A Big Pile of Doo Doo

I’ve been reading a lot of blogs lately about how to survive and what to do after a divorce. Sad to be reading this so close to one of the most precious times of the year but divorce happens. All too often. But as I read these blogs, I always think “What happened to get you to that point in the first place?” Not that it’s any of my business but I like to get the whole story. Because it happened to me and I guess I want to see if my version is anything like theirs. And they usually are. So I wanted summarize what usually happens when two people, bound for life in glorious expectation, decide to hasten the ending of what they once thought would be a til-death-do-they-part deal. Mind you, this is just a generalization.

When two people meet with the intention of dating, whether a chance encounter or set up by friends, there is eventually a thought of “Wow! I really like this person. I wonder if he/she is my Mr./Mrs. Right?” With stars in their eyes, they follow the path that most twosomes do…they fall in love, wish for forever and get married. Then they start seeing what, in most cases, was hidden behind the glow. Because it’s obvious that when you are dating and getting to know each other, you put your best face on.

It’s after you put on the dress/tux, rings and cake-in-the-face that you find out the little things that maybe you wish you had known before committing to all of the above. Some of it is just little things that you can shrug your shoulders at like it’s no big deal but then there are some that truly make you wonder how you missed them in the first place. Now I’m not talking only from first-hand experience here, although some of them are mine, and I’m not boo-hooing about my marriage woes either. I’m way past that. I’m just saying….

Little gross habits come out after the rings are on. Like nose picking or passing gas at the dinner table. I truly don’t believe these are cause for divorce. These are what I call little pieces of doo doo in the yard. You scoop them up, flush them down the toilet (not literally, of course) and get on with life.

You shovel them up and put them out for the trash man. Similarly, snoring (as long as it doesn’t keep you from sleeping in the same bed), belching in public or chewing with their mouth open…annoying at best and still just little droppings. You can probably put in your two cents and maybe get these lessened a bit or even changed.

Of course, there are some habits that fill up the yard with poop or clog the toilet (again, not literally) that can really hurt a person. Drinking to excess is one of them. Especially if you know this person won’t get help or even admit there is a problem. Drug abuse is another one.  In either case, if you don’t love yourself enough to get help, then there is no way you can love your spouse as you are supposed to. Or maybe you love yourself too much to care about the way your addictions are affecting others. Same thing in my book. Get help and save your marriage. Don’t be stupid.

One of my pet peeves that can absolutely, positively stir up a shit storm is vulgar and abusive language, especially when it’s directed at me. I don’t do it and I deserve the same respect. The occasional slip is a different matter but when it’s a habitual thing, a way of life, that goes too far. Big storm. Respect is a big part of marriage and speaking to your spouse in this fashion not only shows that you don’t respect them, it hurts. If you can’t have a simple argument or even a casual conversation without it, you have issues that need to be addressed.

Physical abuse in any way, shape or form? Goes without saying. Whether it’s a husband hitting the wife or vice versa. Should not happen. This is a pile of crap that cannot be shoveled or flushed.

Cheating? Well, some say it depends on the reason behind it. To that I say WHAT? No. I don’t care if your significant other did it first and you retaliated. You took vows and they should be honored. There have been many marriages that can get beyond this but I don’t know of any. Cheating breaks the most important bond of trust that should never be breached and once broken, most often cannot be repaired. If you can flush this, I admire you.

Jeez, as I read this back to myself, is it little wonder that both of my girlies are single? I honestly didn’t write this to be snarky or jaded (both of which I am). I’m not bitter about my divorce. Bitterness takes too much away from me and nothing from him so I refuse to acknowledge it by being bitter. I have cleaned up my doo doo piles and moved on. But for those of you who have not, in the end what matters most is how much you can live with in your marriage. Or not live with it. And whether your love is strong enough to withstand whatever comes your way. Those are the people I really wish I could have emulated. 

Commercially Speaking

I was watching a movie last night, for lack of anything better to do, and I realized why I rarely even turn on the television...other than for sporting events and weather reports. Why anything on any cable station, in this case CMT, gets on my last nerve.

First of all it’s because of what movie I was watching, which was a really lame one. No, I’m not going to mention the name. Ok, it was Twister. Every time it’s been on, I’ve watched it. Some kind of strange obsession with Bill Paxton that I really don’t understand. He’s going bald and he can’t act. He’s not a mega star or all that good looking. But he has a voice that kinda haunts me. Gruff, a little hoarse. A lot sexy, especially when he speaks softly.

And because I was annoyed that I was watching Twister again, I started looking for a reason to be further annoyed and perhaps justify…something? And I found it, which has been my reason for not watching television much in the first place. The commercials. And being annoyed with the commercials made me further obsessed. So I stopped paying attention to the movie, which I pretty much know every word, every nuance of anyway. And I found out this…

How annoyed was I? For every seven minutes of movie time, there were eight minutes of commercials. Twenty. Twenty commercials in a row each break. Yes, I started timing and then counting them. In between, I was putting the finishing touches on my bucket list so it wasn’t a totally wasted evening.

After a while, the timing and counting got a little boring (I hear you asking, ya think?). So I began writing down the commercials in each segment of eight minutes. I found out that they were playing three loops of twenty. After a while, I quit even pretending to watch the movie. After all, I’ve seen it before.

But even writing down the commercials gets a little boring (I saw you roll your eyes). So I began timing each one. They were mostly 30 second spots but you got the gist that car commercials are more important than those for Macy’s holiday sales and Geico ads were even more important than the ones for cars. I guess to even own a car, you need insurance so that makes sense. But the most important, it seems, is a local (Louisiana, I mean) rehab center where a former New Orleans Saints football player’s father went to dry out. Go figure.

The worst part of the whole thing, the whole wasted evening, was that it didn’t stop when I turned off the TV. This blog was running through my head half the night so I didn’t sleep much. Hardly at all, in fact. Which made me grumpy most of the day and gave me a headache as well.

And I’m blaming it all on Bill Paxton.

What's In My Bucket

My younger daughter was talking about her bucket list the other night…she’s in her twenties and has a bucket list? I realized that I have never made one…I guess I’m more of a live-in-the-moment kinda girl but it got me to thinking that maybe I should. So I thought and thought. Then thought some more and finally came up with what you’ll see below…in no particular order of importance, of course.

1.       Get something published. I’d settle for getting anything published but I’d really like to have a novel done and sent off before I’m in my dotage. Right now I lack time, energy and motivation. But I will get there. Somehow. Some way. My lifelong dream.

2.       Sing on stage. I’ve done plenty of church performances but I’d really like to do it up big someday. The Voice? I really don’t think so. Too many pretty babies on that show where women my age don’t have much of a chance. Then I’d have so much trouble picking which coach I’d want when all four chairs turn around. America’s Got Talent? Too many weird acts for me to compete with. Not really strange enough…although there are those who would disagree. American Idol? Nah, the judges are mean and nasty. Mayhap I should stick with my church ditties. Although that really defeats the purpose of the bucket, doesn’t it?

3.       Take shooting lessons. I’d like to learn to shoot a gun with my eyes open. Right now I’m afraid of seeing the bullet come screaming out of the end of the weapon or sparks flying out of it into my face (yeah, I know this doesn’t really happen). Or maybe I just don’t want to see how far from the target I really am. But I could learn…

4.       Take ballroom dancing lessons. I can’t do that right now because I don’t have a willing partner. Elijah has offered but he’s a little on the short side and it’s awkward when we do lifts, dips and the like. I’ll put this aside for way in the future until he gets taller. They give these in the nursing homes, don’t they?

5.       Vacation in the Dominican Republic. My former boss goes there and he loves it. I think I could spend a week or two soaking up the sun, relaxing on the deck of my cottage on the beach. Who am I kidding? I’d be there two days before I’d be checking my work email, rearranging the furniture or reorganizing the cabinets. I can’t even take a sick day without being antsy. Weeks on vacation would drive me nuts. Another one for way in the future…perhaps when I’m too old to walk much and would have no choice but to sit on the deck.

6.       Travel to Ireland. The land of my ancestors (on my mother’s side). Now this is one I could sink my teeth into. I’ve always wanted to go and after seeing pictures one of my Twitter tweeps posted a while back, I’m determined to get there. All I need is money. I could travel the whole country, exploring, wandering, getting recipes for fish and chips. Ah, the beauty of it. Yeah, this is definitely one I’ll work towards. And put Scotland right behind it on the list.

7.       Be an extra in a movie. I’m definitely not leading role material so I’m being realistic here. But I’d love to be an extra. In a comedy. A really funny one. Starring Brad Pitt. No, George Clooney. No, not him either. Too cliché. Pierce Brosnan. Yeah, he’d do. Wait, does he do comedy? So I’d be in the background, mostly doing something hilarious. Or not hilarious. I just want to be there.

8.       Go on a mission trip. I’ve always wanted to. First, my parents thought I was too young. Then I was in college. Then I had babies. Always working after that, with vacation and sick days delegated to taking care of sick kids. But I could definitely take time off work for this. To give back. To help. Or teach. Or build. It really doesn’t matter what I do as long as I make a contribution.

That’s pretty much what I’ve come up with so far. They have always had these in the back of my mind, although some are closer to the front than others. I just never labeled them as belonging in a bucket. Here’s hoping I’ll get to do some of them. Maybe even all of them.

It's All About The Celebrity

It’s amazing how much you have to give up to be a celebrity.  Privacy, anonymity, the ability to go into a restaurant for an uninterrupted dinner. All because they have chosen to spend their lives entertaining us. Then there are the celebrities who have no reason being famous. They have no talent that I can see but news of what they do gets in the tabloids, on talk shows and all over the internet. What I want to know is why?

Case in point, Kim Kardashian. The woman’s major claim to fame is being wealthy, being married to Kanye West and the latest…her butt being the spectacle on the cover of a magazine. The media is all like she’s a mother now. She has no business baring it all for the public. How could she do that to her daughter? Who is surprised? She named her daughter North West, for crying out loud! In my opinion, showing her behind is nothing compared to that.

Anything that has to do with Kate and her eight, along with Jon…who is now bankrupt and nearly homeless…just annoys the crap out of me for some reason. Even without the weird hair, Kate is annoying. So she had sextuplets. I really don’t care. Having a lot of kids does not (or should not) make you a celebrity. It just makes you busier than the average family. Not news worthy.

Which brings me to the Duggars…I will apologize to my daughter in advance since she’s a fan. Sorry, Deanna. I had no issue with the Duggars until I heard Michelle say she would have more children AFTER having a preemie that nearly died and having a miscarriage as well. I’m not interested enough to know which came first but why risk having another child? Risking another miscarriage or, God forbid, losing her life leaving her other 19…egad…children without a mother? Very selfish. YOU HAVE 19 KIDS! That’s way more than enough! No, their morals don’t bother me. Nor does the way they live. But that does.

Lastly…Honey Boo Boo. Holy cow, the whole concept of that show just makes me nauseous. First of all, child beauty pageants should be considered abusive. Second, is this what television is coming to? The child is not talented or attractive. And finally, there’s Mama June. Mama June. One more time…Mama June. There really are no words to describe her. I thought at first that maybe it was just that it’s reality television, which I hate. But then I saw her in an interview on Entertainment Tonight (Don’t ask, I don’t know why I was watching it) and she was just indescribable in her ignorance. It’s obvious she has no pride in her appearance and limited education. Add to that, she clearly cares nothing for her kids. Please go home, lady, and invade my television no more.

Perhaps, as I said, it’s just the Reality TV issue but I don’t think so. I really believe that these people need to go back to wherever they came from. They are not celebrities. They don’t entertain. They do not belong on television. They are annoying, obnoxious in their sense of self-importance and they need to go away.

The Truth of the Matter

A friend called me recently to tell me that my ex-husband had posted some lies about me on one of his pages somewhere. When I refused to look it up, because basically I don’t care what it said, she emailed me the contents. My response was “So what? He’s delusional. I knew it when I was married to him.” She couldn’t believe that I wouldn’t even defend myself even though I have the resources to do so. In order to shut her up, I’m posting this. My rebuttal, if you will, to his defamation of my so-called character.

You can probably tell already that I really don’t take this seriously. I don’t want to know what website he posted it on, who would read what he posted or what is going on in his life. I’m not one of those people who stalks others on the internet. Not interested enough. To be honest, I am happy he’s getting on with his life. That means he won’t try to be in mine. What I don’t understand is why the post that he put up, which I’m told is supposed to be about who he is, is basically all about me. Whatever.

He (the ex-husband) says that I hate him because “it’s all his fault.” First and foremost, I hate no one. Even if they deserve it. Second, yes it was. Mostly.

He (the ex-husband) worked so much for us to have a good life. I tend to remember that I worked as well. I made pretty good money. And life was not so good. Because it’s not about money.

He (the ex-husband) came home from work one afternoon to an empty house and a note saying he was no longer loved. First and foremost, all I took was my personal belongings, my daughter’s personal belongings and my grandson’s stuff. I left in a Honda CRV, for crying out loud. Not too much would fit in there. The house was far from empty, as is inferred. The note didn’t say anything about love. It was actually quite tender and thought provoking. OK, not really but it didn’t say he was no longer loved.

He (the ex-husband) has spent the last three years searching for the pieces of his shattered heart and trying to find out what he did to deserve this. First of all, waaaaah. How melodramatic. Second, umm, maybe being drunk for quite a few years, along with vulgar and abusive…that may have had something to do with it. It's possible.

He (the ex-husband) is now in love with the most amazing, beautiful and obnoxious woman in the world. I can only say good for him. Woo. Hoo. Seriously, I am happy for him. And I promise not to look her up and tell her things I wish I had been told…

He (the ex-husband) had 16 years of lying, 16 years of pain and 16 years that I took from him. Really? Wow! That’s a lot of years.

He (the ex-husband) would like to thank me (the “x wife”, as he spells it) for showing him what love isn’t. Ok…your welcome?

He (the ex-husband) will rise up and change mistakes into gold. He (the ex-husband) will rise up and erase his mind of dark memories. I really don’t have anything to say about this one. Not because I’m at a loss for words or anything but because there simply are no words.

In conclusion (I’ve always wanted to do a post that I could use that phrase in, kinda like an attorney), I remember things a bit differently. But he always did see things from another point of view. He (the ex-husband), I think, should be thanking me from the bottom of his heart that I am no longer around. And I’m sure he is.

And that, my friend, is all I have to say in defense of my worthless self. The sweeping up of my shattered reputation. The drying of my bitter, angry tears…sob. My self-esteem, at an all time low, is starting to recover. I must now get back to more important things, like living my life.

Butter Me Up

A couple of months ago, I was reintroduced to my other “grandson”. He’s sweet, pretty well mannered (as opposed to my other guy) and he’s six years old. His name is Butters. Strange name for a little boy? Look at his picture and you’ll see that it’s not. Actually it is but don’t tell his momma I said that…

                                          

Having a grandcat is pretty much like having a human grandchild. With a few exceptions. I never had to change his diaper…only his litter box. I don’t know which is worse. I never have to feed him. Just dump it in a bowl and he’s good to go. Same with his water. He never cries himself to sleep or has to be told to stay in bed. He doesn’t talk back…well, not really. Ok, he does but all I have to do is hiss at him and he backs off.

Like a human child, I can buy him things. Kitty treats are always welcome. And he loves to play so I can buy him toys, although his favorite thing to play with is a hair tie. Or two. Which he will steal from you if you aren’t careful. Or a plastic bag (he’s not allowed to have those, of course). His favorite actual toy is his little red lobster, which he throws in the air and rubs his cheeks on. Sometimes he just hangs with the lobster…I think he forgets it’s there.

       

As with my human grandchild, Butters expects certain things. Mainly, he wants his evening Yaya time. Every night after Elijah is in bed, it is my time with him. We play with the hair ties, his mousy or…the lobster. And like my time with Elijah, I rarely come away unscathed. I don’t get football injuries or black eyes from wayward elbows. I get scratches and bites. He doesn’t mean to, really he doesn’t. He just gets overly excited.

Butters tends to be a bed hog. As I type this, he is laying in the middle of the bed. Sprawled out leaving little room for me except on the edge. When I mention that he leaves little room, I need to tell you that my guy weighs almost twenty pounds. Yes, he is a large baby.

                                 

He also has a bad attitude at times. No temper tantrums but you do know when he’s not happy with you. Because you get the butt…along with a disgruntled look now and then with tail twitches.

                                  

All in all, I’m quite happy with this addition to my household. It’s not all fun and games with Elijah thinking he’s a toy but I’ve missed having a kitty in my house and occasionally sleeping beside me. Most of all, I have to admit, I’m really happy that Butters brought his mom home to me.

Hello, Samsung?

When we moved to Louisiana in 2011, my daughter, grandson and I basically came with nothing more than our personal belongings. We filled up my Honda CRV, leaving a small nook in the back for the boy, and what didn't fit, didn't come. No furniture, no television and no washer or dryer. We rented an apartment two weeks after arriving but it looked really empty due to our trip with next to nothing. So we went shopping.

One of the first things I looked into purchasing was a washer and dryer. With a 2-year-old that needed his clothes changed twenty times a day, it was a must.  I picked a great time to buy them as it was right after Thanksgiving. Christmas saving doesn't always have to include toys and clothes and Lowe’s had a great deal on a Samsung set…front loader washer and dryer, $1,200 for the pair.  I researched and found excellent reviews on the brand. I bought them thinking I wouldn't have to replace them for at least ten to fifteen years. They were here and installed within a week.

Fast forward to July 2014. I’m drying a load of clothes in my Samsung DV350AEW/XXA (I’m giving you the model number in case you own one of these babies and want to keep an eye out for what happened to me). After about twenty minutes, the dryer stopped. No warning. Not a sound. It just quit. I’m thinking that maybe a breaker tripped. Yeah, I’m not an electrician but what else could have happened? Well, look at the picture below and you will see exactly what made my dryer stop.

                

Imagine my shock when I opened it up, removed my clothes and saw this. A crack. In my drum. I’m not even going to mention the clothes that were ruined because they were stuck inside the crack (the black marks below the crack are the result of those clothes).

Now I want to first point out that only myself and my daughter have ever used this dryer. We wash our clothes and the boy’s. No uniforms, heavy items, shoes or the like have ever seen the inside of this thing. I work in an office so my things are basic office wear. Small child things. My girlie's workout gear. Just normal clothes. It was not abused in any way, shape or form.

I immediately went to the Samsung website to find out who to contact about this thing and there’s really no information. To get a phone number to call, you need to fill out a “Two Thousand” transaction so that those in charge can figure out (I’m guessing here) if your problem warrants their attention. I did this, got a ticket number (I’m figuring I was deemed worthy of such an honor) and the golden phone number I was seeking. Good deal, I thought, as I dialed the phone. I’m in like Flynn…whoever he is.

My optimism came too quickly as I had approximately two billion callers ahead of me. I put in my blue tooth and took a walk while listening to the same strange ditty over and over. Walked about six miles, came home and made lunch, same ditty is playing. Ate said lunch and did the dishes, same ditty. Took a nap, knitted an afghan…ok, so not really but you get the point.

Finally my call was answered…by someone who spoke very little English. What he said to me, I will most likely never know. I’m sure he was a very nice man but after being on hold for what seemed like a week, my level of frustration rose with every passing minute. My end of the conversation consisted of “Excuse me?” and “I’m sorry?”(repeated ad nauseam) and finally with gritted teeth, “Can you please put someone else on the line? I can’t understand you.” And, oh pennies from heaven, I was transferred!!!

My jubilation came too quickly. He transferred me to Tai (ID #86092), a very competent, pleasant sort. Or so I thought. Oh, she was pleasant but the kind of pleasant that made you want to pull your eyes out through your ears. The kind that tells you she thinks she is superior and you are an idiot. She was “reasonable”. She was an Executive Level Agent. With attitude. The following is the result of my conversation with the executive level of Samsung service:

-My dryer was out of warranty. Duh, I knew that but circumstances, I believed, warranted a second look at this issue. A not quite three-year-old appliance with such a major failure? Could it possibly be a factory defect?

-It was not a factory defect. Because, says Ms. Executive Level Agent, there has never been a report of it happening before. My response? There has to be a first time. Perhaps mine was it? She pooh-poohed that idea out the window. Apparently first times never happen.

-The “Executive Level Agent” in charge of parts was consulted to see if they could, at the very least, provide replacement parts for free. His decision? Oh. Hell. No. My response? Unprintable. Actually, I said nothing to this because by this time, I expected nothing, but the response in my head was definitely unprintable.

-Most Samsung appliances have a life expectancy of approximately ten to twelve years. Your comment makes no sense, I say. Ten years but mine didn't even last three? And who wrote the good reviews of the product that I read when I was considering my purchase, Samsung ad execs? Well maybe I should have purchased a Maytag. The Maytag washer/dryer set that I left with my ex was almost fifteen years old and still going strong. Tai, ID #86092, had no answers to my questions.

-The Executive Level is the highest level I could go for help with Samsung. There was no one else to take my complaint to. Oh, that is where she was so wrong. So very wrong. I’m a blogger. I’m active in social networking. I may not reach too many people but I will reach some. Maybe no one at Samsung will listen but I have others who will. They can’t help me but they will shake their heads in disbelief at the callousness of those who are to be obeyed at Samsung. They will there there me with sympathy. It won’t dry my clothes but I’ll feel a little better.

Anyway, the end result? I got nothing. My gently-used, almost new dryer is not fixed. I am taking my clothes to the laundry to dry them.  I was pleasant and respectful, at least until her pompous attitude made me feel like a lower class citizen and a fool. Someone trying to cheat Samsung into fixing my dryer for nothing. Listen, I’m not trying to get something I don’t deserve. I paid a lot of money for an appliance that did not operate as it should have, for as long as it should have. I honestly feel that my dryer had a factory defect and to that end, I contacted them. I've spent a lot of my time since my phone call doing more research but have come up with nothing that will help me. But at least I tried.

My next step, after posting my blog, is to take my worthless, broken, piece-of-crap Samsung dryer out to the trash with a huge sign that says “THIS PRODUCT SUCKS & I DON’T WANT IT ANYMORE!” After doing so, I will make tee shirts for all my friends, neighbors and co-workers that say “Samsung Service = Not”…