Statements...

My boyfriend/common-law spouse has taught me a lot about communication. A LOT. I am sad to admit that although I have considered myself a writer since my childhood, I was never a star at communicating. He has taught me a great deal about communication. One of the distinct things he's pointed out are things like the following. He calls them bait. I have come to realize that with MANY (read: almost every damned one) situations these are nothing but bait.

~My arm hurts.

~I can't come, I can't afford it.

~I put it right here!

~I am pregnant.

~I'm hungry.

~Men are stupid.

~Women are bitches.

~My knee is bleeding.

~The welfare came and took my babies.

~I can't lift this.

~Homosexuals are pedophiles.

~All Indians are criminals.

~Alcoholics are chronically unemployed.

~Drug addicts are homeless.

~She's so fat.

~You're so fat.

~You're tall.

~You's ingnant, you ain't gots no learnin'.

~If either of you had been paying any attention, you might have noticed that I have been desperately ill. The people who are close to me have all been very concerned.

Ok, so I threw the last one in for fun. Fact is, none of these (even if you felt compelled to respond) are questions. They were all statements. Not one of them requires a response....even if you want to; there was nothing asked of you.

I agree that as a society we should respond to many "statements". Example? My 11 yr old daughter likes to hang out with the "grown-ups" at gatherings. She subsequently ended up hearing (from a young father, raised by a very good family with extreme opposing views) "fuckin' homos should all die, in fact, if I find any around me and my family, I'll fuckin' kill them". To which she replied "I hope you're not teaching your daughter the things you're saying, what you're saying is just stupid". When you're standing up against hatred you probably should respond to "statements".

There is a distinction though. There is a difference between making a statement versus conversing. I don't know when our society transitioned into making statements instead of leading with what we intend. Maybe it's been here since the dawn of time. I don't know because I wasn't around.

I guess what I'm saying is that while statements are a vital part of communicating and conversing, many of us fall prey to the statements that are NOTHING but BAIT!!

I, personally, have stopped responding to most statements. I have found a freedom in letting people spout off and state whatever they please. I'm not saying statements are bad....I'm saying they don't always require a response....*again*....even if you WANT to respond!

We're raising our daughters to ask, clearly, for what they want and avoid making statements in hopes that others will take care of them. I challenge you to listen to what others say....or state. You'll be amazed at how many people use statements instead of questions.

If you intend to get a result: ASK A QUESTION. If you intend to make a statement (requiring no response) feel free to do so. All I ask is that you don't bitch when you make a statement and no one responds. There is a difference....look into it.

Silver Lining?

I often try to see the bright side of things. I'm a master at playing the cards I'm dealt. I can make something out of nothing. I used to be referred to as wildly optimistic, so I toned it down. I'm a realist at heart, but I get really excited about reality!! My life is great and I have very few complaints.

I'm still human though. When we were burglarized I bitched and whined in extraordinary fashion. I was hurt, infuriated and felt a massive loss.

Having to replace the stolen jewels was less than enjoyable. In fact it was completely void of pleasure, at least initially. Then my silver lining kicked in. I decided that instead of "replacing" what was stolen or attempting to recapture memories and sentimental value I'd watch and wait. I'd watch the displays and counters and wait for it to find me. I couldn't replace my Nanny's 4 carat ruby; no point in trying. I needed new memories...new sentimental value.

My grad ring from Jostens had a lifetime warranty and I still had the receipt!! However, Jostens didn't seem to appreciate having to abide within their warranty. They were EXTREMELY uncooperative and downright rude. Sure, they'll sell you a great ring with a great warranty, but if you have to collect on that warranty don't do it in your true time of need. They are less than compassionate.

It's all ok now though! I found a great website that does fantastic grad rings. I never really like the Jostens rings because from about 40 feet away you can tell it's a grad ring. This website has some fantastic options that don't look like grad rings. I'm kind of giddy about getting that ring because I can wear it everywhere.

I love pearls, 100% my absolute favorite mineral. I find diamonds to be quite boring; I prefer my jewelry to have zero diamonds. The man I love bought me a nice white pearl set. The whole she-bang. Ring, earrings, necklace and bracelet. It was awesome and I loved it. It too was stolen. Now, the exact same set is still available at the large chain store....but I didn't want the same one, the goal is new memories. Well, lo and behold! They have the same set in BLACK!! Mmmmhmmm. Oh yeah, back in black baby!! I got the black set.

My engagement ring was simple and perfect. It was a slightly pink pearl with a diamond on each side. When he asked me to be his wife it was Christmas of 2007 it felt like he was asking me and both my lil' diamonds in the rough to be his family. It meant the world to me and to have it taken from me was heartbreaking. I always wanted a pearl solitaire, just like a diamond solitaire but better! When I looked at the solitaires they seemed lacking though. They all seemed to be waiting, wanting.....kind of anticipatory. You know, waiting for the wedding band. Anyone who knows me knows my feelings regarding brides/weddings. If I get a solitaire it will always be a solitaire, there will never be an accompanying band. My choice. I have no issue being a wife! LOVE IT!! I happen to know that I don't have to get married to be a wife though. Which left me with a dilemma. Get a solitaire and leave it wanting or get the mother lode. The problem with the mother lode is the diamonds that accompany it. I had some decisions to make and this is what I went with! 44 diamonds totaling .333 carats surrounding a 10mm SOUTH SEA white pearl!! Second best quality in the whole wide world too! I know it has diamonds....but it's pretty hard to find a ring that isn't "waiting" and doesn't have diamonds. I accepted the diamonds and the ring is epic.

Lastly, the 4 carat ruby from my Nanny who passed away in August. I found my new ring in a local mall. The stone is my favorite colour set in my favorite colour of gold. It's wickedly weird too. The stone looks twisted and squashed with only two prongs holding it. It's vicious and makes no sense....until you look at it closely.....then it all makes sense. It's me.

I know my Nanny probably loved that ruby. It was her sister's and I'm sure it had some serious sentimental value to my Nanny. That value was between her and her sister though. Not between Nanny and I. I also know that if my Nanny could, she'd buy me a ring. Something that had sentimental value between her and I. She'd want me to have something that was fun and something that made me smile. I've spent months being upset that I lost her ring, Nanny would tell me to let it go. So I'm trying to do just that.

Oh, and because I have a new engagement ring he made sure I'd have a new memory to go with it. He picked me up at work, with our girls and got down on bended knee right in the lobby. He proposed all over again.

The burglary was horrid, but there is a silver lining.

My Dream

When I was a little girl I had only one dream. I kept it close to my heart and reveled in it. I would lay in bed at night and imagine I accomplished my dream. I know it sounds silly, because I was about 4 years old dreaming a pretty big dream. It was my only dream though and I clung to it. I've clung to it for more than 30 years. I didn't tell everyone about it, surprisingly I've only ever told a few people

I was 4 but I wasn't even slightly naive about my dream. I knew it was gritty, raw and dangerous. Yet it still burned inside me. I don't have high expectations, I have realistic ones. I couldn't talk about my dream much. Seriously, it was so deep within my personal private desires and felt like part of the fabric of my soul. I can cry just talking about it.

I know, smacks of bullshit right? Fabric of my soul? Coughjerkcough. I never talk like that. I don't refer to my man as my soul mate because it smacks of bullshit. I don't consider myself a cynic, I'm a realist. Realistically people don't have soul mates and realistically very few people accomplish their dreams. If you don't believe me, come do my day job. Now, I'm not a sad person, nor am I bitter or angry. I just don't like that sappy shit. It's shit. Except when it comes to my dream. Haha!

I've dreamed my entire life of breathing the air in NYC. Just to stand on a Manhattan street and look up. I don't want to do the tourist thing. The only thing I ever wanted to see was the Wall Street sign. You know, the street sign....nothing big. I just want to be there.

Well guess what baby?! I'm bustin' out. I'm grabbing this dream by the hair and making it mine. I've booked it!! I'm going to Manhattan for a week! The best part is....oh wait....EVERY part is the best part.

I am taking my daughters and my manthingy. We're staying in a 4 star, 4 diamond boutique hotel that has never had bedbugs on the bedbug registry. We are flying direct on Westjet! Round trip flight and hotel is costing me $1,100 a person. We are totally doing the tourist thing and I couldn't be giddier!! To name a few, we are going to Top of the Rock, Times Square, Statue of Liberty, Ellis Island, Staten Island Ferry, Central Park and all it's wonders, Katz's Deli, Hook and Ladder 8 (Ghostbusters firehouse), the Beast, Empire State building, a friend who lives in NYC is getting me onto the actual trading floor of the New York Stock Exchange (not just the gallery), the Federal Reserve and lastly, most importantly....the Dakota. You know, he was shot on my 5th birthday. I was young, but I knew how to Imagine.

We talked long and hard about accomplishing my dream. I never, ever made plans to do so. I just kept in close, holding it in my heart. When we began talking about it I rejected the idea. He slowly coaxed me and asked questions, subtle prying questions. You know, the way only an annoying person who loves you wildly can do.

I can see it. I see it in my heart. I see me there, with my children and my lover....living the dream that begun when I was only 4. When I was a child I knew it would take a long time and I knew I wouldn't go alone. In researching the city, the historic battles, the ghost stories, the landmarks and the geography something amazing has happened. It's captured the hearts of my daughters. It's become a part of them too. They are going to live the dream right along with me. Best of all, they're going to love it.

So, before I start crying....again....let me leave you with some things.

Where my dream began, Neil Sedaka

Oh, Billy you are the best

Frank, you stole it and made it wonderful

Just watch it, don't judge, it makes me sob , both of these artists were raised in Manhattan by single Moms.

Ashes to Ashes....

I was in foster care as a teenager. My foster parents attended a Vineyard church. I'd had some experience with religion as a child; when my Mother needed help and turned to whatever religious group was nearby. However, I completely lacked the social graces of shutting up and being force fed bullshit. My un-churched views were not appreciated by my youth group pastor. I didn't appreciate his propaganda though, so we were even.

I will never forget a disagreement we had where he drew a very large circle on the chalkboard and handed me the chalk. He asked me to assume the circle was all the knowledge of all things in the world; be it languages, history, people, faiths, families, individuals, all knowledge to ever be known in history or yet to be history. He asked me to pretend it was a pie chart and display just how much I knew. I remember his words stated something about my arrogance in arguing with him and my lack of knowledge due to my age. I replied that age had nothing to do with it. I took the chalk, blew the scant dust off of it toward the chalkboard. There was nothing to be seen in the circle. I passed the chalk back and said "your turn, what do you know?"

He left the church less than a month later. I don't know who he was, nor do I know what became of him. 

I will never forget admitting that of all the knowledge there is in the world...past, present and future.....the knowledge I do possess amounts to dust. There is a freedom in it. 

My dance with organized religion lasted little over a decade. I do have faith, but not in anything that amounts to a hill of dust. 

The Day They Broke Our Door Down

Monday afternoon my daughters came home, approached the door and were about to enter the code for our keyless entry when my oldest noticed the door was already open and something was wrong. She pushed the door open to discover it had been busted down and our home was ransacked. 

In all honesty I feel extremely lucky. No one was home, no one was injured, our Maine Coon cats are just fine. The robbers didn't take anything that couldn't be carried easily. Meaning we still have the very expensive items that didn't fit in a backpack. They took all my valuable jewels. There was no real vandalism or trashing of my home that couldn't be repaired with a little effort. Oh, except the front door which was effectively destroyed and took more than 10 man hours to repair. Kudos to my Manthingy and his dear friend Sean. 

I don't want to talk about those things though. I have to get the mental shit out of my head. I have to see this in writing instead of chasing it in circles around my brain. 

Let's get the obvious out of the way right now. If someone breaks into your home it leaves you feeling violated. It doesn't matter if they come in when your home or not, if they trash the entire place or simply count coup on you. It's certainly arguable that there are different levels of violation; I don't wish to delve into that though. I want to very broadly state that no matter what the case is it is a violation. Due to the feeling of violation you will lose sleep. 

I slept fine the first night. In fact, I slept so well it was eerie. He was up all night that first night; restless sleep, bolting upright at any sound, tossing and turning. He was a wreck in the morning and I was all beautifully rested. 

The second night, last night, was my torture. So here I am trying to get it all out. I need to sort my thoughts. Stack them nicely, watch them topple over. Arrange them according to size, then scramble them all up again. I know it's futile because no matter how I sort them or arrange them I won't grasp the concept or the reasoning. I have to get it out of my head and onto paper though, it's a quirk I have. 

I can fathom that this person/people may be someone we know. The person may even be able to read this. I don't know if it was one person or more than one. I don't know the gender or age. It could have been anyone. 

Whoever it was, they wanted into my home so much that they chose the most difficult entrance. The got through my deadbolt. Didn't break the window in my door, didn't break any windows. The person just pried it open, the dead bolt wasn't disturbed. My neighbor came over and had to push the dead bolt back into the door so he could close it and keep our cats and home warm. I went looking on-line for ways to deter robbers and always in the top ten are things like a deadbolt (which we had), motion lights (which we have), doors and windows locked (they were), mail and newspapers not piled up (they weren't), lights on timers (got 'em), "beware of dog" sign even if you don't have one (got that too), alarm company stickers in the windows (previous owners DID have an alarm system). It's not like we were an easy target other than we weren't home! 

With all that being said, what restores a feeling of security? Time? Do we eventually forget the rawness? An alarm system would not have prevented this. Alarm systems do not prevent people who really want in. I'm not saying it won't deter most thieves, I'm saying that if they want in bad enough they'll get in. My question is still unanswered though. In the past 40 hours we've looked at Mantraps, security cameras, biometric locks, locks of every variety for every point of entry. Mantraps are by far the most fun. We've replaced our door and made a few modifications to aide the illusion of security. 

I understand dogs now. No, not in a "I've lost my mind and now I hear what dogs are saying to us" manner. I understand why people have them. I understand why people walk their dogs, pick up the dog shit and keep dogs that chew the shit out of things. I get it now. Dog is man's best friend. They hear what man can't, sound the alarm when something is wrong, the right dog can be intimidating. It's an exchange....the dog cares for you and you care for the dog. Now listen, I'm not daft. My family had dogs my ENTIRE life. I looooooooooved dogs. I loved having a dog around and I remember it vividly. Some of you will understand this while many of you don't. I had my heart broken by a dog. We'll call him a dog because essentially he filled the role. He wasn't a dog though, he is irreplaceable and he ruined me for dogs. He was 100% purebred Timberwolf. I know right? It's true though. The police confirmed it and the story is quite spectacular......until it ends with broken hearts and a dead wolf. Every dog seems stupid now. I know it's harsh and I don't mean to offend you. A Timberwolf will outmatch and outwit your dog any day. It's physical capabilities are off the charts. We had someone break in to our house when I was about 6 and not one of us ever lost a nights sleep. Smokey didn't bark to alert us or the intruder. He waited silently on the other side of our back door. I don't know what the intruder thought when he was greeted by Smokey. All we found was blood, a trail of blood leading to the corner and then it stopped. Smokey didn't disturb our slumber and no one lost sleep after the break-in. He was not a dog and since Smokey died I've never bonded with another animal. This is the first time in the 27 years since he died that I've wanted to bond again.

The intruder took down our bedroom curtains. Didn't rip them out of the wall or harm anything. Didn't throw them across the room, but laid them carefully below the window. Why? Was the room too dark? Why expose a line of sight? You're robbing a house for christsake!! Why would you make yourself more visible? Unless you can see us from where you reside......unless you like to watch. The lights in the house were turned on, my bedroom light and lamp were on. Removing the curtain makes no sense. Had it been done destructively I wouldn't wonder....but it wasn't. 

The intruder looked through my photo albums and my diary. Ummmm....how much time did the intruder have? How did they know they had time for that? Even if they knew they had time why did they take time to do that?

There is so much of value that they didn't take....are they coming back? Never mind them coming back. What about some other criminal?! They don't know we've already been hit. People have said that once everything is brand new and replaced criminals will hit the same place 6 months later. 

End result is someone broke through my dead bolt, walked through my house, spent time sifting through my stuff, walked into my daughter's rooms and our room with no concern and no one knew. 

I understand now why my daughter hates sleeping on the main floor, all alone while we sleep upstairs. If someone were on a blood thirsty rampage she wouldn't stand a chance. She'd be dead before we were even aware of a problem. 

Yeah, I know....fantastical notions and too many scary movies. I know my situation is not bad and it could have been far worse. Tell me that at 3am when I hear a bang though. 

There is a freedom that comes with pain...

Being lied to for more than half your life sucks. Being lied to by someone you love is worse. Being told the facts of life by your own children is unfathomably worse. 

Having children is hard sometimes; especially hard when they are 1/3 your age and outsmart you. Being stupid sucks. 

Wasting time watching "The Expendables" is stupid.

Clearly shit sucks right now and I feel stupid. 

I've been lied to by my Mother for over half my life. She doesn't know that I know....yet. Shit is about to go from bad to worse as Christmas approaches. I don't even fuckin' care anymore. I'm pretty sure she can view this....I still don't fuckin' care because I'm not taking those calls anymore. 

Stick a fork in me.

When All Is Said & Done

My trip to see my Nanny was difficult from start to finish. I don't know the family very well. Trying to get to know them at this stage is fun but fills me with a great sense of loss. It brings forth a swell of emotions, most of which I've dealt with so many times it's ridiculous. At least this puts a new spin on old feelings, I'm thankful for the spin. 

My Grampa was rough on me regarding my relationship with my father, but I understand his point of view. In the end he came to understand mine and suggested I ignore all the advice he'd attempted to give me. He has always loved me and it's hard when he sometimes asks me who I am. He knew me when I was a very little girl; he's  never known me as an adult. 

My all-time favorite Uncle and his new wife, my new Auntie, basically wrapped their lovin' arms around me and adopted me as their own. They promised to take care of me and opened their whole world to me. My "new" Auntie is won-der-ful. She is a Southern Belle who let me introduce her to curry chicken. I met his previous wife and let me tell you, he traded up significantly.

My cousins and I had a sleep over. It involved Crown Royal & Vodka. We are the three oldest girls, the oldest girl has no shame in waxing on about how she "paved the way" for the two of us. There was a lot of laughter. Again making it all bittersweet.

My father was himself. He exchanged a short, very abrupt "hello" in the hospital room. I have no words for him. We all went out to an amazing Greek restaurant where he actually screamed at me for moving a chair. Something along the lines of "the manager already told us to keep this area clear for the serving staff". Which obviously I was expected to be aware of even though I was at the exact opposite end, completely out of earshot and simply wanted to pull up a quick chair to speak with my Grampa who was sitting with his hearing aid off because he was sitting next to my father who doesn't talk to him.  So my father literally yells this at me. It was worth the verbal lashing to see all his siblings give him the glare of scorn. I know I'm petty....shhhhhh. 

During my time there I spent a few afternoons alone with my Nanny. Holding her hand while she slept. Brushing her hair. Playing Nat King Cole for her. She slept most of the time. Twice I put my head down on her pillow and slept next to her. Cuddling was impossible, but with her in the bed and I in the chair we managed to hold hands and nap together. She would wake up and ask me who I was. I would tell her and we would talk briefly. She would say things like "it sure is nice to have a friend like you" and "I'm sorry if I hurt you". I assured her that all she'd ever done was love me. Mostly it was her sleeping and being the very weakened shell of the woman I remembered.

I went to see my Nanny again, one last time before boarding my flight. Favorite Uncle, Auntie and I went, all dragging our heals. None of us particularly wanted to go, the hospital smelled of urine, the halls were full of patients wandering around in various stages of disrobe and asking questions that weren't decipherable. One woman even had instructions taped to her back about not letting her leave the unit and returning her if she was lost. Uncle said a patient had wandered away ten days prior and died in the park adjoining the hospital. So like I said, none of us wanted to go, but that is where Nanny was, so we went.

Well let me tell you!! We walked in, she was wide awake, had her teeth in, knew who we were, had eaten, asked for water and held it on her own!! It was AMAZING! Uncle and I were exchanging looks that said things like "wow, holy shit, sweet baby Jesus" and "I wonder if I can reschedule my flight" and "she could get better"!!! Then we realized the truth we'd both learned in our lives.  We pried, LITERALLY PRIED ourselves away from her when it was time to go, broke down sobbing in the elevator, drove to the airport. Aunt and Uncle went to International departures and I went to my Domestic flight. 

Nanny passed days later on August 22nd.

Compassion Sold Separately

My favorite cousin greets me just before midnight when my flight lands. No matter how lovely she is or how many of my favorite relatives insist on living in this city, I hate it. We embark on the long drive to her house. The conversation launches into family relations, it's unavoidable. Speaking of the unavoidable, we inevitably get around to talking about my father. He is in town and the family is fairly pissed at him. 

I don't know how other families are, but in this family if you hear about an incident from more than one person....it's HUGE. If two people mention it, someone is livid and it might not even be one of the two you heard it from. We're an odd bunch, I'm just at the beginning of figuring out how this family functions and I can tell we're odd. 

The story goes like this. My Grandfather is 88, fairly forgetful about daily things, having angina attacks, uses a walker and his wife of 66 years is....I'll get to that....but you can see that he needs a hand with things, right? On top of it all he's in the process of moving from one care facility to another. My father volunteers to transport Grampa from one facility to the other with a few possessions. This will tell you how literal my father is. He picks Grampa up and drops him off. Read: Grampa waits in his room for his son to fetch him....while his son waits in the car out front. Grampa has a cell phone and is worried, but my father refuses to have a cell phone. Grampa finally wanders outside and finds his son, then goes back to his room to get some things (alone) gathers what he can balance on his walker and goes back outside to load it in the car. My father drives Grampa to the other care facility, helps him unload the things onto the walker, gets back in the car and drives off. Grampa walks his carefully balanced load to his room.

Now, I helped Grampa (carried his old war uniform while my Uncle carried the 150-200 lb safe) to his room and let me tell you, it's a LONG WALK. It's a huge facility, built like a labyrinth. Dropping a gent such as my Grampa at the door is rude. I heard about this incident from 5 people. 

Hey good news! By the time I arrived my father was already on the shit list. 

It went downhill for both of us from there.