Eye of a Needle

Wow! This is bigger than any camel

Shoes, Ships and Sealing Wax

Although I often create posts and poetry in my head, I rarely seem to have time to get these ramblings out of my head. I am currently less than 20 credits away from my B.S. Psychology degree and have been working towards this degree for more than 20 years. I left high school at the age of 16 and went to college out of state. Leaving was simply my choice of escape route, escape from my family which was re-creating poor Usher's nightmare. Yes, even the house- once grand was Falling!
After one year of college I entered the school of hard knocks and then dedicated the next 20 plus years to surviving and raising my two little boys- by myself.
(Do I hear violins playin somewhere?)
Online college classes are accelerated; every 5 weeks a new course begins and ends. Textbook, writing, tests, discussions, and 15 pages of academic research papers. One course ends on Monday, next one begins on Tuesday, little time for writing out of a creative urge within.
When I was in the first grade I was a bit of a loner. Although I attended preschool for 3 years (my mother's way of getting rid of me for the day), I felt absolutely clueless as to what to do in this school place. I did not know anyone in my class, my teacher was mean. I didn't know how to count by fives and had NO IDEA how to get lunch when the time came.
In the morning the teacher would take a tally, who was having the "hot lunch", a hamburger, a hot dog.
What's a hot lunch?
She would ask the question and I would begin to break out into a sweat- all out panic actually.
I would wait for my classmates to respond and when I saw other kids raise their hands in response to the teacher's order request, I would raise my hand too.
Stacy- you can't order more than one lunch! My teacher would shout. The kids giggled and I squirmed and said NOTHING.
(I don't even like hot dogs)
Somehow she would make a notation about which lunch I would have and somehow again, I ended up in the cafeteria with some meal waiting for me.
I usually had to get a ticket for my lunch and who knows where the money came from to pay for it. (My family surely could afford to pay for my lunch at the time, it was simply my mother's failure to give a darn about whether or not I was cared for while out of her blessed sight.)
Sitting at the long table, old overcooked broccoli smells and greasy fish sticks. The muffled sounds of kids laughing and talking while the industrial fans roared and wheels squeaked and hairnet ladies shouted- keep moving! and hamburger or hot dog!
Confusing.
I usually sat alone until one day a new boy came along, I think his name was Manuel. He was an outsider in our suburban mostly white neighborhood too.
Manuel was my friend; he taught me to tie my shoes.
Manuel giggled alot and made me laugh too. When I first asked his name he told me it was Mickey Mouse. Oh boy was that funny- really funny and we giggled forever over that.
Mickey always drank his milk, the kind that comes in the small wax paper box, with a straw.
One day I asked him- How come you always drink your milk with a straw?
-Because, he said- my father told me to because he says the ceiling wax gets in the milk from the opening and it can make me sick.See, its brown there.
Oh, this sounds very serious. I look up at the ceiling to ponder. Industrial-I beams painted white and fluorescent light fixtures, a little rust and water marks, and I wonder how did that ceiling wax, way up there, get into the milk cartons? HOW?
Throughout my entire school career, through high school and even into the years of my own son's schooling,Even Now, the sight of a small milk or juice carton sends me into the realm of questioning- what is ceiling wax and why did my first grade friend's father warn him of the dangers of it?
I have heard of many food scares in my lifetime, the lye on pretzels, the worms in McDonald's burgers, spider eggs in bubblegum, but never did the ceiling wax scandal make headlines that I recall.
Last week while conducting research for yet another term paper, I came across this title in the online collegiate resource library;
"Of shoes, and ships, and sealing wax: The faulty and specious assumptions of sexual reorientation therapies"
And the light bulb finally came on-

The Writing on The Wall

I hear it, the writing on the wall.
Its a sickening rumble underfoot. Five per cent lead, and stolen elections,
and then thisRacist Bullshit

I was told the story today about a man who was running for the Senate a few years back. The man is black (well he's probably more a mixture of sienna, umber, white and cadmium red, but I couldn't say for sure).I do not remember his name. If you know me very well, you know I suck at remembering names, even yours. According to the polls, he had a ten point lead, it was a slam dunk- Until- the people went behind the voter's curtain, and pulled the lever for the white guy. They just could not fathom a black leader. STUPID!

I hear it, and it makes me sick, the 5 point lead, the racist slander, the oops- we didn't mean to say that- IGNORANCE, is not bliss for those of us watching.
God please hear my prayers, please, please, please, strike those racists down , and hurry up. Yes, all of them. It's your law you know, the law of karma, Ok, call it "do unto others. . ." or even better "What you Reap, You Shall Sow"
Reaping hatred and murder and oppression, what is wrong with these people?

To M.

Yes, this is not for all of you who are looking to see whether I have finally come up with something clever to say, or not, this is a message for Ms. M.-you know who you are.
I cannot call because I threw your number away after I gave the message to T- that you had called.
I made a slight error in our telephone conversation: you were not the one he said I reminded him of: That was another S. you might know her name.
I do not know how I forgot, but I did.

As for the message you left
he said- What? As in what does she want?
I told him of our conversation and he said he was not buying your story and had no interest in responding to you, now or ever.
So , there you have it.
I really enjoyed talking to you- good luck with everything.
I swear i wasn't snarky in relaying the message, I am more confident than that.
I do not mean to sound snarky now, just thought you might want to know.
Love to you-

Scottsville Merchants Kickball League

Update:
The score for the Thursday 10/9 Scottsville merchant's Kickball game:
Everyone who played- scored several times.
So many in fact we lost count.
In attendance this week were:
Me, of course
Bebe Williams- artist extra extraordinaire( no kidding)
Town Administrator- one to watch- Clark D.
Josh? Kyle? whatever, one of the new Country Blessing's store employees who truly was this weeks MVP. His enthusiasm was contagious.
A volunteer who appeared in a black SUV and sunglasses, a stranger whose name also eludes me at this moment, who could not be convinced it was time to end the game. We were all out of breath in a half of an hour.
Of course the Kramer La Kreme was present, although the mighty terrier once again scored NO runs! Whose dog is that anyway?
The teams were intermingled and flowed more like a cafeteria line than a defense line, which means- kickers were the offensive team and sometimes were called off their base to make the play, or to pitch.
fun times were had by all.
check in next week for this Thursday's update.
oh- and all you Scottsville Posers (especially the 330 type)need to get your chicken butts out there- 2:00
buck, buck, buck

Billion Dollar White Elephant

I try not to talk politics here; politics make even less sense to me than my worst fractured dreams and drunken thoughts. I am going to simply attach this little article with some political Blog links underneath, which I may have responded to in the comments of - go figure- the Atheist Blogger- you know, sometimes I question the big question, but when I do god simply questions my questions, like all the Shrinks I've ever known. Hey, maybe that's it, God is a Shrink.. . I'll stop.

Crazy Stuffed Pork

Kickball Update

This week marks week 2 of the weekly Scottsville Merchants Kickball challenge. Of course last week was a rain out due to the tropical storm so this could have officially been considered the historic first game. The score- Stacy 2 Kramer 0
Stay tuned for the results of next Thursdays exciting match!

The Disappearing Kind

Tate's gone fishing again, I am starting to suspect he's

learning to RELAX for the first time in his life.
Even when he isn't here I talk to him.
Last week- our conversation as I was attempting to get dressed: I stand in my closet doorway, shuffling through my chaotic basket of socks and underwear
"I can't find a pair of matching socks! They keep disappearing. I think I need some socks."
"You Know, they sell socks in the stores. The non disappearing kind."
"Really?"
"Yeah, they've been selling them for years"
"Hmmn"
So I did.
I went to the dollar store and I bought a bag full of new thick cushy non disappearing pink toed and white ankle length FAT socks.
And I wore them all happy week. A new pair every day.
This morning, Tate calls me from the road to make sure I get to work (late again) on time. I sleep a bit longer
and when I walk to the closet to pull out today's clothes
I am saying aloud "Oh NO! these are disappearing socks too"

where do they go? fishing? no I don't believe it.