Armed with Cheesecake and Vodka, World Watch Out, I'm Back!

  Not even 6:00am and she had already produced so much sweat, and so thick that when she scratched her arm, flakes would fall off. The day was proving to be a record breaker. She was looking forward to working inside with the air conditioning.  She still had about an hours worth of digging ahead of her.  She took off her hat and used the arm of her shirt to wipe the sweat off of her forehead.  Instant burning of the eyes, she winced and cussed under her breath.  Her hat fell to the ground as she took her water bottle and squirted the water in her eyes full force for instant relief.  She wasn't even thinking of the tiny granules getting into her eyes, she made sure not to rub her eyes, she just kept blinking til she felt relief. Wiping the water off of her face, she knelt down and picked up her hat and got back to work.  Her long hair was pulled back into a ponytail and her bangs stuck to her face.  She was sure she looked like a million bucks....

  Her entire body had already produced a layer of sweat so thick that when she scratched her arm, flakes would fall off.  The day was going to be a hot one, the sun already beating down, was getting higher and higher in the sky.  It was almost 7:00 am, traffic hasn't really started and she had about another hour of digging before she could relax in the air conditioning of the truck.  She took off her hat and used the arm of her shirt to wipe the sweat off of her forehead.  The sweat still penetrated her eyes, and it stung like hell.  She took her water bottle and squirted the water in her eyes.  It helped and the sting lessened enough for her to throw the bottle to the side and continued digging.  She had one bottle of water left so she needed to be quick and use the rest sparingly.  She was hoping for those breezes of wind, that while blowing over her sweaty skin, it would cool her off at least by ten degrees.  The breezes for today had...

 I have had this idea to walk the trail ever since my husband died.  Throughout this year, the idea has been haunting me.   Every week I have done research and read up and I think I am going to do it. I am going to walk the Pacific Crest Trail in 2025 I am going to walk 2650 miles I have over a year and a half to prepare I have 21 months to prepare I have 104 weeks (ish) to prepare I figure putting 30.00 a week away will fund my travel (3120)

 It was a pleasant day, perfect warm weather, no humidity in the air and no mosquitos. I thought it would be the perfect day to take out the electric bike and go to the store.   It took a bit to get ready, had to make sure I had everything needed in my backpack and the bike was charged up along with my phone.   I took the bike, started it up and was driving out of the little cul d sac we have.  I looked towards my right and saw this thing flying.  It wasn't a bird, but it wasn't a bee either.  It seems to keep up with the speed I was going as if it was racing me.  I swear when I made eye contact with the creature it made a whoo whoo noise like it was reving up its body so it would beat me.  I still hadn't figured out what this creature was.  It was a long beige wormish looking thing and I couldnt see a head.  It was scary looking and I started to panic.  I started to slow down the bike thinking that thing would just fly pa...

 I haven't really described the cleaner herself.  Not sure how I want her to be perceived. This is just the first draft of me writing from the cuff.  It does need more meat and when I compare the two I will be able to notice the slight changes as well as major contributions.

  The beeping continued, for hours, as I held her hand.  I didn't have much to say, I didn't know what to say.  The person that raised me was dying and I had not a word.  She didn't know I was there, or who I was for that matter. I just sat there, thinking.  Thinking of times that we had together that were good times.  I know she thinks of those often and chose to forget the bad times. However, the bad outweighed the good, and I didn't understand how she could not remember those times when she did have her wits to her.    I could have flown to her, to be with her longer, but I didn't want to.  It was uncomfortable for me to be there.  I took my time driving cross country, thinking of childhood memories. You know the ones, the memories of running away for the first time, or when your mother told you that you can only call her yes, mother, no mother.  Momma, mommy, mom wasn't in the vocabulary.  Or what about those memories ...

As for me, sounds like my "back to work" date is less than a month away.  I work with the public and wear a uniform.  I serve people food and work for tips basically.  I get along with mostly all of the staff, I'm very easy to enjoy, and I like most people, until they open their mouth, most of the time.  Sometimes these teeny boppers think that the words that come out of their mouth is intellectual property.  I usually listen to them, with open ears, that is until they use more curse words than normal and there isn't a reason for it.  Especially when they do it in front of their boss.  I curse, and my friends curse, but there is a place and time for it.  Anyways.... I have been getting ready to take charge of my job now, so that it isn't such a shock to my system when I actually have to get up prior to 11:00 am!  I have been setting my alarm for 8:00 am every day.  Since my job is open seven days a week, I don't really know the day o...

I often look back on my childhood, or rather, lack there of.  I'm not bitter, not by any means.  I wouldn't be the person I am today had I not gone though the trials and tribulations of teenage angst mixed with volatile alcoholic behavior.  My mother, not me.  I wouldn't know how to survive on my own, on the streets or be able to function day to day adult responsibilities at the age of 16.  While other teenagers my age were getting ready for Homecoming and who would claim their virginity that night, or what type of slutty kitten they were going to be for Halloween, I was figuring out hows to balance high school tennis, Drama production of Our Town and still work enough in order to be able to afford my weekly rent.  It was only sixty dollars a week, to live in a boarding rook type hotel, that was above the Bowery Theater on Third and Elm Street, downtown San Diego.  It consisted of a single room with a sink, and a bathroom down the hall which was to be...

Today was just an okay day.  When I sit down and allow myself the chance to think, it can be a bad thing. Some days are just  not meant for thinking.  Today was one of those days.  I really needed to feel the water near me.  The intense strength of the waves and knowing what the ocean is capable of, usually puts me in my place.  The beach is a place where I had always felt welcome and safe.  When I lived in San Diego and would run away from home, I would always, always run towards the water.  Even when I was grown up and would run away from relationships or when I didn't want to look at the mirror and see a person that I didn't like, looking back at me, the beach was where I would go.  it was my thing I suppose.  When I would get to the beach, I would put on my headphones and play whatever cassette I had.  I would bring extra batteries and just sit in the sand for hours and listen to music while thinking.  I started thi...

Being back in the restaurant profession has reminded me of the funny stories that we all have collected. Today, as I was whining under my breath of no one delivering food, I was reminded of this story: At the restaurant, any restaurant really, there is an “alley”, where we, as servers, go to collect our fresh, off the burner, hot food, and delivery it to our tables. In all, and I repeat, ALL ALLEYS/galleys/kitchens etc etc, there will be food in the window. Hot, and ready to go - and yet there will also be ten servers, standing around, talking to each other about their significant others, their antics from the night before, weekend plans, or where they see themselves ten years from now, point being they don’t deliver the food. They will talk about anything, except what garnish goes on the food that they are going to run. Now don’t get me wrong, when we are busy, they run the food and help as much as possible. Ya know, because they are a true team player. Yeah, I coughed on that ...

Its been 4 years since Momma Jo died.  I really miss her. She had been in my life and a huge part of my life, moreso than my mother was.  Jo was the one who came to the new house, and helped celebrate Brian and I having our first house.  She enjoyed coming down from Buffalo, to hang out with us, or to take part in a volunteer event at the Moose Lodge.  Regardless, we always had a pattern.  Mom would purposely arrive before evening rush hour.  We had planned to be able to hit the moose after her arrival.  We had to quench our lips with a cold beverage.  Some times it was vodka, with Orange Juice or bloody mary mix.  We could drink all day long and have a blast.  It was nice having her here, on my side. After Brian died, I saw a new Jo.  It was haunting, like part of her soul died with Brian.  I saw her slowly die.  She gave up, much earlier than when she had the stroke.  I know she tried to stay busy, tried to get...

During this time of year, family comes to realize how important they are to each other. As most of you know, I am adopted and have started researching and looking for any siblings or relatives I have. It’s been nothing but tedious and interesting but it’s all been worth it so far. I feel guilt and apprehension as I continue my search because of feelings and resentments towards my adoptive mothers handling of questions I had growing up. She was the first to tell me I was adopted, but the that was it. I wasn’t allowed to ask questions nor was I able to show curiousity. To this day I still feel as though I am walking on thin ice through this journey. So it has been slow for me. Since my mothers ashes share the same bedroom as I, I really do not want to piss her off. I have enough ghosts haunting me, I do not need another. Today a light shined on me as I opened a present from my boss. You could even hear the archangels harp as I pulled out a box that I thought was of paints or crayons bec...

This is one of the better memories, filled with a lot of laughs, martinis, and ass. Proceed with caution. Brian and I had only been dating a few months, so this was our first overnight, weekend get away to a new place.  I was excited about going to Vegas with him, but not as excited when I found out that the crew was also going.  Each weekend the crew changes, so this weekend it was Mark, Steve and Tom.  I have changed the names to protect the innocent, or in this case, the extremely guilty.

I have come to the realization that I have been living in the past constantly. The birth certificate that I finally opened is the cause.  There is no way to turn it off either.  I am not obsessing over it yet.  I continuously check the facebook messages that I sent, to see if they had been read yet.  They have not.  I am debating friending the people, hoping that then they will see the message.  Then the scary realization will come, if they want anything to do with me.

Or it could be titled, the first time my mother kicked me out of the house.  Now that I remember, it was also the last time my mother told me to get out. I was in the third grade. It was a Saturday afternoon.

I really can't remember years past, how I felt when the anniversary of his death comes closer and closer. This year I feel nostalgic. The memories have been creeping up on me. From the first time skiing together and that first cigar in the hot tub, to our first drive to Vegas.  Vegas was our town.  We had Vegas by the balls.  We would go several times a year and only once we came home a loser.  

Since I was laid off from work and most people related to me were dead I went crazy. Let me explain real quick about "Most people related to me" I was an only child. My mother was an only child. My son was an only child.

I don't really know why I am starting to post again. I think my overall goal is to finish writing my book so I can start on my second book. Part fiction, part truths, it will look at my life as an adopted child. One who wanted questions answered her entire life, and rebelled when the answers weren't there. It is a hard road, I questioned why my mother adopted me, if all along she was going to use me as a punching bag to humiliate and torture for years. I questioned why she adopted me if she wasn't going to give me the best life, since she wasn't going to come to a single sporting event I was a part of. I was honestly surprised that she showed to up my graduation and actually had a get together for me afterwards. I did put her through the ringer growing up. I challenged each word she said and I really tested her strength and conviction. I purposely did not talk to her for years because I wanted to hurt her.

How many of us were around when AOL was a thing?  Who still has an AOL email address?  How many of us remember that first AOL suggested screen name? I can answer yes to all three questions. Easy stuff that made us happier than pigs in shit. When AOL 3.0 came out and we could customize the fonts, and the colors of the fonts, then be able to save them was HUGE! You could even type in rainbow colors, that you could make dance, or have glittery things! Script that could include MP3 Remember being able to play music tidbits in a chat room?  You would even have a regular that was in charge of playing the music on the weekends. The ability to have not 3, but 5 screen names.  You even had screen names for the holidays, FatTurkeyGal, or SantasNaughtyElf and so on.  It was a sort of competition to sere who had the best screen names.  Then it was a game to figure out who was who, trying to get the user to IM you and tell you who they really were.  It wa...