Friday, August 28, 2015

Shelling Peas All Summer

I appreciate Alex sending me a picture a day of Jayden.  I hope to go see him next week, then after that Daniel and Megan will be here with Ansley, making me feel pretty blessed.

A couple of things here that interested me, after I received a call that Nando'd been injured at school.  Hall jostling, nothing more, but when a group of rowdy 8th grade boys were monkeying around, he hit a door frame, school nurse suspected bruised rib, a doc-in-the-box confirmed it, no soccer practice for 3-5 days.

"Keep that boy in a padded room all season!!!" came the text from his coach, knowing Nando's the highest scorer, due to his willingness to risk it all.

Scotty's sinus infection isn't easing up, even with antibiotics, which concerns me, rather the sore throat part isn't improving, making me suspect a false negative on the strep test.  "Stay away from Grandma," I always insist, at 85 she has a strong immune system, but still, let's not push it.

A friend tentatively suggested, or asked, if I'd considered my pride as an obstacle to antidepressants?

Ya think?  Of course it is.  But also, fortunately, I'm feeling good this week, that's not to say I won't get knocked upside my head again, figuratively speaking I hope.  I'm not against medications, I just don't like them for me.

6 Surprising Foods Vegetarians Cannot Eat.  Oh my.  No kidding?  Cue the sarcasm. Here's an example: Starburst
The ingredient that ruins everything: Gelatin
The fourth ingredient in Starburst, after sugar and more sugar (and... apple juice?), is gelatin. Gelatin is a less-gross way of saying a gelatinous substance made from an animal's skin and bones. 

I'm not a candy eater, although dark chocolate is tempting.  But, not really, fruits satisfy any craving.

White sugar
The ingredient that ruins everything: Bone char

the idea of eating bone char -- which is usually made from cow bones -- 

The other four things were less gross, but as a vegan and a teetotaler, I'm not tempted anyway.  So what do I eat?  A ton of fruits, veggies, nuts, seeds and grains.  Literally a ton.

I'd posted a pile of peas and peppers I'd picked on FB.  If I eat 15 raw bell peppers a day, it occurred to me that I'm eating 105 a week, but hey, that'll end in about two more months when we get our first frost and then I'll crave them until next year.

And this year has been a bumper crop of Southern peas, probably have 30 quarts in the freezer plus I've eaten a ton fresh, my tomatoes have sucked.

And Rosie O'Donnell's daughter leaving home to live with her bio mom is getting a great deal of press.  Yawn.  Predictable.  Understandable, a rite of passage.  Leave the kid alone, let her find her way in this world.

Maybe, Trauma Mamas, our job was just those few tumultuous, violent, and fun years?  I still feel certain I that I was called by God to specifically adopt these particular children.  Now their lives are up to them, I did EVERYTHING I humanly could during the years they lived here at home, even as they fought me on everything.

Nowadays I spend my time with those who want me in their lives, not chasing after those who don't.  I don't want to know about drunken bouts, nor less than stellar job performance, or chronic unemployment or couch surfing, or police intervention, etc. - my advice to 'Do The Right Thing' is usually met with contempt, ok, I don't wanna argue anymore, don't want to teach the unteachable - it just leads to resentment.

I pray they are safe, blessed and that they learn from experiences.  I'm here if needed.  However if that means disrespect or further lashing out, I'm unavailable.  I'll fill my calendar with grandkid's events and ballgames, hanging out with my bonded older kids, and still busting my butt on the 10 or 11 kids who still live here.  Why the uncertainty regarding 10-11?  The coming and going of young adults, the faltering and missteps, or those that are so busy with college and jobs that I barely see them.

My more mundane concern is Hurricane Erika, which hopefully could lead to being a tropical storm over Georgia.  More hopefully is that my roof would be repaired today, it's the flashing that wasn't properly attached in one area, but my gardens could use way more moisture.

I swear my body is hooked up to atmospheric conditions and barometric pressure systems.  The very thought of this weather event energizes me on a cellular level.  Go figure.

Thursday, August 27, 2015

Can't Think Of A Title

Sarah called it 'cummulative' regarding my stress load, my friend's phrase 'long tern severe traumatizing stress' is equally as accurate.  I can't tell you how I've ruminated for day on that descriptive.  Completely nailed it.

It is palpable, ever present, and quite annoying.  I'm so bored with it, yet it's always in the forefront.  I've turned into such a whiner.

Another very dear friend is in a group of parents who are parenting kids with schizophrenia and she is the only one in that group not on anti-depressants or anti-anxiety medications, and she has other very troubled kids as well. And she works full-time.  Amazing.

My cell phone doesn't ring much, most folks know that the ringing sound immediately shatters my nerves, but heck there are times I need to talk to various family members.  Vanessa called to let me know of a job opening, but surprisingly all are employed - or so I thought until later that evening.

My Jesse came by yesterday afternoon before his second shift job, I've gotten to spend more one on one time with him in the last year than in our entire 20 year history, me yesterday bugging him, "But what made you different?  What made you stronger than others?"  I know his history and it wasn't pretty, he was the oldest of his sib group, yet he made a ton of good choices, pushed himself and has succeeded beautifully.

What's the key?  I don't know.  Neither does he.  Other than the choices he made, but my question is, "What made him make good choices?"

We've both been stressing out over someone else in our family.  "I'm not stressing anymore," he told me, "I have to tend to my own family."  Yes, I agree.  His lovely family does come first.  He's showing his son how to be a man.

I'm trying to shake off that specific stressor also, knowing that addicts make it your problem, rather than theirs.

I'd taken Scotty to the doctor's office, he's never sick, yet had a persistent sore throat and felt right bad.  A sinus infection, he's missed two days of work, and is busting his butt to make it to school.

I had some FaceTime with Baby Ansley yesterday, she was cooing and squirming, "The baby that doesn't let anyone put her down," Daniel described.  None of my four babies ever wanted to be put down either, but just like Daniel I didn't mind.  Who doesn't want to show continuous love, nurturing, and support to a tiny baby?  Babies just left the womb, they need to be comforted, to be shown that they are protected and loved.

Continuing knee rehab for Nando, great improvement already which is wonderful. I'm a huge fan of physical therapy, versus surgery or medications (unless needed, duh), and Nando should be fine, raring to go just in time for his first tournament of this season.

My kids think I hound them, but I often, or usually, hear stuff I didn't see coming, finding out via an innocent third party that one of my grown sons is not employed where I thought he still worked. I did then question another son about it later, but the verbal evasiveness is impressive.  Oh well, I immediately disengaged emotionally, hoping this works out for you son.

My state retirement health insurance (BCBS) sucks.  It's relatively inexpensive, but doesn't cover squat.  I'd forked out some big bucks for CW's ingrown toenail and then for my own unexpected emergency procedure this week.  Unbudgeted at a time when I've seriously been struggling to stay afloat, and in September I've got to some up with about four times that much cash to cover the next procedure.

In that doctor's office, she who often cuts my fees a bit knowing about my family, I was politely questioned by a nurse, "List all the medications you take each day."

Because I'm 61?  Why do you assume I'm taking statins or whatever?  I didn't say.

"None," I flatly stated.  Should I explain the herbal supplements, or the amount of nuts and seeds I eat each day, I don't bother explaining that I'm vegan, that I don't drink alcohol or even a soda.  99% of the stuff I eat is a super food, maybe 100% on most days.  I'm sugar free now for nearly a year.  I fall short in the exercise department though, I'm active but not disciplined.

Wednesday, August 26, 2015


The Old Farmer's Almanac prediction, my county escaped the 'above normal' crapfall.

"Mom, you've changed, you're just not as happy as you used to be," a grown kid told me.

Well, no kidding Dude.

It was JoJo, now 18,  and he told me he didn't believe in adoption anymore.  He was glad I'd adopted him and his siblings, "But some of these other kids have been really bad," he solemnly informed me.

Yes, sweetheart, this I know.  Some kids have been so emotionally and mentally challenged that nothing is ever gonna work for them.  One of them now almost 27, in prison for the second time, will almost certainly end up with the three strikes law and will eventually be incarcerated forever.  Although he has threatened me, he never laid a hand upon me, indeed he stood protectively between a knife wielding kid and me one time years ago.

I've been talking online with a mom who's happy with Cymblata, explaining to me, via a neuropsychiatrist, "Long term traumatizing severe stress literally changes the chemistry of the brain. It depletes it of serotonin The reason the correct medication does not alter your physical body is that nothing is being added. The medicine is balancing your brain chemistry, normalizing it. I still get mad, sad, happy, full range of emotions. Nothing is dulled. It's hard to explain. The best way I can describe it is say there is a literal nerve then the covering of the nerve, the protective shell erodes over time. Then you have a raw exposed nerve. It takes over your life. You can't feel normal because of this exposed nerve. The cymbalta allows the nerve to be cushioned again. It still does its work, you have your full range of emotions, but you are not worn out from that uncovered nerve. Over time your head will clear, the fog that shrouds you lifts. No big moment. You won't even notice till you realize you are looking back at how you used to feel."

I chewed on that all day, especially the phrase I bolded above 'long term traumatizing severe stress.'

I went to some web forums and read about people's experiences with Cymbalta and came away dismayed.  Y'all know I'm very afraid of medications, knowing eventually what it does to the liver and other side effects, yet why should that matter to me when my brain is a mess?  Cymbalta worked beautifully for some, terribly for others.  My gut tells me no, not for me, even though many people have had superb results.

Talking it over later with Sarah, she advised Theanine Serene with Relora available from our local Vitamin Shoppe.  I felt immediate relief.  The placebo effect?  Maybe, but who cares?  Possibly that's all I needed.

Being my oldest daughter has not been easy for Sarah, what with the resentment so often dumped upon her by my other children.  Often CW, Lily and Jack have been similarly mistreated, resented because they never had to have resided in foster care.

Ironically CW is now often called upon to help others out, the same others who once sneered at him.

I know that my serotonin is depleted, as are my adrenals, resulting in adrenal fatigue.  I see other options. Long term traumatizing severe stress has resulted in several other physical issues as I found out yesterday at a doctor's office.  However these are treatable issues, and by early October I should be completely shut of them.

"This is stress related," the doctor informed me, "You must reduce, or eliminate, stress."

Ya think?  I didn't holler back at her.

"Yes ma'am," I instead responded, pondering the term 'eliminate.'

I have eliminated much of it by not reaching out to those who bite me, who lie to me, who lash out, lie about me, steal from me, or speak ugly of me.  There'd be something wrong within me to continue participating in such negative relationships.

I know that nothing changes if nothing changes, and some of my kids will never change, will always fight with everyone - but it just won't be with me.  I can't bear it anymore, I can no longer allow the emotional or verbal abuse. The negativity is unbearable.

"It's like they're killing you little by little," my son told me.

No kidding.

So I brighten up when I run into my grandson, Isaiah, on the soccer fields, or when I have Ray and Hazel over for the afternoon.  I can confide in, and trust, Sarah, Yolie, Lena on a regular basis.  I'm looking forward to Daniel, Ansley, and Megan's upcoming visit,  I have plans to be with Alex, Polo, and Jayden soon.  My Jesse is a rock.  I have some really great grown kids and loving in-laws too.

I will pour out what's left of me into the lives of those who are upfront with me, who are honest and hard working, sweet and pleasant.  I've spent much of the time lately when I've not been blogging researching stress and toxic behaviors of others.

We have all had toxic people dust us with their poison. Sometimes it’s more like a drenching.

Difficult people are drawn to the reasonable ones and all of us have likely had (or have) at least one person in our lives who have us bending around ourselves like barbed wire in endless attempts to please them – only to never really get there.

Their damage lies in their subtlety and the way they can engender that classic response, ‘It’s not them, it’s me.’ They can have you questioning your ‘over-reactiveness’, your ‘oversensitivity’, your ‘tendency to misinterpret’. If you’re the one who’s continually hurt, or the one who is constantly adjusting your own behaviour to avoid being hurt, then chances are that it’s not you and it’s very much them.

But they will never comprehend that.  You are the one who must protect your own emotions.

"You're an amazing mom," JoJo reassured me, "don't let folks bring you down."

I'm trying, I'm dealing with it in therapy, I'm moving forward slowly.

Not a good photo below but the point is obvious.  The farm got a new horse that Tabby got to ride yesterday.  A massive horse that she was learning to ride without stirrups, her legs and feet controlling the horse, all an integrative aspect of horseback riding therapy, now finishing up her second year of this, benefiting greatly, loving it immensely.  I'm grateful she has this opportunity.

Monday, August 24, 2015


This photo of Jesse and Isaiah makes me smile.  Jesse's wife and son are his priority and nothing tempts him, nor sways him in any other way.  That's called being a man, and I'm so very proud of him.

Sarah blogged an interesting concept, the opposite of me, in that I publish my morning brain dumps, but not always.  There is an impressive list of unpublished posts here on my blog.

"I'm just kidding," a son told me, after he watched my face flush and my blood boil, not comprehending the crappy cortisol that flooded my entire being.  What folks don't realize is that negative teasing - and I don't think negative and teasing should be in the same sentence - displays a subconscious level of hostility.

Women do it too sometimes, they'll say something biting to another woman, and then try and lift the mood with a forced laugh, as if they were just joking, but the damage was done.

Many of my kids have noticed this change in me, this complete withdrawal from the human race, but like whack-a-mole, anytime I venture tentatively out into humanity, then someone gets arrested, says something awful, or I hear something worse, like they're drunk in front of their kid(s) and I'm so appalled, humiliated, angry, upset that I scurry back into my imaginary reclusive bunker.

I don't wanna know what's going on, yet many of them feel compelled to call and tell me.

"LA LA LA!" I wanna yell, while plugging my ears.

Why tell me?  There's nothing I can do, the culprit won't listen to me, they all react oppositionally to logical advice.  So please, y'all, leave me out of it.  I do not wanna know.

When I had 20 something kids at home I never watched TV, I just worked my butt off, and didn't feel nearly as overwhelmed as I do now.  Now I am consumed with worry that the police are coming over to tell me something awful, that one of my kids that is fundamentally neurologically impaired is gonna do something awful, that they aren't taking care of kids properly, or whatever my PTSD saturated brain can conjure up.

I came downstairs yesterday morning to find two cigarette lighters on my kitchen table and I angrily threw them away.  No lighters are allowed in my house yet this son thought, because he was allegedly grown, that it was OK.

NO, I still have kids at home, I often have grandchildren here.  I repeat, "No lighters, no weapons, no cigarette, no drugs, nothing unsafe is allowed in my home."

You are allowed to move out if you disagree, you are over 18.

From The Mayo Clinic:

Negative changes in thinking and mood

Symptoms of negative changes in thinking and mood may include:

Negative feelings about yourself or other people
Inability to experience positive emotions
Feeling emotionally numb
Lack of interest in activities you once enjoyed
Hopelessness about the future
Memory problems, including not remembering important aspects of the traumatic event
Difficulty maintaining close relationships
Changes in emotional reactions

Symptoms of changes in emotional reactions (also called arousal symptoms) may include:

Irritability, angry outbursts or aggressive behavior
Always being on guard for danger
Overwhelming guilt or shame
Self-destructive behavior, such as drinking too much or driving too fast
Trouble concentrating
Trouble sleeping
Being easily startled or frightened

The good news is that I am not aggressive, nor am I self-destructive.  That's the good news, Cindy?

Even Grandma has suggested I look into medication, but I don't feel that a dose of lethargy would be very beneficial when I still have kids at home that expect me to function properly.

If you have disturbing thoughts and feelings about a traumatic event for more than a month, if they're severe, or if you feel you're having trouble getting your life back under control, talk to your health care professional. Get treatment as soon as possible to help prevent PTSD symptoms from getting worse.

For more than a month?  I busted out laughing.  It's been stinking years of this.  I am not suicidal, it'd mean they won, and that's kinda how I feel about medications - I'd prefer that positivity somehow prevails instead within me.  I do see a therapist.

A grown kid started to tell me a long tattletale story about several grown kids but stopped saying, "Nah, I don't want you to blog it. Then they'll all get mad at me."

Dude, I don't even wanna HEAR it. LA LA LA.

My Give-A-Crap button is shattered, I can't fix it.  I'm pretty emotionally broken down, I'm trying to work on that, so as to be there for the majority of my family that hasn't launched deadly missiles at me for years.

Daniel'd sent me the funniest text last night, I roared with laughter, dadgum that felt good.  I was happy for a minute there.

I want to heal for him and his daughter, and for all the ones who want me and need me.

Saturday, August 22, 2015

I Fell Asleep

It's Evelyn and Mateo's mom's birthday today, turning 25 already.

A lady reached out to me in the middle of the night, but with my notifications turned off, I see it when I see it.  Reading it first thing this morning, I was initially just simply glad I'm not in her shoes anymore.

"I sit here trying to figure out what kind of different parenting path could I have taken that might have made a different outcome and there isn't one."

Perfectly stated.  All of us foster and adoptive parents provide a home and a family, nurturing, stability, security, material things, an education, all that we have, and we face almost exactly identical scenarios of theft, deception, danger, violence, aggression and challenges.

Therefore the common denominator - the children's negative behaviors - is what's there even in the midst of 24-7 intensive parenting.

What do we do?  Should the kids just have been left with their birth parents since they'll seemingly despise us for years and years for not being a birth parent?  Yes and no.  I do think CPS is too quick to remove children, yet children die and continue to be injured, neglected or abused in their birth homes.

This is why when the birth moms eventually show up, I'm not unhappy about it.  Go with her if you need to, just stop emotionally abusing me.  I'm talking about if the kids are over 18.

I have made absolutely no difference in the lives of some of my kids.  I've made a world of difference in some of them though.  I cling to those kids, I have stupendous fun with them, they've made it so worth it.

But some?  I can't take the verbal abuse anymore, I'm just done.  I forgive continuously, but scurry deeper in the invisible hole I find shelter in - seclusion.  I weed, shell peas, fetch me some loads of wood chips, all because I find comfort in those activities.  I sweat out my anger and resentment.

This mom was sweet enough to say that my blogging has helped her not feel alone regarding her lack of strength - how can any of us be strong enough to survive what we've endured?  I told my own mom yesterday that I wished I could just go back to bed, it was barely noon, CW found me asleep sitting up in the easy chair before supper.

I am that exhausted.  I am so tired, still swamped with inner stress that I need to deal with, to figure out how to get it out of my life before it kills me.

This mom also says she doesn't like who she has become.  Me either.  I don't like my bitterness, my anger and resentment, my fury, all the crap that was dumped on me that changed me so much.

I miss me.

So Elizabeth, Anthony and Jessie had Nando last night, Tabby was super tired, Jack was in his room, and I was about to fall asleep in my room at 9.  A grown son texts me that he needs a ride RIGHT NOW to take a key to meet a tow truck guy to have his car towed.  A car that has sat there for two months.

Shouldn't you have checked with me before calling a tow truck?  Where are you gonna tow it to that late?  No mechanic was waiting for it then.

There was a time I'd have jumped up to help, but that ship has sailed.  I wasn't gonna drag Tabby out, this wasn't any emergency, and I said, "No, I'll do it tomorrow."  Then I fell asleep.

Friday, August 21, 2015

FOMO, Don't Think So

Fear of Missing Out, explained on GMA this morning, all of us scrolling through social media sites, seeing everyone's vacation pictures or parties we've not been invited to, a sense of continuous envy and discontent spiraling through us as humans.

Me?  Not so much, too busy, too stressed out over many of my grown kids.  I allow myself a few minutes each day on Facebook, but never Instagram or any other social media.  My Twitter feed is news, Braves, weather or personal finance, not people.

On Facebook some grown kids have unfriended me, not wanting me to see their party pictures and I've hidden the status updates of those who cuss, I just don't wanna know about it.

I'm missing out on Daniel and Megan's baby Ansley, but they'll be here soon, but most of that weekend I'll be at a soccer tournament.  Jeepers.

The Braves have performed so poorly I've quit watching and I've turned off my alerts, well just the volume, I still see each time they score, or win or lose.

I saw a mom on Facebook yesterday celebrating a year of taking care of herself after years of putting others first.  I get it, I admire it, I wish I were doing it, but I've spent several years now in a complete physical slump - emotionally whacked out, now that there isn't daily drama and trauma, I'm more likely to be splayed out, gape mouthed staring at the TV.  I don't wanna think, or feel, or process emotions, I wanna just veg out.

I've eaten a lot.  A great deal, but mainly fruits and vegetables.  My tomatoes haven't produced much, so my salad yesterday was 15 large bell peppers chopped up with wheat germ, balsamic vinegar and sunflower seeds.  Who eats 15 bell peppers in one sitting?  I do.

One grown kid told me yesterday that he just didn't want a job, didn't wanna work all of his life only to just die eventually, his explanation, "Millionaires don't have to work, so they don't."

They sure worked to get there, and most do indeed still work.  I tried quoting everything I've ever learned from all personal finance books I've read, but the truth is with Oppositional Defiant Disorder, reason and logic plays no part at all.  I'm the one who's a slow learner, me still stupidly trying to explain the way real life works to one who will oppositional defy all I teach.

Tell me that isn't emotionally exhausting.  With some grown kids recently, I just didn't have much to say.  If I ask polite questions like one might do with a peer, all I get are lies and mistruths.  If I offer advice I get such ridiculous replies that my blood pressure spikes at the thought of their futures with those attitudes. So why bother trying to make conversation?  I don't know what to say.

And sometimes I wonder if I even have a clue anymore, my world so oppositional and illogical, so little makes sense outside of my gardens.

It's like I've lived too long amongst the inmates of an asylum and now I can't decipher social codes and cues.  I'm always hyper vigilant, suspicious, resentful and bitter.  That's not very pretty.

Just because I don't change my clothes for days at a time doesn't mean I'm depressed, it just feels pointless.  I'm not sad, I'm discouraged.

I have a fair amount of simmering anger too.  I've heard some pretty stupid stuff this summer coming out of mouths I sacrificed to feed, clothe and educate.  Well, tell me how that works out for you.  Karma isn't very pretty.

A trauma mama emailed me, she'd adopted one very young kid, now grown and the birth mom has found them.  "What do I do?" she seemingly wailed.  Let her go.  What can you do?  What are your options?  Yes, you poured out all you have into this one child, all your hopes, dreams, finances, energy and life.  And for what?  Well you had close to 18 great years, right?  Wrong, remember I said she was a trauma mama.

So really all I have is, "You fulfilled God's Will for your life."  That's how I feel.  I did what God told me to do, I don't doubt for a minute that I was called to adopt specifically the children I adopted.  But just as with birth children, there are no guarantees.  They grow up and make their own choices, good and bad.

I told this mom the best she can hope for is that her kid will find what she's looking for somehow.

So I sit here emotionally numb, yet my stress levels can skyrocket even while thinking.  That's not good.  I'm working on it.

I'm just saying by the time you get into your 60s, trauma mama or not, you've experienced a great deal of pain and hurts, blessings and fun - my experiences have just been so numerous and counter productive at times, so stinking crazy and dangerous, that I now feel I have serious attachment and trust issues.

And then walking out of the hospital the other day, the third day in a row, I saw a lady, clearly a cancer patient, no hair nor eyebrows, wearing a ball cap, and I was overcome with shame and guilt over my own complaining.  I'm healthy, I have some good years ahead of me, the worst has passed.

My four kids under 18 are fantastic kids.  I'm ending on a great note.

See how up and down I am?  I can't help it, it's like I've lost the ability to control my emotions.

Had to borrow my mom's car, like I'm a kid or something, yesterday to get Nando to soccer practice.  Scotty drove my un-airconditioned van to work, and I'm glad he has this great job, plus I don't have to get him to and from it each afternoon when I'm super busy with supper and soccer, my truck tail light assemblies will arrive Monday.

Thursday, August 20, 2015

An Exceptionally Tough Four Days Here

Days ago:
A great day north of Atlanta with Daniel's beautiful family.  Indeed his home is lovely, his wife is beautiful, and his daughter is adorable, looking just like him.

Settling in later, around nine at night I got a frantic phone call.  A grown kid face down in the street, unresponsive, not breathing, or breathing shallow enough for it to be undetectable.  Thank God someone called 911, as they'd turned purple.  An ambulance materialized.

I couldn't think, couldn't find my shoes, grabbed worn out flip flops.

A storm was raging outside.  All the rain I've prayed for over the last six months came down in one night.  My truck taillights were broken, Scotty had the van, as I let him drive it to and from work in the evenings so I can tend to everything else.  I was also trying to help CW with Drop/Add, but he'd left earlier to get an ingrown toenail tended to, but came home unsure about it.  What?  Now it's been tended to.  You needed Mama for that?

I went to Yolie's house and drove Chuck's SUV there, her kids jumped out in the storm at Sarah's house, silly Hazel all excited about late night cousin company, standing outside with an umbrella and a lantern.  I think she had on rubber boots too.

What the heck, Hazel?  Where'd she get a lantern?

But I was speeding to the hospital, a wild 25 MPH in a monsoon, Jesse beat me there, I let Yolie out at the door and went to find a parking space, falling down when my feet went out from under me as the parking garage floor there was oily, slick and drenched, landing on my hip and one arm, jumping up fast, looking around all embarrassed, no one saw me, so I went up to a security guard who was dozing off, "Dude?  I just fell down.  Y'all don't have security cameras?  You just let old ladies fall?"

He simply stared at me like I had a big mouth, or something, and the info lady immediately offered to X-ray the arm I was holding.  "No, thank you, I don't wanna glow in the dark," I answered primly.

My kid was a mess, blessed to be alive, the second time in two weeks.  Seriously, you're gonna take me out at the knees, child.  I'd just been bragging on that one that very day.
24 hours later, still hospitalized, coughing up blood, on oxygen, and an IV.  "You're gonna be here a few days," the doc stated.  Type 2 Diabetes due to staggeringly seriously high numbers, and a host of other issues.  Self-medication, I blame the trauma and genetics.  This one's been struggling, trying hard, long spates of being clean, then whammo.

Alcohol has several of my grown kids in its grasp.  This wasn't one of them.

Went back to visit this morning, took JoJo to get half his braces off, another appointment, another storm blew in.  I'd just broadcast collard seeds, didn't even cover them up, but rare are my seeds washed away, my soil so spongy.

I'd not texted anyone until this morning, my pastors know, one came to the hospital, Lisa and Susan sent pizzas to my house, shocking me, as Yolie forgot to tell me Lisa had called her.  Ironically my kids had asked me to order our monthly pizza night tonight, but I'm too broke.  Then to have a pizza guy show up?  Oh my.

Coming home after the initial shock wore off, emotionally depleted, my hip hurt when I tried to roll over, I'd forgotten that I'd fallen so hard, I couldn't be more clumsy if I tried.


Intervention completed.  Turned down rehab.  I'm broken hearted. Released from hospital finally, the only good news is that there is NOT diabetes.


My ceiling fell in last night.  "Did someone try to break in?" Martin asked me.

Yeah, right, all doors left unlocked so they took a hatchet to the ceiling?  To steal Tabby's new used Rummicube game that was in the living room.  I doubt it.

My roof man is coming over to make it good for me this morning.

Seriously no taillights now, CW totally removed the casings, ordered through Amazon some used ones since the truck is 16 years old.  Hardly $20 each, the Nissan place would've charged hundreds.  Thank you, Lord, for CW.

I'm also grateful to those who prayed us through this week, reconnecting with an old friend who has now been clean for 7 years.  I'd not seen him probably in ten years but, ya know, help shows up when you need it.

My family needs prayers, this kid needs prayers to make good choices.  Which kid?  A Bodie kid.

And a deputy.  Chuck's BFF's brother, a local deputy, was struck by lightening yesterday.  He's in pain, resting, but thankfully will be fine.  It staggers me to think what could've happened to him and he's got a young son.

I was texting Kandy, my deputy friend, that I can't stand to see them out there directing traffic in storms.  Georgia has some violent thunder and lightening storms, it's just too dangerous to be directing school car traffic.  Folks ought to expect delays and no deputies when it is lightening.  However yesterday's strike happened during a wreck investigation.