I found this post on Facebook this morning and I thought, “Hey, that’s great!”  I even clicked the “Like” button.  I poured some coffee and sat at the table when a small voice inside my head asked, “But, what about the children?”

I finished my coffee and jumped on my laptop to find out a little more information about this new law.  What I thought was such a great piece of legislation turned out to be another ill-thought out bill that when enforced, would make the children of our state, the ultimate losers.

If you take the benefits away, such as food stamps, medical coverage and shelter costs..who will feed these children, treat them when they’re ill or put a roof over their heads?  Once again, children will suffer because of their parent’s actions.  But, the legislators thought of the solution to that!  They will give the benefits to a family member to be distributed to the children.  In effect, our state government is putting in a middle man.

Now, this might work, I thought!  But, what about children who don’t have family members who can’t or won’t agree to take on this responsibility?  What happens when these family members don’t exist?  Who takes care of the children? I found no answer in the law for that!

I researched more and found that this bill was being touted as a way to get people who are addicted to drugs the help they need.  Wow, that’s great, I thought.  But, what kind of help are we talking about?  The bill had been in effect only a short time before an injunction questioning the constitutionality of the law could be considered.  In the four months the law was being used to test welfare applicants, only 108 out of 4,086 people tested positive.  And the majority of these 108 only tested positive for pot..a drug that is now legalized or on the way to being legalized by many states.

So, why are we doing this?  Further reading gave me the answer.  It was going to save the state a lot of money by not giving benefits to people who tested positive for drugs.  Ok, I can see that as a good thing.  Then I went back to researching and found some very different results.  The new law was costing taxpayers much more than we would ever save by not paying out the benefits to those who tested positive.  And, the voice inside my head asked, “How were they going to save those benefits, if they said they would pay them to someone else to support the kids?” Now I’m confused!

I realize that the welfare system is sometimes abused by lazy, selfish people who don’t care to work for a living and would rather work the system to their advantage.  But, I consider myself an intelligent person who worries about the effects on our children in this state.  If this law prevents even one child from getting fed properly, then I say get rid of it!  If one child dies because of lack of medical treatment, I say Stop!  And, if one child is left out in the rain or cold in order to save a few bucks, then I say shame on us!  

So, before you start jumping up and down and praising this new law…look up the facts.  I hope you’ll change your mind.  Please, think of the children!

You’ll have to excuse me now.  I have to return to Facebook and click on the “Unlike” button.

I was packing my groceries into my car yesterday when a young mother with a small toddler walked by me.  She packed her bags into the car next to me, picked up her daughter and put her in the car seat.  I noticed that she used the proper procedures for safely securing her child in the seat and gave her a mental thumbs up.  I let her back up before me as she had precious cargo and I was in no great hurry.  Once I pulled out, I followed her SUV out of the parking lot and watched as she put her cell phone to her ear. 

We both pulled out onto a major highway and it seemed we were heading in the same direction.  I kept a safe distance from her vehicle and had a good view of her while she continued to talk on her cell phone.  I watched as the SUV continuously edged over the line separating two lanes of traffic and then swing back into it’s original lane.  To my horror, I then watched her drive through a red light.

I returned home and wondered what phone call was so important that this young mother would risk her child’s life in order to talk on her cell?  Curious, the next day when my SO and I were driving down the highway, I counted the number of cars we passed.  Out of 50 cars, 27 drivers were holding a cell phone conversation while driving.  12 of these cars had children in them; 10 of those children were in car seats.  When I got home, I looked up some of the statistics and was shocked at the number of lives lost due to cell phone use.

Distracted drivers who talk, text or eat while driving are responsible for 15 deaths and 1200 injuries PER DAY!  Unfortunately, some of those statistics include children.  Parents are responsible for the safety of their kids and yet, give no thought to picking up that cell phone while driving with their children in the vehicle.  Many states have either passed or are in the process of trying to push legislation that would make it illegal to use a cell phone while driving.  Sadly, this is habppening too slowly or the laws are being ignored.  

Having been a parent who had to drive with my kids in the car, I know there are other distractions that drivers encounter.  Heavy traffic, horns blaring or having a crying child in the back seat can all contribute to a lack of total concentration on the road.  There is always the danger presented by pedestrians crossing the road or an animal darting in front of your vehicle. Do we really need to add another risk by talking or texting while driving? 

What is so hard about turning your phone off or at least putting it on Mute while you drive your precious cargo to your destination?  What is more important than your child’s safety?  And, even if you are alone in the vehicle, do you want to risk hurting another person or their child because you are talking or texting?

So, the next time you are going to drive your child somewhere, please follow safe procedures: secure the child properly, get in the driver’s seat and fasten your seat belt, pull out your cell phone and turn it off!  Then you have reduced the risk of putting both of your lives in danger!

Ethan and his mom were backstage at Ethan’s daddy’s concert when Mom let Ethan run onstage and do his thing!

He really knows the meaning of “shake that bootie!”

Enjoy!

“Artists who begin late are sometimes said to unbottle.” said Nanuzzi.

Excerpt from Duma Key by Stephen King

I have always dreamed of being a writer.

When I was much younger than I am now; I took a creative writing course.  Before the course ended, my instructor called me aside and told me that I had a talent for writing and that I should pursue a career in it.  I thanked him and walked away.  At the time, I was raising three children, trying to make a second marriage work and had just started a job in the banking industry that offered an opportunity for growth and a career.  So, I stuffed my dreams of writing in a bottle and moved on.

A few years ago, I decided to sign up for online writing courses, curious to see if I did have any talent in that direction.  During the courses, I found that I not only enjoyed writing, but I was also surprised that I liked my writing, and so did my instructors.  But, once again, I turned my back on my ambitions and continued on with my life.

I believe that I hesitated to pursue my dream, not due to a lack of time or obligations I had, but because I had a lack of self-confidence and a fear of rejection.  So, the dream was kept in a bottle for most of my life.

Last year, I decided to once again dip my toes into the waters of writing.  I had heard about blogging, and felt that it was a low-risk method of trying to write something that people might actually read.  I searched around the Internet; looked into numerous blog sites and settled on Xanga as a permanent residence for my efforts.

I started off slow, did more reading than actual posting, and when I did post, it was an impersonal and silly piece that I had written a while back for one of my writing classes.  I was stunned when I got comments and even more stunned when people actually liked it!  

Lately, I have found that my posts have taken on more of a personal note.  I find that my talent lies in writing about life experiences or issues that have deep meaning for me.  I am quite proud of some of the writing I’ve done when I’ve stayed in this area; although I will still post silly articles because they make me laugh!  But, I will leave the writing of the next great american novel to someone more experienced and motivated than I.

I was quite pleased when another website contacted me and asked to publish two of my pieces on their website.  It proved to me that some people actually liked my efforts. I am very close to actually sending out some of my work to publishers, as I feel I can handle rejection now, much more so than when I was younger.

Unbottling can be unsettling.  Ideas bombard my thoughts and I have to keep a pad around, so I can use the ideas in the future.  But, I no longer keep those ideas and my ambition to write kept bottled up.  

So, is it ever to late to unbottle?  I don’t think so…what about you?

TAKE A LOOK AT THESE!

Meet artist Judith Braun.  She uses carbon dust and her fingers to make great works of art.

She uses both hands to create the symmetry.

Then she adds the finishing touches with a brush.

Her finished works are unbelievable!

So, let those kids express themselves by drawing on your walls.  You might have an artist in the making!

It was 1968.  I was excitedly looking forward to the life ahead of me.  I had just graduated high school and was starting my first job at a local bank.  I had high hopes for the future and couldn’t wait to start my life as an adult.  

I didn’t worry about missing that first period; I was usually regular but I just put it down to all the changes I was going through.  Then I missed another period and I knew my life had now taken a very unexpected turn.  I was pregnant.

I was only 17 and I was scared, lonely and depressed.  I had nobody to talk to, no one I could I could trust or turn to for help.  The baby’s father was history, my parents would be devastated and my plans for the future were at an end.  

So, I hid the pregnancy from everyone.  I started eating massive amounts of food so my parents would not question my weight gain.  I bought loose clothes and a rubber girdle to hold my stomach in.  I held my  secret close and went through the first eight months alone, with no one to share the wonder I felt when the baby kicked for the first time or to listen to my fears of what would happen to my child and I.  

Finally, the day came when I could no longer keep my pregnancy secret, I knew that the baby was going to be born in less than a month and I had to tell my parents. They took the news hard but for the first time, they actually talked to me like an adult.  The question was what do to next?

My father, an abusive recovering alcoholic, wanted me to keep the baby and raise it at home.  My mother, who worried about the embarrassment of having an unwed daughter and child living in her home, wanted me to give the baby up for adoption.  

I was now faced with the hardest decision of my young life.  I had to consider the effects on my child based on the path I chose to follow.  My life in my parents home had been a very unhappy one. Could I subject my child to the same atmosphere I was brought up in?  On the other hand, I was already connected to the living being in my womb.  Was I strong enough to give my child over to strangers?

As I said, it was the 60′s.  Women had equal rights on the law books, but had yet to achieve those rights in the everyday world.  I had a low paying job, I didn’t have a car or an apartment of my own, and had no one to care for the baby while I was working and trying to keep a roof over our heads.  My child would have to bear the weight of being called illegitimate or worse, and although innocent, share the shame of having an unwed mother.

So, I decided to let the baby be put up for adoption.  I went to a home in New York and waited there for my child to be born. The home was filled with other girls in my position and the shame of being an unwed mother was replaced with a feeling of sisterhood with the other pregnant teenagers, who were all in the same tough position as I was.

There was only one problem with choosing this particular home; after the birth of your child, you were required to bring the child back to the home and care for the baby for five days.  Then you would be brought to the adoption agency to surrender the child.  I tried not to dwell on this. 

After two weeks in the home, I was rushed to the hospital and delivered a beautiful, healthy baby boy.  I was put in a room with other mothers, and I pretended to be married with a husband who was in the Army and stationed overseas.  When the nurse laid my baby in my arms for the first time, I was filled with wonder.  How did I ever create anything so beautiful?  I laid in the hospital for three days and then brought my baby back to the home.

Five days passed so quickly.  I was able to feed, change and hold my baby four times a day, and I spent those days determined to treasure every moment I had with my child.  Although I knew that he didn’t understand anything I said, I talked to him of the reasons I couldn’t raise him.  I spoke of my love for him, and the fact that my love would follow him always.  I think I was talking more for my own sake; I needed to find the courage to follow through with the adoption.

The day came when I carried my child into the adoption agency.  I signed the papers and then we were given a half-hour to say our goodbyes.  I held him close for every minute of that time, knowing I would never be able to hold him again.  Then the social worker came and took my baby.  I went back to the home and waited for my mother to pick me up and bring me back home.

That night, I sat on my bed and cried.  I felt that a piece of my heart had been torn out and taken away.  Once I had calmed down, I started to realize that I had done the right thing for my child.  He would now be raised by parents who could provide him with all the things he deserved, things I could not provide for him.  They could give him love, a home and a future when all I could give him was love.  I would always miss him but I had to trust that he was in good hands.

Life went on.  I would often wonder how my boy was doing, especially on his birthday.  I got married a year later and had three children that I was able to raise and provide for.  But, no matter how filled my life was, I never forgot those moments I spent with my baby boy, before I put him in the arms of strangers.

Years passed and when my children were adults, I believed the time had come to try to find my son.  Through the wonders of the Internet, we were connected once more.  I flew to New York, where he had been raised, to be reunited and to meet my brand new grandchild.

I met his adopted parents and was able to thank them for loving and raising my child and for making him their own. I was brought to tears when his adopted mother handed me a picture of my son; it was taken on the day they brought him home and the child in the picture was the child I had carried in my memories for so long.  I was touched when she said to take it home with me.

I told my son who his father was, should he wish to try and contact him; I showed him pictures of his sister and two brothers and I shared the story of why I placed him in the arms of strangers. He was understanding and sympathetic to the time and place I was in when he was conceived.  He shared with me the facts of his adoption, that he had never been put in foster care; he had loving parents who were waiting for him on the day I surrendered him.

It was an emotional, tear-filled visit but, as I flew back home, I was left happy with the knowledge that I had made the right decision all those years ago.

My son has made visits to Florida since that trip; once to meet his siblings and another to attend his sister’s wedding.  I was blessed by having all my children in one room, a dream I never dared to have.

I keep a low profile in my son’s life.  He has parents who love and care about him and I don’t have the right to intrude on that relationship and I do respect their feelings.  But, my son and I do communicate and he knows where I am when he needs me.  

“How could you give up your child?”  I have been asked this question by many people and my answer is always the same.

“Because I loved him.” And, I love him still.

Last night, after a full day of housework and football, Danny and I retired to the bedroom for a good night’s sleep.  I woke up when Danny attempted to gently roll me over.  ”What’s the matter?” I asked.  ”You’re snoring!” he replied.

Ok, so I roll over onto my tummy, a position that Danny claims prevents loud, obnoxious noises from spewing out of my mouth and went back to sleep.  I must have returned to my original position though, because I was woken again to the same complaint.  After the third time, I got out of bed, slipped my scuffy’s on and shuffled off to what I call the “Snoring Room.”

Since the kids have left us with an empty nest, we have two spare bedrooms and I have claimed one as mine for those nights when snoring becomes an issue.  Either I get tired of being woke up or I can’t sleep because my man is snoring to beat the band.

Now, I only have his word that I snore…I stayed up an entire night and didn’t hear myself snore once!  But I have been a victim of sleepless nights due to Danny’s snoring…so, I can appreciate the torture of listening to the sounds of a chainsaw cutting through the night.

The Snoring Room offers me shelter from these issues and has saved Danny and I from losing those Z’s that we need to wake refreshed in the A.M.  The only downside to this solution is that both Danny and I like to wake up in the same bed!  Corny, but true.  It’s a comfort to know your loved one is within arm’s reach and snuggled safely next to you.  

Danny got up this morning, and I left the Snoring Room to get him a cup of coffee.

“I missed you when I woke up this morning.” he said.

“Well, you kept waking me up and saying I was snoring!” I shot back.

“You were snoring.”

“And you kept waking me up, so I went to the Snoring Room.” I replied.

He hung his head and said, “Next time I guess I should just send a note!”  God, I love this man!

Now, I did find what might be a solution to this dilemma, but I’m not quite sure that Danny wants to wake up, turn over and snuggle with me while I’m wearing a CPAP!

Do you need or have a snoring room?  How do you cope with a snoring partner…or are your snores keeping your partner awake? 

I am stepping out of Xangaland today.  Just for the day. I am a faithful Xangan…I read all the comments you send and a vast majority of the posts you write; I do this everyday!  But, today I must abstain from frolicking in the land of Xanga.

Why?  Well, for some very good reasons.

1.) I have spent so much time on my laptop; Danny thinks I am looking up porn sites or connecting with on-line dating services.  Now, I don’t disabuse him of this incorrect thinking, it keeps him on his toes!  But, I have neglected spending quality time with him lately, so I’ll watch football and eat chicken wings with him today, and promise not to sneak into the laptop for “just a quick peek” at what’s happening in Xanga.

2.)  I am beginning to write blogs in the dust on my living room tables.  I must do some housework before I lose Danny under a pile of laundry.  Bless the man, he says nothing, but the looks he gives me shout “What the hell?”  I am determined to spend some time with a toilet brush and a mop, before he starts muttering about hiring a housekeeper!

3.) I want to experiment using the new camera I bought to upload pictures into Xangaland.  So far, I haven’t had time to go outside and take pics of the different wildlife that visit our yard.  People, we have a resident alligator that patrols our neighborhood; have I got any pics of him.  Nope!

So, I could go on and on; but then the day would pass with my nose stuck in my laptop and my good intentions down the drain.  

All of you have a wonderful Sunday and I leave you with this one thought!

I’ll be back! 

Love ya all, 

Cranky

I found this creature floating around the Internet.  He (or she) seems friendly enough, hasn’t bitten me yet, but seems to lack a name.  So, I thought the best way to find a great name for this poor soul, was to hold a contest.

The person who comes up with the winning name will receive a dozen of my famous (ok, maybe not so famous…they come out of a package) chocolate chip cookies.  ”Nameless Creature” likes them, so it might be worth it to put your thinking cap on and submit a name!

Now, as in all contests, there must be rules!  Sorry, but that’s just the way it is.  

Rule #1 – No obscene names…I plan on showing the entries to my granddaughter.  She will be doing the Judging.  Watch out…she’s tough!

Rule #2 – All entries must be received by January 20.  That should be long enough to think of an appropriate name.  Winner will be announced on January 25 (if I remember) or shortly thereafter (in case I forget.)

Rule #3 – All entries must be submitted as comments to this post.  My e-mail account is active enough with all the spam I get…don’t want to overload it!

As you can see, “Nameless” is quite excited about the prospect of finally having a moniker.  Or, it sees the cookies I just baked sitting on the counter.

I look forward to seeing your entries!

There are many stories out there about parents and how they handled the news that their child was gay.  This is my story.

Twelve years ago, I met my SO, Danny, and fell in love.  Now, I was fifty years old at the time with my years of child-raising finally behind me, or so I thought.  Danny was raising his two children, from a previous marriage, so if I was to get involved with him, I also had to involve myself with the raising of his children.  Believe me, taking on the responsibility of a 13 year old daughter and a 14 year old son was daunting, but I was determined to make us a family unit.  

It wasn’t easy.  Both kids had issues stemming from their mother abandoning them; jealousy issues from me being in Danny’s life; and the normal angst of being teenagers.  They tested me constantly and tried my patience, especially during the first couple of years Danny and I were together.  But, I fell in love with them just as much as if they were my own.

When our son was 17, I first started finding small signs that he was struggling with the fact that he was gay.  He became secretive about what he was doing on the computer, so I browsed around and found that he had been on Gay sites and he denied it when I asked him about it.  Now, since he was only 17, I went on the computer and blocked his access to the sites, but only because he was underage and I feared that he might entice a stalker. Phone calls made in the middle of the night would quickly end when Danny or I entered the room.  I didn’t discuss this with Danny as I honestly didn’t know what his reaction would be when he discovered his son was gay.

Our son finally admitted to me that he was gay and that he was scared to tell his dad.  So, we agreed to keep it between us until he felt the time was right.  We really didn’t discuss it again and the years passed by.  After a heavy night of drinking, he blurted out the fact that he was gay to his father.  Danny was stunned, he refused to believe it and went into immediate denial.  It took months of discussion between Danny and I before he could accept his son’s choice of lifestyle.  Danny doesn’t like it, but he loves his son and deals with it as best he can.  He told our son that who he slept with was his business, that we loved him deeply, and we would always be there for him.

Because, that’s what a parent does!  Your child might not make life choices you agree with or follow the direction in life that you took…but your child will always be a part of you and if you are smart and handle things right, your child will always be a part of your life.  To do otherwise, you risk not being in your child’s life and hurting your child by turning your back on them.  Unfortunately, some parents take this path.  I feel sorry for their loss.

In the past few years, our son has struck out on his own but remains close to us.  We have basically adopted a “Don’t ask…don’t tell!” policy.  We don’t ask about his sex life, but we also don’t ask about our daughter’s sex life.  We feel that it is their private business and they have the right to choose whoever they want.  Our hope for all of our children is that they find true, lasting love and we don’t care what the gender is of the partner they select.  As long as they are safe and loved, than we are happy!

We are not perfect parents, but we are parents who want to remain in our children’s lives until we pass on.  So, we accept their choices and support them.  Turn our backs on our kids? No way.  

Thank you for listening to my story.