WAR IS HELL

I've never written much about the military. It's not because I'm anti-military. Yes, I've been known to protest a war or two in my younger years, but NEVER the military. One can be against a war campaign, yet still be patriotic and be in favor of having a strong military.  My problem has always been with the politics behind the wars and the needless loss of life. These things have to be closely dissected in order to be completely understood.  Let's face it, politicians can be a pack of deceitful losers and suckers themselves and they get us involved in all sorts of shady things that we'd we better off leaving at the front door.  Do weapons of mass destruction ring a bell? What a costly mistake that was!

All three of my older brothers proudly served in the military and I thank each of them for their service to this country.  My father served during WWII in the South Pacific, but I'm afraid his service included more shenanigans than it did service. His father served in WWI, but I know very little about that side of my family, so I don't know anything about the capacity in which he served, but I don't think he served overseas. I have an uncle who was in the 1942 Battle of Guadalcanal in the Solomon Islands in the Pacific Ocean during WWII.  He was on USS Barton, a destroyer that was cut completely in half by the Japanese.  My great uncle, Waldo "Wardie" Ingalls was one of the "losers" who survived that horrific battle. Forty-five years later my great uncle was laid to rest in 1987 at the age of 69.

As the story goes:

At approximately 1:30 am, both sides finally made visual contact with each other as the first Japanese ships emerged from the squall line only 3,000 yards away from the entire US formation. Despite the Americans having steamed directly into the middle of the Japanese force, neither side opened fire for almost ten minutes as they passed by each other, with the Japanese ships enveloping the American battle column as they emerged from the darkness in three separate groups. In the second position of the rear, US Destroyer van USS Barton began to train her deck guns and torpedo tubes on several Japanese ships in her immediate area and awaited the order to open fire from the flagship. At 1:48 am the order to open fire was precluded when Akatsuki lit its searchlights onto the cruiser Atlanta, causing both sides to immediately open fire on each other and starting the First Naval Battle of Guadalcanal.

Now fully enveloped by Japanese battle lines, Barton and Monssen steaming astern, broke to the northwest into the main group of Japanese ships while firing at point blank range on nearby Japanese destroyers and making violent maneuvers to avoid collisions with both friendly and enemy ships in the melee. Barton had just fired a full spread of torpedoes at the battleship Hiei when the light cruiser USS Helena appeared suddenly out of the darkness and cut directly across the bow of Barton. Making an emergency stop to avoid colliding with Helena, Barton found herself at a dead stop as her engineering crew tried to get her engines back into gear to get her moving again. However, before she could get underway two 'Long Lance' torpedoes fired by the Amatsukaze slammed into the midsection of Barton; one in her boiler room and one in her engine room. The massive explosions broke the Barton in two, and both sections sank only minutes after the first torpedo struck, carrying with her 164 men: 13 officers and 151 of her crew. Forty-two survivors were rescued by USS Portland and twenty-six by Higgins boats from Guadalcanal.

I have another great uncle, John Nichols IV who served in World War II. His military story goes like this:

John went to 2 years of High School in Harrington, Maine before he shipped out as a Merchant Marine. He consigned on iron ore freighters in the Great Lakes before he journeyed on ships traveling back and forth to Europe, across the Atlantic Ocean, transporting war time supplies. His father encouraged him to stop shipping because merchant ships were war time targets, so he decided to join the US Army in December of 1943. He was sent to the Asiatic-Pacific Theatre. He was a Buck Sergeant, serving in the 24th Infantry Division where he was Squad leader in charge of 28 men operating 30 caliber Browning machine guns. He was awarded a Campaign Ribbon with Bronze Service Arrowhead, a Philippines Liberation Ribbon with Bronze Service Star, a Good Conduct Medal, a Victory Metal, a Combat Infantryman Badge, an American Campaign Ribbon and 2 Purple Hearts during his service. John eventually received a Red Cross early discharge in 1946, because his father was dying.

May both men RIP along with all their other fallen comrades and may the United States always have a strong military manned by people willing to serve proudly for our country.

THE GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PAST

My memories of Christmas don’t involve lavish gifts or miracles. No, Christmas during my younger years wasn’t like that at all. Although I must admit I don’t remember ever wanting something and not getting it eventually. My children would (in unison) tell anyone that ideology and practice is called "delayed gratification" and delayed gratification builds character. My memories of Christmas as a child have more to do with the simple things and of the people who touched my life each Christmas season. As a young child our tree always seemed so huge, but thinking back on it now, the tree was probably no better or bigger than any "Charlie Brown" type tree. If memory serves me correct, my father used to go out into the woods and cut our tree each year. My mother would probably have a different memory of that occasion and tell me he was too drunk to do that. 

Regardless of whose memory is correct, each year we did have a tree from the woods of Maine and the tree was amazing! Maybe the elves brought it! Who knows? What I remember most about the tree is how my cats loved it. The ornaments seemed to give them endless joy throughout the Christmas season. The one ornament I remember clearest were ones made of tiny pinecones and painted white. Somehow they were fashioned into looking like birds. Needless to say, the cats found them along with everything else hanging from the tree fair game and put there for their amusement. After all isn’t a Christmas tree just a giant green cat toy? 

I was a quick understudy as a child. My brothers taught me if a string was pulled across the gifts very slowly, the cats would "accidentally" tear open the wrapping paper just enough for a peek inside. Of course, we were always warned not to do that, but mysteriously each year the gifts almost looked shredded by the time Christmas would come along. Those pesky cats were so naughty at times! Some winters would be barren right up until Christmas Eve and then miraculously come Christmas morning everything would be dusted with snow. The new fallen snow added to the spirit of the season and the anticipation of getting outside after being penned up in the house was almost unbearable. New snow meant sledding and snowball fights! 

While at Barnes and Noble recently I saw a Christmas card that was so "me". The only reason I didn’t get it was because I didn’t like the verse written inside. I usually go for some "beachy" Christmas scene to send to all my friends and relatives up North, but this year I opted for a cute kitty card. The card at Barnes and Noble that I saw made me think of my misspent youth. The picture was a black and white shot of a little boy bundled up in winter clothing standing next to a metal pole (most likely a flagpole) with his tongue stuck to the pole. I can’t remember how many times as a child I used to do the same thing. Why? Just because I could and probably because I was told not to do it. I learned quickly just how quickly I had to remove my tongue so it wouldn't stick to the flagpole at school...others weren't so lucky! Guess what? I still have my entire tongue! 

Each Christmas morning after unwrapping our gifts, my brothers and I would clean up the mess while my mother cooked a meal fit for royalty. One year my mother told my brothers that when I stopped believing in Santa, we would start opening our gifts on Christmas Eve so that the house wouldn’t be such a mess the next day. Let me end this entry by sharing that at the ripe old age of 5, I opened my gifts on Christmas Eve and have been doing so ever since. You see, my family is so good every year that Santa puts my family at the very top of his delivery list.

*Repost from November 23, 2011

YOU ARE MY SUNSHINE!

I just looked back over the things I've posted since I started blogging years ago and smiled when I realized how disjointed my posts are.  Perhaps I need to go back to the beginning and put my life's story into chronological order so it makes more sense.  Being scattered is indicative of what lurks just below the surface.  It's like a game of dodgeball.  Being scattered makes the reading more difficult and the reliving it even more difficult.  I tell one story, but I skip over the before and after...those parts are most likely more important than the story I selected to tell.  Those parts were the true catalyst for what drove me, so here's my second attempt to right a

wrong by starting my story in a better spot.  

I was born into a family with a mother who was a seamstress, a father who was a fireman and three older brothers who were jocks by the time they reached high school.  That sentence depicts a rather normal family, but the period after the word "jocks" is where the normalcy ends.  I look at photos of myself from my childhood and I never see what I would call a happy child.  I never smiled except during school photos and then it was forced.  I felt ugly and awkward growing up.  I was always the tallest in my class.  During that era it wasn't fashionable for a woman to be tall, so when I started wearing jeans I had to buy boy's jeans to get the inseam long enough.  I bought Levi's at Freese's Department Store on Main Street for $4.95 a pair. I can remember licking and sticking green stamps in books so I could buy blue jeans that fit my curveless physique.  I was so relieved when tall super models hit the scene and changed perceptions of what beautiful looked like.  Thank you Twiggy!

I don't ever remember being teased about be tall or for wearing glasses except from my brothers.  They would tell me I was going to be 6 feet tall when I finished growing.  I would cry and feel like a freak.  They made it seems like I'd never be called beautiful or looked at by a boy.  In fact, they made me feel that I looked like a boy.  I was doomed to be an old maid!  Perhaps that's a brother's job to keep their sister from getting too full of herself.  If so, mine were excellent at that job.  I do have to reveal that their prediction about my height was wrong.  At my tallest I was 5'10 and now, I've begun to shrink.  The last time I was measured I was 5'7".   By the time I'm a very old woman, I might be considered of average height.  Hooray for the golden years, but BOO for having  so many problems with my back!

In hindsight, I don't know why my mother didn't take me under her wing and show me what girls are supposed to do.  She dressed nicely and wore make-up, but by the time I reached my teenage years I wasn't interested in learning to be prissy.  I always hated make up and rarely wore any.  I hated the way it felt on my skin. My closet was full of nice clothes my mother had made, but I wasn't interested in dressing in of them.  A pair of holey jeans and a T-shirt seemed to suffice.  When mini dresses were in style I wore them, but I was never comfortable with showing off my long legs.  I never felt like I had any redeeming physical qualities because no one ever told me I did.  I just assumed when you look like me people say nothing to be polite. When you look like me, you have no reason to primp or smile.  You just learn to keep it all in and suffer in silence.  When you look like me, every other female in the world is prettier.  You envy your female friends and feel horrible because you can't hide the ugly you were given. I mentioned Twiggy earlier...well, I can't really thank her because I truly hated her because my mother had me get my hair cut short like hers. If you cut a girl's hair like that who has a shapeless body you doom her to look like a boy. You talk about having a complex! 

The same went for all my other qualities and potential talents.  I never realized I was smart and that not everyone was capable of getting A's.  I just assumed because I got A's, everyone else did too, but by the time I reached 7th grade I knew I'd never finish high school.  It was like a dark cloud hovering over me preventing me from seeing the good inside myself.  I longed for recognition, but I wasn't good at doing anything.  I was never patted on the back and told "hey kiddo, I think you have something there.  Maybe you should pursue that."  When the dark side took over completely, I discovered I was excellent at hate, discontent and sorrow.  I had a gift for getting into trouble and being outrageous.  Ah! Finally recognition!

From a very early age I loved to write and often times sat in my room writing little stories and drawing pictures.  Paper was in abundance at our house because my grandfather worked at the Eastern Papermill in Brewer and one of the perks was free paper. As I wrote and drew, I always felt as though I was just wasting paper and that it was awful being so wasteful. I tried to hide how much paper I used by stashing away everything I created under the bed, in the closet and in my drawers.  Surfacely, my room looked presentable, but like my life it was actually cluttered and disorganized. As I wrote and drew, I assumed everyone could do the same.  It wasn't until much later in life that I made a startling discovery and at that moment, I was filled with so many emotions I thought I was going to lose my mind.  I was angry because I didn't receive any encouragement when I was growing up and I was sad because I had wasted so much time living behind a wall. I made myself remember how my creations were never showcased, but thrown away each time my mother decided my room needed a thorough cleaning.  Our refrigerator door was bare except for the occasional newspaper cartoon that was taped there.  The void I grew up in wasn't loud and maddening.  It was dark and cold.  There was no praise and encouragement.  There was only waves of pain and disappointment.

As I got older and could no longer avoid making certain realizations, I felt worse the more potential I discovered I had.  You would think a healthy person making those types of discoveries would feel elated.  They would open their wings and soar amongst the clouds.  Not I!  I stopped writing and drawing about the same time I stopped doing drugs around age 30 and didn't start again for almost 15 years. I had this overwhelming need to punish myself, to stifle myself and to deny myself any recognition for a job well done.  I called myself stupid for not seeing obvious things and for allowing my inner demons to run amok.  I hated being weak and I hated me!  I still struggle with those demons, but I'm able to comfort that little girl inside myself and tell her that she's the bright spot in my life.  Mildred, you are my sunshine!

*reposted from 10/26/2019

DRIPPING ON MY KEYBOARD

I first became aware of my grandparent's disappointment of me when I was a teenager. It was deserved, but it still hurt when my grandfather told me his dog was better than me. I had done some horrible things and yes, I had deserved scorn, but I didn't deserve cruelty.  Now, as an adult I look back on that part of my life and I wonder why no one stepped up and saw that I was in crisis. I was struggling. Jesus, I had my first overdose back then. Was it so hard to figure out I had some serious problems? I'm not excusing my behavior because I was incorrigible. I hurt many people and I'm deeply ashamed of that and always will be.

Whenever I would go "home" to Maine I always spent one day visiting my deceased relatives.  My brothers always thought this was rather morbid of me, but it never struck me that way.  I ways grabbed some lunch at a fast food place and ate lunch with my father, grandfather, grandmother and aunt.  They were all buried next to each other in the same cemetery.  On one such visit, I had had an emotional awakening the entire time I was in Maine.  My feelings were raw and I needed to vent so sitting there in front of my father and grandparents who were all non-participating entities in my life growing up I blasted them with everything I had.  I'm glad I was alone because if anyone had been in earshot, they would have thought I was crazy.  My final words to my father were, "Carl Goggins, are you listening to me?" Of course, he wasn't!  He had been dead for over 30 years at that time.  My words fell on deaf ears and my tears fell on stone marker bearing his name.

My next stop was to visit my mother's parents. My heart was so heavy because I knew what a disappointment I had been to them and I had just come from having "words" with my father.  I wish I had been able to say I'm sorry to them while they were still alive.  I wish they had known the turmoil I felt inside me growing up.  I wish they knew the panic I felt.  I wish they knew that I felt I had nowhere to go and no one to talk to and how trapped I felt.  I had to keep everything inside and for a child that's a huge burden.  Eventually it's going to erupt and it did erupt.  When it did, all everyone saw was a kid acting bad and not one person questioned why I was acting that way.  I don't think anyone cared or wanted to know because no one wanted to take any responsibility.

I pulled into the small cemetery where my grandparents are buried and got out of the car.  But instead of going to their grave, I stopped dead in my tracks. On top of their headstone was a huge roll of duct tape.  There wasn't a soul in the small cemetery and why would someone leave a roll of duct tape on my grandparents headstone?  I started laughing because I have a "thing" about duct tape and I took it as my father's answer that he was listening to me. I took the roll and sat down with my grandparents and told them I was sorry for being a disappointment to them and I wept.  It hurt to say that.  It hurts to admit that I hurt so many people that I loved and I wasn't able to tell them I was sorry while they were alive.

Now, let me fast forward to the present day...my mother is 92.  I love her dearly, but we've had a what I'll call a "ruffled" relationship my entire life.  It's never been smooth.  I'm her only daughter, but I've always wondered things like why she never sat me down at a certain age and showed me how to put make up on or how to style my hair, etc. when she herself dressed to the nines and looked like a model whenever she left the house. The other day I sat down in hopes that with the time we have left together that I might try to mend our relationship somewhat and make it smoother by offering an apology.  It was so difficult for me to hand her the olive branch, but I did it. I told her that I was so sorry that I wasn't the daughter that she needed and wanted me to be.  I told her that I really wanted us to enjoy what time we had left together and that I didn't want us to keep butting our heads together all the time (that's a story for another day.) I said I didn't want to be a disappointment to her any longer. My mother sat there without any reaction whatsoever while I wept and said nothing. She said nothing. She said nothing and she has said nothing about it since. End of discussion.

I can't even begin to describe the emotions that have flooded through me lately. I feel as though she continually punishes me for things I did long ago. I know karma is a bitch, but when is enough enough? When have you paid your dues? When are you truly forgiven? I can't help, but feel that my mother's silence is her way of being cruel because at 92 she's limited in what she can actually do now. I mean she can't whack the hell out of me with a hairbrush or a wooden spoon. Oh, I guess she could try, but I'm a little faster than her. I really hate to say that I think it's her way of being cruel  because I do love her. Jesus Christ! Now, I'm crying again! And I have to go find some meme to fit this stupid ass whiny post. Blah! Blah! Blah! Oh Mildred! Dry it up! Go get a Kleenex! You're dripping all over the keyboard!

By the way, I still have that huge roll of duct tape my father gave me and I use it quite often.  Each time I use it, I think of him and I actually thank him. The last time was to tape a hole worn in the fingers of my favorite pair of gardening gloves. Don't say "get a new pair!"  I've looked and they don't make that exact same pair and that's the pair I want so when I wear a hole in the fingers...duct tape it is! Thank you, Carl Goggins!

Can I get an Amen up in here?

Addendum: written 10/23/2022 Sunday morning - My mother passed away almost six months after I wrote this blog post on 6/1/2020. Although I'm much better now grieving has been a difficult process and finding purpose in life after being a caregiver for two elderly parents for the better part of two decades of my life has been challenging. When the options are limitless, how does one choose what to do?

THE ART OF KITTEN-FISHING

Recently, I’ve been innocently challenged to think about my current relationship status. The million-dollar question seemed to be: How could Red Kitten spend Valentine’s Day flowerless or "uncandied"? Was it just a rude oversight on someone’s part or perhaps a harmless stroke of bad luck that the deliveries were never made? Or could the rumor be true? Is Red Kitten really just a cave-dwelling feline who only comes out periodically to hunt, to feed and to occasionally mate?

Over the years (ten to be exact) that I have been single, many people have inquired why I am alone. Often times, the question almost seemed like the person was implying that being alone meant that I must be defective in some way. Yes, I have 10 toes, 1 head and 2 arms! I hold down a full time job and am self-sufficient in every way. Okay, I have to confess it’s hard to get to my age without having some baggage or defects, but I do try to keep my defects to a minimum and small enough to fit in an overnight size bag inside of one of those bulky steamer size captain’s trunks or huge cargo crates.

I must admit I am abnormally normal so that binds me to living a life filled with doing my own thing whatever that thing may be. I am proud to say that there is no one I pine away for or look at as "the one that got away." In fact, the truth is simple and fairly obvious as I examine my past. If any of my potential love interest slipped away empty-handed, they must have done so because they were oblivious to the fact of what a great catch they tossed back into the pond. [LOL] Because my heart is void of any emotional entanglements at this time, that might lead a person to wonder if free spirits ever miss being in love and what type of expectations they have for the future.

First, I would like to say that I learned long ago that being alone is MUCH better than being with the wrong person. I would also like to say that I see no point in dating just for the sake of dating. Quite frankly, it’s been a long time since I’ve met anyone who I’d like to get to know better, but I suppose if I did meet someone who piqued my interest I would allow my curiosity to be more than superficially satisfied. I’m not opposed to emotional entanglements, I simply am not actively seeking one right now. Perhaps, what needs to happen is "it" needs to find me and convince me that life is too short to put things on hold for long periods of time. Afterall, when is the right time for love? It isn’t something that can be planned for or done in an orderly way. Nothing about falling in love is logical…at best, it’s chaotic and quite overwhelmingly intense.

I suppose some people might consider me a picky person because I haven’t met anyone who has tickled my fancy lately or because I do have certain preferences when it comes to which lures actually attract me. When one goes fishing, it’s crucial to use the proper bait if you expect to catch a fish. To attract a Red Kitten fish, a skilled fisherman would use the following things as bait:

1.Wit/Intelligence
2.Creativity/Originality
3.Honesty/Openness


The mystery of my solo status is one that can be easily solved. What really keeps me from throwing myself into the relationship arena? At this time in my life, I am the caregiver to my two elderly parents. My mother suffers from dementia, which has stripped away her desire to participate in the everyday activities of life. She no longer sees the need to do anything, but sit in a chair all day and stare at the floor. My stepfather is a dialysis patient with several other serious health problems. Neither can drive anymore and are completely dependent upon me for most of their basic needs. After working all day, it seems there is little time for anything else and my lovelife is at the bottom of the list. So if being single and not dating means I’m defective in some way then I must confess that yes, I am defective and will continue to stay defective until I feel I have the time and energy to devote myself to another human being besides my family.

Comments:


₪Μy§TẲfiЄĐ₪
FEBRUARY 16, 2008 AT 2:42 AM 
Hello Karen
I’ve only then..just finished sharpening my fishing hooks 
My step dad has dementia and…just reading how you’re looking after
both of your parents…I have total admiration for you
I don’t know how many people would realise how much work that
would be. I know that it would be more than a full time job!
This is a very good entry Karen
I like the way you write and…your honesty
and…the way you come to my space to comment.. ok?
I promise that, I’ll even put my fishing rod away 🙂
I hope you’re having a good weekend
Garry xo


Reeking Havoc's Lair
FEBRUARY 16, 2008 AT 8:02 AM 
Yeah, Worrying about it or rushing around in search mode tends to lock it into place, that’s what I learned from experience.Now that I’m happily married, I can’t make any plans to tickle your fancy, but if you’d post a picture of it I could use my imagination…

J W
FEBRUARY 16, 2008 AT 12:25 PM
You defective!! Hardly. Perhaps one of the more open and grounded persons I’ve had the good pleasure to meet on this Spaces thing. I’d gladly give you a standing ovation if you could see or hear it. All good things come to those who wait….donkey crap! You aren’t waiting for anything. Truth be told, you are doing exactly what most people fear most….you are living one day at a time with responsibilities and quiet comfort in doing what comes natural to you. Frankly, I can’t see you just settling for anything mundane or repetitive. Your parents raised a responsible daughter indeed. A tip of the hat to you lady…..J.W.L.

Stephen
FEBRUARY 16, 2008 AT 1:09 PM
Since you’re a caregiver that puts certain strains on you and your social life and that certainly plays a roll in getting out and doing your thing to mean anyone. I admire you for that you’re putting family first, but that doesn’t help you meet anyone as par for the course. I would try to be open as possible to dating someone and they will come along sooner or later. Obviously you’re loving and understanding so those are two great qualities that you have on your side. Just don’t get someone whom you have to take care of as well as everyone else. I wish you hope in meeting someone to date. You’re human and you have needs that aren’t being met currently, for that to hell what everyone else thinks – you’re you and that’s that.
I hope you have a fantastic weekend!!! 🙂


NATIVE
FEBRUARY 16, 2008 AT 3:21 PM 
You are perfectly fine to me, and I agree with John whole-heartedly. What is a relationship status anyway? Two people conjoined at the hip, making the wanderings more meaningful, or is it substantially more? Daring to hold on to such a rare thing as compatibility and concern. When that very lucky man stands upon your thresh hold and asks for your hand take that leap and be the happiest and most beautiful person we already know you are. You aren’t defective, either. Peace my friend.~DD

EbonyWyvernDragon
FEBRUARY 16, 2008 AT 4:21 PM
Hello Lady – I couldn’t agree with you more – being alone is FAR preferable to being in a bad relationship! I’ll never quite understand why it took me so long to learn that but……… i guess some of us are just slower than others!

I did not realize you had moved to the "caregiver" stage of the relationship with your parents – that is an extremely hard role to fulfill – especially working full time and having parents who need so much care…….. it is draining and exhausting. I completely admire the dedication you have to your family. They raised a wonderful daughter!

Remember, though, that in order to care for them, you need to care for yourself first. There are organizations (like local churches) who can arrange for a responsible adult to come care for your parents while you take a respite.

Please take care!

MotherHenDragon


Hanging Judge
FEBRUARY 17, 2008 AT 1:39 AM
Greetings:
I love catfishing. The fillets when breaded and lightly deep-fried are terrrific.
My Courtroom is filling up with the guilty! 2 new trials are scheduled!!

Bittersweet on-the-hill.
FEBRUARY 17, 2008 AT 10:31 AM
Hello Red Kitten,
This was a wonderfully written piece. Yes, elderly parents are a full time commitment and I’m happy that you have embraced the task. Nothing easy about it but when all is said and done, you will have no regrets. We were lucky with my Dad, and not so lucky with Mom. A tortuous, harrowing end – something she didn’t deserve. But we know life was never meant to be easy. At least that’s the refrain I say to myself. The one consolation…..you are not doing it in sub zero weather. Today continues with bone chilling wind and most of the week, rain, sleet and snow. February…..well I hate it!

The pup, little Sydney is doing well. Within a few days she was back to her precocious self. Our only recourse is an electric fence. So Wednesday hey will fence in 2 or 3 acres so she has the space to run and let all this energy out. I’m sure in time she\’ll slow down but if she has a chance of making it, I better invest in this fence. At the moment she resting in front of the woodstove after being outside the past two hours.

I’m satisfying myself by going through seed and flower catalogues. It’s the only way us northerners can make it through February. You take care lady. Bittersweet

Bittersweet on-the-hill.
FEBRUARY 17, 2008 AT 11:17 AM
Karen,
I just had to come back. I was reading some of your other entries and then came upon your Super Bowl entry! So the Giants had no chance!!!! And Eli would have to wait another year or so before his opportunity for greatness???? Bonebreaking……bonebreaking indeed. Wasn’t the Giants offensive and defensive line just great? Laughing with you. I\’ve been a Giants fan since the years of Y.A. Tittle. I know pain and heartache. Go back and read my entry on the Super Bowl. It was a great game…..unexpected…..and great. Bittersweet


Jacqueline M
FEBRUARY 17, 2008 AT 12:08 PM 
I’m very glad I stumbled across your site this morning during my networking hours. In your honor for having what it takes to be the caretaker to your mother and step father. I heard a long time ago that child parent their parents as they were parented and for sure my mother does not or would not want me in that role. my father has passed and my mother is 84 and "just waiting" as she said on our last phone call. One of maybe two times a year we say four minutes worth of words to each other.

I love your thinking about this subject and though it\’s other things that keep me busy these days I know from past experience that when someone comes along that stirs me I\’d find the time but until then I have enough to fill my life with. great words here. LJ


JaAG
FEBRUARY 17, 2008 AT 12:48 PM 
Sounds like someone could use a good pirate joke. What do you get when you cross a zucchini and a pirate?
A squashbuckler! Argghh!
Keep smiling.


Kenneth
FEBRUARY 17, 2008 AT 3:05 PM 
The third paragraph jumped out at me and hit me square between the eyes, the final chapter hit me in the heart.
I posses only one type of bait that you mention to catch a Red Kitten fish.
However, when I fished for women (years ago) a big fat juicy worm usually done the trick.


Jade
FEBRUARY 19, 2008 AT 10:36 AM 
wow, a dragon told me to visit you..and I can see why. I’ll be back later.

Red
FEBRUARY 20, 2008 AT 2:36 AM
Jade, dragons are wise creatures…always listen to them! Thanks for dropping by and I look forward to your next visit.

Kenny, So which was more powerful..the heart or the mind?

Gandalfe, thanks for the joke!

Lady J talks, Thanks for commenting and I do hope you come stumbling back again soon.

Bittersweet, sigh! I’m glad to hear your "baby" is doing better.

Lood, you stay busier than anyone I know. I think you may need to expand and get another judge!

EbonyDragon, I’m only doing what I feel is right. They always were there for me and now it’s my turn to be there for them.

Double D, all this support is so wonderful. You guys really made me blush.

Stephen, now if I can find someone as wonderful as you then my situation with being a caregiver wouldn’t be something the person would mind at all…they would understand and support me…but in the real world there’s not many that would take on the kind of responsibility.

JWL, you’re making me get a swelled head. You don’t want that to happen…I might post something deep and meaningful then! LOL

Havoc, IF I ever find my fancy I’ll post a picture but I’m sure MSN will slap my hand and we wouldn’t want that to happen.

Garry, what do you have for bait over there? Anything I like?