Archive for the marriage Category

Post #159 -His Name is Jar-Jar the Terrible

Posted in blogging, BOOKS, comedy, Family, humor, life, marriage, nonfiction, politics, relationships, true stories, uncategoried, writing, zombies with tags , , , , , , , , on November 10, 2016 by tenaciousbitch

Had trouble sleeping last night. Nothing new to read, and I couldn’t turn on the TV for fear that my horrible recurring nightmare had come true. Jar-Jar Binks, aka Jar-Jar the Terrible, just bought himself the Presidency. You know Jar-Jar, the Narcissist with the bad Comb-Over? Holy shit. It wasn’t a dream? There isn’t enough Merlot to stomach the headlines in the morning. Sigh. Perhaps, some strychnine or Drano with a side of cyanide will suffice instead. Glug. Glug.

All joking aside, my only solace in terms of coping with the deplorable and mind-boggling election of Jar-Jar the Terrible is that Hillary Rodham Clinton finally shattered a glass ceiling that is not only 240 years thick, but heretofore thought to be impenetrable by ANY woman, triumphing despite all odds to become the first woman nominated by the democratic party to run for President of the United States. Such is not only an historic event but an event unseen in a high percentage of the industrialized world as is common knowledge that there are very few heads of state who are female on this rock we call earth.

 

And despite Senator Clinton’s devastating loss, she’s a commendable example of what women can achieve because now, we finally have NO door that is closed to us despite whatever she may or may not have done with her Godforsaken emails and despite whatever political shenanigans she may or may not have committed as alleged by Jar-Jar’s smear campaign and by various coverage of the media.

The thing is, regardless of whether you like her or not, she’s got a helluva more experience than Donald Trump because we all know who really ran the White House back in the day when Bill was traipsing about the Hallowed Halls of our nation’s capital chasing after interns. And while many might have seen Hillary’s current plan for the country as more of the same, I saw it as a familiar journey with goals that are in alignment with what the people need and what the people want. Jobs. Prosperity. Equal Rights. More research and development to reduce our carbon footprint. A makeover of the disaster known as Obamacare. The end of legal bigotry and immigration reform, not the building of a wall to keep out “those People”.

I daresay our founding forefathers are grumbling and shouting from their graves in protest and frustration knowing a man has just been elected to the highest office in the land, and by his own words would like nothing more than to shatter the constitution and to “make this country great again” by refusing the matriculation of the poor, the hungry, the disenfranchised, the flat-chested (perhaps? :)) and to bar those whose religion or ethnicity offends Jar-Jar’s narrow-minded sensibilities, thereby decimating the principles this country was built upon.

However, I can’t help but hope that should that ludicrous boundary be built, that someone pushes Trump over his wall into a pit of Mexican Zombie Rapists.

Okay, maybe not. Sorry, I had to intervene with a little levity in order to survive the mere idea that the Donald, Jar-Jar the Terrible, is really going to be running this country in 10 short weeks. I’m ashamed and embarrassed to call myself an American with him at the helm, and I’m terrified that in 2021, I won’t recognize the country to which I was born.

Then, there’s Hillary Rodham Clinton, like Rosa Parks, who also suffered at the hands of ignorance and injustice, both of whom paved the way for more changes to come. While Mrs. Clinton, of course, hasn’t been wrongly imprisoned, I believe she was wrongly convicted in the court of public opinion, which I’m sure hurt her elect-ability immensely. So, maybe, Senator Clinton hasn’t done anything as significant as Rosa Parks’ defiance on that historic bus ride during the infancy of the Civil Rights Movement, but Senator Clinton had the potential to do so, in my opinion, and crossing over into the No-Man’s Land of Running for President, I believe she took her first step.

That said, I will tell my grandchildren that though Hillary Clinton lost, she won a huge victory for just being in the race. And, unfortunately, all too often adults are just like children, they have to learn the hard way what’s best for themselves and for their country and that I have faith that after 4 years of Mr. Trump, the country will be begging Hillary to run again, and I pray she will do so!! If not, she’s created a wide berth for another woman to walk in her shoes in 2021.

However, whatever happens, I cannot believe Trump will be elected twice. If so, I’ll be boarding a plane for Ecuador or some other distant and sunnier shore because I can’t bear the thought of Trump calling himself President again.

And regardless of what happens in the future, I feel proud and honored that I took part in an historical event when I voted for the first female candidate for President in the history of our great nation. And I honestly believe that Jar-Jar the Terrible will only be a sad footnote in the historical record of the U.S. like that of John Wilkes-Booth, known pretty known only as the man who killed a great leader who changed the lives of millions with one signature on the Emancipation Proclamation. In the same but slightly different vein, though Jar-Jar might’ve killed Hillary’s dream to be our Commander and Chief in 2017, I can’t believe that this electoral defeat has dashed her aspirations permanently. She’s too stubborn and too ambitious for that.

Therefore, I don’t believe this electoral debacle will be the last mention of First Lady, Secretary of State, and Senator Hillary Rodham Clinton and for that I am also hopeful and eternally grateful for what Hillary has done thus far and feel indebted to her in doing what no woman has ever done before. Beat several men at what has traditionally been a man’s game. Now get back on the horse Hillary and figure out how to crush Jar-Jar the next time around! 🙂

 

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Post #158 -The Oddest, Coolest Mother’s Day Gift Ever

Posted in art, blogging, comedy, Family, Freelancing, humor, life, marriage, memoir, people, relationships, true crime, true stories, Uncategorized, work, writing with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 6, 2016 by tenaciousbitch

Those of you who know me IRL (in real life), you’re aware that I’m weird. And that such is an adjective I wear proudly. So, it won’t surprise you to know that my husband gave me a very strange gift for Mother’s Day, one that I absolutely love. However, I can’t think of one woman on earth besides me who would’ve shrieked with joy as I did when I opened it.

Obviously, it wasn’t flowers or jewelry or an expensive pair of shoes or a gift card from my favorite retailer and the like. Though, honestly, I would’ve been perfectly happy with any of the above.

So? What is it, you ask? A 6-foot alligator? No. I prefer my gifts aren’t of the man/woman – eating kind.

Was it some sort of unconventional kitchen gadget like a knife sharpener?

No…it was…

Wait for it…..

Wait for it…

Here’s a photo of the box.

BOX - STUN GUN

Does that give you any ideas? 🙂 For all the ladies and gents out there who might’ve been to a gun store, the box might be a dead give away.

Otherwise, for  the many folks who’ve never been to a retail outlet that sells weaponry…you may not even know what it is by viewing the item itself below….

BOX AND STUN GUN

Yes, it is, in fact a STUN GUN!!! 🙂 And don’t you LOVE the fact that it’s pink? 🙂

Though I live in a very low-crime area, I wanted a stun gun because I’ve been selling my artwork (i.e. fine art photography, decoupaged coasters, hand painted vases, etc.) at various flea markets and art shows since last summer. When I had a booth over the winter at a flea market in a somewhat shabby area, I saw a man arguing with a woman in the parking lot, and he struck her so hard in the face, she almost fell down. I called the police who FINALLY showed up about 20 minutes later. And what kills me about that is – that flea market is a mile from Easton Mall/a very EXPENSIVE area to live/work, etc.

Obviously, violent crime can happen anywhere, so you never know when I might actually have an occasion to use this handy gadget in my own home.

Additionally, the outdoor flea market I’ve been going to since March is frequented by more men than women. And sometimes as I’m packing up my artwork and boxes of household items I’ve also been trying to sell (inherited from my mother/other relatives), there might only be a couple other vendors left. There are no security guards or anything, and occasionally, I meet a vendor who just evokes that vibe that he’s probably seen his share of time “inside” a local prison.

Once in awhile a male vendor or a customer will hit on me, and I’m always polite when replying that I’m happily married and not interested in cheating on my spouse. But you never know when one of those guys might take offense and turn an innocent situation into something ugly.

That said, I LOVE MY STUN GUN. And it’s all charged and ready to go, so be warned all lecherous, less-than-honorable men who might consider getting aggressive with me cuz this chick is PACKIN’, and I won’t hesitate to STUN the hair right off your  balz! 🙂

Peace out –

~Tenacious Bitch and her band of truth spouting hippies

P.S. If you’d like to do a girl a solid (and want to help me garner some more cash to GO SEE NANA – and btw, Nana is now 99 years old), feel free to check out my online store with most of my artwork and such at:

https://www.etsy.com/shop/TenaciousImages

 

Post # 157 -Our Valentine’s Day Shooting of the Non-Murdering Kind…:) A.K.A. An Upcycled Valentine’s

Posted in art, blogging, BOOKS, Family, friends, humor, life, marriage, memoir, movies, nonfiction, people, relationships, sex, true stories, uncategoried with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on February 16, 2016 by tenaciousbitch

Below is a photo of the beautiful bouquet that my husband, Charlie, gave me for Valentine’s. We’ve been married 16, almost 17 years (and together for 19). Yet, he never ceases to surprise me. If you’d ask me ten years ago if I’d still be getting flowers for Valentine’s at this point in our relationship, I would’ve said – probably not. However, I’m happy to say, I was wrong…:)

FEB 16 2016 - VALENTINE'S -TARGET SHOOTING 001.jpg

He also got me a much-needed item, this gigantic paper cutter for my art projects and furniture upcycling and whatnot! 🙂

PAPER CUTTER

I know, right? Such an odd gift, but I was thrilled! I was trying to cut some wallpaper the other day to decoupage the table below, and never did get it straight.

DECOUPAGED ANTIQUE END TABLE WITH QUEEN ANNE LEGS

I wrestled with the paper for over an hour. It just kept rolling and slipping no matter what I did. It still managed to wriggle/spring out of my grip after I taped it down with shipping tape. So, I gave up. I finally just cut it the best I could, which was still a little crooked and then sanded it until it appeared relatively straight.

That said, my Valentine’s Day gift to Charlie was as nontraditional as the paper cutter. You see, he requested that we exercise our constitutional right to bear arms on President’s Day, LOL (which was yesterday for those who live outside the U.S.).

We went to a local gun range with a couple of our friends and their 17-year-old daughter, Tiffany. I was surprised that Tiffany was interested. I wouldn’t have been at that age. Are you kidding? I would’ve been at the mall, the movies or at home nursing a hanngover, LOL.

As  far as our day shooting paper people and the like, Tiffany seemed a little embarrassed by her lackluster aim with Charlie’s pistol. But I reminded her that it was her FIRST time handling a gun, after all. And she did hit the target 3 or 4 times (better than my stats the first time out, but we’ll get to that in a sec…:)).

We burned through 100 rounds of ammo with Charlie’s new Hi Point pistol, and check out my quasi successful results on my last attempt to nail the bullseye.

FEB 16 2016 - VALENTINE'S -TARGET SHOOTING 004

Not too shabby for an old lady who hasn’t touched a gun in over a decade, n’est-ce pas? Unfortunately, I forgot to snap a pic of my best efforts where I hit the ring closest to the bullseye three times. I had put all the targets in the trash, and another gun enthusiast, whom I will refer to as Mr. Special Forces who had the build and swagger of a soldier. He spilled a bottle of coffee on it 20 seconds before I thought about photographing my target.

I didn’t do as well on very last round because the grip had kind of bruised the side of my hand, from the action of the pistol – because I wasn’t holding the gun tight enough initially. But anyway….

You’re not supposed to have food or drink at the range. But Mr. Special Forces plucked his Starbucks out of his backpack and dumped it as he was leaving. An employee reprimanded him for it. He apologized, but it was too late to immortalize my most-shredded paper perp, so to speak. Ah, well, lesson learned…:)

While I didn’t hit the bullseye, I did much better than my last venture at the outdoor range when I barely hit the target ONCE out of 20 rounds or so. The best I did was barely striking the top edge, lol. In fact, the best shot merely grazed the head of the target and made a moon-shaped gouge in the top of the target’s noggin.

However, my expertise was definitely NOT as good as Mr. Special Forces…check out the photo below…

MY TARGET - AND GUY NEXT TO ME

He pretty much decimated his poster proxy of a man’s torso (EEK)i.e. the target to the right of mine. Remind me to never snag his parking space.

Anywho…t’was big fun, and now I’m thinking I might want this lovely Ruger for Mother’s Day.

http://www.vanceoutdoors.com/products2.cfm?id=123906

So appropro, is it not since purple is my favorite color?

Though it might seem like an odd Valentine’s Day gift, one romantic caveat occurred while at the range…Charlie said I looked very sexy blasting away with his weapon.

“What?” I asked. “Why?”

“You got the target.”

I replied with a shrug, not feeling particularly proud. 

Typical Charlie though. Does he get all hot and bothered when I’m wearing a little black dress? No, he gets all randy when I’m trying to bust a cap into a cardboard criminal in a noisy room full of strangers! 🙂

I guess we’re kind of like an 80s band in the romance department, LOL.

Get it?

GUNS

and

ROSES…..

Okay, so maybe that was funnier in my head. If you knew my husband, however, you’d know that was definitely a joke of the Charlie persuasion. He’s always spouting dumb zingers like that with a dorky play on words.

All righty then…time for something completely different…

Hope you all had a wonderful Valentine’s and are experiencing a fantastic Tuesday…or at least not a horrible one.

~Ciao

Tenacious Bitch and her band of truth-spouting hippies.

TB/ks

 

#156 – Five Reasons Why I Sometimes Hate Living With Men…:)

Posted in blogging, cats, comedy, Family, family drama, humor, life, marriage, memoir, Motherhood, nonfiction, relationships, true stories, uncategoried with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on November 3, 2015 by tenaciousbitch

As I’ve mentioned before, I have son named Max, who is now 23.

Meanwhile Max’s best friend, Taylor, moved in with us about a month ago. Taylor’s roommates kicked him out because their landlord had sold the house they were renting. With 2 weeks left to vacate, they hadn’t packed anything because in Taylor’s words, “Because all they cared about was doing drugs, and that’s just not me.” So, he came home from work to find himself locked out and homeless (awesome).

As much as that sucked, GOOD FOR HIM that he didn’t follow them down that life-crushing rabbit hole. He’s a great kid, so I don’t mind that he’s staying with us until he and Max find an apartment.

That said…however, living with 3 men often makes me wanna go POSTAL. Don’t get me wrong. all of them are rather amicable fellows, and Taylor, who is 21, is a good influence on Max’s bad temper, but I’ll leave that nightmare for another day.

My husband does do laundry and help with dishes (and he actually does a decent job cleaning bathrooms when he has time to assist). However, all you men people have habits that drive all of us ladies to the brink of madness at times. I know I’m not perfect, but this post ISN’T about me…:), i.e. it’s my blog, and the BITCH will bitch if I want to, LOL.

So… why do they disturb me so?

1 – THEY’RE ALL PIGS IN THEIR OWN WAY. For example:

forks and mt dew

There’s always some kind of trash in Max’s room. The last time he cleaned it, he hauled out five 30-gallon trash bags full of pop cans, fast food trash and the like.

JUNK MAIL

My husband’s junk mail piles up to such a sprawling stack on the kitchen table that it even irritates the CAT, who will occasionally push it off onto the floor when it gets in her way from her favorite window seat/across the table to the floor. It’s pretty hilarious. I’ve tried to videotape her, but she’s camera shy.

NUZZLES GIFT ON HARDWOOD FLOOR

Max was dating a girl who had an adorable dog, who constantly pooped on the floor when he visited. Guess who cleaned that up most of the time? (:

PATHFINDER BOX

Max leaves his junk all over the house. This book for some roll playing game, sat on this marble chest by the front door for months until…you guessed it, Samantha (the cat) knocked it into the floor. No, I’m not kidding, she REALLY hates clutter. At which point, I took it upstairs and left it by Max’s door…and he FINALLY put it away.

BROKEN GLASS

Max broke a glass a couple days ago in the wee hours after he got off work around 2:30 a.m. I realize he was tired, but he didn’t clean it up very well, and the largest shard in this photo was sitting on a pot holder on the counter where one of cats could easily get a hold of it, and off I’d go to the vet with a bloody, yowling kitty cat, which Max would’ve felt HORRIBLE about.

MAX'S SHORTS IN THE BATHROOM

Max and Taylor leave their dirty clothes on the bathroom floor…Max more than Taylor, BUT STILL. And the other day, Max had left his dirty underwear ON THE FRICKIN’ SINK!!!

And last but not least.. the kitchen ISSUES. All of the items in the sink were from Max making his lunch and/or dinner. And don’t you love the fact that my sign threatening certain death for creating this unholy mess is in plain view and completely ignored?DIRTY DISHES - MESS WITH MY KITCHEN SIGN It’s hanging from the cabinet beside the sink. And no matter how much I bitch and scream and politely ask them to load their own fucking dishes into the dishwasher, it rarely, if ever, happens – though occasionally Taylor and my husband will load their own dishes.

2. Aside from all that, they’re rather noisy and obnoxious at times…

The sound of cars crashing and/or exploding from their videogames often disturbs my zen while trying to refinish furniture, etc., in my exercise/craft room or work in my office during the day… since both Taylor and Max work at night.

 

3. Then, there are my husband’s television viewing choices. I hate when I’m cutting fabric for an art project or something in the dining room, and I catch a glimpse of some unbelievably nasty house full of dead cats (literally) and God knows what else on the big screen in the family room while my husband is watching HOARDERS. Egad…he says he likes watching these poor obsessive, usually mentally ill individuals get help. Fortunately, those momentary visions of horror haven’t given me nightmares (yet).

He also likes Bar Rescue, which is a worthwhile show helping bar owners to redecorate, and/or change their irresponsible ways to become more profitable, etc., but I just can’t stand listening to John Tafford scream at people, though his anger is justified. While innocently walking by toward the laundry room, I caught a scene where a horse walked into a bar and actually shit on the floor while the drunken owner laughed hysterically, which is why I don’t watch this crap (no pun intended!). I watch TV to escape reality, not be bludgeoned by it.

4. Men can be so rude!

I can’t tell you how many times while preparing breakfast Taylor has walked in and farted rather loudly. And he just doubled-over in laughter because the stench was so foul that Samantha, our senior cat, gave him a dirty look and sashayed out of sight. I often set my breakfast in the fridge for a bit until my nausea subsides.

Hello…they make medication that renders your disgusting TOOTS, MOOT and void, a cure that costs less than $5.00!!!

5. And if all that weren’t enough to make me load up a couple shotguns and start laying some ground fire of the buckshot persuasion…they can be so CLUELESS. This morning I started to walk upstairs to get dressed, and there was Taylor going to the loo at the top of the stairs WITH THE DAMNED DOOR OPEN! WTF? Luckily, I saw his face and rushed back into the kitchen before I saw anything else, thank God. How embarrassing!

Excuse me, but I LIVE HERE TOO, and just because I was downstairs five minutes ago doesn’t mean that I’m going to remain downstairs the rest of my fucking life….so CLOSE THE DAMNED DOOR…(she says shaking her head in disbelief).

OH AND P.S./BONUS – my husband blows his nose in the shower. UGH, ugh, and double ugh. Don’t even get me started on that…:)

And that’s my rant for the day.

Over and out…

TenaciousB and her Band of Truth-Spouting Hippies

~TB/KS

Post #150 – About the Life and Death of James Thompson

Posted in BOOKS, Family, family drama, marriage, Motherhood, nonfiction, relationships, true stories with tags , , , , , , , , , on May 25, 2015 by tenaciousbitch

For those who didn’t read my previous post last August –

http://tenaciousbitch.com/2014/08/04/about-james-thompson-author-of-snow-angels-my-ex-husband-who-died-last-weekend/

My ex-husband, James Thompson (author of Snow Angels) died in an accident in Helsinki, Finland where he had lived for the last 16 years. Initially, the details of his passing were sketchy.  However, I’ve since learned more about the circumstances on that dark night when Jim departed this world.

Unfortunately, Jim had suffered with severe migraines for years, and the medication he was taking made him drowsy, and it can also cause dizziness. The night he died, he took a walk after dinner by a lake near his house, which he’d done many times before. From what I understand, he lost his balance on the pier bordering the lake, and he drown.

He also had a head injury, so he either struck his head on the pier as he fell or he might’ve hit a rock or something in the water. They’re not really sure. However, he had always been a strong swimmer, so he had to have been unconscious, or he’d still be with us today.

Annika, his widow was just here in the states a few weeks ago. They had a memorial for him in Kentucky. Our son and his fiance were able to attend, but, unfortunately, I just started a new job in March, so I wasn’t able to get time off work. I also didn’t want to make Annika, uncomfortable – especially since I’ve never met her.

They buried his ashes in the family cemetery on his father’s farm. As I mentioned in a previous post, he and his third wife, Many, lived on the farm in a mobile home for a couple of years before they moved to Helsinki in ’98. It’s really beautiful there with acres and acres of lovely green grass and lush foliage, a very fitting place for his remains. He spent a lot of time there as a kid when his Uncle lived on the property before his father built a house there in ’98 or ’99. Some day, when I’m driving down to West Virginia to see friends or something, I’ll take a detour to Kentucky to visit his grave. I’d like to see the headstone that my son and his father’s family chose to honor him.

It’s odd being the ex-wife in these situations. I sent sympathy cards to his father and stepmother and his mother and stepfather. I emailed Annika and several of Jim’s friends a few words of condolence, but it still doesn’t seem real to me because I haven’t experienced any of the usual ceremonies of closure since I wasn’t able to go to the memorial or anything.

The last time I saw him was in 1998 when I picked up our son from the farm a few days before Jim and Many (pronounced money) set out for Helsinki. And our last conversation a few years later was fraught with anger and animosity – and our last email in 2003 was just as ugly.

I was 20 years old when we got married, and it took me a couple of years to realize that we were very different people with opposing priorities. I knew that neither of us was going to change, so I left him, and he was devastated.

He moved to Boston the week after our divorce was final, but things didn’t end there. He used to call me all the time and tell me how lonely he was. By that I don’t mean, he wasn’t alone all the time. He was knockin’ boots with a different girl every night, which he felt the need to share (awesome). What he missed was the connection and camaraderie we shared, a connection that was brutally severed after we attempted to reconcile in ’89, but we shall not knock upon that dreadful door at present – or ever.

I had wanted to move to Boston for graduate school after finishing my B.A. in English so that our son could spend time with his father. However, I just couldn’t afford to do so. The cheapest daycare I could find was $800/month, and quite honestly, I wouldn’t have felt comfortable leaving my dog there. And it would’ve been impossible to squeeze $200/week into a budget based on the pittance I was offered as a TA (teaching assistant), which was around $9,000/year (plus free tuition).

I also didn’t know anyone in Bean Town that I could share an apartment with, and you can’t just move in with a stranger you met through an ad on a bulletin board at UMass (University of Massachusetts at Boston) when you have a child. Jim was very upset that I moved to New York instead because I had a friend there who was in need of a roommate, and that also happened to be where I found a job first.

Of course, when I ended up moving to Ohio in 1995…well, let’s just say – we won’t go there. His fury and frustration were understandable. And guilt was my constant companion, but I truly felt that Ohio was a better place for me and my children (i.e. my son, Max, was 5 when we settled in the Buckeye state).

Anywho…it is what it is.

Oddly, Jim used to joke around about his demise, quoting the infamous James Dean all the time:

“Live fast, die young, and leave a beautiful corpse.”  Sadly, that’s just what he did. A tad bit eerie when you think about it.

Adieu, Mr. Thompson, may you rest in peace.

If anyone’s interested, I’ve got some photos of Jim for sale on Ebay – which I’m selling to either add to the monetary wedding gift for our son who is getting married in 6 weeks or to help with travel expenses for the wedding, which is taking place in Florida (1,000 miles away).

To see a photo of Jim with long hair when he was 26 or 27, go here:

http://www.ebay.com/itm/252079424659?ssPageName=STRK:MESELX:IT&_trksid=p3984.m1555.l2649

To see a photo of Jim in a hard hat when he was working construction, go here:

http://www.ebay.com/itm/252079483379?ssPageName=STRK:MESELX:IT&_trksid=p3984.m1555.l2649

And for one of me and Jim when we were dating when we were both 20 years old, go here:

http://www.ebay.com/itm/252079435979?ssPageName=STRK:MESELX:IT&_trksid=p3984.m1555.l2649

Over and out from the island of chaos that never seems to close… 🙂

~TB

Post #149 – The Good And Bad About The Ugliest Birthday Yet

Posted in Family, humor, marriage, memoir, nonfiction, relationships, true stories, true stories, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , on March 9, 2015 by tenaciousbitch

Much to my unhappiness, I turned the big 5-0 last month.  On my 40th, though there were black balloons on the wall of my cubicle at Yabinski and Kramer law firm where I worked at the time as well as a gigantic HAPPY 40TH banner behind my desk, that particular birthday didn’t bother me at all. But that half century mark is another story. However, I decided to make a list to measure the gloom and doom vs the positives…

GOOD: My boys are in their 20s now, so I no longer have to worry about child care/missing work because of sick children and all that.

BAD: I woke up yesterday with a silver hair nestled among the dark brown in my eyebrows. I plucked it out straight away, but I’m sure there’s another one just worming its way to the surface as we speak. And I hate coloring my hair, so forget dyeing the brows!

GOOD: I’m much more comfortable being alone these days. Until the age of 30-something, the idea of spending a Friday night at home, curled up with a good book or binge-watching Downton Abbey or Supernatural, would’ve driven me to madness and/or pacing about/ calling everyone I knew trying to scare up something else to do.

But these days, when my husband’s band is playing out of town, and I don’t feel like drudging through the snow or whatever to attend his gig, I welcome those nights on the couch sans company because PRECIOUS is all mine!!! 🙂 And by my Precious, I mean the television remote, not a gold ring that summons demons from the darkness.

Additionally, I lived alone from the time I was 18 until I got married at 22, and I was often terrified to spend the night alone for fear someone would break in my apartment and attack me, etc. In fact, I used to put a row of juice glasses on a chair under my bedroom window and another set on the floor by the front door so that the sound of shattering glass would wake me should an intruder breach either entrance.

But these days, I sleep like the dead when Charlie’s not home. I have faith in God/the ghost of Max’s Dad/Saint Superman, whatever, that no harm will come to me. Either way, my worrying about a home invasion isn’t going to prevent some psycho from barging into my house in the wee hours. I just lock the doors and make sure my phone is plugged in. Plus, Max (my 22-year-old) is always home way before Charlie returns, and he’s a pretty scary-looking/well-muscled fellow, who is capable of causing major damage to anyone who might try to mess with his Mama…:)

That said…

MORE BAD:  I can’t exercise the way I used to because my knees swell up after 40 minutes or so, and I have to ice them all the time. And I’ve developed issues with the balls of my feet. Sometimes a couple of hours after a good workout, I’ll get up from my desk/couch/whatever, and that tender padded part of my foot will turn to to a lumpy stone of pain.

And the last time we went to Vegas, I couldn’t walk the usual 10 or so miles/day without agonizing foot pain…which totally SUCKS because one of the reasons I love Vegas is being able to walk/ride the monorail wherever we want without a car, unlike here in Ohio where a night on the town w/no vehicle would mean dinner at Taco Bell and bowling at best because our public transit is almost nonexistent.

My foot issues limited our treks to 4 or 5 miles/day at most. I remember limping in absolute misery from the nearest monorail stop on the strip back to our timeshare, which was about a mile. I was barefoot across the asphalt, sandals in hand, because the hard sole of my favorite dressy flip flops were killing me.

GOOD: On the other hand, the last time I took a spinning class about six months ago, the two overweight 20-somethings sweating profusely in front of me left 20 minutes in while I actually spent 10 minutes or so on the treadmill afterward to make sure I’d obliterated the doughnut I’d had earlier…:)). And I’m no waif these days at 160+ pounds.

BAD: Though I can obviously best kids half my age at the gym, I have to do a lot more cardio to work off the occasional pastry or that gallon of Merlot I consumed last weekend (okay, so maybe, t’was only 1/2 a liter) due to the slowing down of one’s metabolism after the age of 40/45…sigh. And it’s just not worth having rotten teeth if opting for crystal meth instead of Splenda in my tea…:)

GOOD: Charlie is almost six years younger than me, but there have been times in the last 4-5 years that I’ve gotten carded at a bar or a restaurant, and he wasn’t, LOL. Perhaps, the waiter was merely flirting, hoping for a big tip, but the last time, the waiter honestly seemed surprised when he looked at my i.d and figured out I was pushing 50.

BAD: I’ve been getting solicitations from AARP (the American Association of Retired Persons) for at least five years now, which I find irritating and insulting. I realize they will gladly take your money and indoctrinate you into their discount fold at the age of 50. But to me, I feel like screaming, I AM NOWHERE NEAR RETIREMENT AGE, so FUCK OFF.

GOOD: I like what I like, and I don’t give a shit if anyone disapproves. Some might say I’m too old to listen to Eminem or Kid Rock or Iggy Azalea, but I have CDs of each in my car. And on that note, as my family knows all too well, I’m a major fan of Slim Shady. I own all of his music, but, I’m not overtly in love with his last 2 musical endeavors. And I was surprised the MM LP 2 won a Grammy for Album of the Year. I think the Eminem Show and Recovery are much better.

I will also wear skinny jeans, short skirts and tennis shoes until I’m physically unable to dress myself. In which case, I’m not gonna ask anyone to help me slide into a pair of Old Navy Rock Star Super Skinny denims.

Oh, and last but not least, I shall put Spaghettios on bread (funny story about that in  http://tenaciousbitch.com/2013/04/29/lovehonor-and-will-buy-ford/ ) and lick the bowl after finishing my vanilla ice cream with chocolate syrup until the day I die, so all you haters and uptight sons ‘o bitches, just keep your yap shut should you happen to see me doing either one! 🙂

GOOD: I don’t have to go back to high school again no matter how many times I have that nightmare that I’m late for class/a final exam, and no one believes me that I’ve traveled this treacherous road already and DON’T need to be there, LOL. I know, right?  WTF is that about???

Therefore, I guess the ugliest b’day to date came out on top – can’t think of any other negatives.

~TenaciousBitch and her band of truth-spouting hippies

TB\ks

 

#134 – Time to Go To Prison~Again!

Posted in college, Family, family battles, family drama, friends, marriage, memoir, Motherhood, nonfiction, parenting, relationships, true crime, true stories, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , on June 2, 2014 by tenaciousbitch

My son Rory’s first DUI occurred when he was 21, not long after he got married. He was working at Chase bank, and he’d been partying with some friends one night and fell asleep at the wheel and crashed into a tree. No one was injured, thank God. All of which happened in Upper Arlington, a very ritzy, old money suburb not far from Ohio State University.

He couldn’t remember who was in the vehicle with him. However, his unnamed drinking buddies were seen scattering into the darkness when the police arrived.

Apparently, not only had he thrown back quite a few cocktails, he’d probably taken double the recommended dosage of Dexedrine, his ADD medication, and he’d been awake for around 36 hours straight. So, yeah, he was a mess. And he shouldn’t have been anywhere near a car.

Long story short, he was shuffled off to the drunk tank downtown and was later sentenced to six months probation and attending some sort of group therapy. Rory hadn’t augmented his Dexedrine intake to get high. He did it to increase his productivity and stay awake longer in order to get more accomplished – because he’s always been an overachiever.

Besides his job at Chase, he started moonlighting at Victory’s bar and restaurant downtown after Lacey lost her full-time job at a bakery. They had accumulated a massive credit card debt, and he was attempting to stave off foreclosure on their house. Lacey was unemployed for six months and had just started working part-time as a receptionist at Mt. Carmel hospital when he’d gotten the first DUI.

Three or four months later, he was out drinking and decided to give Kim, a co-worker at Victory’s, a ride home.  According to his friends, she was rather inebriated.

Kim didn’t doze off en route to her apartment as expected. No, she attempted to seduce him. Fending off her her advances caused him to swerve into the opposite lane where, thank heaven, there wasn’t an oncoming car. But a cop just happened to be right behind him.

Yeah, he was totally fucked.

On the advice of a friend/attorney who handles a lot of DUI’s, Rory refused the breathalyzer. But, apparently, when he passed the field sobriety test, the cop didn’t believe he was sober. So, the officer snuck up behind him, popped the breathalyzer in his mouth and told him to “blow”.

His blood-alcohol level was high enough for an arrest, but if I’d known how the cop had obtained his probable cause, I would’ve helped Rory prepare a Motion to Dismiss since all the evidence against him was fruit of the poisoned tree nullifying the policeman’s probable cause.

It might not’ve have been a Supreme Court-worthy document, but having been a paralegal for almost 7 years, I think it would’ve sufficed for a Pro Se defendant.

It might’ve eliminated or at least truncated Rory’s 2nd turn in County. Either way, worst case scenario – the judge could’ve denied the Motion to Dismiss. No harm. No foul. But I didn’t know what the police officer had done until a few days ago when I asked Rory about the specifics of his arrests to confirm all the details.

He pled guilty to the 2nd DUI because he couldn’t afford an attorney. He was sentenced to 5 days in lockup for violating his probation in the Upper Arlington case, and 5 days for the 2nd DUI.

Additionally, he lost his driver’s license for 2 years. However, at least the judge was kind enough to allow Rory to serve his time on his days’ off so that he wouldn’t lose his job. And since he was on flex time, his days’ off varied.

Rory’s 2nd prison term began in mid-summer. He had moved back home temporarily because he and Lacey were separated. (They divorced about a year later).  Since he didn’t have a driver’s license, I drove him to the corrections facility, which was only 4 miles away from our house.

I didn’t mind providing transportation. Plus, I could make sure he clocked in at at 9 a.m. sharp as required by his sentencing agreement. I was concerned he’d be late or not show up at all because he’d started drinking even more after he and Lacey split up. I knew that if he was a no-show, he could get thrown in the clink for 3 months to a year.

So, I’m sure you can guess what happened next. One particular morning in August, I got  up to take Rory to serve his time, and he wasn’t sleeping peacefully in his room. He wasn’t steeped in Jameson, dead to the world, on our couch downstairs in front of the TV. He was nowhere to be found.

I called and texted him a dozen times, but all I got was his voicemail and no reply to my texts. I texted every single friend of his whose contact info was on my cellular Rolodex. No one had heard from him, and none of his friends had a reason to lie, especially given the severity of the situation.

Finally at 9:45, I decided to toss out a Hail Mary. I suspected Rory might’ve spent the night with Lacey because he’d been talking to her a lot on the phone lately. She and I have a rocky history because I never wanted Rory to marry her. Don’t get me wrong, she’s a beautiful girl, and she can be extremely sweet when she wants to be. But I just didn’t think either of them was ready for marriage since he was barely 21 and she 22.

I also didn’t think they were a good match. He’s very serious and intellectual, and Lacey is not. And as I feared, they split up eight months into their marriage.

Therefore, it was a delicate proposition to contact Lacey. God forbid, I didn’t wanna call and wake her up unnecessarily since she works night or embarrass her if she happened to be with another guy. So, I chose a different route.

I called Rory’s friend, Nelson, who is probably Rory’s most responsible friend. By the time Nelson was 21, he’d already completed his BA in automotive technology from Ohio State. He works at a local Chevy dealership, and he’s got his own side business repairing/restoring old muscle cars. Yeah, I like Nelson. He’s a good egg.

So, I explained Rory’s incarceration dilemma and asked Nelson to contact Lacey. Not ten minutes later, he texted me confirming that Rory was at Lacey’s apartment somewhere downtown. I took a deep breath and dialed Lacey’s number.

“He got another DUI?” Lacey gasped.

Score another fuck up for me. Sorry, Dude, I thought to myself, didn’t mean to turn up the temp on the hot water you’re swimming in, Rory, but it ain’t my fault.

“Yeah, right after my Dad was diagnosed with terminal cancer, Rory, got a DUI downtown,” I explained. “Is he with you?”

Long pause.

“Look, Lacey…” I began in an apologetic tone while looking at my watch. “He was supposed to be at the jail an hour ago. Is he there?”

“I see,” Lacey sputtered. “Thanks for letting me know.” And she hung up.

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?

***

The conclusion to this story will be in my upcoming book – Tales From the Lunatic Lounge – which I hope to finish in a couple of months wherein you can read all the dirt on Rory’s last stint in the pokey! 🙂

And if you’re searching for some summer reads, check out my list of favorite books at:

http://tenaciousbitch.com/my-favorite-books/

Over and out-

~TenaciousBitch and her band of truth-spouting hippies

Tenacious Bitch © 2014