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Life On The Naughty Chair

I'm the reason they started prayers in school. I'm also the proof that prayer is not enough.

Month

October 2015

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I Single Handily Saved A Beach Whale.

beached whale

I woke early this morning to discover that a whale had beached itself next to the pool.

After I stopped screaming and beating my chest, ripping my jammies from my chest, shaking my fist at the heavens and demanding of God, “Why? How could you let this happen to such a beautiful creature,” I calmed down. Mainly because I realized that no-one else was up yet and no-one was filming me for You-Tube.

That is kind of how I live my life now. I save emotions and funny lines. I only use them if I can tell that the record button is flashing. I don’t give away anything for free anymore. I have been over reacting for years and did not realize I was sitting on a gold mine. That shit is marketable!! I need advertisers in order to be me. Continue reading “I Single Handily Saved A Beach Whale.”

The Supercalifragiamazing Gift

gift

Don’t hate me for this but my hubby bought me a special “gift.”

He bought if for me after he tried to kill me one night in bed by handing me a hot water bottle that ruptured.

Thank God I was wearing a thermo heat control wet suit at the time . . . with goggles

Don’t ask questions, this is not a blog post about that kind of thing. We were very resilient and versatile, we just got changed into our doctor and nurse outfits, grabbed the aloe vera, smeared it everywhere and carried on … with the stuff we are not going to discuss . . . after I stopped screaming from the pain.

The next morning he offered to pick me up a new hot water bottle.

I thought about giving him instructions but then I thought, come on, he has been an adult for a long long time, he can do this. The hot water bottle section is one space on the pharmacists shelf. The choice is usually red or some other colour and who cares what colour it is. Continue reading “The Supercalifragiamazing Gift”

One Bad Apple and I May Die

one bad apple

I think I ate a bug  . . and I might die.

I was home alone, calmly eating an apple.  I am allowed to do things like that alone … at home .. . unattended …. on my own.   And I bit into the apple and took a big bite.  Then I chewed and chewed and swallowed and then the phone rang or something – I can’t remember all the exact details because I am suffering with PTSD from the whole thing and my therapist said that I have probably blocked some of it to prevent myself from being triggered and losing it all over innocent people’s heads.

When I got back to my work and the half eaten apple lying on the desk, I almost died.  I had bitten through to the core and what was clearly a grotesque, rotten, slimy mess, black and orange and grossly grotesque, that had been created by some kind of bug/worm … thing.  (I had to type and retype “thing” 473 times just now because my hands are shaking so bad from the memory) Continue reading “One Bad Apple and I May Die”

Lessons from the Little Red Haired Girl Next Door. Fairies and Imaginary Friends.

red haired fairies

Today she is out in the backyard in a bright green fairy outfit with little wings that are kind of on her back and sort of on one butt cheek. Her hair is done up in double pony tails however their placement seems to have taken into consideration the displacement of the wings and is offsetting those so to keep her balanced. I have a feeling that the little red haired girl completely understands and pursues balance as an integral part of her daily routine.

Oh, and she is wearing bright yellow mud boots.

It is about 30° C today.

This is just the way a little red haired fairy rolls.

She is skipping and laughing, and talking to someone. I can’t see the person because well … I am neither a child, nor a fairy … but she alters between wagging her finger and instructing, to laughing and slapping her thighs as she leans forward and makes funny faces. Every once in awhile she falls over into the grass and starts to roll, gets carried away, and rolls and rolls until there is a little dust cloud as the grass is still recovering from the long winter. She gets up, dusts off her dress, adjusts her wings, checks that her pony’s are still there, and continues on. Continue reading “Lessons from the Little Red Haired Girl Next Door. Fairies and Imaginary Friends.”

The Etiquette of Public Hugging by a Survivor

Hugorama

Don’t you think that “huggers” should adhere to some kind of hugger etiquette or that they should, at least, be policed in some form?

I find it awkward to stand around in a large group when a new person is introduced who happens to be a “hugger.”  You know exactly what I am talking about.  They show up, know no-one and presume it is alright to greet everyone with a hug.  First of all how do they know there aren’t committed huggers in the group who don’t adhere to open hugging?  How do they know anyone is open to hugging and that they are not some tour group out for the day from the institution where they are all being treated for a high startle response to human contact?  I mean someone could end up dead here.

And when you are the new person and clearly everyone hugs, how does it go?   Do you hug the ones you know best first? The host? Family? The people you like most? And what about skipping over someone and coming back to them? Like what is all that about? And how does one address a hugger who has clearly passed you over and comes back to you like they purposely left you for last?  Does it mean something bad or something good that you might actually consider bad, but they think it is a good?  And if you refuse the hug will you end up offending everyone . . . or again, dead? Continue reading “The Etiquette of Public Hugging by a Survivor”

Dear Son

Letters From Home.

Dear Son – on the occasion of not having heard from you for months now …

Hi … It’s mom… remember me? Tall lady? You remember mom and dad? I was the shorter one on the team. I wore dresses and had breasts?

Try it with me now,say the word ? “MMMMMom….Mommmm….MOM ….” That’s it put your lips together and make a sound. Ring any bells yet?

Hope you got the money we sent you last time you called. Hope the car we bought for you is still doing well. Your dad and I hope to have one just like it when we finish paying for yours. It is hard sometimes to get my walker up the steps of the bus. Don’t worry, nothing serious, I slipped on the ice and fell on the sidewalk and lay buried in snow for several hours on my way to wire you more money. I am on the waiting list to get a new hip, if the local church is able to raise enough money to pay for it at the next Doily Extravaganza next month. Don’t worry if they can’t, I think hips are highly over-rated anyway, and it is not like I don’t have another one right? Continue reading “Dear Son”

Guys I Dated Men in Orange

BoBo on Sarah Sidle

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