her.

Abnormal still doesn’t begin to cover it. There was also heavy doses of domestic violence going on. It started before I was born. I thought it was normal. Until I noticed that my friends’ fathers weren’t beating the crap out of their mothers.  And punishments for my friends didn’t include a pot of hot chili being thrown at them. That all ended when I was 10, though. Well, at least the physical part of it. My mother took me and my sister in the middle of the night, to a friend’s house, so we could escape. They divorced, us kids lived with my mother with weekend visitation to my dad’s. Again, none of my friends had divorced parents.  My life was not normal, and I started feeling it by that time.

I was the smart one. The shy one. The one easily picked on by bullies. Never really learning how to stand up for myself against the thugs. Middle school was hell. I hated every minute of it. I started to rebel against anything and everything. I had a lot of hate. I hated my dad. I hated my mother. And I definitely hated my sister. At the age of 13 I got into a serious fight with my mother, and it came to blows. When the police arrived (my sister called them, terrified someone was gonna end up dead), I was given the choice to go to my father’s, or to a home for troubled kids. I chose the halfway house.  Life was not easy there! But it was better than my own parents’ homes. I learned how to defend myself, though, physically and emotionally.  I was there for a couple of months.

By 10th grade, I’d forgiven my father. After continuous fighting with my mother and sister, I went to live with my dad. He was re-married with 3 step children – a boy 2 years younger than me, and twin girls 7 years younger than me. The boy and I got along famously. We were the best of friends. The twins, well I was just indifferent to them.

Which brings me to high school. A poor kid in a rich school. Rich snobs everywhere I turned. Some were nice and didn’t act like snobs. But most were horribly snotty. I can remember overhearing a conversation that went like so: “I’m so pissed! I had to drive the Beemer, ’cause the Mercedes is in the shop!”. Luckily, there were a few kids in the same boat as me. The bad-ass kids. The rebels. I fell in with them quite easily, actually. But still, not a lot of close friends. 3 in fact. I was still somewhat of the outcast.

I went to a Vo-Tech school for the 2nd half of the school day (for computer programming/data entry), and didn’t have opportunity to hang out with everyone. After school, if I wasn’t working, I was on Stage Crew. No rebels there! Just the theater geeks. But they were cool, and I enjoyed hanging out with them. There were a couple who were still too snooty to give me the time of day (still are, I’ve discovered, thanks to Facebook!). Still, though, I was not normal. I didn’t have a normal group of friends. I didn’t have normal interests. And I went to Vo-Tech, which may as well have been a school for lepers according to the snobs.

In a year’s time, I was working almost full-time between 2 jobs, plus going to school. I’d lost a good friend to a drunk driver, and that still affects me to this day. Graduated at 17. I had a scholarship to college, which I pissed away. I’d been kicked out of my dad’s, for the ridiculous reason of not spending the weekends at home (I spent them with my boyfriend, instead). Turned 18, very uneventfully I might add. I dropped out of college, moved in with a roommate, and had a full-time job plus a part-time job. All within a year!

And the weirdness continued. My medical problems started to become … well … a problem.  My best friend, her husband, and their infant twin sons moved in with me (after the roommate left). They separated. I fell in love with her soon-to-be ex. Anyone detect the whiff of world war 3? Yeah, it wasn’t pretty. I was absolutely inhumane to my (ex) boyfriend, because I was incredibly unhappy in that relationship (broke up with him by throwing his shit out in the yard). And I was thrust into step-motherhood. Don’t get me wrong, I adored those boys! They were one of the best parts of my odd life!

Things were seemingly normal for a couple of years. Then my medical problems got worse. I struggled to keep a job that I loved, despite driving to work suffering from extreme vertigo, and calling off way too often because of the dizziness. In 1995, we were married. Big mistake! Without going into too much detail, I’ll just say that I don’t think I made his priority list. At all. Ever. I made many mistakes that year. I was miserable. I made everyone miserable. I found comfort in my friends online (back when AOL was pretty much the only way to get online). I met someone who made me happy. I left my husband 6 months after getting married.

2 months later, I was pregnant. After being told that I wouldn’t be able to  get pregnant because of my medical problems. And so began a 9 year relationship that was bad almost from the get-go. I was once again a step-mother, only this time to 2 great girls. The first couple of years were close to being tolerable. But once again, I was miserable. Aside from the kids, I kicked myself for every decision I’d ever made in my life. And hated the things that just happened to me, through no fault of my own. My medical problems continued to compound. I struggled just to be a whole person. The fighting … oh, the fighting. Some days I thought I was going to lose my mind.

In 2004, I had 2 choices: find work outside the home with an employer that would work with me and my disabilities … or end up in prison with a homicide sentence. I began working at Wal-mart. A couple of months later, I temporarily moved out. I had started to “find myself”. Cliché, I know. But true. Unfortunately, I didn’t count on my heart breaking into tiny pieces because I missed my Son. So I moved back. And so began the end of my relationship. My mind was free. My heart was free. I felt the weight of the world lifted off my shoulders. More cliché – I’m aware. Still true.

Then I met Bill. At work! The best thing to happen to me since Matthew was born! We hit it off very quickly. I moved in with him in January of 2005, we were married by September. And my medical problems continued to become worse and worse. I had to stop working. Which added to our financial problems. Issue after issue, piled one on top of the other. Oddly enough, it made our relationship stronger.

I now have the best marriage anyone could ever ask for! Bill truly is the love of my lifetime. I couldn’t be happier with him. He’s my rock, my sanity.  Ok, I’ll stop with the mushy stuff. Wait, not yet! I also have a wonderful Son, who I’m incredibly proud of! He makes me smile every day (usually after he does something that makes me question having a child to begin with!) … he’s the light of my life. Ok, the mush ends now.

Even with all this happiness in my life, I’m still dissatisfied. I’m still disabled. I’m getting fatter by the day, due to lack of exercise, which is due to my inability to exercise. We’re still poor, due to my being unable to work, due to my disabilities. See the pattern yet?

You know how people are always saying things like, “You have a roof over your head, your health, and love … consider yourself lucky!”. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I don’t have my health – a roof over our head isn’t guaranteed – and love doesn’t put food in our stomachs.

My dissatisfaction with my life is starting to bring me down. Way down. I’m hitting a level of depression that I haven’t had in many years.  I’ve stopped seeing anything in a positive light. Joy is a foreign word to me right now. I’m afraid of losing the happiness, too. That’s the only thing that’s holding me together at the moment.

So, now that we know how I got here … how do I figure out how to get out of here? I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired! I want better for me, for my family. I don’t mind the abnormality of my life … nobody is exactly normal. But some semblance of normal would be nice. Some desire to smile for the sake of smiling. Feeling happy just because … not only when someone else is doing something to make me happy. I want to feel like I’m worthy of breathing in the air around me. Like a functioning, contributing member of society. Is that too much to ask for?

Twisted Beef Stew

A few years ago … well, ok, 10 years ago … I was struggling to lose weight (still am, but that’s beside the point). I found an online weight loss site that was just starting out. It was called eDiets.com. Many of you have probably heard of it now. But 10 years ago, it was a budding site, and it was free! About 6 months after I joined, I had lost about 15 lbs. Not great, but not bad either, considering I wasn’t completely faithful in my following of the diet. I would have continued with it, except that they were starting to charge for their services. And for me, it wasn’t financially do-able. So I printed out many of the recipes I loved, and canceled my membership.

Since then, only a couple of those recipes have survived. And of those, most have been adapted to suit the tastes of the rest of my family. They’ve also been adapted for the cheap groceries that we’re able to afford, since most fresh foods are out of our price range.

The original name of this recipe was “Healthy Beef Stew”. It’s no longer the healthiest meal. But it’s still tasty! And it’s one of the meals I can cook without needing to follow a recipe anymore, because I’ve cooked it so often. In fact, I can’t even find the original recipe any more.

So, without further ado, here is one of my family’s most favorite, most requested meal. I will provide notes at the end, with tips for substitutions based on what I can remember from the original recipe.

5 servings

1 lb beef stew meat
1 can (14.5 oz) vegetable broth †
1 can (14.5 oz) sliced carrots †
1 can (4 – 8 oz)  sliced mushrooms †
1 tbsp soy sauce
½ tbsp minced onion ‡
½ tsp Italian seasoning
1/8 – ¼ tsp black pepper to taste
1 lb tri-color pasta

1. Brown the stew meat. Drain if needed.

2. Add spices and seasonings.

3. Add vegetable broth. Cover. Boil over medium-high heat for 30 minutes. †

4. Add carrots and mushrooms (juices included). Re-cover and continue to boil over medium-high heat, until almost all liquid has evaporated (about 15 minutes).

5. Cook pasta according to directions. Drain. Try to time it so both pasta and beef are done at the same time.

6. Add pasta to pan. Stir well so that pasta absorbs the small amount of liquid remaining in pan. Serve and enjoy!

† If you use fresh carrots and mushrooms, add them at the same time you add the vegetable broth.  You will probably want to add about ½ – ¾ cup of water as well. Cooking time will probably be increased to 1 hour.

‡ I’m assuming that fresh chopped or minced onions can be used, though I’ve never actually tried.

Uninspired

Hi all! Yes, I’m still kicking around here. I’ve just been terribly busy lately, and quite frankly, I’ve been a bit too uninspired to type out a good post.

I’m trying to get myself organized – my life, my home, my computer, and most importantly, my thoughts. I’m one of those people who tries to keep a “to do” list written out, but I always manage to lose it or forget about it. So, it stays in my head. And my head frequently gets a bit cluttered.

I’m trying to stay current with current events (I’m a bit of a news junkie at times). I’m faithfully reading my most favorite bloggers, and attempting to comment just as faithfully. I’ve found so many new blogs to read, and it’s backfired on me, and now I’m behind on all of them. I’ll be weeding out the ones that just fail to hold my interest, while catching up on the ones that I believe I’ll be keeping, in addition to organizing my feed reader a bit more to simplify my life somewhat. Any tips from blog veterans?

My home is starting to come together. Curtains are washed, ironed and hung. Pictures adorn the walls. Closets and boxes are being emptied. Regular cleaning has commenced, along with a sort of routine.

School has been back in session for a week, and I’m still readjusting to that schedule. Actually, I’m completely off schedule these days! Not that I had one to begin with, but at least it was somewhat predictable! I’m so NOT a morning person, and yet for the past week, I’ve been waking up in the morning, regardless of what time I actually go to bed. Some days, I’m getting a couple of hours of sleep then waking up for a few hours, then going back to sleep. That’s not normal for me, and it’s got me a bit on edge.

So anyway, that’s what’s going on in my life. I hope to get back to somewhat regular posting soon. I have alot of ideas bouncing around in my head, I just have to get them to my keyboard.

Keep an eye out for me, I’ll be back soon!

First they came …

First they came for the communists, and I did not speak out
—because I was not a communist;

Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out
—because I was not a trade unionist;

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out
—because I was not a Jew;

Then they came for me
—and there was no one left to speak out for me.

‹ Martin Niemöller ›

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Ireland’s new blasphemy law

This isn’t about religion for me, this is about human rights. And it disgusts me.

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January 1, 2010

Atheist Ireland Publishes 25 Blasphemous Quotes

Filed under: Atheist Ireland, Campaign, Freedom of Speech, Is this Blasphemy?, Quotes — Michael Nugent @ 12:33 am

From today, 1 January 2010, the new Irish blasphemy law becomes operational, and we begin our campaign to have it repealed. Blasphemy is now a crime punishable by a €25,000 fine. The new law defines blasphemy as publishing or uttering matter that is grossly abusive or insulting in relation to matters held sacred by any religion, thereby intentionally causing outrage among a substantial number of adherents of that religion, with some defences permitted.

This new law is both silly and dangerous. It is silly because medieval religious laws have no place in a modern secular republic, where the criminal law should protect people and not ideas. And it is dangerous because it incentives religious outrage, and because Islamic States led by Pakistan are already using the wording of this Irish law to promote new blasphemy laws at UN level.

We believe in the golden rule: that we have a right to be treated justly, and that we have a responsibility to treat other people justly. Blasphemy laws are unjust: they silence people in order to protect ideas. In a civilised society, people have a right to to express and to hear ideas about religion even if other people find those ideas to be outrageous.

Publication of 25 blasphemous quotes

In this context we now publish a list of 25 blasphemous quotes, which have previously been published by or uttered by or attributed to Jesus Christ, Muhammad, Mark Twain, Tom Lehrer, Randy Newman, James Kirkup, Monty Python, Rev Ian Paisley, Conor Cruise O’Brien, Frank Zappa, Salman Rushdie, Bjork, Amanda Donohoe, George Carlin, Paul Woodfull, Jerry Springer the Opera, Tim Minchin, Richard Dawkins, Pope Benedict XVI, Christopher Hitchens, PZ Myers, Ian O’Doherty, Cardinal Cormac Murphy-O’Connor and Dermot Ahern.

Despite these quotes being abusive and insulting in relation to matters held sacred by various religions, we unreservedly support the right of these people to have published or uttered them, and we unreservedly support the right of any Irish citizen to make comparable statements about matters held sacred by any religion without fear of being criminalised, and without having to prove to a court that a reasonable person would find any particular value in the statement.

Campaign begins to repeal the Irish blasphemy law

We ask Fianna Fail and the Green Party to repeal their anachronistic blasphemy law, as part of the revision of the Defamation Act that is included within the Act. We ask them to hold a referendum to remove the reference to blasphemy from the Irish Constitution.

We also ask all TDs and Senators to support a referendum to remove references to God from the Irish Constitution, including the clauses that prevent atheists from being appointed as President of Ireland or as a Judge without swearing a religious oath asking God to direct them in their work.

If you run a website, blog or other media publication, please feel free to republish this statement and the list of quotes yourself, in order to show your support for the campaign to repeal the Irish blasphemy law and to promote a rational, ethical, secular Ireland.

List of 25 Blasphemous Quotes Published by Atheist Ireland

1. Jesus Christ, when asked if he was the son of God, in Matthew 26:64: “Thou hast said: nevertheless I say unto you, Hereafter shall ye see the Son of man sitting on the right hand of power, and coming in the clouds of heaven.” According to the Christian Bible, the Jewish chief priests and elders and council deemed this statement by Jesus to be blasphemous, and they sentenced Jesus to death for saying it.

2. Jesus Christ, talking to Jews about their God, in John 8:44: “Ye are of your father the devil, and the lusts of your father ye will do. He was a murderer from the beginning, and abode not in the truth, because there is no truth in him.” This is one of several chapters in the Christian Bible that can give a scriptural foundation to Christian anti-Semitism. The first part of John 8, the story of “whoever is without sin cast the first stone”, was not in the original version, but was added centuries later. The original John 8 is a debate between Jesus and some Jews. In brief, Jesus calls the Jews who disbelieve him sons of the Devil, the Jews try to stone him, and Jesus runs away and hides.

3. Muhammad, quoted in Hadith of Bukhari, Vol 1 Book 8 Hadith 427: “May Allah curse the Jews and Christians for they built the places of worship at the graves of their prophets.” This quote is attributed to Muhammad on his death-bed as a warning to Muslims not to copy this practice of the Jews and Christians. It is one of several passages in the Koran and in Hadith that can give a scriptural foundation to Islamic anti-Semitism, including the assertion in Sura 5:60 that Allah cursed Jews and turned some of them into apes and swine.

4. Mark Twain, describing the Christian Bible in Letters from the Earth, 1909: “Also it has another name – The Word of God. For the Christian thinks every word of it was dictated by God. It is full of interest. It has noble poetry in it; and some clever fables; and some blood-drenched history; and some good morals; and a wealth of obscenity; and upwards of a thousand lies… But you notice that when the Lord God of Heaven and Earth, adored Father of Man, goes to war, there is no limit. He is totally without mercy – he, who is called the Fountain of Mercy. He slays, slays, slays! All the men, all the beasts, all the boys, all the babies; also all the women and all the girls, except those that have not been deflowered. He makes no distinction between innocent and guilty… What the insane Father required was blood and misery; he was indifferent as to who furnished it.” Twain’s book was published posthumously in 1939. His daughter, Clara Clemens, at first objected to it being published, but later changed her mind in 1960 when she believed that public opinion had grown more tolerant of the expression of such ideas. That was half a century before Fianna Fail and the Green Party imposed a new blasphemy law on the people of Ireland.

5. Tom Lehrer, The Vatican Rag, 1963: “Get in line in that processional, step into that small confessional. There, the guy who’s got religion’ll tell you if your sin’s original. If it is, try playing it safer, drink the wine and chew the wafer. Two, four, six, eight, time to transubstantiate!”

6. Randy Newman, God’s Song, 1972: “And the Lord said: I burn down your cities – how blind you must be. I take from you your children, and you say how blessed are we. You all must be crazy to put your faith in me. That’s why I love mankind.”

7. James Kirkup, The Love That Dares to Speak its Name, 1976: “While they prepared the tomb I kept guard over him. His mother and the Magdalen had gone to fetch clean linen to shroud his nakedness. I was alone with him… I laid my lips around the tip of that great cock, the instrument of our salvation, our eternal joy. The shaft, still throbbed, anointed with death’s final ejaculation.” This extract is from a poem that led to the last successful blasphemy prosecution in Britain, when Denis Lemon was given a suspended prison sentence after he published it in the now-defunct magazine Gay News. In 2002, a public reading of the poem, on the steps of St. Martin-in-the-Fields church in Trafalgar Square, failed to lead to any prosecution. In 2008, the British Parliament abolished the common law offences of blasphemy and blasphemous libel.

8. Matthias, son of Deuteronomy of Gath, in Monty Python’s Life of Brian, 1979: “Look, I had a lovely supper, and all I said to my wife was that piece of halibut was good enough for Jehovah.”

9. Rev Ian Paisley MEP to the Pope in the European Parliament, 1988: “I denounce you as the Antichrist.” Paisley’s website describes the Antichrist as being “a liar, the true son of the father of lies, the original liar from the beginning… he will imitate Christ, a diabolical imitation, Satan transformed into an angel of light, which will deceive the world.”

10. Conor Cruise O’Brien, 1989: “In the last century the Arab thinker Jamal al-Afghani wrote: ‘Every Muslim is sick and his only remedy is in the Koran.’ Unfortunately the sickness gets worse the more the remedy is taken.”

11. Frank Zappa, 1989: “If you want to get together in any exclusive situation and have people love you, fine – but to hang all this desperate sociology on the idea of The Cloud-Guy who has The Big Book, who knows if you’ve been bad or good – and cares about any of it – to hang it all on that, folks, is the chimpanzee part of the brain working.”

12. Salman Rushdie, 1990: “The idea of the sacred is quite simply one of the most conservative notions in any culture, because it seeks to turn other ideas – uncertainty, progress, change – into crimes.” In 1989, Ayatollah Khomeini of Iran issued a fatwa ordering Muslims to kill Rushdie because of blasphemous passages in Rushdie’s novel The Satanic Verses.

13. Bjork, 1995: “I do not believe in religion, but if I had to choose one it would be Buddhism. It seems more livable, closer to men… I’ve been reading about reincarnation, and the Buddhists say we come back as animals and they refer to them as lesser beings. Well, animals aren’t lesser beings, they’re just like us. So I say fuck the Buddhists.”

14. Amanda Donohoe on her role in the Ken Russell movie Lair of the White Worm, 1995: “Spitting on Christ was a great deal of fun. I can’t embrace a male god who has persecuted female sexuality throughout the ages, and that persecution still goes on today all over the world.”

15. George Carlin, 1999: “Religion easily has the greatest bullshit story ever told. Think about it. Religion has actually convinced people that there’s an invisible man living in the sky who watches everything you do, every minute of every day. And the invisible man has a special list of ten things he does not want you to do. And if you do any of these ten things, he has a special place, full of fire and smoke and burning and torture and anguish, where he will send you to live and suffer and burn and choke and scream and cry forever and ever ’til the end of time! But He loves you. He loves you, and He needs money! He always needs money! He’s all-powerful, all-perfect, all-knowing, and all-wise, somehow just can’t handle money! Religion takes in billions of dollars, they pay no taxes, and they always need a little more. Now, talk about a good bullshit story. Holy Shit!”

16. Paul Woodfull as Ding Dong Denny O’Reilly, The Ballad of Jaysus Christ, 2000: “He said me ma’s a virgin and sure no one disagreed, Cause they knew a lad who walks on water’s handy with his feet… Jaysus oh Jaysus, as cool as bleedin’ ice, With all the scrubbers in Israel he could not be enticed, Jaysus oh Jaysus, it’s funny you never rode, Cause it’s you I do be shoutin’ for each time I shoot me load.”

17. Jesus Christ, in Jerry Springer The Opera, 2003: “Actually, I’m a bit gay.” In 2005, the Christian Institute tried to bring a prosecution against the BBC for screening Jerry Springer the Opera, but the UK courts refused to issue a summons.

18. Tim Minchin, Ten-foot Cock and a Few Hundred Virgins, 2005: “So you’re gonna live in paradise, With a ten-foot cock and a few hundred virgins, So you’re gonna sacrifice your life, For a shot at the greener grass, And when the Lord comes down with his shiny rod of judgment, He’s gonna kick my heathen ass.”

19. Richard Dawkins in The God Delusion, 2006: “The God of the Old Testament is arguably the most unpleasant character in all fiction: jealous and proud of it; a petty, unjust, unforgiving control-freak; a vindictive, bloodthirsty ethnic cleanser; a misogynistic, homophobic, racist, infanticidal, genocidal, filicidal, pestilential, megalomaniacal, sadomasochistic, capriciously malevolent bully.” In 2007 Turkish publisher Erol Karaaslan was charged with the crime of insulting believers for publishing a Turkish translation of The God Delusion. He was acquitted in 2008, but another charge was brought in 2009. Karaaslan told the court that “it is a right to criticise religions and beliefs as part of the freedom of thought and expression.”

20. Pope Benedict XVI quoting a 14th century Byzantine emperor, 2006: “Show me just what Muhammad brought that was new and there you will find things only evil and inhuman, such as his command to spread by the sword the faith he preached.” This statement has already led to both outrage and condemnation of the outrage. The Organisation of the Islamic Conference, the world’s largest Muslim body, said it was a “character assassination of the prophet Muhammad”. The Malaysian Prime Minister said that “the Pope must not take lightly the spread of outrage that has been created.” Pakistan’s foreign Ministry spokesperson said that “anyone who describes Islam as a religion as intolerant encourages violence”. The European Commission said that “reactions which are disproportionate and which are tantamount to rejecting freedom of speech are unacceptable.”

21. Christopher Hitchens in God is not Great, 2007: “There is some question as to whether Islam is a separate religion at all… Islam when examined is not much more than a rather obvious and ill-arranged set of plagiarisms, helping itself from earlier books and traditions as occasion appeared to require… It makes immense claims for itself, invokes prostrate submission or ‘surrender’ as a maxim to its adherents, and demands deference and respect from nonbelievers into the bargain. There is nothing-absolutely nothing-in its teachings that can even begin to justify such arrogance and presumption.”

22. PZ Myers, on the Roman Catholic communion host, 2008: “You would not believe how many people are writing to me, insisting that these horrible little crackers (they look like flattened bits of styrofoam) are literally pieces of their god, and that this omnipotent being who created the universe can actually be seriously harmed by some third-rate liberal intellectual at a third-rate university… However, inspired by an old woodcut of Jews stabbing the host, I thought of a simple, quick thing to do: I pierced it with a rusty nail (I hope Jesus’s tetanus shots are up to date). And then I simply threw it in the trash, followed by the classic, decorative items of trash cans everywhere, old coffeegrounds and a banana peel.”

23. Ian O’Doherty, 2009: “(If defamation of religion was illegal) it would be a crime for me to say that the notion of transubstantiation is so ridiculous that even a small child should be able to see the insanity and utter physical impossibility of a piece of bread and some wine somehow taking on corporeal form. It would be a crime for me to say that Islam is a backward desert superstition that has no place in modern, enlightened Europe and it would be a crime to point out that Jewish settlers in Israel who believe they have a God given right to take the land are, frankly, mad. All the above assertions will, no doubt, offend someone or other.”

24. Cardinal Cormac Murphy-O’Connor, 2009: “Whether a person is atheist or any other, there is in fact in my view something not totally human if they leave out the transcendent… we call it God… I think that if you leave that out you are not fully human.” Because atheism is not a religion, the Irish blasphemy law does not protect atheists from abusive and insulting statements about their fundamental beliefs. While atheists are not seeking such protection, we include the statement here to point out that it is discriminatory that this law does not hold all citizens equal.

25. Dermot Ahern, Irish Minister for Justice, introducing his blasphemy law at an Oireachtas Justice Committee meeting, 2009, and referring to comments made about him personally: “They are blasphemous.” Deputy Pat Rabbitte replied: “Given the Minister’s self-image, it could very well be that we are blaspheming,” and Minister Ahern replied: “Deputy Rabbitte says that I am close to the baby Jesus, I am so pure.” So here we have an Irish Justice Minister joking about himself being blasphemed, at a parliamentary Justice Committee discussing his own blasphemy law, that could make his own jokes illegal.

Finally, as a bonus, Micheal Martin, Irish Minister for Foreign Affairs, opposing attempts by Islamic States to make defamation of religion a crime at UN level, 2009: “We believe that the concept of defamation of religion is not consistent with the promotion and protection of human rights. It can be used to justify arbitrary limitations on, or the denial of, freedom of expression. Indeed, Ireland considers that freedom of expression is a key and inherent element in the manifestation of freedom of thought and conscience and as such is complementary to freedom of religion or belief.” Just months after Minister Martin made this comment, his colleague Dermot Ahern introduced Ireland’s new blasphemy law.

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Today was too long

I’m sitting at home, alone. I’m bored, and playing on the computer as usual. My cell phone rings. It’s my ex, Michael.

“What are you doing now!?”, he almost yells the question.

“Nothing much. Why?”, I answer with a sigh.

“You need to come down to the fair! You’ll never guess who’s here!”.  I can hear the noise in the background.

My curiosity has been piqued. I hurriedly begin to get myself ready to leave the house. I’m reacting, even though I don’t yet know why I’m so excited. It’s because of the excitement I hear in Michael’s voice, knowing that he wouldn’t be behaving like this unless it was something that would be important to me.

“Who!?”, I yell, as if the noise is behind me instead of him.

“Just come down! We’ll meet you in front of the ice-cream shop!”. The noise stops, and I know he’s hung up on me.

I quickly slip on my sandals, grab my keys and phone, and run outside. From the patio at the top of the stairs, I can see the entire town spread out before me. The road that runs past my house is the main drag;  straight as an arrow, running parallel to the ocean. Extending perpendicular to the main street, like teeth on a comb, are a dozen or so smaller streets that each end at the sands of the beach. Each street houses about ten little stores and shops, all having their own little niche in the beach community. Most are over-priced and touristy.

The ice-cream shop is about four streets away from my house. I know that if I were taking a leisurely stroll, I could make it there within 10 minutes. But I wasn’t taking my time today! I estimated that I could make it there in less than 5 minutes.  I ran down the stairs – about 40 in total – then sprinted across the remaining 100 feet of grass, and finally having reached the sidewalk, I turned left and started to power-walk towards town.

The closer I got to the town, the more densely populated it became. There were people as far as the eye could see. Street-side vendors, selling pretzels and popcorn and cotton candy and hot dogs and pizza. Carnies yelling to people from within their game booths, “3 tosses for a dollar!” – “Which prize do you want, little lady?” – “Pop 3 balloons and win this giant stuffed panda!”. Smiling and laughing adults. Sticky fingered children. The sound of music and ringing bells and voices filled the air.

I had to navigate carefully. I was rushing past everyone. I was on a mission! I turned right, and surveyed the area, looking for a familiar face. I could see the carousel at the end of the street. Behind that, on the beach, was a bandstand. I could see the lights – yellow, red, blue, white, green – wildly random, coming from the top of the stage, but I couldn’t yet see who was on the stage.

I was focused so intently on trying to see who was performing, that I almost plowed directly into Michael, who was standing in front of the ice-cream shop. He was joined by his girlfriend Darlene. Without saying a word, the three of us ran towards the beach, towards the crowd that was swaying and singing along with the music. As we got closer, I could hear the music, but still couldn’t see who was on the stage. Skirting past the carousel, Darlene grabbed my arm and led me towards the front of the audience. They had reserved three seats right up front.

I couldn’t take my eyes off the stage at that point. I was trying to figure out if what I was seeing was real, or if it was a look-a-like doing a damn good impersonation. I finally realized that, yes, this was the real deal. Neil Diamond was really on stage singing, having an impromptu concert, in my town! I glanced quickly at Michael and Darlene, my eyebrows lifted high, a look of amazement on my face. They both laughed with me. For the next 45 minutes, I enjoyed watching and singing along. I knew every song by heart.

When the music stopped, the three of us walked around towards the side of the stage, like it was the most natural thing in the world to be doing. The large security guy ushered us around to the back – the VIP area! In moments, I was standing there, face to face with Neil Diamond. I was stunned. And speechless. I must have looked like a complete fool, standing there with my mouth wide open, eyes blinking and my heart pounding in my ears. He just laughed and extended his hand out towards me. I’m not sure how it happened, but some part of my brain took over, and I felt my arm rising out in front of me. I shook his hand, and managed a stupid looking smile. Something akin to what the Cheshire Cat’s grin look like.

He apparently didn’t notice, or was just being polite … either way, he began talking to me, expressing his pleasure about us being able to come see his concert. I began to relax a little, and managed a little conversation of my own. Well, I say conversation, but what I really mean is that I sounded like a blathering idiot.  I told him how I’d been a fan of his since I was a child, and how my 12 year old Son knows most of his songs because of how I play them over and over. I then pulled the stupid fan trick of asking for an autograph. Only, I had no pen, no paper … nothing with which he could do so!

“How about this,” he said, “you run home, grab a picture of your son and bring it back to me. I’ll sign that for you.”

I couldn’t believe it! He was going to wait for me? Me? For an autograph?

I grabbed Darlene’s arm, and turned to run back to my house. Instead of running back down the street, I opted to run the length of the beach, as there was less of a crowd, and I thought I could make better time that way. What I didn’t consider, was that running in sand would make my ankle hurt much worse than if I’d been running on the pavement. I had to stop running, and continue at a much slower walk. Darlene was beside me, trying to talk to me, but my mind was scattered a million different directions. I was talking to myself, trying to figure out which picture I was going to use, wondering if I should call Bill and tell him what was happening, wondering if I should call Matthew and tell him as well, wondering where Matthew was since both his father and I were at the same place … basically living inside my own little world. I’m sure she was talking to me, but I truly didn’t hear a word she said for the first half of our walk.

Once we got past the other three streets, my little bubble popped, and I realized I’d made a mistake. I stopped in my tracks, and Darlene collided with me.

“What’s wrong? Why’d you stop?”, she inquired.

I pointed towards the row of townhouses to our right, between us and the main road in front of my house. “Because the only way through those houses is over the wall. Otherwise, we’ll have to backtrack to the first street, through the crowd again, to get back to the main road.”, I explained.

I don’t understand why, but we decided that going over the wall was the much saner of the two options. The wall is about 6 feet high, made out of gray stone and red brick. It’s a decorative wall, in place only so that there’s some privacy between the road and the back of the houses.  Each house has a gate on either side, with a lock, so going through a gate wasn’t an option, as we don’t have keys.

Standing next to the wall, Darlene kneels down, laces her fingers together, and provides me with a “step”. I grab the top of the wall, hoist myself up, and throw one leg over. I’m able to sit comfortably on top of the wall. Unfortunately, Darlene has no way to get herself over the wall now. So she urges me to go on back to the house, and she’ll go back to the first street and meet me at the main road when I come back.

I jump down off of the wall, and land squarely on my bad ankle. Now I’m injured, and pissed off at myself, and still in a big hurry to get home to grab that picture of my Son. After hobbling up the stairs to my house, and then back down the stairs again – with picture in hand – I’m only able to walk at a snail’s pace down the main road toward where I can see Darlene waiting for me. It’s dark outside now, and we only have the streetlights and the lights of the fair to guide us. The crowd has started to disappear. The quiet is comforting to me. Darlene provides me with some support as I limp my way back down the street.

Finally reaching my destination, I  look toward the shadows of the stage. I see Michael, sitting there waiting for us. It looks like he’s sitting alone. Believing that I missed my opportunity, that Neil Diamond had already left because I took too long, I flopped myself down on a bench, and let loose a tirade of insults at myself.

“You fucktard! You’re a complete idiot! No, that would be an insult to idiots! You missed him! You took too long, you moron!”, I burst into tears, and buried my face in my hands.

I feel a hand on my shoulder, and I look up. Right into the face of Neil Diamond! Now I feel like even more of a fool. He reaches out, takes my hand, and helps me stand up. Wrapping his arms around me, he squeezes me in a bear hug. “You didn’t miss me, I’m still here!”, he chuckles. “Now, where’s that picture of your Son?”

I hand him the picture, then wipe my tears with the back of my hand. I watch as he writes something on it, but from my perspective, I can’t see exactly what he’s writing. He hands me the picture back, gives me another hug, kisses my cheek, then walks away.

Michael and Darlene silently accompany me off the stage, back into the light of the carousel. I look down at the picture with the autograph. It was signed,

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No, this didn’t really happen.  It was a dream I had last night.

Yes, my dreams are usually this vivid and detailed.

I have no idea why I had this dream. I mean, yes, I like Neil Diamond. But not in the “ultimate fan” way that was portrayed in my dream! And yes, I would probably ask for an autograph if I ever had the opportunity. But if I were lacking pen and paper, I would check with people around me, or even run to a bathroom for a paper towel, but I would not run back home for a picture of my Son!

Sadly, my Son probably does know too many Neil Diamond songs, for a kid his age!

And besides, I don’t live near a beach. And I don’t have luck like this.

However, my ex would probably call me to tell me if this was happening near me. He sent me a text a few weeks ago to let me know that Carson (from the Fab Five – Queer Eye for the Straight Guy!) was at our Walmart!

And now, since I’ve had a song stuck in my head since I woke up, I thought I’d pay it forward. Think of it as a belated Xmas present.

You’re welcome!