Tonights Village Meeting was....

an eye opener...and slightly scary. 

The meeting was of course packed to the gills...and kudos to the people who behaved themselves. 

It opened with the Mayor and his opening comments and went quickly downhill as people, two men in the back, one who runs the carymatters FB page and website, started shouting at the Mayor.

This continued throughout the meeting.  The Mayor would answer a question someone at the podium would ask and people from the audience would then shout at him.  If he didn't know the answer to a question, people would actually laugh at him!  Really?????   I bet these are the same people that in grade school, when someone got a mistake would shout out 'HA HA'  I was quite embarrassed!

These meetings are a public forum.  A chance to for the public to speak in an appropriate manner.  Not to stand on the playground and shout at others.  I understand that this is an emotional topic for some more than others...but please...lets maintain a  bit dignity here!  You are upset, I get it...then wait your turn and stand at the podium and say your peace.  Don't hide in the back of a crowd and shout out.   What do you think you will accomplish by doing this?  If you want your word to be heard and to be taken seriously, then put on your big boy/girl pants and act like a grownup!

People who hide in the back of a crowd don't really want their opinions heard and taken seriously, they just want to make trouble.  To coin a phrase, 'Shame on You'

Now some good points and questions were brought up during the meeting and officially I am still on the fence, although leaning towards the no side...Not because of some of the comments I heard tonight.  Such as, I find beer bottles in my front yard, it must be from the apts.  Or the police are always at the apts.  Apts are the end of the world.  But, because I do not think Cary would be getting enough yearly tax money from them and what happens when they flip ownership.

Really people!!!   To the people who complain about beer bottles in their front yard and people who park on the sidewalks.  People dont usually walk around with beer and drop it in your yard...its thrown from passing cars full of teenagers...and we try really hard not to park on the sidewalk, sorry.

So, the Mayor calls a 5 minute break.  The very nice older woman next to me turns and starts asking me about what I was knitting.  I begin to respond...only to be yelled at to be quiet as the man who runs CaryMatters decides to call everyone together to speak.  Wait what???  I am explaining my knitting to a nice older woman and I'm yelled at to be quiet because some dude who was shouting at the Mayor at the start of the meeting and didn't have the cojones (I don't think mom knows the meaning to that word so I"m safe.   LB, don't you dare tell her) to speak during the meeting decides he's important enough to make everyone in the room shut up and listen to him during a recess. 

I politely inform the woman who yelled at me, that it is a recess and that I am talking knitting with the woman next to me.  It goes down hill from there.  She informs me that This Important Man was speaking and I needed to shut up.  I informed her again that this was a recess and I could chit chat if I wanted to.  It then started to travel a little faster downhill.  As KLP came my defense or me to hers, I dont remember, It got a little confusing at this point, this woman yelled at KLP saying that we dont live in Cary, but she quickly amends the statement, pointing at me saying she knows I live in Cary but KLP doesn't.  How stereo typical is that.  I bet she thought KLP lived in harvest glen cause she's always put together, makeup on, matching....I'm wearing a ball cap, wish it was my bite me one, a shirt, no makeup and knitting.  Then, this other woman starts to yell at me.  To be honest, I am not quite sure what she was saying.  She was large and had crooked teeth and scared the hell out of me!  I just kept asking her why she was yelling at me, that I didn't even know her, why is she yelling at me.  Big surprise, she never answered me. 

I finished explaining the knitting pattern to the older woman, said goodnight to the Mayor and KLP and I escorted each other to our cars out of plain fear!

In a nutshell,

I think it was agreed upon by the trustees that even though its a 'done deal' its not a done deal.  They can recall the vote and re vote.  It has to pass or fail by a majority.  If its a tie, then it reverts back to the previous vote...which is a pass. 

My overall opinion of the meeting..I feel bad for the Mayor.  He attempted to make an educated decision.  Did his research, yes i believe him, why would I not...just because he's a politician?  Hey folks, guess what...this is a part time job making peanuts.  He's not in it to become President of the United States.  What has he to gain by lying???  And I only call someone a liar if they have lied to me.....not just because of the field they are in...If I catch you lying to me, I will never trust you again, if you haven't lied to me, I believe you.  Life is much more fun that way...less depressing. 

He has done his best, he was laughed at, scorned, called names.  Shame on all of you.  I really wanted to stand up and ask the question....ummmmm...how many people in this room voted in the last Mayoral election.  Whether or not I agree or disagree with someones position on a topic, that does not  give me the right to question their character, their morals and their beliefs.  We disagree...he does not have ultimate say in this matter.  He is the figure head.  There were 3 other members of the board who voted yes...none of them were laughed at or called a liar.  

To certain members of the Village of Cary

SHAME ON YOU

Your Period and You....

Sorry Dad...and Mom..and all of my male friends and relatives...Please feel free to ignore reading this one.

And to any I may offend by this first sentence....fell free to condemn me...its ok.

God is a MAN!   No woman in the world would make us bleed once a month for 7, yes SEVEN, days and make it painful!

To the Men who say PMS is fake...GO TO HELL!   Hmmm....I seem to be a little sensitive today.

I figure there are several stages to getting and having your period.  At least there are for me.

Stage one:  SALLY STRUTHERS STAGE
This stage actually comes before the period.  Remember the commercials she starred in, surrounded by starving children asking for our pledges to help feed them.  She was like 300 lbs! I know...shame on me for judging...but didn't we all sit there and think to ourselves, 'Good Lord woman...share the food you are eating'  Sally Struthers Stage, in two parts....Part 1; we consume everything in sight...we are not hungry...we just want food.  Its usually food we don't normally eat too.  Last month I ate 4, yes FOUR,   cinnamon rolls!  I dont even like cinnamon rolls!  This was in one sitting!  Not even over the course of an entire day....it was maybe in like 15 minutes!  Part 2; Sobbing over the children.  Of course, it might not actually be starving children we sob over.  It could be that snuggle fabric softener commercial with the cute little bear snuggling a blankey.  WHAT???  There is no rhyme or reason...God forbid a video comes up of soldiers being reunited with their children after being deployed, or with their DOG!!!!  That's sobbing while eating 4 cinnamon rolls!

Stage two:  Incredible Hulk
This is one of my favorite and my kids/hubbies least favorite!  Very mild mannered, very calm.  Like eerie calm!  Helping children with homework, settling squabbles....and then, with no warning whatsoever....THE INCREDIBLE HULK ERUPTS IN THE KITCHEN(thankfully not ripping off clothes, but by this time, you feel like he looks, everything bulging out of them).  Eyes raise up towards the ceiling, arms flail and a howl that makes animals seek shelter, bursts from your lungs!  Children freeze, hubbies cower, animals(cause they are the smartest) run and hide.  The Incredible Hulk tends to slam things down, throw shoes up the stairs, throw books/backpacks anywhere.  Although this stage only lasts a second or two, you are left standing alone in the kitchen...all living creatures have fled...you are panting, trying to slow down your breathing, trying to calm the anger within...Trying to find mild mannered mom again...But its to late, and you stumble away, alone...defeated

Stage three:  Alice(Brady Bunch)
This is definitely my favorite stage.  Its the clean every single nook and cranny of the house stage.  Not the normal places of the house, not the areas we do every day anyway.  Its the, time to clean the baseboards stage.  or scrub the grout with a toothbrush stage.  As kids, this was a scary stage for us..(SORRY MOM).  We came home from school, and every item from under our bed was not on top of our bed.  Our beds now stood 6 feet high.  I can still remember walking to my bedroom and emitting a huge sigh....but recognizing the Alice stage and knowing how quickly it could turn into the Incredible Hulk stage, I shut up and cleaned!  (ok, mom never actually turned into the Incredible Hulk.  Honest!) 

Stage four:  The Odd Couple with me playing the role of Oscar
Remember this show?  Felix was the one that demanded everything be neat and Oscar was the slob.
Stage 4 does not happen very often.  Alice seems to show up more often than Oscar.  But everyone once in a while, Oscar shows up and says screw it!  Nothing gets done, nothing gets cleaned, picked up, washed, put away....dinner doesn't get made....Nothing happens...NOTHING!  I do feel slightly guilty when Stage four does hit.  Usually that means that when children get home from school, they are met by Stage Two the second they walk in the door.  Hell, its not my mess.  I am Felix!  Oscar just shows up and says, I am no not cleaning up the dried cereal in the sink, or bringing kids laundry downstairs, or wiping toothpaste off the counters...Oscar waits for the unsuspecting children to come home and unleashes the Hulk. 

Stage five:  The super insecure, wife
He doesn't call during the day, does he still love me?  He's 5 minutes late getting home, did he find someone else?  He's one the phone laughing it up,  He doesn't find me funny anymore?  He gobbles dinner down and doesn't comment, He doesn't like my cooking?  He doesn't ask about my day, He doesn't care anymore?  I showered that day,  He doesn't comment that I look pretty?  Or whats even worse...Hi Honey, how was your day *muttering response*  Like you care...  Dinner was great  *muttering response*  It was fricking take out, you moron!  Did you get a chance to pick up the dry cleaning?  *muttering response*  what am I, your fricking servant!   Have you seen my (insert item name here)  *muttering response*  what am I, your fricking Mother!  Worse yet!!! I Love you  *muttering response*  BITE...ME!  This is the stage men fear the most.  Nothing they say or do is right.  They are in trouble just for existing.  If they help, we think, what, you think I can't do it myself...and if they dont help, we think, you lazy fricking moron...you can do your own laundry from now on.  If they dont tell us we are pretty, we think we are ugly...if they dont tell us they love us, they are tired of us, am I getting flabby?  This is the most dangerous stage for any man.  

After stage five, things start to calm down...All creatures come out from hiding, animals, children and husbands.  A little meekly at first, timid, still slightly afraid...but they slowly emerge.  And we, having shed our Sybil persona, act like nothing at all has happened.  Life slowly returns back to normal...the birds begin to sing again, the sun shines, the air is fresh...life is good....for about 21 days....then....SALLY STRUTHERS SHOWS UP AGAIN!!!  WHO ATE ALL THE FRICKING CINNAMON ROLLLS!???!!!

Today....Really Bitchy!!

Look people....Its raining out.  OH MY DEAR LORD...  This simply means that everyone will be driving their walkers to school today. Ok..no biggie.  It rains in the fall.  Its the same process to drop off any other day, just in the rain. 

Its very simple.  Get in line, pull around, when its your turn, throw it in park, unlock the doors and shout...'GO,GO,GO,GO! GET OUT...GO!'  I do actually do this.  Just ask the kids who are carpooling with me and who have in the past.  My kids are out of the car in seconds!  Yes, I rock!

Now, to the idiot this morning who decided that they needed to park at the curb right in front of the school during drop off and go inside.  Are you fucking kidding me.  What makes you so damn special!  You screwed up the entire drop off because you are a fucking idiot!   And if you think putting your hazards on makes it ok....its a parking lot you moron.

I have had to go inside the school during drop off before.  It does happen.  Guess what I do.  I PARK MY FUCKING CAR IN A PARKING SPACE!  This is the second time in two weeks some moron has decided they are special.  What I find especially annoying is the teachers who are out there to help with?  no clue, let these idiots do that. 

Hell last week, when someone parked at the curb cause they are so damn special, a teacher with a ton of stuff loaded on a cart couldn't get into the school cause they were blocking the sidewalk ramp!!

(Remember when my daughter was in a cast from thigh to toes and in a wheelchair forever...and every day, morning and afternoon, someone would block the damn sidewalk ramp.  Still pisses me off!)

Remember the good old days at Oak Knoll.  If you got out of you car, BC would actually yell at you!  Hey NW...quit smiling and waving and yell at these morons who park at the curb and enter the school!

These are not the only offenders of the school drop off code.   I love those who pull up to the curb, get out and help their special snowflake out of the car...on the parking lot side, so they now have to cross between the cars.  Two problems where...crossing between cars driven by parents who just want to get the kids out get get the hell out and quite often dont pay attention...and getting out of your damn car!

It screws everything up and slows everything down.  Unless your child is special needs, they should be able to get out of the damn car all by themselves! 

Granted, there will be times that a child needs help.  Especially on project day.  I dont mind that at all.  Poster boards, diorama's, etc...they need help with that.  You need to get out to hand it to them, no problem.  HUG KISS AND WAVE AT HOME.   

School drop off should be treated like a pit stop at the Indy 500.  You pull up, doors open, kids fly out, doors close and you take off.  Its my goal to beat the 5 second unload this year, and with only two kids, it should be a cinch!  If you have to get out, think of yourself as the lug nut guy..dont wander back to the driver side door, RUN RUN RUN!. 

And next time I find a car parked at the curb directly in front of the school during drop off, I am going to block them in and wait for them to come out.  Or maybe I'll write a nice little nasty note and put it on their windshield.  Hell last week, when someone parked at the curb cause they are so damn special, a teacher with a ton of stuff loaded on a cart couldn't get into the school cause they were blocking the sidewalk ramp!!

Well, probably not...I am to big of a wuss, that is why I hide behind the typewritten word.  Of course, it was probably someone I know that parked there this morning or someone who knows who it was and will tell them and will get pissed at me.  I DONT CARE!  I'M EATING BEN AND JERRYS FOR BREAKFAST...DOES THAT TELL YOU MY MOOD TODAY!  

And I'm to bitch to apologize for swearing mom.  So sorry for not apologizing

Only a little bitchy here...

Honest, I'm only a little bitchy about this...maybe bitchy is not even the right word....Let me try it this way.....


Dear Old Navy

Let me start out by saying how much I love your store.  Wonderful clothing at reasonable prices, and very fashionable.  Fashionable in the sense that my kids like shopping there.  If I try to take them anywhere else, I get the eye roll and am informed that I have no fashion sense whatsoever.  Dramatic emphasis on the 'whatsoever' by the teenage daughter.  So, congrats on keeping up or starting the latest and greatest fashion trends.

Now, in the past, I have never been able to look good in your clothes.  My fault not yours.  I admit that since kids, oh heck, even before having kids, I enjoyed food way to much.  Whats not to enjoy when it comes to BACON.

Well, since the fire diet(not recommend for everyone)I have lost 4 sizes!  Yes, I look good...not the best yet, but good.  And, the best part, I can now wear your clothes!  Please note, I am not trying to relive my youth.  I had no fashion sense then either.  I do not want to be one of those 40 something moms who are trying to look like teenagers.  Lets face it, they look ridiculous!   And trust me, if I did try to dress like that, I would get major eye rolling from my teenage daughter, more than normal!

I do enjoy the ability to shop in your store and no longer have to shop at Walmart for the cheap crappy jeans.  I am not dissing them.  I just dont enjoy their jeans.  Or at least the jeans that fit me and make me look good.  Your jeans make me feel good.  I think I look good.  My daughter has not looked at me and rolled her eyes at my jeans, so I take that as a good sign.  And I don't think I look like a stuffed sausage.  God, I HOPE NOT!  I think my daughter would tell me. 

I love your jeans.  I don't buy the skinny ones because I like the ability to breathe and I'm pretty sure my inner organs like staying where they are.  If I tried to cram myself into those, I'm pretty sure my spleen would end up north of where it is supposed to be.  And I would totally look like a stuffed sausage! 

Your stores offer a chart that tries to help me decide my fit.  I dont think I'm a 'Rockstar' and I'm not sure what style 'Boyfriend' is, but since I'm married, I skipped that one too. 'Diva', maybe in my own mind but as far as jeans...I have no clue.  'Flirt'  is said to fit semi-curvy.  I'm not sure what that means, but since I've had three kids and I love Ben and Jerry's, I dont think that one is for me. 'Dreamer'  Trims all.   I think they call this a dreamer because dream on ladies!  If you can actually fit into this, you probably shouldn't.   I think people forget, that if you put something on to trim a certain area...well, picture this...take a Brat, and squeeze the bottom part where you would put on jeans.  Where does the rest go?  UP!  MUFFIN TOP!  Mine would probably be more like Banana loaf.

'Sweetheart' Curvy.  That's the one!   Call me curvy...I don't care! I've had three kids and I  like food, junk food.  I am a woman with sun spots, wrinkles, curves, aches and pains.  I am living my life and proud to show it off...well, maybe not all of it :)  So I buy three pair! 

They are very comfy!  and very flattering!  (no teenage eye roll)  They move well, I can breath, my internal organs are happy, I dont have to lay on the floor and suck in every molecule of oxygen in the room to button or zip!  I am happy!   wait for it.....except....

Now your store does advertise Woman's Jeans, as does your website.  I am a Woman.  Yup...I run a house...I have children, pets etc.  I am forever bending down, bending over, reaching under etc etc.  Like most woman with kids, pets, a house...I am not asking for jeans that go up to my bra line, but I would like to at least get the wash out of the machine without my pants going down....well...we've all seen it.  Mom bends over and we get to see it all!  Much more entertaining if she's wearing a thong!  EWWWW!   I know I am not the only woman with this problem.  Just look around in any store.  Any mom, especially with kids.  She bends over to retrieve something or put something back and as soon as she stands back up she's adjusting, looking around hoping that no one saw her underwear.  And then, she's hiking her jeans back up where they belong. 

If you are selling jeans to woman, please take this into account.  We do not sit around all day not moving.  We move alot!  Not like the commercials, skiing, or sitting in front of a fire, but chasing the cat to keep him from eating string, or wrestling a childs favorite toy from a dog, or on our hands and knees scraping some strange gooey foreign material from the kitchen floor.   In the privacy of our own house, its not so horrible.  But in public...I have to put items on the bottom of my grocery cart and then retrieve them.  I will actually maneuver the cart so that my back is to the items so that I dont have to worry about my butt! 

I am sure that I am not the only woman who would like jeans that stay up when we go down.  I have enough to do and to worry about especially when out in public.  My butt and my jeans are not one of them.  Or at least didn't use to be. 

Any assistance in this matter would be greatly appreciated.  My butt and any unfortunate soul that has to witness me bending down in public, thank you

Sincerely

A Woman

Dear C2's Teacher

Its the beginning of what, the third week of school and you have already driving my house insane.

Perhaps you have never raised  a 13 yr old daughter in you house.   Let me explain to you what happens when you impose STUPID FUCKING RULES ON YOUR STUDENTS!

First, last week, the world came to an end because we did not have any loose leaf paper.  Apparently, you do not  accept spiral note book paper for homework.  I can understand not wanting all of those little bits of paper that fall of from spiral pages.  But for whatever reason, you also don't accept the spiral pages that have the perforation so you can tear them out neatly!  AND YOU CAN TELL THE DIFFERENCE!  Perhaps you have way to much time on your hands?  I will be sending you the receipt for $3.48 from CVS for a stupid package of loose leaf paper.  Personal checks will not be accepted, cash only.

Now, this evening, we had a crying fit because the printer was confused and didn't want to print the page double sided.  Once again, the world will come to and end and C2 will be sent to the school firing squad if she prints up two pages instead of double sided.  I suggested that if we can figure it out..lets print one right side up and the other upside down because its STUPID!  Guess how well that went over!!!

This is my dime there.  Its my paper, my ink and my staple.  GET OVER IT!

I have heard from LJ that her daughter went through the same hell with the same teacher....Hey Teacher....I used to tell my kids that sometimes you have to deal with assholes and you have to learn to live with it and get over it and move on.  I'm not a very confrontational person you know...but lately....I will kick your ass and smile while I'm doing it!

So, Teacher...back off, cut it out!  I am not enjoying the chaos you have brought to my house because you are an anal retentive moron!  Life is short...  Teach my child about your subject, but please stop imposing stupid rules that ruin my evenings!  This, once, mild mannered red head used to be quiet one that sits backs and keeps her mouth shut...but with recent events, I have learned you only have one life to live and I am much quicker at brushing my bitch off and throwing it in your face!

If you have any questions, please ask C2 for my cell number.  I would be more than thrilled to meet with you to discuss these issues

My last ever fire related posting...

Laying in bed this morning, wondering why I cant sleep.  Its July 18, 1:04am.   One year ago, at this time, 1:16am, we were watching firetrucks fly down our street as we stood in front of our house watching it burn.

We have been through a lot, more than I ever thought I could handle.  Either personally, or as a family. 

In the past, pre fire, I had heard about people losing their belongings, and their house on the news like everyone else.  It never dawned on me the type of hell they go through from that second on.  From the second they are displaced, either by flood or fire, or whatever, their lives are changed...they can never go back, they, we, will never forget, never truly get over it, never finally move on, never let it go.

Its been 365 days...I still think about it.  I go to bed at night and those thoughts pop into my head...the sounds, the lights, the oppressive heat of the night, the horror at being in the street in my jammies, sans bra!  I go to bed more nights than I care to admit, picturing myself screaming at my children to run.  What's worse, is when I go to bed at night and try to fill in the missing chunks.  This is not something I do on purpose.  Who would.  I lay down, all snuggly, try to sleep, and these thoughts and images race through my head. 

Not a day goes by that someone in the house doesn't bring up the fire, or items lost, or missing.  And no, not by me.  I try not to mention it to the kids/hubby.  Its mostly the kids that bring it up and mostly regarding items lost, destroyed, or just plain missing.  I cringe when I hear, 'hey mom, what happened to my ****'   It happens at least once a day, the question, followed by my silence and look, and then either anger, or sadness. 

Today, well, technically, yesterday, 364 days after the fire, I dragged a box from my closet to the garage because something in it smelled like smoke. I also went through a box of pictures/frames and books, half went into the garage because they stink. 

We are still missing everyday items....and every time I go to the store, which I swear to god is every freaking day!, I forget to buy the missing items.  A pipe wrench, a funnel, a stupid wine opener.  Realized this past weekend, I dont have any of those corn thingys you stick in corn on the cob so you can eat it without burning yourself.  Have been to the store 4 times since them and have forgotten to buy them every time.

And dont get me wrong, I have no personal attachment to stupid corn on the cob thingys.  Its just the fact that I dont remember that I dont own them anymore so when I go to get them, I dont have them and its just plain ANNOYING! 

Last week, I was looking for Hubbies staple gun.  I had used it last and needed it again.  I searched high and low in the garage....getting annoyed, mostly at myself, figuring that I had misplaced the damn thing and was going to catch hell for it.  You know men and their tools.  Finally, I started cleaning the stupid garage searching for it.  30 minutes later I found it.  Right where it belonged, hanging on the wall behind the work bench.  Its yellow now.  All of this time I had been searching for my silver staple gun.  I had forgotten that it was now yellow.  How stupid is that!

I look at what we have now...not at what we have lost.  Hell, we had to much crap anyway.  We all do.  Don't believe me...go look in your basement....make a mental list of the stuff you haven't used in the past 5 years! 

I look at what we have now...every single thing I have ever wanted to do to my house, I was able to do.  I mean EVERYTHING.  We all have a wish list in our house....an outlet here, a switch there, new floor, new cabinets.   I got it all.  ALL!   Hell, I got a master suite!  As incredibly gorgeous as it is, as amazing, as shiny, as new....its a daily reminder of what we went through.  Hell, its a minute by minute reminder of what we went through.  My old fridge was literally held together by duct tape.  I was desperate to replace it, but the damn thing wouldn't die.  I just couldn't go out and spend money on a new one, when the old one still worked.  Every time I open my incredibly beautiful, dual ice maker, fridge, I am reminded at how it came to be.    Its not a conscious thought, I dont have many of those, its just a fleeting thought. 

I always wanted a living room set for a patio set...I got it.  I always wanted to get rid of the dying tree in my yard and put a bigger pool, I got it.  Its like winning a reverse lottery.  Here's all the money you need to rebuild your house the way you have always dreamed, but there's a catch....you loose everything you own.

I summed it up to a friend once by saying, its like I woke up in someone elses life.  I went to bed that night and woke up with the same family same world, but a different life.  Lets face it, our material things are our life.  If they weren't we wouldn't strive for new cars, better furniture, new shoes etc. 

I remember joking, pre fire, about having a house fire, re building, replacing...we've all said it...That we want new carpet so lets set fire to the living room floor... Never in a million years would I have imagined the pain that this sort of tragedy brings. 

Are we closer as a family, yes.  We realize how close we came to not being here...to not having each other to laugh with or at...to annoy, to shoot nerf bullets at, to turn off the bathroom light when someone is in the shower :)  to hug, to love, to care, and to watch grow, or in my case, i think i'm shrinking. 

Are we still feeling out of place, yes.  I dont know how to describe this one.  Its an odd feeling.  Maybe like moving to a new town where you know some of the people, but things have changed so much?  or moving back to the town you grew up in?  you've changed but no one else has?  I'm not sure.  We were at a gathering recently, and suddenly, I looked around and discovered my entire family, that is the 5 of us, were alone in the basement, eating.  No one else down there, just us. (I gathered up everyone and we left) It was odd.  Like we're feeling out of place...this huge monumental event has occurred, an event that threw us out of the normal realm of daily life.  We are not back to normal, not feeling normal, feeling out of place, when the rest of the world just continues on around us. Some days, we feel like invisible people?  That's not right...I was at another gathering where I was introduced to everyone as the friend who lost her house in a fire.  Maybe that's it.  if its not mentioned, you wait....waiting for, hoping no one does, but knowing someone will mention it.  Half wanting to talk about it because it sometimes feels better to do so...when it is mentioned, you cringe...not wanting to talk about it.  Or maybe its the feeling out of place because for the past year, we have had nothing else happen to us but house crap.  We have nothing to contribute to the conversation.  Hell, I dont even know what is going on in the real word...I still dont have time to read the paper...i keep forgetting to by corn on the cob thingys!

Hubby recently said he had nothing to say at a gathering...I understand the feeling(I'll wait for the shock of that statement to wear off)  I used to love hanging out and chatting it up.  Now, I've got nothing.(another shocker, I know)

We lost our house, but it was rebuilt as our dream house.  We lost our possessions, most we didn't need anyway. But,  have we lost ourselves as well? and if so, where do we go from here?  You can replace an ice bucket(finally just did that one), but how can you replace your own feeling of what? belonging?  No...not belonging?  How can you go back to feeling like you are not the giant white elephant in the room...hiding in the corner, half dreading, half wishing that someone will notice the giant white elephant...That makes no sense what so ever...How do we get back to our pre fire lives?

That's it....I'm done...its 2:11 am....the fire has been put out, mostly, hoses are still spraying hot spots...we don't yet know the damage...we have since discovered, the physical damage was null in comparison.

Why is it my fault......

I don't know where your shoes are...I didn't wear them last

I don't know where your wallet is...I dont care if you said you left it right there, its not mine, I didn't take it

I don't know where your math book is, I suck at math and therefore would never even dream of touching it.

I don't have your lucky shirt...Its to small for me, I wouldn't wear it.

Maybe if you would bring your laundry downstairs, I would know it needs to be washed...I'm afraid to go into your room...its scary

Its not my fault that your friends cannot play today

Its not my fault that you forgot your homework

Its not my fault that your brother/sister keeps talking to you

Its not my fault that your brother/sister is disgusting

or that they play their music to loud

or that the exist in general(well maybe that part is)

Its not my fault there is no food in the house...If you didn't eat it the second I unpacked it, it would last longer.

Its not my fault there is no toilet paper in your bathroom.  I dont use your bathroom.

Its not my fault your bathroom is a mess, see your brother/sister

Its not my fault your brother/sister cant keep the bathroom clean

No, I dont want to play football/basketball/baseball right now.

Its not my fault the landscapers cannot work in the rain

Its not my fault the pool wont be installed for another week

Its not my fault we cannot put water in the pool until the fence is back in

Its not my fault that we cannot put the fence back up until the landscapers are done, who cant work in the rain or finish until the pool is up, which we cannot fill until the fence is up, which cant happen until the landscapers are done, who can't work in the rain or finish until the.......

 Its not my fault that you finished book #4 and book #5  is at the store

Its not my fault that we are not an office supply store.  Dont tell me at 9:45 at night.

Its not my fault that stores close.

Its not my fault that you cannot sleep.

Its not my fault that your soda exploded in your backpack

Its not my fault that you are out of soda

Its not my fault that you have homework

Its not my fault that you have a horrible teacher from an alien planet that was sent to Earth just to torture you

Its not my fault that you lied to me

Its not my fault that I have to ground you

..............................

Mom, You were right