The Write Woman wants to know What's Wrong with this Picture? (325 Days Left)

Now that I work out at a gym, I have access to television and hear all the hubbub going on around the world. All the news is disturbing, and I’m not just talking about the war, I’m talking about the stuff we bring on ourselves like this drink on the market called Legal. First of all, no one’s number one fruit choice for a drink is pomegranate. Secondly, aside from adding marijuana to it, the yeast included causes the containers to blow up to the point the servers wear protective gear in order to distribute the beverage. If they didn't, they could lose an eye. I'm not sure how that would work in a courtroom with the drink's name being Legal. Would the prosecuting attorney claim the victim lost an eye by legal means?

I also saw an interesting commercial for a law firm by the name of Murphy. Correct me if I'm wrong, but asking help from Murphy's Law seems a bit like you're searching for trouble, doesn't it?

Then reality shows certainly are making an all-inclusive hit on the market. Nail’d It is a show about girls that do nails. Really, are we so bored with our life that sitting in a chair every two weeks, getting our own nails done for forty minutes, isn’t enough and now we watch a show about it? Please! And what about Snapped? The show about women that have just had too much and finally set up maniacal plans to erase the people they blame for making them miserable. I think if you really want to get rid of someone, put them in front of the television for a Snapped marathon and a six-pack of Legal—problem solved. (If that doesn’t tip the scales, add an extra hour of Nail’d It.) 

Enough stuff about 101 ways to kill ourselves with misery, what are we gonna do about it? I’m doing my part in an effort to beautify the world, one piece at a time. I’ve been working out every day for six days and counting. Although it’s hardly long enough to make a huge difference, I can wear my rings now. I have three bands I wear on my left ring finger with my kids and my names on them. Cameron’s name is interrupted with x’s, Nikki’s with o’s, and mine in the middle with <3’s. It’s the most important jewelry I could wear. Glad I’m losing weight.

School is tough and work is awesome. When I took a series of photos of Cameron, because he doesn’t have any, Jen said she wanted me to enter a photo contest for the cover. The prize is $500, so that would be nice. As Cameron escorted me back to the car, he said something I’ve always longed to hear. He said, “It’s hard to believe you’re getting paid for having fun!” I almost feel guilty—but I’ll get over it. Meanwhile, I'm willing to take your photos for Christmas at JcPenney--make an appointment!

What's that? You noticed I said, "School is tough?" Okay, it's sort of not true. You know when you go to dinner and it's the most perfect restaurant, with the most perfect ambiance and an incredible date--when suddenly, your server shows up. Her kid is sicker than hell and she feels compelled to fill you in on all the details of her miserable life, breaking down in tears. Sort of puts a damper on the evening, doesn't it?  Same affect. Terrific class with a great instructor, got the most compelling storyline to work with, and a real "go-getter" for a project manager. Then we get one member who doesn't show up for the initial meeting, when the plans are being set, but shows up yesterday (the outline is due today) and decides to take over, wasting nearly forty-five minutes of the other four members' time. Add that up and it's three hours of time wasted! Same thing as the waste of money on a crummy dinner. But all this talk about food is making me hungry, so I'll change the subject.

Sometimes when I come home from working out, my kids are so supportive they’ll do anything to make it easier for me. Nikki was so impressed with my progress she offered to massage my caboose after 1.5 hours on the max glut setting. Wow! I sure hope this one pays off. In high school I was nicknamed Bubbles and I thought it was because of my sparkling and upbeat personality, but according to some it was due to my derriere. While round is good, my bubbles have become an out-of-control dirigible filling my pants ‘til the seams beg for mercy. I’m fighting for control. 

Meanwhile, when my daughter rose from bed declaring she must wear sleeves so her friends will continue to play with her, I was alarmed. "That's silly," I said, marking that she refuses to wear sleeveless shirts anyway. "It's true," she replied, "If my friends were to see my huge muscles they'd be intimidated and no one would play with me." I asked her if I could take a picture to show the world how unfair life can be for those who are fit. She agreed to pose.

Hey, I’ve got a question for you before you go. When you have a star who’s a good guy in a movie, does it upset you when he dies? G.I. Joe’s Duke, known as Channing Tatum, dies in the first quarter of the movie and I was devastated. But then in Get Smart, the director has Dwayne Johnson turn out to be the bad guy. That really pissed me off--sort of like finding out Santa Claus is Uncle Sam, giving one minute and taking it back the next. Are there any movies you’ve seen with actors you favor playing parts you don’t appreciate? Does it impact your opinion of the director’s upcoming movies?

The Write Woman under a Blood Red Moon with 330 Days Left

The moon at 4:30 a.m. in Utah

This morning marked the first of a few things for me; I saw my first blood moon, worked out, and discovered a portion of my body I'd long since forgotten. As far as the first thing, I took a photo to share with you. This time the moon is 5.3% larger than it appeared in April. The red color sort of washed out a bit in the picture, but since my other computer is out, I don’t have the potential of enhancing it. Still, I got up at 4 a.m. to take a bunch of pictures to share. Unreal!

Anyone who has seen my photo thinks of me as a smaller built individual, and in my twenties the rest of my body matched my head. As you can see from the photo, despite my worn-out vanity of my younger years time, stress, and the accident have taken their toll on this body. And I hate to say it—UGH! My body has outgrown my itty-bitty head! I’m certainly not boasting to put this out there on the web, but doing so will ensure my follow through and help others who aren’t quite as daring to do the same—not lose weight in particular, but find something they don’t appreciate about themselves and change it, a little bit at a time. When I went to the hospital about a month ago, I weighed 199 lbs. Personally, I think I was 200 and the nurse saw the horror spread across my face, shaving off a pound. But that was before.

I went to the gym the first time and felt as if I was walking onto the set of The Jetsons. No one told me the bicycles, stair-steppers, and ecliptic cycles have television screens built in and you get to choose your own channel. Do you have any idea what this means? Don’t forget, I haven't had television service at my house in over three years. Now I can stay up-to-date on current events. 

In fact, one of the horrors of Halloween came to light early this year when it’s discovered that drugs are not only distributed at high schools and junior highs, but a woman in Delaware was arrested because her four-year-old was distributing heroin to her preschool buddies at Hickory Tree Preschool. I don’t know if authorities found out because one of the friends told a teacher, or because perhaps one of them was trying to fly off the monkey bars to escape a pterodactyl. I can tell you I’m glad we’re not trick-or-treating in that neighborhood. But this incident is not the only preschool drug bust.

Speaking of Halloween and the unspeakable, I came to a conclusion this morning about the way my life is turning. By the time I got home from the gym,

spoke to Cameron a bit, and then jumped into the shower, my muscles had begun to tighten and I was beginning the feel the impending burn. 

Attitude is Everything

While rinsing off, something unexplainable and unexpected happened. I’m not talking about how many times kids scream, "This is amazing!" in Disney and Pixar movies, I’m talking about a real life extraordinary experience. Are you ready? I got turned on—just from running water. I haven’t looked it up online yet, but I’m curious as to how the mechanics of a body, the dopamine or whatever, get worked up by working out and transfer into a sexual energy. In case you aren’t getting the full impact of this, I have been happily celibate for years upon years, not even interested, let alone curious about getting a partner. Don’t get your waistband under your chin, I’m not looking to book a chapel and drag anyone to the alter, but a few of the cobwebs have blown away. That’s all I’m saying. By the time any mechanics climb under this chaise, I plan on appearing like a new piece of sleek equipment, not a hay baler. I want confidence!

The other goal I have is to be on a payroll of $200,000 a year. Last month, I was unemployed. How likely do you believe it is for someone to gain this income and lose sixty pounds at the same time? I guess we’ll find out, won’t we? If you want to know if it can be done, I suggest you stay tuned for the big reveal (in 330 days).

The Write Woman Brushes her Dead Self Off (With 331 Days Left)

Okay, so just because someone calls herself a writer doesn’t mean she doesn’t listen too. On the way home from gathering nutritious donuts and milk for breakfast, the radio stated that Nick Hogan, Hulk Hogan’s son, is in the news because he submitted his password and pin to hackers and then has his naked picture all over the web because some scathed girls had it in for him. He claims he was only sixteen, but what in the hell is a sixteen year old doing showing his junk to little girls? I think it’s a pathetic lie; he isn’t sixteen. Nick is probably twenty-one and his parts haven’t grown up. I’m surprised he didn’t claim he was fourteen or twelve, hitting it.

 

Katie Perry is awesome! She said she’d be honored to play at the Super Bowl as long as they didn’t charge her to play. What is this saying, America? In case you can’t figure it out for yourself, it’s saying that we’ll be lucky to have Pizza Underground perform. On the bright side, it’s the perfect time to use the restroom in those long lines during the game. It isn’t like you’re missing much, but you’re still paying for it.

Now, let’s talk about me. I got my nails done, I got my gym membership that happened to be on their anniversary letting me start for $1! All for my job in the line of work. At least it’s a good excuse to do something positive and the gym is open 24/7, so I can go in the middle of the night if I can’t sleep, which is often.

What else is new? We’re trying to figure out what we should do this weekend for Family Time, since we can have two a month with my job. We’re talking about a corn maze, a movie, or going to the Heber Creeper, a local train that has theme-oriented tours. If you have any helpful advice, it would be great since we’ve not done anything for years.

Plus, this is totally weird—I found my journal from 1992 –1994, some of the time missing from my memory that happened just before the whole Prozac thing. I was affected by two kinds, anterograde and retrograde amnesia. It’s weird reading it because even after doing so, I can’t remember. So it’s like reading the journal of a stranger. I wish I could have been my own best friend and given some sound advice because that girl was tripping, even though it’s evident she was trying her best to do the right thing. For example, when her boyfriend wanted to move in with her she told him she couldn’t because she was taking care of her little brother. She tried to help her sister too, but that fell through, leaving her flat and bewildered. I feel compelled to write my old self as another person because, like I said, she practically is. Some day I may figure out a way to write a movie about it after all—maybe a movie about the current me going back in time to help the past me. Naw, I’m sure that’s been done to death, besides all the movies I've seen depicting amnesia are way off base. For example, in Memento how in the world would Guy Pierce know he reads the Bible religiously if he can't remember anything? Frustrating to me.  I suppose I’ll just enjoy the real life version. I just hope it’s a happy ending!

The Write Woman takes a Shot in the Dark (333--is half of 666--Days to Go)

Why do people WANT to be normal?

Let me explain the difference between myself and normal people, I don’t keep a calendar readily available. I have had no reason to keep track of days – I certainly don’t date or do anything for entertainment. The dates I do keep track of are the dates of child support and food stamps. How lame is that? When someone says, “Parent/Teacher conference is scheduled for the sixth,” I remember by realizing it’s the day after we get food. Isn’t that sad? To become a success, one should obviously keep the mental attitude positive by ignoring the negative things. But how can you do that when your choice is remembering negative or remembering nothing? Guess that’s why there are so many drug addicts and alcoholics roaming around. Soon I won't need to worry about governmental assistance at all--yeah!

Zack is a smart and intuitive boy.

I watched a movie last night entitled Little Red Wagon, written by Patrick Sheane Duncan, that conjured up a lot of horrific memories, but made me realize that homelessness is not all that rare. It could have been written a lot more clearly than it was, however. At the end, the closest the writer came to reconvening the single mothers was by having the homeless boy receive a Zach Pack from the helpful boy. But the focus wasn't on the heroics of the boy, as much as the hardships of his family. The film steered away from whom he was helping too often. And my first opinion of his mother, the real estate agent, was not a good one. When she met the soon-to-be homeless mother, whose husband had recently died and she had to move, the hero’s mother seemed aloof and callous. It tainted her for the rest of the movie. The layout was all about the boy’s mother and her relationship with her kids, using the homeless family's story as a filler.

Nikki will only sing and dance privately. No public shows!

Nikki is watching—you guessed it—Mama Mia, again. She says, “Sam is hot, even if he needs a pill to be married,” of Pierce Brosnan. I’m not going to take the time to explain this. In the offscreen shots Amanda Seigfried got a boo-boo and the hospital refused to see her, she asked the onsite nurse if she could have leprosy. Inquiring minds want to know, right? When Nikki asked me what leprosy was, I explained. “Oh, is that where leprechauns come from?” she asked. At Cameron’s game, Dave gave Nikki five dollars for a back scratch. For the amount of time she spent, she’d be rich if she did that for an hour. But she’s decided to purchase the movie from Amazon with it. She’ll care for that movie!

The perfect one-night stand

Oh, so now I have a new dilemma. I found out yesterday I am short almost $15,000 to graduate on my birthday next year, with about a month to do my rain dance. My mind is extremely Don’t send money, I want to earn it myself. But if you come across any writing contests of scholarships for single mothers surviving amnesia and homelessness, let me in on it. Please do NOT submit ideas for medical studies—no way! My life is still trying to recover from the last “medical miracle” of Prozac, some twenty-five years ago. 

Last night Broomhilda and Baby Huey were stirring a ruckus a bit after midnight and going back to sleep was damned near out of the question. Still I woke up again at 3:00 a.m., so I worked on Vermillion Beech some more. I figure that may be a way to earn some cash—a long shot, but a shot in the dark is gonna hit something! I’ll just cross my fingers I don’t shoot myself in the foot.

The Write Woman Sees the Goodness (334 Days)

Yesterday was crammed tight with a hundred things to do within a fifth of the hours, without a sign of food coming in. (Refer to Facebook site to vote here: Should The Write Woman divide the available food, or abstain so the kids can have more?) Here's the pizza we created last night with pita bread, cheese, spaghetti sauce, jalapenos and spices. Yummy, right?

When you wake up early in the morning to get a start on your day and still can’t figure out a way to fit it all in, what can you do? Like most people addicted to something whether drugs, alcohol, shopping, or controlling everything is their sickness, the only way to curb the illness is one day at a time. Honestly, I am unaware of what my disease is, but I must have one. Oh, I chew my nails, sometimes ‘til they bleed. That has to be an ailment. When I’m not frazzled I can grow beautiful nails, but then I usually have artificial ones. Even if I afforded acrylic nails now, I’d chew and pick them off because of stress. But if I could divert my tension to working out, the whole puzzle would come together.

So I went to work at the studio and I love it, just like I do every day. I shared with my co-workers the theme I would use to get me through the grumpies is I’m the Fairy Godmother, helping with a kind smile to get patrons through the short time we spend together. I wonder if Cinderella’s Fair Godmother ever had to help someone she didn’t like, or if she had no one to answer to. If she did have to help some crabby troll, she probably grinned from ear to ear. Anyone who has seen Shrek 2 can attest to Fairy Godmother being a real bitch, but that’s not me—at least at work.

Ricky and Jen from JcPenney's LifeTouch Photography

I talked my new co-workers into having their picture taken. Looking at them, you’d want to gobble them up, right?  These are my co-working photography friends Ricky and my ever-cheerful supervisor Jen. The photographer who does the most business this year gets a bonus. This could be my key to the last bit needed for school. I’m psyched!

Oh my God! If you live in an apartment with not-so-good insulation let me say I feel for you. People that have intercourse in them should have designated times so I don’t have to hear it. Baby Huey is going it at like a greyhound chasing a rabbit right now. I can only hope he only goes around the track once before catching it. Yep, there it is! The crowd goes wild! You especially don’t want to live in an apartment if you’re dating and have some single old maid living under you, unless you enjoy exhibitionism. She’ll hear every creak, roll, sigh, gasp, scream, and “oh shit!”

Ready for take-off!

Last night Nikki called Cameron, at his dad’s, to ask if she could sleep in his bed instead of sleeping with me. She was so enthusiastic all I could do was go along with it. Needless to say I was awakened early in the morning with a long and lean little girl snuggling up against me whispering her brother’s room is haunted. My eyes popped open. “Haunted? Why do you say that?” I asked. She candidly expressed the clock waited until she was asleep to tick loudly enough to wake her up. I tickled her back until she went to sleep.

Naked on a chilly leather couch -- YIKES!

Because Cameron is gone this morning, I’m doing my work naked with dye in my hair. Nikki strolls in, shimmying her shoulders, naked and smiling. “We’re twins!” Perhaps we need to revert back to Sesame Street and discuss the same and different. But she’s got the television on watching her favorite movie, Mama Mia, which she enjoys turning up to belt along. At seven a.m., with such a thin floor, I made her turn it down a few decibels. Unfortunately when the refrigerator runs the television is inaudible, so she stands directly in front of it singing loudly. Sorry, but I refuse to squelch it. Guess if the neighbors don’t like it, they’ll need to fire the pistols and restart the race.

Deon, Stan, and Sam--the humblest of knights

On our way to the library to post a few minutes ago, I saw the two best friends of a writer (besides a computer) off to the side of the road—a filing cabinet and a huge bookshelf—for FREE! The problem to solve is I drive a little Toyota Yaris. Not a lot of trunk room, but I was determined (or stupid), because I started walking the filing cabinet to my car. The guys standing around the moving van saw me and came over to help. One of them laughed, “You’re not going to get those in that trunk.” Guess what? They were just leaving and with my house being only a few blocks away, they said they’d deliver it for me. Coincidentally, there was exactly enough room for both of them at the rear of the truck and they were leaving now. They were a little shy when I asked to take their picture for my blog, but happier when I told them how I wanted to share with the world how Deon (left), Stan (middle), and  Sam (right) stopped what they were doing to help me. Sure hope he enjoys setting up in Herriman, Utah. See? CONCLUSION: There’s still goodness left in the world. 

Fate Toys with The Write Woman (336 Days and Counting)

Pasta, rice, and bread. Filling, but fattening, foods that stretch.

Remember yesterday when I borrowed fifteen dollars from my rent for milk and cheese staples, planning on getting us through ‘til next week? I made these totally scrumptious cinnamon rolls to die for, without a recipe and only six ingredients. But once you get the whole biscuit recipe essentials down you can make sweet rolls, biscuits, dumplings, pizza dough—a lot of stuff. And with the full bag of flour in the pantry, I figured we’d be okay for a while.

Broomhilda is not the cleanest tenant on the block apparently. Although we have separate water heaters (hers is new and holds more than ten minutes of hot water), her clothes washer and dryer are on the opposite side of the wall in the basement and I’m fairly sure her machine uses it. When I’m washing dishes or showering, our supply trickles when her machine goes on.

I already told you what happened a couple of years ago when she flooded the basement and refused to turn her washing machine off, right? It is my belief that before she makes Lassie for dinner, she tosses her into the washing machine to ensure she’s clean, clogging the plumbing. In the kitchen, peering down both sink drains, the water is visible. In the shower, the tub begins to fill. However with only ten minutes of hot water, there’s little worry about it flooding. She and her Baby Huey son were up late last night, over my bedroom, squabbling. When someone screams two decibels lower than a dog can hear, but you can’t understand what they’re saying, it’s even more frustrating.

Think hard enough for the tastebuds

To sleep, I focus on the white paper above my bed on the ceiling (the one I can’t really read without my glasses). I know what it says. Relaxing my muscles, breathing slowly, closing my eyes and imagining I’m sleeping in my new house. The windows are open and a gentle breeze causes the curtains to ebb and flow, filling my lungs with fresh mountain air, even sending a chill through the room. I imagined my barbecue grill wasn’t in my storage unit, but was on the rear deck, under my window, grilling shish-kabobs, and I was taking a nap—just like the past. With the lullaby music coming from my computer in Cameron’s room, I managed to mentally drown out the dogfight from upstairs between Broomhilda and Baby Huey.

I woke up early this morning and grabbed my bag of flour out of the pantry. It was still full. I should have enough for our Friday pizza, biscuits this morning, sweet rolls tomorrow morning, and if I held my breath really tight, I might squeeze out a day or two for next week. Gathering all the ingredients and placing them on our bistro table, I set to work. I open the flour to discover it is infested with weevils.

What are we going to do now, Fate? In this match of chess you may feel a checkmate coming on, but don’t get overconfident—not yet. When I spent a few dollars purchasing a couple of black blouses for the library job, it was perfect for the photography position I have now with the requirement of wearing black. So go ahead, Fate, make your move. I’m not finished with you yet.

No checkmate, yet, bitch!

The Write Woman Becomes the Mean Mommy (337 to become a pro writer)

The morning was brilliant! I got up happy, in spite of the fact I am $134.04 in the hole, rent is due and I have a check that won’t cover it entirely. I just felt as if something good was on the horizon, and usually when I feel like that, I’m right. Silly me, I figured Office of RecoveryServices would be granting me child support and everything would be right as rain.

Nikki got up and ran into the living room, jumped up on me and gave me a kiss. What a terrific sign, as this is highly unusual. But when she refused to brush her teeth I didn’t do what I normally do and let her go to school with yucky breath. Instead I explained she would need to brush them regardless of how late she was, but if she hurried, she’ll still have time. Of course this was before her fifteen-minute fit of screaming, yelling, stomping, and insisting her being late was my fault. This was new territory for us because I have always given in, but not this time.

"Stop it!"

 Tooth and nail, Nikki fought until I heard the water flash on and off with her pouting face telling me she was done. That is, until I told her to come close so I could smell her breath. “WHY?” she bellowed before stomping off and running the water longer this time. I deliberately didn’t ask to smell her breath this time, seeing there was less than five minutes before the tardy bell rang. “Cameron will take you to school,” I said without looking up. He quickly put his jacket on and such is the beginning of Round 2.

“No,” she proclaimed, “He’s not taking me. You are.” When I gingerly revealed he was doing her a favor and if she didn’t like it she could walk by herself, she screamed high, long, and loud with her hands clenched at her sides and her mouth open so far she almost swallowed herself. “Then I’m notgoing,” she said, giving me the eye stating she would meet me at high noon. I ignored her.

"You're mean!"

Ten minutes later, still standing as if time had frozen, I looked at her. “Yes?” I asked surprisingly calm. She repeated, “I’m not going.” I casually picked up the phone, left a message to the school she wouldn’t be coming today, and hung up. Her eyes grew unbelievably large and her lower jaw could’ve been a dustpan.

“Your brother and I are going to the library to do our studies. You are not to watch television or do anything other than use the restroom, lie in bed, or read.” When she agreed to that, I decided I was letting her off too easy. “One more thing,” I said as I walked through the house grabbing a pad of paper and a pencil. I wrote, “If I were the Mom” at the top. I explained to her she will need to write how she would feel if she was the mom and had a daughter behaving as she had. When I returned home a while later, this is what I received with four detailed pictures:

Ah ha! Two whole months of no computer? Gotta see this!

“If I were the mom I would make her go to school when her teeth weren’t brushed. I would also make her go by herself. In addition to that I would make her late for school. I would make her read instead of playing on the computer at the library for 2 months. I would send a pretend docter’s note so she couldn’t go outside to play with her friends, she would have to read instead of playing the board games at school.”

At the library, I wish my camera had been with me in the bathroom again. A mother had her infant in the handicapped/baby bathroom and a little boy about three years old was running around playing with the automatic hand dryer. I tried to hurry because the automatic flush releases at the most inconvenient times and scares the hell out of me. As I was preparing to “clean up,” a little head popped under the door. “Hello,” he said and waved. “Um, you don’t belong here,” I said, “Can you go out?”

Don't you just hate uninvited guests?

“Talbot!” the mother called loudly, startling the baby who blared loudly, echoing in the bathroom. You know, I’m really becoming quite frightened of the library’s bathroom.

"I washed my hands! Uh, chocolate? What chocolate?"

When I got home, I felt the television and DVD player to ensure they were not warm, therefore unused. “Mommy, is that you?” I heard my daughter call out over running water in the restroom sink. “I had to wash my hands,” she said smiling, but I’m aware if my kids wash their hands without being told, something is up. 

"I was good the whole time, but I'll never do that again."

That’s when she stepped into the light and I saw the chocolate frosting surrounding her mouth like icing on a doughnut.

What can I say? She’s her mother’s daughter, but she did an almost perfect job in listening.

Meanwhile, ORS did not pull through, but my bank hasn’t charged me an overdraft fee yet, so maybe it’ll post tomorrow? My landlord said that since I’d paid the vast majority of the rent, and would have the rest within about a week, he wouldn’t charge me a late fee. So that was a huge relief.  Where is PCH when you need them?

Still, I can't wait 'til tomorrow...