Shhhh, This is PRIVATE!

I'm officially in hiding. The blogs are shut down or moved to private since, as most of you know, BFBF has started her nonsense again with trying to get Tink's school changed to the area where she moved. This after a judge told her HELL NO back in October. Well, he told her that she could go ahead and move, but Tink's address would remain with us and Tink would remain in her current school district. Now all of the sudden, Mommy Dearest sends us a letter saying that she believes that Tink should be attending the other school because that is where her primary residence is.

Come again? The county judge told you that is was fine for you to move, but Tink stays. So we're going to go back into his courtroom (watch for the follow up on that) and you're going to try to convince him that he was wrong the first time and that it's okay for Tink to be moved away from her friends? Have fun with that.

Plus, I'm sure if the fact Tink isn't living in this district 50/50 was an issue, the school would have told us to shove it when we approached them with the documentation (you know, the documentation that a JUDGE from a real COURT authorized and then YOU agreed to) to keep her here.  And according to the school (and the judge), her legal address is here. That holds more weight than anything BFBF may have.

And our lawyer believes that she was out "judge shopping" because the judge that signed the court papers this time is a different judge than the one that told her to take her move and shove it. But the lawyer said that if we go to court and it's not the old judge, we can request to have the case seen by him since he is already familiar with it. Our lawyer said that he sees people try to pull this all the time if they don't like the outcome of a decision. Sneaky, sneaky. Tisk, tisk, tisk...

So we are in talks with our lawyer on how to proceed. We're pretty sure that we know what we're going to do but I'm not going to get into that until the counter-suit paperwork is drawn up and in the mail. I know it's going to get ugly this time. Really freaking ugly.

All of this because we requested that BFBF just TALK to us about bringing Tink here in the morning and letting her come here after school because it would get rid of the daycare expense that both parties are unnecessesarily paying for. Plus, that would give her more time to spend with Nutt. We also wanted to hash out the holiday/summer vacation schedule so she can't continue screwing us. For all of this, we asked her for a reply to our question before April 1.

And this is what we got. No kind of civil response. And God forbid Tink form any kind of meaningful relationships with this side of her family! The last straw has been drawn and we are ready to do whatever is in our power (and our pocketbooks) to make sure that these relationships are formed. And the lack of response from her shows that she is unwilling to communicate on any issues involving Tink. As Mark Twain once said, "The worst loneliness is not to be comfortable with yourself." Your children shouldn't be used to make up for what you are lacking in self-esteem.

I think she knows that she shot herself in the foot (bang) by moving to a different school district and leaving Tink here, which blows opens a can of whoop ass for us to be able to go for 50/50 physical custody. Plus, we are getting married (stability) and Tink has a little brother here that she needs to spend time with. It's common sense to me (but maybe I'm a LITTLE bit biased) and I hope that the judge sees it the same way.

I guess we'll find out in mid-April. Until then, please keep our family in your prayers. This is gonna get ugly.

The 30 Day Picture Game

This was kind of cool. I figured I'd blog it so I can delete the photo album from my FB page after I'm done. Each day I posted a different picture that coincided with the instructions for that day. The daily description (day 01, day 02, etc.) is posted and then I entered a little bit about that particular picture. Enjoy!

Day 01 - A recent photo of you and 15 facts about yourself.

1. I'm a Southpaw.
2. My favorite show is Modern Family
3. My favorite movie is Interview With the Vampire

4. Big Daddy says I'm a great cook.

5. I won't wear shoes without a heel, even though I'm 5'8"

6. If I didn't write to express my thoughts and feelings, I would go insane.

7. My dream growing up was to become a mortician.

8. My favorite food is Gorgonzola Ravioli from the restaurant formerly known as Micheal's Cafe.

9. I hate feet so much that I even dread cutting my own toenails.

10. If I clean my ears with Q-Tips, I gag horribly.

11. I have better coordination after I've had a few beers than I do when I'm stone sober.

12. The chore that I dread most is dusting. It RARELY gets done in my house.

13. My paternal great-nana is younger than my maternal nana. 

14. I have a 3" scar on my left hand that I got from a cat scratch when I was 11 (so now any of you are able to properly ID my dead body). 

15. Lilacs are my favorite flower because they remind me of my long, lost youth.

Day 02 - A picture of you and the person you have been closest with the longest. 

Me and my Hydia. Her dad and my Pappy were BFF's so it's only natural that we continued the trend. I love you bi-otch!

Day 03 - A picture of you and your friends.

Tosh, me and Pete on the MIB ride at Universal Studios, FL during our senior class trip. Yeah, we look hardcore. (Pay no attention the the Asian people or the scared black man in the back. They were totally NOT with us and they are obviously ruining our street cred!)

Day 04 - A habit you wish you didn't have.

Okay, I can be a bit of a lush at times. But is it really a habit that I wish I didn't have when I have no intention of not doing it when the opportunity arises? 

Day 05 - A picture of somewhere you've been.

NOLA baby! It's the only place that I've visited that I've seriously considered staying. I loved everything about it (including the copious amounts of alcohol that I consumed on Bourbon Street). As soon as these children are on their own, I will be packing my things (Big Daddy included) and heading back for good.

Day 06 - A picture that shows your true self.

Me being a goof with my feet off the ground and my head in the clouds, as usual. The technicolor playground backdrop only accentuates the truth in the matter.

Day 07 - A picture of someone who has made a big impact on your life.

Nana S (rawkin the JoePa glasses back in the 80's). If you never know her, I feel sorry that you missed out.

Day 08 - A picture that makes you laugh.

Satan and I stopped in at a bar for a beer and some dinner on our way home from trying to hock a violin and we were greeted by THIS. Turns out it was Elvis' birthday so this stud figured it would be a great idea to squeeze himself into a white jumpsuit and walk around this bar singing "Burnin' Love" while gyrating his pelvis and hitting on my sister. He was totally right. I thought he was the guy that Satan would spend the rest of her life with...

Day 09 - A picture of the person who has gotten you through a lot in life.

I went with Poppi on this one. What a stud!
(And what in the hell is up with my freakish pinky? It looks like it sprouted out of the side of my hand or my parents had a sixth finger removed from between my pinky and ring fingers. Creepy.)

Day 10 - A picture of someone you see yourself marrying/being with in the future.

That stud would be Big Daddy. As you can see from the picture, we are madly in love (haha. This picture also makes me look skinny and it makes him look quite a few inches taller than me). Yeah, he's stuck with me.

Day 11 - Your celebrity crush

Ian Somerhalder. He was hot as Boone and now he's almost unbearably sexy as Damon Salvatore (except when he does that weird eyebrow thing when he talks sometimes). He can bite me anytime!

Day 12 - A picture of something you love

Penn State football baby! Big Daddy and I were lucky enough to be given tickets to see Joe Paterno win his 400th game as head coach. I cried like I did when my children were born.

Day 13 - A picture of something you hate.

House centipedes. I didn't even want to look at the picture long enough to draw the horns and tail on that thing and I'm trying to type as fast as I can so I can tab down the page and get rid of the picture now. These little demons have left me standing on the toilet screaming for Big Daddy to rescue me at 3 AM more than once. The are the foulest creatures that I have ever seen but I've been told if you have a dirt floor basement, you're pretty much stuck with them. FML.

Day 14 - A picture of something you could never imagine your life without.

Tink, Evel and Nutt. I never wanted kids but now I wouldn't trade them for all the rice in China (probably because I don't really like rice. If we start talking money or gold, I may be interested...)

Day 15 - A picture of something you want to do before you die

I'm not a fan of leaving the good ol' US of A, but I would really love to see the Italian Catacombs. I think it has something to do with my morbid fascination with death and that's about as close as I can get without going over. Plus I hear Italy has great food and even better wine. Count me in!

Day 16 - Someone you would like to switch lives w/ for one day and why.

Bo, the First Dog. I would love to hear what REALLY goes on in the Oval Office...

Day 17 - Your favorite song

I love a lot of songs but this is my favorite song (You're So Last Summer) by my favorite band (Taking Back Sunday) so I guess it makes it my "favorite."

Day 18 - A picture of your biggest insecurity

Since I'm not going to post a picture of my ass for all of the Internet to behold, we'll go with this one. I'm am insecure in my ability to succeed in the things that I do. Thankfully, I'm also stubborn enough to keep trying until I achieve success.

Day 19 - A picture of someone you miss

I miss a lot of people, but I miss this guy the most. Every minute of every day. Rest in peace El Kapp-itan.

Day 20 - A picture of somewhere you'd love to travel

Disney World. I've been there twice and I'd love to share it with my kids before Evel is too old to enjoy it.

Day 21 - A picture of something that makes you happy

Devil turkeys! JK. I love cooking. I could spend all day making dinner if time permitted. That's why Thanksgiving is one of my favorite holidays!

Day 22 - A picture of something that confuses you

These D-bags (also referred to as Hipsters). You know who you are and you have to know that one day you are going to look back at these pictures and realize what the rest of us already know...YOU ARE A TOOL! (and PBR was originally a beer for poor people, but since you dicks have started making it trendy, even though you are anti-trendy, the price has gone up. Thanks a lot for making me switch to Natty so I can afford my habit that's not really a habit)

Day 23 - A picture of something you crave

Gorgonzola Ravioli (or just about anything from Micheal's Cafe). This is my cheap knockoff version since the best restaurant in the world is now closed.

Day 25 - A picture of yourself and a family member

I'll do you four better and give you a picture of myself and five generations. Nutt, me, Poppi, Nana C and the Neffster. 

Day 25 - A photo of yourself right this minute

I guess I should have read through and planned on making myself look a little bit presentable on Day 25...

Day 26 - A picture of something that means a lot to you

That little half smile means the world to me!

Day 27 - A picture of something you're afraid of

Getting Alzheimer's. I am terrified to not remember the people that I love or remember different version of them. That is why I write everything down. Alzheimer's is my nightmare.

Day 28 - A picture of you last year at this time and how have you changed?

 I'll let you all figure out the obvious...

Day 29 - A picture that can always make you smile

Satan, DV and me doing the "Thriller" pose. I'm LOL-ing right now as a matter of fact.

Day 30 - Who are you?

I can only explain myself about as well as Alice could. And besides, I thought the whole friggin point of this 30 day thing was to show you a little bit about myself?? You figure it out.

My Big Redneck Wedding

Sorry I haven't been around much to keep you all entertained. I've been planning a wedding. My wedding. Eek!

How did this happen, you ask. I'm not quite sure either. Big Daddy and I were talking about getting married one night and he told me to find out what we needed to do. The next day I called about the proper procedure and the next thing I knew, we had an appointment set with a judge, who would legally declare that we were entitled to half of each others belongings if we ever decided to go out separate ways. Whoa. What a head rush!

But we've been toying with the idea since before I found out that I was (again) knocked up out of wedlock. But we put it off because we both wanted be able to celebrate (i.e. get drunk) at the reception. So then we figured we would just wait until I was done with school and had a full time job that actually paid a little bit of something so we could afford everything that we "wanted." Well, it turns out that I'm probably looking at around 5 years of college before I'm finished. So our son would be in kindergarten before we got married.

After some debate and that one phone call to the Prothonotary's office, we decided it's now or never (well, now or 5 years). So in mid-May, we will walk into a courtroom, say a few lines to each other and a man that is wearing an outfit similar to a dress will pronounce us Mr. and Mrs. Big Daddy. And I'm completely fine with that. Neither of us practice a particular religion and at this point, I think my parents are too busy sighing their sighs of relief that I will never be returning to their nests to worry about me getting married in a church. They've chosen their battle wisely.

Which brings us to the most important step...THE RECEPTION. Ever since I was old enough to drink (well, okay so maybe I wasn't QUITE old enough), I have dreamt of my reception. I knew exactly what I wanted. I wanted a big, huge bash in my parent's backyard. Some of the details have changed over the years (open or cash bar, what kind of champagne to use for the toast and the most important...what kind of beer will I have in the kegs?) but I have always known that this would be the location. It's always been one of my homes and I couldn't imagine having as much fun anywhere else on this special day (plus, there are no cops. The closest State Police barracks is about 20 minutes away. Party on!).

Big Daddy and I have decided to host a casual backyard BBQ and pig roast (cuz what goes better with getting married than a slaughtered pig?). With just the first wave of invitations, we've invited close to 200 people. There had better be one gigantic hog at this roast. And we haven't even gotten to the rest of our invites. I think it may exceed previous party guest tallies by a long shot. Thank God it's outside.

Which brings me to my next conundrum. This shindig is outside. What if it rains? Normally I would say we'll just get a giant slip and slide and some whipped cream and recreate Woodstock (the one from the 60's, not the monstrosity from the 90's). But this is a classy affair. So I think we're going to have to rent a tent, just in case. It's an expense that we would rather avoid, but we want people to come to our wedding and enjoy themselves. The threat of rain will probably put a damper on this. So it looks like we're stuck paying at least $105 to rent a tent that probably won't be big enough for everyone so then we'll be forced to rent another one. And then it's an extra $100 if we want them to set it up and take it down. That's the biggest chunk of our wedding budget. And I hope that our guests remember their lawn chairs because it's going to be standing (or sitting) room only. If not, I hope they don't mind pulling up a big ol' piece of lawn to sit on because there is no way we can afford to rent chairs. But what else is a girl to do?

I guess I could consider this one...Poppi and the Great Redneck Hope (aka my parent's neighbor) have offered to "rig" something using the neighbor's gigantic camo-colored tarp, some rope and a few metal poles that are cemented in tires. Although I did appreciate the gesture, I had to politely decline.

I just kept picturing my wedding video: A backyard pig roast with the neighbor's broken down cars and washing machines in the backdrop, a giant camo tarp casting an ominous shadow over the entire event. Suddenly it starts raining and everyone heads for cover under said tarp. After about 5 minutes in the monsoon that has settled over my parent's house, you hear a creaking and groaning. The tarp struggles to hold the gallons and gallons of rain but it eventually succumbs to the weight, the metal poles snapping like twigs and sending the tires at the bases hurtling through the wedding cake. And then everything goes black. All you hear is the bride (me) shrieking that I can't find the children and Big Daddy wailing that the taps on the kegs have been snapped at the necks and they're spewing beer faster than he can drink it.

It would be plastered all over the evening news and then it would go viral. Daniel Tosh would see how many jokes he could make about it in 20 seconds. And then it would reach it's "peak" of popularity by being featured not only on Wedding Nightmares, but also on My Big Redneck Wedding.

Maybe $310 doesn't sound like all that much now that I think about it...

Prayers To The Clouse Family

Usually I try to keep my blogs semi-lighthearted with a splash of sarcasm, a twist of morals and then I top it off with a dash of lesson learned. Not tonight.

I am blogging to express my sorrow, sympathy and prayers to the Clouse family of Blaine, PA who lost seven of their eight children to a house fire this morning. This is an unimaginable tragedy that I cannot even begin to wrap my head around.

I always said that I didn't want to have kids. Then came Evel. He has been the motivation behind everything that has kept me out of trouble since I was 17 years old. And then I met Big Daddy and Tink and my family grew. And finally, we welcomed Nutt. Our family is now complete (minus the numerous stray animals that I want to adopt).

I could not fathom losing a single person from my family (imaginary dogs included), especially one of my children. I have found the people that I intend on spending the rest of my life with and I don't want that to change. Hell, I get butterflies at the thought of getting MORE time with Tink!

But to lose all but one of your children at one time? The thought alone makes me sick. Nutt was particularly obnoxious today but all I could think of is that in Blaine, a mother will never get to see SEVEN of her children again. Ever. They are gone. And my heart broke every single time.

So I hope that you all kiss your kids goodnight and hug them a little tighter when you lay them down to sleep tonight. Be thankful that you have them. Yes, they drive you crazy and get detention because they get caught with iPod touches in school or insist that you watch them do cartwheels (for an hour straight) or they cry because you leave the room (and leave them with that evil man that you call "Daddy")...but if you didn't sigh and roll your eyes (but watch them or pick them up) or ground them for a week, you wouldn't be a parent.

I doubt that Mrs. Clouse ever expected to go out to the barn and milk her cows and never see seven of her eight children again. I bet she was thinking about everything she had to do that night and I wonder if she thought about what to make for dinner the next day (like I often do). I don't think the thought of her house catching on fire ever crossed her mind (and I read that there were no smoke detectors. A complete OCD checkpoint for me). And then to not be able to get into your house to save your kids? I could not imagine. That poor mother. My heart breaks for her because I can only imagine what thoughts would be going through my head.

So the moral of this blog is that children are not something to be taken for granted. Any fool can make a baby, but it takes someone special to really be a parent. Be thankful for every second that you have with them. You never know when they'll be gone.

School Daze

In an attempt (a very vain attempt) to eliminate some clutter from my life, I started cleaning out my closet today. I made it though one box. This particular box just so happened to be a box that contained my entire high school life - notes that my BFF's had passed each other, old yearbooks and believe it or not, old report cards (that will be burned before Evel has the opportunity to see them and hold them over my head).

I looked through the stuff and thought back to how much I absolutely hated high school. There were very few things about it that I liked. I was just biding my time until I could graduate and become a grown up. If I knew then what I know now...

Surprisingly enough, when I think back to school, one of the only things that I liked were the teachers. And the teachers that really stick out in my memory were not the teachers that may have won the popularity vote. The teachers that I remember and that I am thankful that I had were the teachers that didn't just let kids slide by for the sake of passing them. They demanded more and they made me flex my brain for a change.

Mr. Kestner, for example. I remember him hovering over me in middle school keyboarding class, reminding me to keep my fingers on the home keys because it was far easier to type that way than to "hunt and peck." And I had his 9th grade Business Principles class with my little sister (three years my junior) because I wouldn't do my homework and instead of just passing me after the first two times I failed, he made me retake it until I finally did enough work to earn my grade.

And Mrs. Hagenbuch. I know there were a lot of kids that DID NOT like her. I know I got booted out of her classroom my fair share of times. But I also know that I can tell you the difference between Quartz and Calcite. And I can properly instruct my son on how to build a working model of our solar system out of paper mache, coat hangers and an old record player (okay, so it doesn't revolve QUITE like the real planets, but I got an A- on it).

Why do I look back and remember these teachers? Because they demanded that I give a damn about something other than myself. They held me accountable for not doing my best. I'm not saying the rest of my teachers were "bad" teachers, but these two are the teachers that I remember making me work for what I wanted and what I wanted was to get the hell out of school. When a lot of other teachers just seemed like they had given up and they didn't care about the students anymore (which is one of the reasons my children will never attend that school, along with the HORRIBLE administration turning a blind eye to the bullying that happens rampantly), these two teachers still had enough fight left in them to get mad. And that, they often did.

Why? Because their students didn't respect them (and I'm guilty of it, too). These kids talked back, threatened them and pushed them to their breaking points. You think you have a thankless job? Try being a teacher at my alma mater. What wasn't understood way back in 9th grade is that the only way you will get respect is if you give it. Yes, all of your teachers are making assumptions about you because you have never shown them otherwise. Only you can change someone's opinion about you.

I believe that is why our public school systems are failing our children. After you get treated badly for so long, you wind up broken. You lose your will to fight. And when teachers give up, the students eat them alive. And if they resist and try to demand respect and demand that kids do their best, the kids label them as a "mean" teacher and resolve to make their life a living hell. It's a vicious cycle. Maybe it's time to bring back the original "Board of Education" (a paddle for those that didn't get the pun) to get some kids in line.

And maybe it's time to cut the salaries of investment bankers that are ripping off their investors for millions and give some of that money to our teachers (rather than trying to bully through laws to take away their collective bargaining powers that will eventually screw them out of benefits and pay raises). Maybe then there would be some incentive for them to remain motivated on educating the future of our country.

Or maybe it's simpler than that. Maybe parents should teach their children respect. The reason that schools are no longer allowed to paddle your children is because the parents are the ones that complained and wanted to be the only people that disciplined their kids. Maybe your discipline isn't working. For your child to go to school and cuss out a teacher is unacceptable I myself am guilty of that also (not proud, but guilty) and if any of my children ever do it, they will not know what the word "ungrounded" means until they reach legal adulthood.

Maybe, just maybe, we need to look at the big picture before we point fingers at the teachers and blame them for failing our children. Just remember, every time you point a finger, you have 3 pointing right back at you.

The House That Built Me. (I Love You Nana S.)

"I bet you didn't know, under that live Cosmo, my favorite cat is buried in the flower bed?" Maybe it will be a hit.

Probably not but I am really trying to cope with losing my Nana S. Oh she's not gone yet, but we're slowly losing her. I feel like someone is reaching into my chest and slowly squeezing my heart until I can't breathe anymore. She was so much like a mom to me for so many years. And she kept Evel for so long that he didn't want to leave when it was time to go home (which was a repeat of my childhood). It's not that I wanted to leave him there....it's that she DIDN'T WANT TO GIVE HIM BACK!

But now I have to go to a nursing home and see Nana. And she calls me Sheryl. Every time she speaks to me, I am Sheryl (*my mom, btw). She knows Evel and she remembers sending him to get snacks out of the vending machine at the local apartment complex, but she associates me with my mother (yeah, freaking scary on so many levels) and yells at me for dying my hair dark (my natural color). She is currently living my nightmare.

Nana has Alzheimer's. This is my nightmare because I watched Pappy S lose every bit of remembrance he had of everything that he held dear (and he called me Sheryl EVERY TIME he saw me). The man that was there for me just as much as my dad was (I had a very screwed up childhood, don't ask) just kind of faded into that old guy in the chair in the corner. He was there, but he wasn't. No one really paid attention to him (without my Aunt's occasional accusation of him smelling like Limburger cheese because he didn't bathe properly). I tried to see him, but it was easier just to ignore everything that was happening. I am still angry with myself for it.

So Pappy went into a "home" because Nana couldn't take care of him (and she really couldn't. She's the most stubborn woman that I've ever met and she just couldn't do it at her age). And we went to see Pappy on holidays. And birthdays. The times that we had to see him. And I wish that I would have seen him more but I didn't. He died a few days before my sister's birthday and we went through the funeral, which tore the family that I knew into pieces. It's hard to watch a Nana that you love argue with an Aunt (K) that you love and not be able to do anything but witness the demise of a step-mother/daughter relationship go to shit because Pappy didn't know any better while he was alive.

So now we're on the same frontier. Nana is half batty. She knows but she doesn't. There's a slight recollection of the people that are around but she really doesn't know the extent of why she is where she is and that she will never go home (which is not my doing and I believe that she should be told this fact. Anyone ever seen Fried Green Tomatoes??). She has a house but Crazy Aunt Sis is in no shape to keep her there safely and prevent any kind of accidents that may happen. So what does that mean for Nana?

That means that Medicare will only cover 100 days in the nursing home where she is currently shacking up. So her 100 days are almost up. That means that Uncle B and my Mama are going to have to start selling off Nana's assets to keep her in this place (I would call it a hellhole, but it's really not that bad, even though her roommate plays with dolls). This is what is really ripping my heart out.

For whatever reason, I've always pictured myself living in my Nana's house. I hate the school district and I would never subject any of my children to that hell, but I just thought that we would have a happy little family in the house that I grew up in and my kids would love everything that I loved as a kid.

I remember when Nana and Pappy added the addition onto the house. I slid down a hundred rock piles and helped haul stone in my little, red wheel-barrow while everyone built up the dreams of my grandparents. I wanted to join in everything that helped to create the life that they were building for all of us. And I did...

But now, I feel like it's all slipping away. And it fucking hurts. A lot.

I love my parents, but Nana was there for me through everything. She is my rock. She's the one that has always given me advice when I needed it and now she has no idea who I am. I am my mother according to her. I think not.

And I know what "starting to sell her assets" means. It means that the home that I loved and wanted to raised my children is will be gone soon. I'll have to sit and watch someone auction it off or watch people vie for the best price when they have no idea about the sentimental value that is attached to that house.

To whoever gets the house, Christie (the cat) is buried in the flower bed in the front yard. I would like to transport her before you buy the house, just so I know he remains will be taken care of in the future. There is a Paw-Paw tree somewhere in the backyard. I don't know exactly where that is either (or what the hell a Paw-Paw is), but Nana did. It's worth asking her about if she still remembers. She also cut down 2 cherry trees, a pear tree and an apple tree. I'm sorry that you missed out on the wonderful pies that were made from the fruit of those trees.

Basically what I am saying to whoever buys the "house that built me" is that you should be thankful. Thank your lucky fucking stars that you are buying a house that has given me all of the happiness that I can remember when I was a child. Yes, I was divided between my parent's house and my Nana's house, but Nana's always won. I would see Mama or Poppi and I was ready to stay with Nana for another week or two. I always came back. I would cry NOT TO leave. This house was my life.

So all I am asking is that you love it the same as I did. Love the awful mint green walls in the living room because my Nana wanted it and she never knew the word "compromise" (not sure where I get that from...). Love the fact that Nana never hooked up the water in the tub in the "master bathroom" because it was unnecessary because there was running water in the other bathroom. Love the fact that you will have feral cats skanking around your house because my Nana used to feed them. She cared for all of God's creatures (including the possum and the skunk that I used to pet as a child) and so should you.

If you can't do these few little things, then you don't deserve her home. It's not a HOUSE that, it's a friggin HOME. And it was our home. And about 80% of the happiness that I remember as a child was experienced in this HOME. It's hard to fathom losing the love that I experienced from Nana and Pappy and the house being sold will be the final nail in my coffin. The thought makes me sick.

So again to the person that buys this home, if one day I show up on the front porch in tears, please mind me (sorry, no sarcasm on this post, just complete realization and absolute shock since I've recovered from the denial). I am simply there for a memory. I want to collect as many as possible before it becomes a foreign territory. Sometimes I think that I can just wrap myself up in the horrid green carpet and be safe forever. But I'm not stupid. The only thing that would do is suffocate me. I need to gasp for air and try to get on with my life.

Easier said than done. Whoever said "It is better to have loved than lost than to never have love at all" should be punched in the throat. That really do not know what love is.

Never Say Never

I really try not to post songs and lyrics and all that jazz, but I really love this one. It speaks very loudly to me.

Never Say Never by The Fray

Some things we don't talk about
Rather do without and just hold the smile
Falling in and out of love
Ashamed and proud of, together all the while

You can never say never
While we don't know when
But time and time again
Younger now than we were before

Don't let me go
Don't let me go
Don't let me go

Don't let me go
Don't let me go
Don't let me go

Picture, you're the queen of everything
Far as the eye can see under your command
I will be your guardian when all is crumbling
I'll steady your hand

You can never say never
While we don't know when
But time, time and time again
Younger now than we were before

Don't let me go
Don't let me go
Don't let me go

Don't let me go
Don't let me go
Don't let me go

We're pulling apart and coming
Together again and again
We're growing apart but we pull it together
Pull it together, together again

Don't let me go
Don't let me go
Don't let me go

Don't let me go
Don't let me go
Don't let me go

Don't let me go
Don't let me go
Don't let me go

Don't let me go
Don't let me go
Don't let me go